Title: Life’s Little Ironies
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Smallville
Pairing: Chlark friendship
Spoilers/Timeline: Post-Lara
Disclaimer: I own very little, certainly not these characters. Please don’t sue!
Author’s Note: Honestly? I’m not particularly fond of this story. It’s like the painting you can’t get quite right. Lighter than a lot of my other stuff, it was fun to write, but I’ve got to stop messing with it sometime and move on to new projects.
---
Chloe Sullivan wants it to be funny. She tries so hard to find the irony that has never failed her, but for the first time, she comes up empty.
She ponders a world in which she poured her heart and soul into a friendship, sacrificed her career and her sanity for it, pulling her still-beating heart from her chest to be there when it hurt so much to do so. Then she tries to laugh when that friendship turns out to be entirely one-sided.
In eight years, she has needed a shoulder only a handful of times. This is the big one. She’s a freak who may or may not go insane, but who definitely has some powerful side effects to consider. She just lost the only normal guy who ever loved her – who she could ever see eternity with – to her best friend’s cousin because she couldn’t tell him she was a freak.
The irony is there in spades, but all she wants to do is cry. Because this? Is the world in which the only person who could possibly understand - the same person she wore her soul thin supporting - rolls his eyes when she talks about it.
She’s never been much for wallowing, and she knows a lost cause when she sees one, so she calls an old friend and starts doing side work in exchange for help mastering her gift. Helping is all she’s ever really done well, and she has little to lose. For the first time, she is truly fearless. It’s freeing.
Six months later, and she can laugh at the irony again.
Clark Kent wants to hang out. He’s shocked and distraught that his girlfriend could be so deceptive; that she is anything but the sweet fairy princess of his daydreams.
Chloe has known for three months. Oliver Queen figured it out two months ago. They talked, but neither suggested telling Clark their findings. Even Ollie knew him better than to try.
Now, he’s standing at her desk, in her place of business, red-rimmed eyes seeking the comfort of an old friend. She can’t suppress the smile that twists one side of her mouth, but she manages to keep the head shaking to a minimum as she gets back to work.
“Clark, if you need help with the freak of the week, or figuring out what to get Kara for her birthday, I’m happy to be of service.” She finally looks him square in the eye, all trace of humor gone. “For matters of the heart, I’m afraid the doctor is out.”
“Chloe.” His incredulous tone loosens something within her.
“In case this wasn’t obvious enough, let me spell it out for you. I? Am a sidekick - an assistant of sorts. I find the baddies so you can swoop in and save the day. I’m totally okay with that, on a couple of fronts. I like making a difference in the world.”
Her tone is not entirely unkind.
“You know you’re more than…”
She puts up a hand to stop him. “Lie to yourself, Clark, but I don’t have room for any extras.”
The first few chords of “Oo-de-lally” spring from her blackberry. She digs it out of her purse and begins pulling on her jacket.
“It’s me.” She says in a hushed tone, and begins shutting down her laptop.
“You secure?”
“Safe and sound, but I do have an audience.”
“Ace reporter material?”
“Nope. Big and blue.”
“He need a hand with something?”
“Nothing a few years in a barn won’t solve.” She swings her laptop bag over her shoulder and gives Clark a cursory glance as she heads for the elevator.
“Ah, he discovered the big bad squirrel, I take it.”
“Yep. I win.”
“You so do. Which will it be?”
“Definitely the Spyder. I never was big on all that glitters.” She smiles, leans back against the elevator wall, and selects her floor.
The hand that prevents the doors from sliding closed is hardly a surprise after leaving a gaping alien at her desk. His face is hard when he leans against the opposite wall, but she passed caring months ago. Years, if she’s honest.
“And that’s why we love you.”
“Tell me I didn’t just drop everything for a little flattery, Robin Hood.”
“You know I’m more substance than style.”
“Says the playboy who won’t get to the point.”
“Fine, fine. I just miss our little chats.”
“We chat on your dime. You still up for Friday?”
“It’s always my dime, baby. But yes, I’m counting the minutes.”
“Well said.”
“So is Impulse.”
