fic post:Mariposa

[roxy]

Sorry, I've been dragging my feet on this--my muses are slugging it out over this story. At any rate, with help from danceswithgary I think it's inching forward again. Thanks so much, my dear!

The previous parts are here, offering you a blue pill and a red pill—don’t chose either, unless you want to wake up naked on the beach in Jersey, where the medical waste covering you will be the least disgusting thing….



In the morning, Clark rose, did his chores pretty much on auto-pilot, his head was full of Whitney, and possibilities. He made sure he was in the kitchen before his mom was, made the batter for pancakes and had coffee ready and waiting when she walked into the kitchen.

His mom sniffed the air as she walked into the room. “Ummm…someone has a favor to ask--” She saw the pancake batter waiting, and leaned against the counter next to him--looked up. “Oh-oh, someone wants a kidney.”

“Ah-ha, Mom.” He smiled a little, and hugged her. “Almost.”

She tied an apron around her neck, and took a basket of eggs out of the fridge. “I guess we better wait for your dad to wash up, before we get to the heart of the matter.” She grinned. “Get it?”

“Mom…”

*****

He waited until after they’d eaten, and then told his folks what had happened to Whitney, and why. He asked them to please let Whit stay with them, and after considering, in a much shorter time than he’d expected, they agreed to it.

His dad leaned forward in his seat, and pointed at Clark. “You know there are going to be limits. You won’t be sharing a room, which I’m sure comes as no surprise. Come on, Clark,” he said to Clark’s look of not all together sincere bafflement. “He’ll have to sleep on the pullout, I guess…keep his stuff in the powder room downstairs. And keep *himself* downstairs at night.”

Clark blushed deep red, and tried to look anywhere but into his dad’s eyes.

“There are other reasons for limits bedside what’s running through your mind--”

“Stop trying to embarrass him, Jonathan,” his mother scolded.

“But it’s fun--” He grinned a little sheepishly at her narrowed eyes and scowl. “Okay, Martha, okay…seriously, son, we’re very fond of Whitney, but this is his last year, and his last chance to pull it back together. You probably won’t think you’re getting in his way, but you might without meaning to. You’ve got to be sure to give him space, to do what needs to be done, understand?”

His dad smiled at him, and Clark finally looked up and nodded solemnly. He got it. He wanted Whitney to get it back together too. ‘Course his folks were nuts if they actually thought there’d be no sex at all--they were young healthy guys; they were supposed to think about sex twenty four-seven. It was like—a biological mandate, he thought, and—and….his mind skittered around the edges of those thoughts and veered away. He emphatically thought about something else. He chatted on with his parents, figuring out sleeping arrangements, and possible chores, and promised to give his mom a grocery list of things Whit liked to eat. His dad told him he’d talk to Mr. Fordman, that he was sure he could get him to agree. One way or another.

“Jonathan,” his mom said warningly, and his dad tried to look innocent. He winked at Clark.

“Why don’t you go wake Whit up? And maybe let him know, for future reference, what time we get up around these parts?” he said, and Clark jumped up, grinning from ear to ear.

“Be back in a minute,” he said, and raced up the stair. He threw open the door to his room, and called, “Rise and shine, Whit—breakfast time!”

Buddy jumped up, startled into barking. Clark stopped and pointed accusingly. “So that’s what happened to you, traitor. Couple of months ago, you would have eaten him in his sleep, and now, look at you. Shame.” Buddy had the good grace to dip his head and look sheepish. “Um-hmm.”

He walked up to the bed, helped unravel the flailing mound of blankets and Whit jerked upwards, flinging the blankets aside. “What the fuck—oh...shit Buddy, shut up…you almost gave me a heart attack. And thank the fuck out of you, Clark.”
“Get up, it’s late.” Clark pulled the sheets away from Whit and tried not to stare at what wasn’t covered by a pair of his flannel boxers, it was possible that Whit had the best body he’d ever seen…he knew it was true even if he hadn’t seen that many. He reached out and ran his hand down Whit’s sleep warm body, Whit leaned into the touch automatically, even as he yawned, and stretched.

“Eight on a Saturday is not late. Eight is insanely early. Remember, I wasn’t born to a life of cow-poking,” Whit grumbled.

“Cow-pokes are cowboys; we’re dairy farmers, completely different thing…”

Whit grinned, not completely focused yet. “Yeah, I was talking about a different kind of poking--”

Clark grabbed a pillow and smacked Whit with it. “Again, not dairy farming--bestiality! Hey, I have good news, you. Mom and Dad agreed to you moving in here with us. Isn’t that great?” He threw himself backwards onto the bed, and Buddy hopped down with a disgusted snort. Clark pushed Whit flat and rolled on top of him. “No need to thank me—but you can kiss me if you want.”

