Cyndra Rae (cyndrarae) wrote,
Cyndra Rae

Smallville: Penance (13/?) (Clark/Whitney)

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Chapter 13

Saturday 1010 hrs

Whitney stopped at a phone booth and called up Lana's cell phone. He wasn't carrying any since he'd been with the Corp.

“Hey.. its Whitney..”
“Whitney! Where are you?? Why did you not go home last night?”
“How.. how do you know?”
“Clark called.” … Whitney held his breath.
“He said that he told your mom that.. you and I.. that we were together last night and that’s why… you know… she-she was so worried!”

Whitney let go.
“Jeez he did that? Uhh Lana I hope you’re not angry at him for doing so, I.. I told him he could.. you know,, that you wouldn’t mind. Plus, since Aunt Nell isn’t in town I didn’t think it would be a problem…”
“Whitney its fine really, happy to cover for you anytime you know that!” Whitney could hear her bright smile in her voice. He smiled too.
“Thanks Lana.”
“hey no problem. Wanna tell me where you were last night by the way?”

Whitney felt his gut in knots.
“L-Lana I’ll explain everything later, I promise. Right now…”
“Yeah Yeah.. that’s what Clark said too. Take your own sweet time honey”
She meant it. She was really concerned now, but she meant it. He relaxed.
“Thanks again Lana, you’re the best. I gotta go now, catch you later.”
“Bye Whit..” and she added softly, “Take care.”

Whitney couldn’t help but smile Clark had had the same idea he did about how to assure his mother about not turning up last night. Either they were both equally dumb so couldn’t come up with a better excuse or… huh. They were both equally dumb period.

Whitney then called up his mom on her cell phone. He stood silently as he heard his mom shriek with joy to hear his voice.
“Whitney! Where are you?”
“..Mom ..”
“Son I know you’re an adult now and everything and I really shouldn’t be… but you could at least have given me a call! I was worried sick about you”
“Yeah I’m here.. ..I’m sorry mom..”

Betty was surprised.
“You’re sorry? What no fight? No I’m-a-big-boy-now and I-deserve-a-little-privacy-too and stay-out-of-my-personal-stuff!?!”
Whitney placed a hand over the speaker and sagged against the booth.

“Baby are you okay?”
Shit, now he had alarmed his mother.
“Yeah I’m fine mom. I guess I was …huh.. waiting for you to complete your now-listen-up-young-man-I-am-still-your-mother lecture before I said something.”
He forced himself to chuckle.
“Hmmm… Whitney…” Betty’s tone wasn’t angry anymore. She sounded quiet amused actually.

“Mom listen.. I’m on my way back home now and.. and I’m just gonna pick my stuff and head back to the base.. I gotta catch the next bus out.”
“What? So soon? You weren’t supposed to go until tomorrow right?”
“Yeah but mom, I got paged. Something’s up at the base I gotta go.”
“Mom hey.. I’m sorry I cant help it!”
“At least come by the store darling before you go.. surely you have time to..”
“Mom I cant ok? I gotta catch the first bus out and that’s in an hour… I’ll… I gotta go.”
“Mom… I.. bye Mom.”

He hung up and smothered his sobs with his hands.

Betty Fordman’s son was a Marine now. Of course he didn’t have time for his old mother. Shush.. what a silly thing to expect!
She went to the back of the store and cried.

Whitney got into his truck and drove home. Couldn’t get any more miserable could he? He got home, gathered the stuff he‘d brought and stuff he needed, dumped everything into the truck and got in. He would have to come back at night maybe to keep the truck back. But right now, he had other business to take care of.

Clark was heading towards his farm right then. He reached the shed and … the truck was gone.

He swung around and looked up at his loft with his vision.

He cursed and cursed as he ran up , already knowing what he was gonna find, or Not find.
//Well at least the Fordman truck aint missing anymore. But it still contains incriminating evidence.//

Clark was so … so angry and so.. worried about Whitney it was driving him mad. How had the boy managed to drag himself out of bed? He had looked like he would break into a million pieces if he even touched him! Never had he felt this anguished and… desperate.. it almost pained him physically… but then he remembered he had felt like this before.. every time, every single time that he had come in contact with those damn stones.. every single time he had felt like his life was slowly being squeezed out of him… super strong renegade alien my ass.
//Where are you Whitney? God I hope you’re okay… because if you’re not, you’re dead meat.//

And he sped out. He had a good idea where he might be headed. But first he had to go tell Lana what to do and say if Chloe or the detectives came talking to her. He didn’t tell her what really happened but promised to, eventually. Meanwhile, Lana would cooperate. No problem. Whitney was the problem right now. And history will tell you Whitney could sure be a handful.