“If he’s in, I’m out. He cheats.”
“You still win.”
“He also can’t keep his hands to himself. You were going to get to the point sometime soon, weren’t you?”
“Be at the tower in 15, we’ve got a situation in Bangladesh.”
“Got it. Be safe.” She hits END and is digging in her purse for her keys, when Clark finally breaks the illusion with a hand on her shoulder.
"Chlo. What happened to you?”
She goes rigid in an instant. He has no right to ask that question, but she manages to keep her voice steady. “I help. It’s what I do.”
“Since when?”
A bitter little laugh escapes her, and she slides behind the steering wheel. “Since always, Clark. I need to get to work.”
“I thought you were at work.”
“That’s the point. Now either get in or go, because I’m on the clock here.”
“Chloe.”
She starts the car and he lets her tug the door closed. She’s out of the spot before he appears in the seat beside her.
“Jeeze, Clark. Coronary, much?”
Despite her words, she drives without pause, deftly maneuvering her tiny import through the Saturday night traffic to a gleaming high-rise. She pulls her laptop and another green case from the back and tosses her keys to a smiling valet who greets her as “Miss Sullivan”.
Clark is still gaping as she nods her greeting to the doorman, but he does manage to catch up at a human pace. By the time they pass the 11th floor, he’s pacing the tight space of the elevator and in full freak-out mode. It’s the best entertainment she’s had in months.
“What the hell is going on, Chlo?”
“What does it look like?”
“It looks like you work for Oliver.”
“I do. I have for months. There something wrong with that?”
“You didn’t tell me.”
“It was more of a don’t ask, don’t tell policy. I help you. Why are you getting all up in arms that someone actually considers my services worth a paycheck?”
“I…you…” He lets out a frustrated growl and runs his hands through his hair, a picture of frustration. “That’s not fair.”
“No,” she says evenly. “You expecting me to waste away in a basement waiting to help only you is unfair. You leaning on me every time you need something and acting like I’m a human search engine when you’re happy is unfair. This? Is probably the fairest situation I’ve ever gotten myself into. I get paid to make a difference, I get appreciated for the sacrifices I make, and I get support in exploring my own quirks. How is that not fair again?”
“That’s not what I mean and you know it.”
“No, I don’t. Are you saying it’s unfair for me to help other people? Or for me to point out your shortcomings? Because I gotta tell you, I’m pretty sure both are way overdue.”
“Who are you?”
“I’m me, and I’m Watchtower, and some nights, I’m Nightingale.” She says simply, shrugging a bit as she exits the elevator and places her hand on the fingerprint scanner. “But at the end of the story, I’m just a girl who grew out of a phase.”
“Wait…you’re Nightingale?”
“I didn’t stutter.”
“But she’s…”
“…really good at costumes and digital imaging, and definitely not in the mood to give up her day job forever? She sure is.”
“But, I thought the dying thing freaked you out.”
“It did. I gained a lot of perspective after everything with Jimmy and Lois heading upstairs. Not a whole hell of a lot to lose, you know?”
“What?”
“Practice was a bitch, but Ollie kept his best doctors nearby.”
“I’ll kill him.”
“Good luck. You’d have to get through me and the rest of the League first. On that note…” She leans into the elaborate coat of arms for her retinal scan, revealing a much-advanced central command.
“Bout time, Watchtower.” Ollie smirked on the screen overhead.
“Can it, Arrow. What do we have tonight?”
“The prince seems to have started his pet project up again. He’s calling it Helios this time, and it looks like he has something bigger up his sleeve than Ares and Gemini combined. I’m sending you everything we’ve got now.”
A quick scan of the data, and... “Whoa. You’re not kidding. Looks like he’s gone past boring old human cloning this time. Massive shipments of Kryptonite direct from Smallville and a staff of the best geneticists on the planet.”
She looks up. “Even with his network, this is monumental. Think he’s got some help from the men in black?”
“I wouldn’t put it past the military. He’s always had strong contacts.”
Something catches her eye. She backs up a few paces and reads the manifest more thoroughly. “Oh my God…”
“What do you got?”