Whit smiled, a tiny ghost of the usual bright smile he got when ever Clark held him. Clark stiffened. “What? What is it? You want me to get off?”

Whit threw his arms around Clark and held him in place. “Oh, Clark-thanks for what you did for me. But. I have to go home. I have to try--”

“Try? Whit! Try what—ignoring what happened, who you are—hoping he gets better?”

“Clark, calm down. I’m just saying…”

Clark broke Whit’s hold and rolled to the bed. “Is it you don’t want to stay in my house? Because that’s okay too, there are still guys on the team who’d let you stay, I bet. Like Fred--”

“No, that’s not it,” Whit cut in. “I want to stay with you, I want to be with you all the time, it would be wonderful, but they need me now, okay? It’s important…it’s the right thing to do Clark, and you know it’s true. Besides, maybe this is what me and my dad need to get closer, you know?”

Clark rubbed his eyes. “The fact that you don't always go for the easy thing is part of the reason why I love you—but Whit, a parent who treats his kid with such…contempt…doesn’t need to use fists on them. He’s been beating you most of your life.” He touched Whit’s cheek carefully. “It just didn’t show before.”

Whit shrugged Clark off, and slid out of bed. He searched for his clothes, talking as he did. “You don’t get it Clark. How could you? You’ve got the perfect parents. They love you now matter what. They know all about you and they don’t treat you like a–a—freak.” His back was to Clark and he couldn’t see the wounded look flicker across his face.

“Than why go back? Stay! Please.” Clark hated that his voice rose, almost a whine. He felt the beginning of a headache tighten his jaw, press behind his eyes.

“This might be my last chance, Clark. I have to!” Whit scooped his jacket up from the floor, looked at the torn collar and threw it back down. “This isn’t me turning you down, love. This is…trying. I’ll prove to them I’m worthwhile.” He kissed Clark’s cheek, pressed his lips against him for a long slow moment, before leaving.

Clark sat on his bed staring at the closed door, before throwing a pillow at it--hard as he could. “Shit!”

*****

Clark sat in the barn, the lower half of the loft doors open, and watched his dad and Whit get in the truck. Whit didn’t look up to the loft. Clark sat silently with Buddy on his lap, watching them drive away.

He muttered to himself, “Sure Whit, you try…let them break you heart over and over.” He bent down and rested his forehead against Buddy’s wiry head. “S’okay, Bud, we’ll be here when he needs us.”

******

“Oh my God!”

Clark jerked upright, and fell off of his bed, knocking his notebooks to the ground.
He was running as soon as his feet touched the ground, slamming into the side of his door as he dashed out of his room. He thundered down the stairs, calling for his mom, who was still yelling, only now, she was yelling for his dad.

He ran into the kitchen the same time his dad did, both of them pale and scared…his mom was quiet now, so pale her lips were bright red, her eyes were enormous. She pointed at the phone, hand shaking—voice shaking when she finally spoke. “It was the doctor’s office.” Tears welled up and ran down her cheeks.

“No…what, sweetheart, what?” His dad’s expression said tell me, don’t tell me…

Clark watched his mother reach out to his dad and he realized she wasn’t frightened--she was…amazed, stunned…

“I’m…I’m fine—I’m pregnant. We’re going to have a baby.”

His dad stared open mouthed, and suddenly swayed a little, even paler than before. “You’re kidding. You’ve got to be kidding.”

Clark felt like an elephant stepped on his chest. A baby? A baby…their baby.

His mom swung towards him, her face glowing with joy and he swallowed, rushed forward and hugged her. “Mom, that’s wonderful! We were so worried, but this is wonderful!”

His dad was on them, and they hugged each other, they laughed, and his parents definitely cried a little and after a bit, he managed to pull away….

He wandered out to the yard, out under the oaks near the truck shed. An old swing hung from one of the trees there, a truck tire at the end of a dirty gray rope, nearly rotted through from age, neglect. Near it was what used to be a sandbox once, its wooden cover cracked through and no longer protecting the white sand inside from the barn cats. His sandbox, his swing…maybe they’d fix it up for the baby. Looked like his parents didn’t have to settle for a freak kid dropped on them out of the sky anymore. They were getting a real kid, at long last. A kid that was really human, a kid that was part of them.


He asked for the truck, and got permission, and drove out to the Estates, where Chloe lived. He needed his friend, the one person who most understood the mine field of his brain.

Clark knocked at the Sullivan’s door, softly, hesitantly. Now that he was on Chloe’s doorstep, he was a little afraid she might just think he was being selfish, because he wasn’t so sure himself. He raised his hand to tap again, and the door flew open, and Chloe yelped. “Clark—you scared me--I didn’t know you were here, I was just heading out.” She took a look at his face and grabbed him by the hand, pulled him inside and bustled him down the hall and into the kitchen, “What the hell is wrong, Clark?”

