Entranced

Chapter 3: Happy Trails

Lana and I briskly stride towards the entrance of Metropolis' 5th Precinct, where Chloe's being held overnight. I let out a resigned sigh as we approach the giant doors.

This whole situation's a mess.

But at least Lana doesn't seem to be mad at me anymore. That's the last thing I need right now. However, I can tell by the way she's holding my hand that she's really worried about what all of us are facing.

"Everything will turn out alright," I reassure her as I gently squeeze her hand.

"I hope so Clark," she says with a twinge of anxiety in her voice. "It's just that Chloe's Dad is in California on business while Lois and General Lane are still in Europe searching for Lucy. We're all that she's got right now. On top of it all, I still can't believe they arrested her for burglarizing LuthorCorp! I know Chloe's pretty capable, but I don't think even she could pull that one off."

"I'm thinking the same thing too," I concur, "there's something about this whole situation that's not quite right."

Leave it to Chloe to get arrested while attending a journalism convention in the city. Can't she keep her nose out of trouble for any reasonable amount of time? What was she doing anywhere near LuthorCorp anyway? I told her to stop looking into Lex's suspected shady dealings for her own safety. After what Lex pulled last month with those Summerholt escapees, there's no telling what he'll do to anyone that gets in his way. But I guess none of that matters now.

We both enter the precinct and fill out the necessary paperwork. After a half hour, one of the officers leads us to the cell where Chloe's waiting.

At the sight of us, Chloe bounds up to the bars with a look of relief on her face.

"Am I glad to see you guys!"

"We're just glad we got to you," Lana says as she grabs one of Chloe's hands in a comforting gesture.

"Chloe," I ask, "are you okay?"

"Better now that the both of you are here," she weakly smiles back.

I don't blame Chloe for the lack of her typical chirpiness. I've spent a night in jail myself. Definitely not pleasant. Been there, done that, burned the t-shirt.

"What happened?" Lana asks.

The expression of confusion on Chloe's face forces Lana and I to look at each other with equal confusion.

"To be perfectly honest," Chloe finally explains, "I can't really remember."

"What do you mean you can't remember?" I ask.

"What I mean is that I don't remember anything solid since this morning. Everything's kind of hazy."

Chloe's confession instigates Lana to probe even deeper.

"Are you saying that you lost your memory?"

"Not totally. I remember checking into the convention, but then after that all I can recall are bits and pieces of the day, but the memories seem really hazy and detached, as if I didn't have real control over what I was doing."

"Are you saying you were possessed?" says Lana.

"That wouldn't be the first time we've seen something like that happen." I comment.

"Yeah," Lana adds, "I'm still kind of creeped out by the Isobel and Dawn Stiles incidents."

"Look guys," Chloe chimes in, "I'm really nervous about what I can possibly say to defend myself if don't even know what actually happened. What am I gonna tell my lawyer when he gets here? I did it? I didn't do it? Wait, can I call a lifeline?!"

I do my best not to laugh, but it's no use. Chloe's "snark" , as Pete and I call it, runs loose even when she's behind bars. When I turn to look at Lana, I can see she's barely able to keep from laughing herself. At least I don't feel so bad for laughing now.

"I'm glad someone finds my stint behind bars amusing," Chloe deadpans.

"I'm sorry Chloe," I apologize, "but we'll find out what's really behind this. I promise"

"But where do we start?" asks Lana.

"You know," Chloe suggests, "I think the best place we can start would be with the last thing I clearly remember and then work from there."

"What do you remember about checking into the convention?" I ask.

"The last thing I remember was signing in and getting my name tag from this girl. I remember being kind of annoyed that she was capable of being so perky that early in the morning. She looked like she was around our age, maybe slightly older. I'd be surprised if she was past her early twenties."

"Did she have any distinguishing characteristics?" probed Lana.

"She had brown hair and some kind of Eastern European accent. For some reason I can't forget the color of her eyes. They were green with specs of gold— really unusual. Plus she had a name tag. It said her name was Karina."

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Lana lies stomach-down on her bed in Nell's condo, wearing nothing but a tank top and some old Smallville High gym sweats. Lucky for us, Nell and Dean are out of town for the week, so we have the place all to ourselves. She props her upper body up by her elbows, legs bent at the knees with her feet swaying back and forth in the air.

I swivel on the chair by her work desk across from the bed, observing her. Her face is a mask of total concentration as she stares at the laptop screen in front of her. I can't help but notice how Lana bites her lower lip whenever she focuses on something. Totally adorable. It's one of the many little quirks I've noticed about her over the years.

After a few moments she finally realizes that I've been staring at her all this time instead of diving into my share of research regarding Chloe's amnesia spell.

"What?" she asks with a quizzical look.

"Nothing," I grin back at her.

She gives me playful smile.

"You know, we need to dig up as much info as we can before we start questioning people in person tomorrow morning."

"Yes Ma'am!" I tease.

She lets out a small laugh before turning back to her screen.