“Specially designed restraints and an ultra-violet gestation chamber. Clark, I hate to get personal, but how much…genetic material…did Lana have access to?”
“What?” He blushes crimson. “We got past our…problems. Why do you…?”
“Because, those restraints? Are made of Kryptonite-laced steel.”
The next file is video. Her stomach almost rebels when she sees it. “Helios...sun…”
Clark looks a bit ill himself. “What is that?”
“If I had to guess? Your son. Congratulations, dad.”
Okay, so it’s pretty easy to find the irony in a super powered alien passing out.
She and Oliver discuss options until Clark wakes up. They know they can get in, it’s getting out that’s the trouble. Even Clark can’t help with the sheer volume of green Kryptonite being stored at the facility.
“Hey Watchtower?”
“Yeah, Arrow?”
“You and Boy Scout okay?”
She continues to scan the blueprints for a weakness. “Yep. Why do you ask?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that he’s been unconscious for 15 minutes and you still haven’t checked on him?”
“Believe me. Planning is soooo much easier when he’s unconscious. At least we don’t have to rescue him because he rushed in without thinking for a few more minutes.”
“You’re a genius. You know that, right?”
“Of course I am. Besides, the guy’s going to be a proud papa. He needs all the sleep he can get.”
“Oh. My. God.”
“I doubt God had anything to do with this, Boy Scout. Just the Luthors.”
“Shut up, Ollie. This is serious.”
“Don’t know who Ollie is. You can call me Green Arrow, though.”
“Whatever. Chl-Watchtower, what the hell am I supposed to do?”
“You? Nothing. We’re on this. Just…please grow a brain and don’t go try to talk to your girlfriend…pretty please? Give us a few days to sort this out before blowing any semblance of cover we might have.”
“I’m not a chi-”
“Don’t even finish that sentence. You handed your ass to Lex Luthor and his freakish bride on a platter, you’re possibly the worst friend in history, and you’re a 21-year-old superhero who is still living at home. For once in your life, just listen, okay?”
“I…fine.”
“Thank God. Hey Cyborg, looks like Boyscout might be wising up!”
“How do you figure?”
“He just listened to Watchtower for the first time in history.”
“That is news. Tell her I said hello!”
“Okay, boys. I think I found a way out, but I want in on this one, in case my services are needed. It’s going to be close.”
“No problem. The jet will be ready by the time you reach the airport.”
“That’s not necessary. I can take you.”
“I told you, you’re not coming along. There’s enough Kryptonite in that building to take you out from a mile away. You couldn’t help if you wanted to.”
“If you’re going in, you’ll need someone to coordinate things, right? I’ve paid enough attention over the years to muddle through, Chlo. Besides, he’s my kid.”
“He’s right, ‘Tower.”
“Stop calling me that, Jolly Green Giant. Your input is neither necessary nor requested.” She huffs, starts opening hidden compartments and shoving equipment into a duffle. “Fine.”
“We’re going to talk about that friend comment at some point, you know.”
“Um, no, we’re not. The shelf-life on that convo expired a few months back.”
“Why?”
“It was the last time I tried to have a two-sided conversation with you, and all you did was blow me off.”
“I’m sorry.” He looks crushingly sincere when he shrugs the bag over his shoulder and sweeps her up in his arms.
She doesn’t buy the puppy dog eyes for a second. “Doesn’t matter. I got over it.”
“Oh.”
“You really do have a way with words. Ever consider a career in journalism?”
“So where to?”
“No Clark Kent express, except to the airport. We need time to strategize, so we’re going to cross the Atlantic the old-fashioned way. See you in a couple hours, Arrow.”
“We’ll be here with bells on.”
“What old fashioned way only takes two hours to cross the Atlantic and a continent or two?”
“Supersonic jet, of course. Is there any other way to fly?”
“You’d be surprised.”
“I heard that. Until you’re able to keep it up for more than a few minutes and serve peanuts, I think I’ll depend on technology to get me where I’m going. I had a front-row seat to Kara’s flying lessons, remember?”
--
If the first fifteen minutes are any indication, two hours on a jet with Chloe Sullivan might as well be an eternity.
