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Saturday 1100 hrs
“Where are we going?” Whitney was panting hard, from exertion and pain.
“Clark where are we going? I have to get to the bus station.. I’m taking the next bus out.”
Clark looked at him then and Whitney saw how angry and …hurt?.. he seemed.
“You’re not going anywhere. We’re going back to my place.”
“Shut up Whitney before I kill you myself. The cops are looking for you right now. Your leaving like this will look very suspicious.”
“What? W-Why are the cops looking for me?”
“They’ve found out the link between the Mahaneys and us. They think one of us might have had something to do with his murder.”
“Damnit all the more reason to leave! I was supposed to go tomorrow anyway!”
“Then you will go tomorrow. Not today. Not that you’ll survive another hour without some medical help anyway. Wanna go to that hospital now?”
“No thanks.” Whitney was angry too, and added under his breath,
“I said watch your mouth Fordman!”
Whitney was so taken aback by the rage in Clark's tone he didn't react for a whole three seconds.
“You tellin' me what to do freshman?”
“You’ve been away too long Whit. You need to learn the ropes round here again.”
“Yeh. First things first.. I’m not a freshman anymore and you aint my senior anymore.”
“I remember us being friends too. Did that change as well?” Whitney added very softly.
“Haven’t you had enough of *friends* this week?”
That stung. And Clark immediately regretted it. Whitney sank into his seat as if trying to curl up and die.
“I’m.. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
They drove quietly towards the farm. Clark was really sorry he made that remark. But he was so angry too. He had nothing to say to the guy sitting next to him. No that’s not true. Fact was.. he thought he’d kill Whitney with his own hands if he turned to even Look at him.
He couldn’t believe Whitney, His Whitney would go do something so stupid! In broad daylight in front of at least five witnesses? Just the thing needed to embroil him further into what was already a serious criminal case. And without fear for his own safety? What if he hadn’t come on time? What if he had bled to death before he reached him? Already he could see the top he was wearing clinging to his side soaked in blood. He was in pain, he could tell. Every jerk would cause him to gasp and bite his lips arresting any sound before it could escape him.
//God I love you so much! I cant lose you Whit don’t you see?//
Whitney could see Clark was really angry. If he had to put it in words, he’d actually say Clark was behaving like a jilted lover. He almost chuckled at the thought. Almost. One look at Clark told him the kid was seriously pissed and would not tolerate any attempts at bad humor from him. He realized now what he did was a little stupid… ok a lot more stupid. But right then it had felt like the only thing he could do. He wanted to settle scores and not leave like a loser from this place. Or he might never have returned to it. He would have grown to hate the place, associating it with the worst night of his life. And he wouldn't have remembered it for the good moments he’d spent here – with his mom and dad, with Lana, with.. Clark.
Clark was really upset wasn’t he? It seemed odd he’d be so upset with him. Is it possible.. could he..? did he..?
Nah, Clark was just being Clark. Always concerned about everyone else.
And then he had said… “Havent you had enough of Friends this week?”
Whitney blanked out then. Seemed there were only two things left in his pathetic life now – last night’s memories and.. Clark. And both came in a package deal. Each hell-bent on reminding him of the other.
No but there was the pain too. He could always lose himself to that. He closed his eyes and let the agony take over. Every nerve in his body throbbed and ached. Good, he could try and count them one by one.
They reached the Kent property and Clark once again killed the engine, letting the truck roll quietly into the shed, as they neared the main house. He strained to catch any sounds from the house but there were none. Martha had taken Jonathan out shopping and would be gone awhile.
He got out and looked at Whitney if he needed help. Of course he did, but Clark wasn’t sure if he should approach him after having made the comment that had really hurt Whitney. Whitney got out and stood wobbling on his wounded legs, one hand on the wound that had opened and was now bleeding. With the other he tried to drag his stuff out from the back. Clark came over.
“Leave it there. Unless you need something upstairs.”
