The Cadmus storyline was originally quite different, particularly Clark's relationship with Lois. I had her hating Clark because of how he treated Chloe when he was on Red K, and in this storyline, Chloe was the one who went to Metropolis and brought Clark back, not Jonathan. Flashbacks are in italics -- also in present tense, because there's nothing like narrative overkill.
Clark, where are you going?
Away from here.
The sight of Chloe isn't going to throw him. He isn't going to stop and care because Jor-El had said she'd be hurt too and he can't do that. He pulls on the leather jacket and tries to ignore her gaze as he settles onto the motorcycle.
You are such a dumb-ass!
You don't know the first thing about me! Clark screams the words, surprising himself, making Chloe take a step back like he took a swing at her.
Oh, don't I! Chloe is furious, shaking from head to toe like a blade of grass. God, she's so small and so powerful. Is that what you think? That I don't know you?
Clark puts on his sunglasses, fighting the urge to look at Chloe, to see what he's doing to her. If you knew me, you'd hate me, he spits at last, twisting the ring onto his finger. The rush of heat, the surge of detachment.
Chloe goes preternaturally still. She sees the shift. I'm going with you. I have a cousin in Metropolis, we can stay with her.
No.
Fuck you, Clark. She's on the bike behind him and her thighs are clenching around him. I love you and you're not riding off into the fucking sunset without me.
Her arms are like an anchor, holding onto some part of Clark that the red kryptonite can't touch. Even as he kicks the bike into gear, even as they peel out of the driveway, Clark understands. She'll bring him back.
Cadmus Labs was an unimpressive squat little building. It certainly didn't look like the mysteries of life and death were being investigated within its walls. It looked more like the civic centre where Clark went to story-time as a kindergartener in Smallville.
Security here was considerably tighter. The guard at the desk didn't believe Clark when he explained that he hadn't yet gotten a press card from the Monitor. Clark was forced to call Wayne on his cell phone and listen to Wayne grouch about how if Clark had just used the phone in the first place, there wouldn't be any trouble about press cards. Clark finally pretended to have a call on the other line and hung up.
He flashed an apologetic grin in the guard's direction and made his exit. The door at the back of the building was unlocked. In fact, it was propped open with a paintcan. The litter of cigarette butts on the ground spoke of Cadmus's non smoking policy. No one was in sight when Clark nudged the door open further and peered down the corridor.
There was an unpleasant smell, like the chemistry building at college, but otherwise there were no signs of covert activity. Clark did a quick scan with his x-ray vision and found a lead-lined vault near the west side of the building.
There were also about two dozen skeletons walking around between him and his goal. Clark would have to return by night.
Listen to me. I don't know who the hell you think you are, but from what I've seen, you're one grade A asshole. Chloe's in love with you, I get that, and once she's had a couple of weeks to cool down, she's gonna forgive you. But I'm warning you now ... if you ever hurt my cousin again, I will tear you to pieces.
Red kryptonite leaves a warm afterglow, an artificial heat that lingers in Clark's skin like the slow fade of pain after an initial injury. It's not enough to embolden him to meet Lois's eyes. He can only see Chloe, crumpled and hurt and furious, shaken by Clark's revolving door personality.
If I ever hurt her again, I'll tear myself to pieces.
It's not enough to assuage Clark's guilt, or to dim the hatred in Lois's eyes, but it suffices to get Clark back on his bike, heading home towards his broken family.
There were files, hundreds of them, and Clark didn't seem to possess Chloe's knack for finding the important ones within a few minutes. Instead, he agonized over acquisitions proposals and patent applications, trying desperately to decode the doubly encrypted languages of science and law.
There was kryptonite in the vault. A simple wrench of the door had sufficed to confirm that. Clark's insides were still rolling in protest, even though he'd closed the vault almost immediately.
There was a guard patrolling the hallways and it was difficult to concentrate when Clark felt compelled to scan the building every minute to check on the man's location. So far, he'd restricted himself to the upper level, but from the methodical way he was moving, Clark guessed that it wouldn't be long before he was poking his head into this lab.
In desperation, Clark pulled out someone's personal planner. It was fanning open, tagged thickly with notes and paperclipped receipts. The current date said simply, "Meet w. Uyeda." It was hardly binding evidence, but Clark ripped the page out.
The last chance was a desktop computer. No one had shut it down for the night, so Clark zipped past the screensaver and began to skim through the hard drive. At long last, he found a password-protected file labelled "supercharged". He copied it to a floppy disk and sped out of the building just before the security guard reached the lab.
We're too young to know what we want, right?
Right. It's funny and so he laughs into Chloe's shoulder, because if anyone ever knew what she wanted, it's Chloe Sullivan. He's still inside her, he's barely caught his breath, and she's already spun off into another world.
That's what my dad keeps saying.
My dad always says, Son, do what you love and the rest will follow.
Your dad is such a cheeseball.
I'm doing *who* I love, does that count?
You're a cheeseball, too.
He shifts and slips and then they're laughing helplessly. It feels good to laugh with Chloe again, after that long summer of silence and the awkward months of reconstruction that followed.
Clark raises himself on one elbow and stares her in the eyes. So what do you want?
Her fingers are tracing lines over his chest and stomach, her body still giggling. I want a Pulitzer.
Clark pretends to make a checkmark in his palm, like a waiter taking orders.
I want to move back to Metropolis.
Another check.
I want ... She trails off and suddenly she is serious. He can tell because since the summer, she doesn't look at him when she's being serious. She looks down and away.
I want you. All of you.
All of me, Clark sings. Not a part, but all of me.
She smacks him on the shoulder and laughs. Cheeseball.
Clark feels the space that follows, knows the words that should fill it. But he lets the moment slip past, and it is gone.