With a frustrated growl, Clark pulls the iPod out of her hand and unplugs the headphones.
What the hell did you do that for?”
“I thought we were going to strategize?”
“I was strategizing, dumbass. I need a little rhythm to plan my search and rescue missions.”
“You don’t think I might be able to offer any useful input?”
She snatches back the iPod. “If I do, I’ll be sure to ask for it. I’ll brief you in about an hour.”
“We need to talk about more than the mission.”
“We’ll see about that.” She hooks the buds over her ears, leans back, and closes her eyes.
When did the world get turned on its ass? Lana is using him for Lex, he’s a father through some freakish science experiment, and Chloe hates his guts. This is officially the worst day of his life.
He lingers on the last point, trying to replay their recent conversations. To his dismay, he honestly can’t think of one that didn’t involve him looking for help.
What did she expect, exactly? He had a live-in girlfriend who was pretty high maintenance and a farm to run on his own. He was bound to have a little less time for his friends.
Except, it turned out his girlfriend was playing him and his friends knew it, or had at least enough suspicions to be laying bets on when he’d find out. How could they do that to him?
He fiddles with the high-tech display. Of course, he had been a bit miffed when Chloe dragged Jimmy along on half their adventures. It had been a huge relief when the photographer began occupying his cousin’s time, since it gave him more time alone with both Lana and Chloe.
And yeah, that was an odd thought. The extra time Scoobying with Chloe had been almost as gratifying as the extra time with Lana. He’s not sure how he missed the tension present in both relationships.
Without glancing in his direction, Chloe suddenly pulls out her laptop and begins typing up a storm. Whatever inspiration she sought has apparently struck.
He realizes with a little jolt how much he’s missed watching her work. The last few months have been such a whirlwind that he’s hardly noticed anything, but there’s a strange exhilaration to watching the play of expressions as her hands fly across the keyboard.
He’s missed his friend. The realization seems to hold more weight than it should, but he acknowledges with a pang that he let the distance grow between them out of selfish pride. The same selfish pride that almost destroyed their friendship back in high school.
Then and there, he decides he’s not going to let their friendship go without a fight. She might not see the value, but he’s not willing to throw away eight years of struggling for what’s right because of a few months’ lapse in judgment.
It’s calming, watching her fingers play over the keys to the rhythm of whatever song she’s listening to. She begins to bounce a little to the tune, and he’s struck with the image of a master pianist at work.
She looks up just as her keystrokes slow, and it hurts to watch the walls go up so easily. For the first time, he wonders whether he can redeem their friendship in her eyes. It makes him feel very small.
She purses her lips, and pulls off the earbuds, setting them on the side table carefully.
“Okay, Clark. Here is how this is going to work. I? Am going to provide instructions. You? Are going to follow them. And I swear to God that if you deviate even one nanosecond and get us all killed I will haunt you for the rest of your very long life, before flambéing you for eternity when you finally do pass away.”
What does someone say to that?
“Do you understand?”
“Uh, yeah Chlo. Improvisation is bad. Got it.”
“Not just improvisation. I want you to put all independent thinking on hold. Oh, and try to forget about your OCD issues with Lana and Lex for five minutes, please? Nothing manages to drop your IQ like those two.”
“Ouch. Harsh much?”
“The truth hurts, I guess.”
“You’d know?”
“Actually, I would. Moving on…The compound has Decca-level security protocols here, here, and here. However, the place is wired to run with minimal manpower, so that’s our in. Cyborg will distract the system with an advanced virus. While it’s trying to go through diagnostic mode, you’ll drop a worm that gives us a 15 minute window. With the redundancy built in, that’s all I can snag, but it should be enough. Bart will trip all the motion sensors at once, AC will approach from the sewers, and Ollie, Vic and I will drop in from the rooftops.
“I’m contacting another friend who’s pretty handy with the gadgets for backup. He’s getting in the air now, but he probably won’t make it there until we’re on our way out. He’s a champ with demo, so he’ll be our Plan B.”
“Plan B?”