“Clothes” Whitney hissed.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll get them if you need any. Come on.”
Clark led the way. He so wanted to reach out and take Whitney into his arms. Carry him up and get him into bed as soon as possible. But Whitney needed his space. He was a self-respecting person who didn’t like being dependent on anyone for anything.
//If he needs my help, he’ll ask for it. Ask damnit!//
Clark clenched his fists and stood by the stairs, waiting for Whitney to go first. That way he could catch him if he fell. Whitney too stood at the foot of the stairs and wondered if he was gonna be able to get to the top by himself. He looked back at the truck wondering what the chances were of Clark letting him sleep in it.
//None I suppose//
Then he wondered why the hell was he here in the first place? Hah. Only because of the fact that he couldn’t go home to his mom and nobody else would take him in. Well there was Lana.. down the street.. he could… he looked at Clark watching him intently. Those green eyes… He started up the stairs.
//You’re a fool for love Fordman. Admit it, there’s no where else you’d rather be//
Whitney made it up the loft without incident but once he got there, he was totally spent. The blood loss was taking its toll. Clark couldn’t help it anymore. He scooped him up into his arms and carried him to the bed. Whitney was too tired to react. He let himself be manhandled as Clark slowly pulled out the blood-soaked top from him and laid him on his back. Then he pulled out his shoes, placed his legs on the bed and covered him with the sheets. He sat beside him and gingerly touched the open wound. The stitches had been torn off in Whitney’s fight with Mark and Martha wasn’t around. Clark was in panic.
//Why couldn’t I have useful powers like healing damnit!//
“Let me take you to a hospital Whit.” To hell with the cops.
Clark then called up the only person he could think of. Lex. The billionaire’s son picked up the phone immediately, and Clark asked him to get his doctor immediately to the loft.
“Get in here as fast as you can please. I need you.”
Clark could hear Lex giving orders in the background as he spoke.
“Hang in there Clark. I’m coming”
And the line went dead.
Whitney was passing out now. He was getting cold and he couldn’t help thinking, maybe this is how it felt to die. Did he want to die? No. NO! A few hours ago when he’d woken up, yes he’d felt like his life held no value, no purpose any more. But now, what changed?
//I don’t know. All I know is, I wanna live. God please.. let me wake up to see Clark’s face again. Please… please…//
Whitney was breathless. “Clark…”
Clark was so scared, he was blinking back tears, scared what he'd do if something happened to Whit…
“Yes Whit.. help is on the way. Hold on okay? Hold my hand Whit.. hold my hand.”
Whitney weakly grasped the hand that was offered to him.
“Clark .. I…”
“Save your energy Whit.. I’m right here. So sorry I yelled at you baby. Am right here. Aint going nowhere.”
Whitney passed out.
Lex arrived in his chopper with his doctor in no time. They landed close to the loft and rushed out towards it. Lex in front running, and consequently his doctor, a bodyguard and a secretary running behind him.
They reached upstairs and what Lex saw left him relieved for a second that it wasn’t Clark, then concerned that Whitney didn’t look good. Clark was holding Whitney in his arms frantically rocking him back and forth. He was in tears and was murmuring to Whitney over and over.
“I love you Whit. I love you so much. Please don’t leave me.”
The doctor rushed to the patient and immediately went to work. Everything was ready. He put an IV into him and patched up all his wounds. He also gave him some shots of painkillers. The doctor said he would have ideally liked to give a blood transfusion if the gentlemen would like to get him to his clinic. Lex looked at Clark. Clark was torn between doing what was best for Whitney’s health and keeping him safe from the murder investigation. Lex spoke up.
“Tell you what Doctor, why don’t you find out what his blood group is and give him the transfusion here itself? I know you can do it”
The Luthor smile alone was worth a million dollars. Lex couldn’t be thanked enough.
So Whitney didn’t have to go anywhere. He could stay right here, with Clark, and they didn’t want it any other way.
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