I'm stuck on campus, waiting for a midterm which will start in about three hours. Bored so here's a short story that was going to be based on a song that I was prompted for, but then altered and no longer really fit, so yeah.

Yesterday and Today
Spoilers for Arctic. PG rating. Chlark friendship.

ETA: There are no romantic pairings mentioned in this story, none. Just friendship :).


--

Her life changed in a moment.

One second she was being proposed to after having just been released from the hospital and the next second she was being arrested, strong hands gripping her arms and pulling her out of the Talon. Into a police car someone with not-so-gentle hands pushed her, with her defenseless to do anything but obey. Her hands cuffed in front of her, useless to her, weapons these individuals must have feared.

Someone spoke to her, words spoken in a harsh tone. Her rights, listed quickly in that harsh voice. She heard them but didn’t. It was like being caught in a fog, words muffled and made indistinct as a result.

The car door slammed shut, trapping her inside. Her world was collapsing down around her, like a wooden bridge grown old. The first supports had gone weeks ago, in the forms of her lost job, Lionel’s death, Lana’s attack, and Kara’s disappearance. Beams broken, the bridge barely holding on, and she had believed naively that the remaining beams would hold.

The remaining beams: Jimmy, Clark. Her own intelligence, her ability to cover her tracks other beams to rely on.

She had been naïve, a child, to believe that the bridge would hold, that it wouldn’t collapse, taking her along for the tumble. Her own stupidity and this was her reward, to be arrested and driven away in a police car.

The car sped through the black night. No one talked. She sat there, surrounded by a mess of her making she couldn’t help but think. She had known the government was interested in her, had known but had trusted Jimmy when he said things were fine now. Cleary he had been wrong. Tears came to her eyes, for her own stupidity, forcing her to shut them against this threat. Her eyes itched and burned, aching for the tears to be released, but she wouldn’t cry, not now, perhaps not ever.

With her eyes closed the journey passed.

The destination was reached and she was led from the car into the station. She was photographed and fingerprinted. Then she was told she could have a phone call.

She nodded, mumbling, “Okay.” She was taken to a public phone and her fingers dialed Oliver’s number. There was no answer. Voicemail kicked in and she left a message, numbly recanting the facts as she knew them.

“I’ve been arrested, I’m in Metropolis I think. I’m not sure where Clark is, something’s going on possibly,” she said tonelessly.

She was led to a cell after that, one that she had to herself. It was gray and dark. She sat and waited, not knowing what would happen next. Her mind, usually racing with possibilities, was blank. So she sat there, numbed to the outside world, waiting for the ground to be found and for her to stop falling.

Hope tried to spring up insider her, tried to tell her everything would be fine in a short period of time. The fall would end soon and she would land on her feet—that was what the hope inside wanted her to believe.

And she tried to hold onto that hope, but it was hard. She was alone in a jail cell and the situation didn’t seem all that hopeful. Oliver and Clark would come, she knew, but she wasn’t sure they could save her.

She wasn’t wrong.

--

The streets of Metropolis shone wetly, glittering in the pale sunshine that had replaced the rain from earlier in the morning. The air had the fresh rain scent, the smell of forest and campfires.

She entered the Daily Planet, a tray with three take-out cups of coffee clutched in her hands. Her justification for being at this place, for entering this building where she would never work again.

It was the Daily Planet, the same hustle and bustle from when she had worked here, all those years ago, before everything. Before her life had crumbled like a sandcastle, cascading down around her.

She went from the lobby to the elevators, getting on and heading upstairs. The elevator doors opened at the floor she desired and she got out, fingers tight against the cardboard in her hand. Her eyes scanned as she moved forward, taking in the details.

It was the same Daily Planet as before, the same building, but it wasn’t familiar. Or if it was, she just couldn’t grasp that familiarity. Instead she felt overwhelmed, standing near the glass and wood partition that separated the bank of elevators from the tenth floor bullpen. Just standing there, staring at the reporters typing on computers, the sound of fingers on keys, fingers on mouses. Sounds that filled her ears, made her long for days gone by. The sounds of telephones ringing, voices talking, some hushed and some excited, loud; the sounds of people working and living their lives.

A hand fell on her shoulder, causing her to start, nearly dropping the tray. A male hand steadied the tray. A familiar male hand.

“Coming in?” Clark asked. His voice was soft, unassuming. He wouldn’t push her, even when he maybe should.

She turned her head to look at him. With the glasses and the suit Clark was familiar and not at the same time. When the transformation to this persona had been made, she had been in jail. She had missed the change, hadn’t been able to help out, and whenever she saw him under his new persona she felt a physical pain, something clenching inside her body. His appearance was a reminder of what she had missed and would never get back.

“Chloe?”