“We don’t know what all is really going on in these labs. We don’t know how long this kid takes to mature or what programming Lex has already completed. Plan A is search and rescue. Plan B is containment.”
“Containment? Chlo, this is my son! Lana’s son!”
“And he might have the same powers you do. Imagine how dangerous that is if Lex controls him. It’s definitely not our first choice, but it may be the only way to stop him from hurting the baby more. ”
He’s a bit taken aback by that. She’s acted so uninterested in his side of this problem that it’s easy to forget the force of nature that is Chloe’s compassion. The sadness in her eyes nearly undoes him.
“What do I do?”
“You load the worm on my mark, and keep an eye on us. This is a 3-D representation of the building. Our team will show up as colored dots, and any unidentified heat signatures will show up purple. Most of them will be scientists or security personnel, but this one is the baby.”
It’s a little hard to breathe knowing this may be as close as he ever comes to parenthood.
“Clark. I know this is hard, but I need you to stay with me. You’ll be our only warning if they’re closing on us. I need you to stay in constant communication. Got it?”
“Yeah.”
“Good.” She’s all business when she grabs her green carry-on and heads toward the private suite.
“Where are you going?”
She looks over her shoulder carelessly. “To change.”
He’s read the same eyewitness descriptions everyone has, but it’s still disconcerting to see your female best friend pulling off white leather quite so well. Her hood is back and yellow mirrored sunglasses sit atop her head.
She looks up distractedly, and he clears his throat before focusing on anything but the slit in the side of the already-short skirt. He wants to be thankful for the thigh-high boots, until he gets a peak at the two inches of fishnet visible.
He resorts to not-so-subtly scrubbing his eyes. She’s back on her laptop, completely oblivious to the reaction.
Something about that seems off, and it takes a minute to put his finger on what. Chloe’s crush had become something of a given in their relationship, at least for him. The obvious absence of that interest and the cool regard she now views their friendship with is jarring.
Clark Kent has never been suave, but he doesn’t have much time left. So he skips straight to cramming his foot down his throat.
“You, uh, you know you could die, right?”
A smile he doesn’t recognize sneaks across her face. “You think?” Looking back down, she snarks. “That’s actually in the job description. It’s the not getting vivisected in a lab afterward that’s tricky.”
Something’s not right… “You’ve been caught?”
The humor leaves her eyes. She nods sharply, looking away.
The air rushes out of his lungs. It’s as if someone punched him in the gut with Kryptonite, and he runs the gamut from guilt to fear to fury within the span of a breath.
“Who.” He hears something crack, and doesn’t care enough to look down and survey the damage to the armrest.
For her part, Chloe’s eyes don’t leave his hand. Her face is frighteningly blank. “Who do you think?”
“Lex is a dead man.”
Her words are measured, her tone even, and her eyes tired. “That’s my call, not yours.”
“What happened?”
“It was a simple thing. A rescue mission that went the wrong way. It’s where we discovered I can’t use my gift without a spotter to get me and the person I saved out of there.”
She stares at the keys on her keyboard blankly.
“What. Happened.”
“I’d rather not talk about it.”
He’s up and holding her by the shoulders in a heartbeat. “Tell me.”
She really ought to be afraid, but it doesn’t look like she cares to muster the energy. The unflinching stare she pins him with is more than unsettling. “Or you’ll what, Clark? Believe me, there is very little you can do to scare me these days.” She shrugs and flicks his hands away with her own. “This conversation is over.”
And so it is.
She doesn’t even look at him again until the team is gathered in their makeshift headquarters, and even that is a fleeting glance to reiterate her “don’t be stupid” stance. They go over the plan until even AC has it memorized backward and forward.
Eight hours after his world turned on its head, Clark Kent is sitting in the corner of an abandoned warehouse in India watching colored dots approach the lab. Orange, Red, Green, Yellow, Blue. Red scatters, and their timer begins.
The blue dot settles with the yellow one in the control room after they take out the guards. The green covers the red as he heads for the baby. The orange dot is already inside when they get there.
“The package seems safe and sound, retrieving now.”
Just then, Clark hears a muttered curse and a gunshot.