I decide to follow suit and get back to pursuing leads on my own laptop that I set up on her desk. I search through the employee information pages of the organization that coordinated the journalism convention, the Kansas Journalism Education Association. But after a few minutes of searching I can't turn up anything. Then I hear Lana sigh out loud in frustration.

"Clark, I've gone through every employee database relating to the journalism convention I can find, and there's still no sign of this Karina person Chloe described."

"Maybe she just volunteered for the day or something." I suggest. "She could be a student."

"In any case," she responds, "I'm so desperate right now that I'm just about ready to start using Google images to search for pictures of the convention. I'm sure that by some bizarre Smallville-inspired stroke of luck that it'll be more helpful than what we're doing now."

"You might be right about that."

Lana huffs again and says, "Chloe sure makes investigative research look a whole lot easier than it actually is."

I start to chuckle a bit at the truth of that statement.

At my amused response she asks, "This is kind of weird, isn't it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, Chloe's normally the one that figures out what's going on behind the scenes when one of us ends up behind bars. And now we're the ones she's relying on to get her out. It's a total role reversal. Remember when Chloe found out how Seth was using his magnetic power to manipulate me in junior year before he landed me in jail?"

I give her an amused 'I-told-you-so' smile. I remember that little incident about how I warned Lana about magnet-boy. But would she listen? Noooo. To be fair, she was being controlled by Seth's magnetic meteor power. But it was incredibly irritating and worrying nonetheless.

Lana returns my smile with a devious grin of her own.

"Or how about that one time you were put in jail at the start of sophomore year? Chloe was the one that figured out that Miss Atkins was using pheromones to control Lex. Isn't it interesting that Chloe noticed that you seemed to be the only male in Smallville immune to Miss Atkins' super-pheromones?"

Of course, Lana just had to bring up that little incident with the pheromone-wielding black widow biology teacher. I knew I was pressing my luck with that 'I-told-you-so' smile.

"Miss Atkins," I respond, "or more correctly, Mrs. Luthor? Don't remind me. Being arrested in front of my parents completely sucked. And Lex barely got out of it without being totally flambéed."

Oh, what a missed opportunity that was. Maybe if I had let Desiree Atkins roast Lex in his own 100-year-old scotch as she'd intended, I'd have a lot less to worry about right now. If only I had known then what a scheming bastard he'd become. I know I shouldn't be thinking like this, but I'm not feeling much love towards Lex right now. I don't think I'll ever forgive him for letting those meteor-infected escapees from Belle Reeve endanger me, my family and Lana. Coming after me is one thing, but going after my family and friends is another thing entirely. There's no way I'm going to let that slide.

"I have to admit that Lex definitely has a less than stellar history in choosing women," she giggles. "Speaking of Lex, when does he get back from his European business trip?"

Hopefully never. Not that I'd wish him dead… just stranded on a desert island or something. It's nothing he hasn't handled before. But getting back to the point, Lana did ask a question.

"According to his secretary," I answer, "he gets back sometime tomorrow."

"Good," Lana says optimistically, "perhaps we can both convince him to drop the charges against Chloe."

I give Lana a dubious look.

"That doesn't seem likely. In case you haven't noticed, Chloe and I aren't exactly on Lex's buddy list at the moment."

"But it's worth a shot," she counters. "Things don't have to get ugly and totally out of hand. If Lex sees that Chloe didn't get her hands on anything important, then he might as well let it go. I don't think he wants a storm of publicity around whatever it was he was trying to keep secret."

"You've got a point there," I reluctantly acquiesce, "but in the meantime we've got to soldier on without her."

"I know," she sighs, "If Chloe was here she'd probably have figured everything out by now."

"That's probably true," I reassure her, "but don't sell yourself short. Even Chloe runs into dead ends sometimes."

When I look back at her, Lana's lost in thought, as if digesting what I'd just said.

"Lana?"

She snaps out of her reverie and stares at me with earnest eyes. I know that stare. She looks at me like that whenever she wants me to answer something truthfully. Then she looks down at the bed, seemingly embarrassed.

"Clark, this is gonna seem kind of out of the blue, but I was wondering… why did you chose me?"

"What?" She's right. I have absolutely no idea where this is coming from.

She lifts her gaze from the bed but she still can't look me in the eyes. It seems like she suddenly develops a fixation on my now-twiddling thumbs as she clarifies her question.

"Why didn't you choose Chloe over me? I mean, she's brilliant, gorgeous, funny… and you two get along so well. Asides from my own issues and baggage, I don't see anything I have to offer that she doesn't."

Whoa, talk about a live grenade being tossed into your car during your morning commute. If there's anything I handle worse than Kryptonite, it's the questions girls ask you in their moments of insecurity. Those questions almost inevitably make you look like an absolute tool no matter what you say. Every girl I know does this to me at some point or another without fail. This could get ugly. Really ugly. Like Jar-Jar Binks having his own primetime Star Wars sitcom ugly.

"Lana, where is all this coming from?" Stalling for time in order to get your bearings is always a good option.

