Chloe Sullivan (reporter_chloe) wrote in begins_to_fade,
Chloe Sullivan

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The Deepest Of Secrets, The Darkest Of Pain

I sigh as I make my way through the dark cemetary. The night air is cold, and it's giving me a major case of the chills, which really isn't good because I've forgotten my coat.

I rub my arms, trying to make the goosebumps go away, and am suddenly reminded of a night not too unlike this... one that I should have forgotten, one that should maybe have never even happened in the first place.

I bite my bottom lip nervously, and it all comes flooding back to me.

It had been a cold December night, shortly before Christmas. I'd been minding my own business, working on my homework, when I'd suddenly gotten a phone call from Clark. That didn't exactly surprise me. "What do you want now?" I'd teased, seeing as how he always came to me when he needed something. His response is what did surprise me... and scare me. He was short of breath, and sounded as if he'd been crying. He told me that something was wrong, that he was sick, and needed my help. He'd tried to come to me, but... he'd collapsed. Of course, I spazzed, because, well... those kinds of things just don't happen to Clark. Unless Kryptonite is involved. Which I asked him about. He said he'd been digging in yard... or something stupid like that, I can't remember exactly... and he'd suddenly dug up what looked like a meteor rock... except that it was this weird blue color. I asked where he was, and the next thing I knew, I was attempting to haul his abnormally large self into my little car.

When I'd gotten him back to mine and Lana's dorm room, I was stunned to discover that he was running a fever. A very high one, at that. And he was sweating like a pig. As the next few hours passed, he seemed to get worse, and was kind of starting to imagine things, but begged me not to call his parents. For once, I was glad Lana was not around, and knew she probably wouldn't be for a few days, since she'd gone on a little mini-trip with her Aunt Nell. The Kryptonite wasn't anywhere around, and it was still making him sick, and I felt helpless. I had no idea what to do. But I figured it wouldn't kill him... I mean... it couldn't if it was nowhere near him, right? I just assumed that maybe with this form, it would take some time for the effects to wear off. I remember holding him as he fell asleep, trying to find some way to soothe him, and thinking, at least I had this. I could comfort him in some way, and that was comforting to me.

And hours later, I found myself stunned again. But for entirely different reasons. I awoke in the middle of the night, and immediately raised an eyebrow when I noticed that Clark had worked his way out of his shirt in his sleep. Some tiny little minuscule part of me was tempted to have a peep under the covers... and when I did, more shock. Extremely naked best friend. In my bed. I was freaking out a little, and freaked out a little more when I heard him mumbling my name in his sleep. Ooookay... why was he dreaming about me? I figured it'd be best to wake him up, mainly to see if he was feeling better, and when I did, he told me he was... and turned about fifteen shades of red when I told him he'd sleep-stripped. I recall telling him I'd give him some privacy for him to put his clothes back on, and started to roll out of the bed, but... he stopped me. And he thanked me for taking care of him. I told him that I figured I owed him for all the times he'd saved my life. And then, suddenly, his hand was on my face, and I... I couldn't help myself. The way he was looking at me, the way he'd spoken to me... I kissed him. And what more... he kissed me back. Maybe I shouldn't have done it, because he'd been so sick, and weak, but... I just couldn't stop myself. And then we... well, something we'd come so close to doing before, we actually did. Nice little surprise. It was everything I'd ever dreamed of, and more. But the next morning, when I woke up, he wasn't in the bed, and when he came back in the room from the dorm showers down the hall, he didn't remember anything. He remembered being sick, but that's all. My heart snapped into about a million pieces.

He didn't remember. My best friend had made love to me, and he didn't even remember.

My chin quivers and I fight tears as I continue through the graveyard.

I've fought so hard not to say anything. I know it would destroy him if he knew he'd cheated on Lana. And now... with Lana out of his life and his father gone, it'd be that much worse. So I stay quiet, as much as it hurts me. I sacrifice myself for him, like I've done so many times before, and I suffer in his place.

I stop in my tracks when I spot him, kneeling in front of his father's grave. When his mother told me that she couldn't find him, I knew that he would be here. Gut instinct.

I walk over and kneel next to him, touching his shoulder. "Clark..." I whisper softly. "I knew I'd find you here."
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