“Arrow! What happened?”
“Ugh…I’m hit. Impulse and Aquaman are headed your way Boy Scout. I think they’re going to need your help.”
“We’re coming, Arrow.” Chloe’s voice is tight.
Wheezing seems to be the only reply. Clark notices how closely the blue dot follows the yellow, and he’s grateful for lessons learned.
“Shit. He’s gone. Let’s get him someplace secure so you’re not carrying everyone out of here.”
“Got him.”
“Go.”
In minutes, they stop in an alley. Silence reigns.
“Cyborg?”
“Shhhh.”
Oliver’s line comes alive with coughing and sputtering. “God, that sucks.”
“You need a minute?”
“When she’s safe. Where’s Batman?”
He wonders who the heck chose a nickname like that, but is silenced by the men approaching out of the darkness. Their cargo is so much smaller than he expected.
A tiny, perfect little bundle, who can’t be more than three months old, sleeps peacefully in the arms of his rescuer. Clark can’t check the tears that threaten.
His own father was such a profound influence in his life that he spent much of the year following his death mourning his own inability to follow in his footsteps. Now, this perfect little being might give him the chance.
He wears sterile sexless scrubs, and green numbers are tattooed into his neck. It’s inhuman the way he’s been treated. The irony isn’t lost on Clark.
A shadow sweeps in from above, but Bart only nods, looking relieved while he hands his cargo over to Clark. “Has he been swept?”
“What?”
“For tracking devices.” The newcomer narrows his eyes at Clark from behind the mask, and runs something over the baby. An alarm sounds.
“That’s a problem.” He speaks casually, presses a button on his belt and out pops a small pin that looks like a Halloween decoration. He attaches it to the scrubs.
“That should jam the signal for a time, but we’ll have to get him scanned soon and remove the implant.”
“Implant?” God.
Just then, Vic and Ollie burst through the door with Chloe flung over Vic’s shoulder. “Cot!”
AC brushes by Clark, who mostly just feels inadequate holding his own progeny. Bart puts on the speed and appears before them in a flash. Victor lays her down gently, and pulls off the glasses. Her skin is a frightening shade of gray.
They hover until Oliver waves them all away. “Give her room, guys. You know she doesn’t like being crowded when she wakes up.”
As if on cue, Chloe gasps, sitting up and scooting back on the mat frantically. The wild panic in her eyes makes Clark’s heart lurch. She didn’t look that terrified the first time in a morgue.
Her eyes regain focus, and Bart takes one trembling hand. “How long?”
“Just a few minutes.”
“That’s good. Okay.” She nods, and at the silent signal the rest of the crew refocus on packing up their makeshift base. They seem well practiced at drawing attention away from her.
Only the newcomer seems unfazed in his interest. He approaches her with precision bearing, and crouches low.
“I’m impressed.”
She smiles tentatively and ducks her head. It’s obvious that his praise holds some weight. “Thanks. I couldn’t do it without the training.”
What the…
The baby begins to fuss in his arms, and the Bat-guy’s attention is drawn back to Clark. “We need to get the little guy medical attention as soon as possible. I have a secure facility outside Geneva.”
“No…no doctors.” Years of conditioning are hard at work.
“You’re the father?”
“I…we think so.”
“Then you must have some pretty powerful secrets to keep, if Luthor was willing to go to such great lengths to extract them. You’ll both be safe.”
“I think we’ll take our chances.”
“No, Boy Scout. Batman knows what he’s talking about, and if he says he can keep you safe, he means it. I’ve staked my life on it, and he’s never let me down.”
Clark deflates a little at that. “Okay, Chlo. But only if you come with us.”
“I actually planned to accommodate the entire team.”
“We’re there.” Oliver interjects, shooting Chloe a measured look.
“Glad that’s settled.” Chloe scoops the baby and starts cooing at it while the team finishes packing up and secures transportation to the airport. “Well hello there, uh, mister. Aren’t you just the cutest thing ever? I’m your auntie Chloe, yes I am. I am your auntie.”
“That? Is just a little freaky.” Comments AC. “I knew our resident babe took good care of us, but I didn’t really see her as the mothering type."