“Nothing. Everything. I don’t know.”

“Well, you’re making as much sense as you usually do, FB.” She pushed him into a chair and patted his head like he was Buddy. “Here.” She poured him juice and ripped open a bag of cookies. “Here, take this too.” She dropped some on a plate and pushed them towards him. “Now, spill—what’s eating you?”

“My mom’s pregnant.” He shoved a cookie in his mouth, shoved in another and chewed like his life depended on it.

“What? Really? But that’s so cool….” She wavered at his expression“...or maybe not?”

“No Chloe, it’s not. I mean, part of me is saying that it is, and that they love me, and part of me is losing it in a really ugly way. Oh, they tell me I’ll always be the oldest beloved child, blah blah blah—I mean, what else can they say? ‘Oh, we’ve got our real kid now, get out.’?” He took a gulp of juice and frowned. “Um, do you have milk?” He nudged the empty plate her way. “And… more cookies?”

She poured a big glass, and filled the plate with cookies again, and hugged him as she set the plate down. “You know what you’re thinking is stupid, right? You and your parents have an incredible bond—I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone whose parents so obviously treasure them, Clark. You’re so lucky.”

He sighed. “But this is their chance to have a normal child, not like me….” Crap! He stopped and paled--he’d spoken without thinking, what the hell was wrong with him?

Chloe was horrified, mistaking Clarks meaning. “Oh Clark—you think they ever think less of you because of what happened to you? No, no, never!”

Clark opened his mouth. Closed it. It was better she thought that. A little niggling thought twisted through his head. But what if they did…maybe they’d always been hoping for…better. He shook his head and jammed another few cookies in his mouth and gulped milk.

“They love you so much. You know they thought about how it might affect you; and they’re probably going out of their way to reassure you hunh? Feels weird, right? But really Clark, they won’t put the new baby before you. You’ll see. But… it’d be great if you were as excited and happy as they are, you know?”

Clark nodded. He understood. Pretend that this was the greatest thing ever, make his parents happy.

Chloe sat down across from him and leaned her chin on her hands. “Okay, now, don’t think I’m not glad to be here for you--but I’m surprised you aren’t having this heart to heart with *him*—what’s up?”

“Oh, gosh…” Clark stared at the half empty glass of milk in his hands. “Whitney. We don’t get together very much lately, and when we do, we don’t talk a whole lot…” He blushed. “He’s so busy, with school and …helping his parents.”

“Ah.” She looked at him, and nodded. “You guys had a fight?”

No, no, nothing like that. It’s--complicated.”

She took a cookie from Clark’s pile and nibbled along the edge. “Complicated. I know.” She sighed. “Well, at least your news was good. I was coming to give you some news of mine. We’re…my dad and I are moving.”

Clark felt betrayed, shocked speechless.

Chloe nodded, and Clark wanted to kick himself for not noticing that she was upset. “Why, Chloe? Why--"

“The plant’s closing. Most of the executives are being transferred, and they’re laying off the workers. But don’t tell anyone, Clark. Not yet. My dad has hopes that he can put them off…”

“Chloe, this is going to be a disaster for the town—and for *me*. I don’t want to lose you.”

“Me either, but we’re kind of the lucky ones, in a way—my dad has a job. Most of the kids at school—their dads aren’t going to have one.”

Clark nodded. “You know, I didn’t know the plant was doing that badly.”

She looked thoughtful, Clark recognized her ‘isn’t that weird’ look… “It’s not. Dad said it’s turning a profit. But…most of the research staff left about three weeks ago. I saw a bunch of LuthorCorp cleanup trucks in the fields up by Crater Lake right before they left…”

“Chloe--” Clark started.

“I’m just saying, there’s something that connects the WOW freaks and the meteorites, the fires, the disappearances, the plant—all of it is interconnected, and I know I’m on the right track.” She looked triumphant—and scared.

“Look--promise me that you won’t fool around with this anymore, please. The plant closing could be related to this stuff. I know you think investigating this stuff could be your ticket to big time journalism, but everything you’ve just said leads to one thing—danger…”

“Clark,” she frowned. “I’m not stupid. I’ve thought about consequences, you know. I think I’m prepared if anything ever comes up. I’m pretty sure I know who’d be the danger.” She stopped talking. “So…prom? You guys going?”

“Terrible segue and no. Lana and Whit are going together, because if Whit and I went together, his dad would have a heart—oh, gosh.” He stopped and blushed. “Anyway, we have other plans.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” she answered. Her expression told him what she thought about those plans.

“Chloe…” he sighed. “Just…don’t worry about it, okay?”

continued...