"I'm not really sure," she explains in a hushed tone. "With Chloe behind bars needing our help, I guess it just finally hit me how much we rely on her… and how much I actually look up to her. Ever since halfway through senior year, I've noticed a really big change in Chloe, you know?"

I nod silently in agreement, urging her to continue.

"She grew into this more mature, graceful, and stronger version of the girl I used to live with. Gradually she became this person that…"

With Lana struggling for the right words, I can't help but fill in the blanks with an expression that I somehow know captures what we both think of Chloe in our minds.

"… you could trust and depend on no matter how bad things got?"

"Right," she affirms with a smile, "but at the same time she's still the same vibrant, energetic, and quirky Chloe we all know."

"I know exactly what you mean," I chuckle.

She laughs with me for a little bit before the thoughtful look returns to her face.

"Do you know how I really noticed the change in her?" she states.

"How?" I know I shouldn't keep encouraging her, but my own curiosity gets the best of me.

"The way you are around her," she answers, "it's like you don't have your guard up when she's around… it tells me that you trust her completely. And you don't trust easily, even to people you're close to. Which means you realized she's grown too."

Oh. Not exactly the observation I was expecting. Does Lana suspect that Chloe knows all about me? Before I can even get halfway through formulating a lame response, Lana mercifully changes the subject.

"I'm sorry I haven't been as good a friend to you this past year as I could have been. Chloe learned how to bury the hatchet much earlier than I did. She was there for you a whole lot more than I was... plus I'm sorry I didn't support you through Alicia's death."

"Lana, there's no way you could have known-"

"No Clark," she interjects with a determined look in her eyes, "I was being selfish and self-centered. Alicia was blameless the second time around. She didn't deserve my finger-pointing hysteria. It was partly my fault she died and I never apologized properly for that. Plus as a friend, I should have been there for you."

Although I don't say it out loud, I really appreciate Lana's attempt to take responsibility for her actions during that trying episode in our lives. Although she doesn't fully realize it, I can see that she's grown as a person as well.

"Hey, it's all in the past," I reassure her, "we each had our own reasons for what we did. Nobody's blameless."

"I know," she whispers, "but it doesn't change the fact that an innocent person died…"

I can see her mind drifting off somewhere. I don't know for sure, but my gut tells that she has a secret of her own weighing her down. Is that what I look like when I'm mired in my own web of lies? Then she turns to face me and she appears completely miserable. Her voice barely keeps from cracking as she speaks.

"If you knew everything I've done, there's no way you'd want to be with me. I'm not nearly as noble or heroic as you and Chloe."

"Lana, what are you talking about?"

"Clark, I've got secrets too. I'm just afraid that you won't ever see me the same way if I tell you."

"You know," I respond in an attempt to calm her fears, "I don't expect either of us to see each other the same way when the entire truth comes out. All we can do is accept each other for who we are and hope that the mistakes we've made have helped us become better people in the end."

I'm surprised to see that my words somehow put a light smile on her face.

"I knew there was a reason why I loved you so much..." she declares sincerely, "you have the most beautiful heart I've ever seen, Clark Kent."

Wow. What do you say to that? Before I know it, I'm feeling all tingly inside and I can feel my face stretching from my steadily growing smile. I've got to find a way to tell her how I feel. And what better way than to answer her original question from the heart?

"Do you know why I chose you Lana?"

"Why?" she says with a half-curious, half-worried look.

"You're not afraid to change into a better person. I know you're not perfect and I know like all of us you've made your share of mistakes. But ever since I've gotten to know you, you've always moved forward, trying to become a better person. Trying to become a better friend. I think that's what makes you beautiful."

She gives me a genuine smile this time.

"You know Clark, I don't think that everything you just said about me is objectively true, but the fact that you think it's true just proved my point about your heart. I really do love you."

"I love you too," I reply as I get off my chair and set myself beside her on the bed.

She pulls me in for a kiss and I feel the sweet caress of her lips. Pretty soon we get so lost in the passion of our kisses that I accidentally knock her laptop off the bed and it crashes to the carpeted floor. I am such a klutz. That thing costs nearly two grand. I start apologizing to her profusely.

"It's okay," she says almost laughing. She must find my genuflecting routine of forgiveness amusing or something. Oh well, anything to distract her from getting mad.

"Clark, really, it's okay," she reminds me again, but she can't hold back her giggles this time. "Laptops are replaceable. Beside's we don't even know if it's really broken."

"Oh yeah," I grunt like an idiot.

I quickly reach down to retrieve the computer and I'm totally relieved to see that it's still intact and working. But when I look at the screen I notice that it's changed from when the laptop was still on the bed. The search button must have been pressed when the laptop fell.

"It seems that my Google images search turned up something after all," observes Lana.

Staring right at us is an image taken from the Chloe's journalism convention. It shows a group of three volunteers all standing next to each other. The woman to the far right fits Chloe's description of Karina. Brown hair and green eyes with specs of gold. But that isn't the most interesting part. The caption under the photo tells us the woman's full name: Karina Mxyzptlk.

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End of Chapter 3!

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