“You kidding?” Scoffs Victor. “She keeps Impulse in line, doesn’t she?”
“Whatever, guys. I think it’s hot.”
The others groan in unison.
“You think everything she does is hot, Impulse.” Quips Oliver as they pile into two Land Rovers. Clark rides with Chloe, reasoning that his son has spent enough of his life without his father.
It’s not his only reason, but as excuses go, it’s better than most.
--
In the jet again, Chloe hands over the baby to get changed. When she returns, she gives Clark a patient look and gently runs a finger over the baby’s cheek before settling into the seat opposite.
“What are you going to name him?” She looks like she’s been thinking, which is a dangerous thing.
“I dunno. I guess I’m still getting used to the idea that he’s real.”
“What about Jonathan?”
“That’s a big name for such a tiny baby.”
“Yeah, but this little guy will have big shoes to fill someday. It’s only fitting to give him a name to match.”
He says nothing. Instead, he looks at his infant son. He smoothes his hand over the impossibly fine hair on his head.
“Do you think Lana knew?”
She purses her lips, and the sad reply in her eyes almost undoes him. He nods his understanding.
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry you had to find out this way, Clark.”
He can’t take his eyes off the tiny form sleeping in his arms. “How could a mother abandon her child to life as a lab rat? What kind of a person does that?”
“She’s not the girl we knew, Clark. She hasn’t been for a long time.”
“Neither have you, apparently.” He tries to soften the accusation in his tone. It isn’t easy.
She looks tired, more than anything, as she rubs her forehead. “That’s true.”
“Where did I go wrong?”
“What, with her, or me?”
“Either. Both.”
“You failed to see what was in front of you. It really isn’t something new for you, Clark.”
She settles back, and swings her seat around to look out the window. She obviously believes it’s that simple.
Like anything has ever been simple when it comes to either Lana or Chloe.
He sighs and settles his son more snugly against him. At least the little guy doesn’t know enough to hate him yet.
--
Back on the ground in an obscenely opulent excuse for a research facility, Clark is eternally grateful for Chloe’s forethought. She swoops in to save the day with a bottle of formula just before full meltdown.
Clark had no idea something so small could make so much noise. He stares helplessly as she coos at his son, who has already consumed half the bottle and is greedily draining the rest like he’s never eaten before.
“Yum, yum. Is that good? You like that?” The baby gives a couple more pulls on the bottle before pausing and studying her seriously. “Well, don’t you worry, little guy. Auntie Chlo has a whole case where that came from. All the good stuff a growing boy needs.”
“You got that right, senorita.”
She rolls her eyes and smiles with practiced annoyance, before swinging a towel over her shoulder and patting the baby rhythmically. “For the last time, Bart, I appreciate you making a run for the baby supplies, but I will not be breast feeding you or anyone else in this lifetime.”
Bart looks positively crushed. “Are you saying you’re not ready for little speedsters? I promise you can have your career. We’ll hire a nanny.”
“On my dime, no less.” Tosses Oliver.
“I wouldn’t dream of imposing, Arrow. I was thinking Bruce could help us out.”
“Don’t drag me into this mess. I’m still getting over the sting of Miss Sullivan’s rejection, myself.”
“Ha ha. Like I didn’t notice the looks you gave Miss Dawes, Bruce.”
At that, “Bruce” actually blushes. He catches Clark’s gaze as he replies. “Well, it’s easy enough to fall for your best friend. I can’t be blamed for the wanderings of my young heart. It does little to soothe the wounds of being passed over by such beauty as yours, my dear.”
She doesn’t bat an eyelash at the compliment, just continues swaying with the baby. Who is this woman?
“I believe you mentioned medical treatment?” Clark finally interjects. He’s been terrified since the older man said the word “implants,” and the banter is as grating as it is confusing.
“I did, my good man. Before we let my team look at young…”
“Jonathan.” Chloe looks up sharply, obviously surprised, but says nothing.
“…young Jonathan, I think it’s time for full disclosure. I need to understand what’s going on if I’m to help.”