Whitney stopped a short distance away from the gas station. He saw Mark Webber come out of the small cabin behind, and exchange some notes with a staff guy. Then the other guy left and Mark turned around to go into the cabin. Whitney pushed his truck into fourth gear and accelerated right towards the bastard. Mark turned to see what the noise was, saw the huge truck rushing towards it, and then saw who was driving it. The look of pure terror that came on his face was precious. He jumped out of the way, but Whitney wasn’t planning to crush him anyways. He swerved and drove the truck straight into his cabin. The little wooden shed came crashing down as Whitney reversed and came out. Sped forward to hit the structure again, this time bringing it down completely. Mark was absolutely horrified.

Whitney got out of his truck. It hurt like hell, but he wasn’t gonna let it show in front of Mark Webber. The latter had frozen but now he ran, or at least tried to, he stumbled and fell. Whitney was over him in an instant. He grabbed the collars on his overall and socked him in the face until he saw stars.

Whitney was in a rage.

He hit him with all the might he could muster and Mark didn’t stand a chance. He kicked Mark in the groin and Mark let out the loudest scream of his life.

Another kick right there.
“What did I ever do to you??”
Another. Mark was gasping for breath now. He was bent over trying to protect himself from more kicks and shaking one hand vigorously, trying to ask Whitney to stop. Whitney stopped.
“Answer me bastard. You left me to die. Why should I let you live?”
“I’m sorry man!”
“Oh that’s nice”
And Whitney couldn’t get any more angrier. He raised his damaged fist again to strike.

“No! No! Whit listen.. I.. we did not know Nigel was planning to kill you. We.. we thought he was.. he was just foolin' around you know… let you hang and then…. set you free… Oww!”
Whitney let the fist fall. And again. And again.
“Sonofabitch!” Whitney had no words to express his hatred, his anger for the guy. He was almost in tears himself because he wanted so much to avenge himself, but he couldn’t kill Mark. He just couldn’t. Nigel maybe, but he was already dead.

He let go. He didn’t know what else to do.

Mark saw his shoulders droop and he sighed in relief. He tried again, “I swear Whitney we…”
This time Whitney drove his knee right into his jaw, so forcefully that he broke it and Mark would need years of surgery to ever be worth looking at. Mark howled in agony as blood flooded his mouth.
“You mention this to anyone Mark, you know I am gonna sing too. And God knows I wont let you live a moment of peace all your life.”

He turned around and started walking. To his truck. The pain returning to every inch of his body. He’d obviously broken some of Martha’s careful stitches and was bleeding now. The tee shirt was already drenched in blood on his side. He quickened his steps before he could fall, got into the truck and drove away.

Next stop – Brent Madison.

Clark Kent reached the gas station hardly a minute later. He saw the destruction Whitney had left in his wake and … //damn the man is fast! And angry. I’ve never had so much problems catching up with anyone before..//

He walked up and knelt beside Mark lying on the ground still howling and holding his face with both hands. Clark scanned to see if he was serious but apart from the broken jaw, which threatened to bleed him to death, and a very sore genital area.. he looked ok. He flipped out Mark’s cell phone from his front pocket and called 911. Assured that help was on the way, he got up..

“Who did this to you?”
Clark asked. But Mark stayed quiet. Very quiet. Obviously whoever did this had put the fear of God in him.
//That will do.//
Clark sped off. He didn’t know where to go. Who were the other guys? Brent Madison, Hector Hannigan and Dan…something.

//Where are you off to Whitney? And how long can you keep this up?//

Whitney was heading towards the most desolate area on Smallville. He had been to Brent’s place but it was locked and his girlfriend told him he went to a friend’s place, Hector is it? Yeah that’s him. Shooting crap and slugging beers and such. Would probably also find his other friends there.. you know that Mark and Dan?

That was all Whitney needed to know. The thought of having to take them all together crossed his mind but he was too crazed at the moment to care. Seemed like Whitney was phasing out again. The pain was relentless and he was feeling breathless now and then. It didn’t occur to him to turn back or go later.. all he was concerned right now is that he would bleed to death BEFORE he reached his destination.