“Yeah, I am,” she said. Although she tried to sound confident she couldn’t help but feel that she sounded like a little girl afraid of being in a room of strangers and former acquaintances.

“Whenever you’re ready.”

“Right,” she said. She took a deep breath, eyes falling to the bullpen once more, to the area she had so desperately wanted to work in. Her eyes burned with the pain of that lost.

“Smallville, why are you just standing there?”

She twisted, moving to step from behind Clark, revealing herself to Lois. The perplexed expression on Lois’s face melted, replaced with a hesitant smile. The smile of someone not trying to startle a cat adorned Lois’s face.

“I brought coffee,” she said, holding out her tray.

Lois took the tray. “Thanks cuz.” The smile grew a bit brighter, although still hesitant, afraid of startling yet. “But you know you don’t need to bring coffee. You can drop by anytime.”

She nodded, saying nothing, not trusting her voice. Lois passed out the drinks and Clark said something, which she missed. She spoke up, saying, “I should get going.”

“You could stay,” Lois insisted. “I could show you my desk.”

“Maybe another time.”

Lois deflated a little. “Okay, until your next impromptu visit then.” She perked up a bit. “It better not be too far in the future.”

She wasn’t sure she could promise that. She was thinking that it had been too soon coming here. It had only been a week since she had been released; a mere week and clearly that hadn’t been enough time. Seven years to learn to handle what had been lost and she was still unable to cope, struggling with this task.

“I’ll see you later,” she said. Words vague, could apply to either Lois or Clark or both. That was her intention she realized, to make it so she was unable to be pinned down.

There were nods, patient smiles, words too. Then she was leaving, rushing away from the Daily Planet, away from what she couldn’t yet handle.

Maybe she never would be able to, a thought that depressed her and made her nearly drop her cup of coffee as she walked down the wet street. The coffee when she sipped it was strong, almost too strong, a bitter taste in her mouth lingering afterwards. Bitter and wasn’t that fitting for how she felt, although not always was she bitter.

Most of the time she was just lost, unsure of who she was, and unsure how to find herself again. Her head began to ache and she traveled quickly back to the apartment Clark owed, the apartment she now lived in. She spent the rest of the afternoon on the couch, watching television.

And if she shed any tears, no one but would her would know.

--

It was raining again.

It had been raining nearly daily in the weeks since she had been released from prison, the air constantly damp and dank. The streets were drenched. The sky was gray and dark, thick clouds hanging low and spreading as far as her eye could see. A hopeless sky, she thought, as she sat and waited.

Waiting, as she did too often these days. Waiting for the future, what would come next and uncertain how to get to where she wanted to be. Unsure even of where she wanted to be.

Uncertainty twisted insider her. She had been out of jail for a month, a free woman for a month, and she had yet to find her footing. All she had it seemed was uncertainty, and she had grown tired of that. She needed to start doing something, although she wasn’t sure where to start. She just knew she needed to.

And she planned to, today even. She was tired of doing nothing, of being consumed with what had been. She needed to start living again.

The sliding glass down creaked, being forced open wider. Warm air hit the back of her exposed neck, her blonde hair pulled up in a ponytail.

“You’ll catch a cold,” Clark said.

She tilted her head. “That’s an old wives’ tale.”

“Maybe so,” he conceded.

Clark took a seat in the other chair, the one she wasn’t occupying. It was next to hers, although closer to where the sliding glass door opened onto the balcony. “How was your day? Do anything interesting?”

She shook her head. “Not really,” she said. She offered him a small smile. “I did some thinking though.”

“Thinking’s good. Just try not to think too hard,” he joked.

“I’ll try not to.”

“What did you think about?”

She shrugged. “This and that.”

Clark nodded.

“I’m going to visit you and Lois tomorrow at work if that’s okay,” she added. She hadn’t been back to the Daily Planet since that first time. She had been overwhelmed and she had retreated, never to return.

But it was time to return. It was time to deal with what had been lost. She couldn’t hide any longer.

If Clark was surprised he didn’t show it. “Okay,” was all he said.

“And I’ll even let you guys show me your desks.”

Clark smiled. “That sounds good.”

They lapsed into silence, sitting there for awhile, listening to the sounds of the rain and the traffic on the street below. Mundane sounds, nothing out of the ordinary.

And weren’t their lives mundane too? Two individuals struggling with life, and that wasn’t all that unique she knew. That thought oddly enough gave her hope, which she took gratefully.

“Let’s go inside,” she suggested, “I’m getting hungry.”

She stood, holding out a hand. Clark took it. It wasn’t much but it was a start. And that was what she had to do, she had to start. She couldn’t just sit around like she had been.

All she could do was try and hope that got her somewhere.

--

The End