inalienable rights CHAPTER SIX
The corridor seemed to have grown longer in the five minutes since they left it, and the trek back to the labs felt interminable. Marin decided to make one last attempt to restore civility before she had to submit Clark to a barrage of experiments. She put a hand on Clark's arm and motioned for him to stop.
"Now what?"
Marin shrank into her jacket. "I just - I think we got off on the wrong foot."
"Is that why I have to keep hearing how right you are about everything?"
"Damn it, Clark, get off your self-righteous high horse for a minute, would you?" Marin boldly pushed Clark back against the wall. "I'm trying to hold out the olive branch here. As far as I can see there's no harm, no foul. Yeah, I wish I hadn't had to take such drastic measures, but I had no other choice." In her frustration she kicked at the wall, remembering too late that her rubber-soled Keds weren't exactly designed to absorb high impact with concrete. "Ow, damn it!" She lost her balance and felt herself begin to stumble, but Clark caught her before she fell.
"It's not broken," he announced, his stare fixed on her left big toe.
Marin pulled herself up and threw Clark's arm off. "I know it's not, I could tell if I broke a bone or not." She took a step and winced in pain, but still refused Clark's help. "I'm fine," she insisted before taking another step and nearly collapsing. She was almost ready to try again when the sudden sensation of Clark's arm around her waist and his hand under elbow almost induced a collapse of a different sort. "I thought you were mad at me."
"I'm not about to let you go dragging yourself back to the lab like that, broken toe or not." Clark moved slowly for Marin's sake. He seemed sullen and distant for a moment, and it surprised Marin when he spoke again. "And I'm not mad at you."
"That was quite a convincing performance then, 'cause I was pretty sure I felt some serious pissed-offishness in my general direction."
"Pissed-offishness?"
"Hey, I'm the not-so-walking wounded, cut me some slack." Marin relaxed a little, relieved to have settled into somewhat less stringent banter. "This is the Clark Kent I was expecting." She hadn't really meant to say that, and the thought had snuck up on her and jumped through her lips before she had a chance to ask it why.
"What do you mean?"
"Oh, I uh… I mean, I always hear about this sweet farmer's kid with a hero complex, you know - and since I pissed you off five minutes after you got here, I just… well, I saw a side of you I wasn't prepared for."
Clark was silent and looked straight ahead. "You know a lot about me, don't you." It wasn't a question.
"Yeah… well, if a seven month in-depth case study constitutes 'a lot.' But there are always things that can surprise you."
"Like what?"
"Like… Lois?"
Clark looked surprised. "What about Lois?"
"Actually, I was thinking 'what about Lana,' 'cause I thought that was your girlfriend's name."
Clark exhaled in a low whistle. "In-depth study, huh?"
Marin answered with a noncommittal shrug.
"Lana and I are…" Clark paused to search for the appropriate description of his rocky relationship with Lana.
"Just friends?" Marin postulated.
"Complicated."
"Ah."
"And not together."
"Ah squared."
"Ah squared?" Clark replied teasingly.
"Sorry, nerd humor. Side effect of working under ground and studying extra-terrestrial life on Earth. Technically, it would actually be 'ah, times two,' since - "
"That's okay, I think I got it."
Marin was finding it progressively easier to sink against Clark and allow him to hold her up, even though she knew it was of no significance to him, This was just who he was; the type who would carry an old lady's groceries across the street, even if he didn't know her - and probably had. And that only made him harder to resist. "So… are we back on the right foot?"
Clark nodded. "I think so."
"Good, 'cause my left foot is killing me."
Lois sat up groggily, trying to figure out what didn't make sense - she was certain something didn't make sense. I'm in my room… on my bed…okay, not weird. But fully dressed? Complete with jacket and shoes? I don't even remember getting home. She crossed the room to her dresser, assessing herself in the mirror above it. Ugh, I look like I just walked out of the Thriller video. What is in my hair? She pulled at stringy cobwebs clinging to her bangs and shuddered involuntarily. Her face was streaked with dust and - tears? Her head felt like an impromptu performance of Tap Dogs had a sold-out engagement inside it, and her mouth tasted vaguely of vomit.
"What the hell happened to me?"
Clark was lying on his back with his arms crossed behind his head, letting the blandness of the white ceiling wash over him and dull his senses. Repeated exposure to minute quantities of refined Kryptonite - while necessary to collect his various tissue samples - left him feeling like a drained battery. Even his mind felt a little numb, and he was aware that he was not in fact fully aware of anything. There were voices in the hall outside the open door of his room, but he couldn't identify them or even guess their number.
He knew his clarity should be returning any moment, that the effects of the Kryptonite should be short-lived once he was rid of it, but in his stupor Clark was drawn to something he could see beyond the fiberboard ceiling and the antique shop above it - not with his eyes, which he had now closed, but through them - almost inside them - and then he could feel it… the sky…
Clark was startled out of his reverie when something hit his face - or rather his face hit something. Realizing that the offending something was actually the ceiling brought him fully out of his dream state, and sent him crashing down to the bed, where he became a jumble of limbs and confusion on a flattened frame of steel.
"Dr. Swann!" A voice and the body it belonged to rushed into the room. "Dr. Swann! He's landed!"