He drove up into the small parking lot just outside Hector’s apartment, and killed the engine. He leaned back on the seat and rested for a moment. He closed his eyes, not sure what he planned to do here. Whatever it was, it has to be now. Or never. He was about to jump out when something caught his eye: two cars away, stood the black sedan. The bloody black sedan stood right there in full public view. What the...? Those bastards, those assholes, those Complete Idiots.

He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He would recognize that car anywhere. And it was no coincidence it was parked here.

What Whitney didn’t know was that this was Nigel’s car. He had driven it up here last night, but driven out in Whitney’s truck to Reiley field with full intentions to fuck him, torture and then kill him, and dispose of his body and the truck together. The car was forgotten by the complete idiots inside. Had they any brains, they would have done something about it by now. Right now, they were getting themselves drunk and pissing their pants in vain attempts to curb the growing fear. Their boss was dead. And the stooges were at a loss as to what to do. They couldn’t go to the police obviously, and they didn’t know what had happened to Whitney or.. Whitney’s body.

Out in the parking lot, Whitney decided he was angry with the fucking car too. He got out and walked slowly towards the car. The night before played in his mind over and over. Nigel was the enemy.. he always had been. But the betrayal of his friends hurt even more than he thought possible. These were the boys he had played with since they were little kids.. how could they? How could they?

He reached the car and stopped in front of it. Now, if only it were… Whitney drove his right foot into the bonnet with all his strength… the shrill alarm rang out… Good.
The mostly vacant lot was reverberating with the loud noise. Whitney calmly stood by the car, leaning for support, crossed one feet with the other …and waited.

The alarm rang out loud and clear and everyone inside heard it. So did Hector, Brent and Dan. They recognized the alarm as that of Nigel’s car and startled. Who the hell? All of them came rushing out..

There stood the scarecrow.. very much alive.. leaning on Nigel’s car.. comfortable amid the screeching noise.. staring at the three of them.

They had never thought they’d see the guy alive. Nigel had made his intentions very very clear and was about to pay them handsomely for it. Had it gone well, the stinking nobodys would have been rich by now. But here they were still, and there he was… like a nemesis.

Whitney’s state of mind was that of a crazed man hell-bent on committing suicide. The three bastards were taken aback, they didn’t know what to do. Were even getting scared, a lot. And then realized Whitney had just dared them all to come take him. Three on one. That’s to our advantage right?

They came out.. and advanced towards him just as he stepped towards them, his only weapon - a heavy wrench from his truck's toolbox. A small crowd began to gather... witnesses, he thought vaguely, but it didn't matter. Whitney forgot about the pain, the blood, nothing mattered anymore. Nothing…

Then there were suddenly these arms grabbing him from behind and hurling him around. He spun out of his daze and gazed up at the face so close to his.
His voice was hardly a whisper.

Clark held on.
“Sorry to bother you guys!”
He was talking to the goons, who were equally shocked.
Clark chuckled and grinned.
“I ah.. really I’m embarrassed ..Whitney what's wrong with you? Don’t you remember your friends? See…”
He spun Whitney around to face the guys again.
“Your friends all of them ..remember? Your team mates..! Brent here and you together won the big match! Don’t you remember?”
“What the fuck?? Clark..”

Whitney struggled to break free but Clark was way too strong. He was doing the jester act again.
“Hey hey guys, guess I owe you an explanation.. Whitney isn’t feeling too well right now. He.. we don’t know what's gotten into him.. he doesn’t remember his friends or family at all!”
“And he’s having this obsession with fast cars! Look at that, what a beauty.”
He let out a perky whistle towards the still screeching sedan.
“Forgive him will ya.. he didn’t mean no harm. I’m just gonna take him back home now ok?”

Grin in place, he half dragged half carried a struggling Whitney to his truck.
“Clark.. stop. Let me go. Let me go I say!”
“Not one word Whitney.”
His voice was so low and so… angry… Clark was upset. Oh boy.

“Lets get out of here before this gets out of hand.”

Suddenly it bothered Whitney a lot that Clark was angry with him. He complied quietly, got into the passenger side while Clark took the wheel and they drove off. Whitney turned to stare at the three men once more. The message was loud and clear.
//This isn't over.//

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