Clark keeps his eye on Chloe and the baby. Seeing the two of them keep his panic under wraps, for some reason. Maybe it’s the swaying.
“Chlo?” He’s out of his element, being asked to expose himself to someone with as many resources as Lex. Ollie and the team don’t even know the details of his origins.
She gives him a measured look. “Can we have a minute, guys?”
“Of course.” They file out, seeming to understand the significance of full disclosure.
The door clicks shut. She lingers before it, unmoving, save a slight bounce for the baby’s benefit.
“This isn’t a call I can make, Clark.”
“Do you trust them?”
“With my life.” She turns and the pain in her eyes stings. “I have, repeatedly.”
He approaches her cautiously, and puts a hesitant hand on her elbow. “Tell me about one of those times. Just one.” She looks reluctant, so he presses on. “I just…I’m scared, Chlo. The last person I told didn’t go nearly as well as with you.”
She swallows. “Of course you are. Of course.” She takes a deep breath, and he wonders whether he’s going to regret asking this of her. His fear increases when she hands over the baby and he sees why.
She’s shaking like a leaf.
“I was dead when Lex found me. AC wasn’t.” She crosses her arms like she’s cold. “He did what he could, but he barely got away himself.
“Lex figured out my gift pretty quickly. He would hurt the other ‘patients’ in his little shop of horrors, because he knew I couldn’t turn my back on them. A couple of days in, he started killing them.
“It was…it must have been a week before the team tracked him to that location. The others, they wanted me to leave the last one Lex tossed into my cell. In their defense, they had a ridiculously tight window to work with. She was just a tiny little thing – couldn’t have been more than six years old. I couldn’t leave her.
“Bruce was the one that let me make the call and got me out of there while I was…gone. He helped me get a handle on things afterward.
“So, yeah. I trust all of them, especially Bruce.”
Clark is reeling. How did he see his best friend almost every week and never notice her absence or the guarded look that seems to have taken up permanent residence in her eyes.
She’s right. He’s oblivious.
For her part, Chloe seems determined to cram herself into the most compact package of defensive fury imaginable.
He tries to save them further discomfort by opening the door. Bart falls through comically, and Oliver’s hand hits his forehead in short order. AC doesn’t even try to suppress his laughter as he saunters through the door. At least Vic and Bruce have the decency to maintain their composure. This is still a big deal.
Once they’re assembled, he clears his throat, and tries to talk around the lump that’s firmly settled there.
“So, you’re right. There are some things you should know about me. I…uh…That is to say, I’ve had my powers my entire life.”
AC brightens at that. “Me too, bro.”
“Yeah…um...I’m kinda…solar powered.”Bruce raises a disbelieving eyebrow. “Well, that’s…unusual. I can’t say I’ve heard of anyone having that reaction to sunlight before.”
“That’s kinda because humans don’t have that reaction.”
“Well of course normal humans don’t, Slim. You wouldn’t be hanging with us if they did!”
“No, I mean all humans, Bart.” He takes a breath and puffs out his cheeks. “I’m not from around here.”
Ollie’s eyes are as big as saucers. “Are you saying that crazy crap Lex spouts all the time is true? You’re part of an alien invasion?”
“Hardly.” Chloe breaks in, acting as a physical barrier between him, Jonathan and the team. “His planet was destroyed by some evil overlord. Clark, his cousin, and, apparently this little guy, are the only members of their race left.”
The archer seems to deflate at that, but Clark notes Bruce keeps a wary eye trained on him.
--
Chloe can’t help but laugh at all the posturing. There’s enough testosterone in the room to power an NHL team for a month. You’d think they were compensating for something. Superheroes and their super-egos.
“Look, guys. He’s the same genius we worked with this morning, and if his powers of observation are any indication, we wouldn’t have much to worry about if an invasion were headed our way, anyhow.”
He turns sharply at that, and she can’t help the smirk.
Bruce’s barking laughter tells her he won’t be a problem, posturing aside. She turns to him. “So, where’s your team? I assume we need to take care of whatever this little guy is broadcasting soon?”
“Of course. This way.” Back to business, Bruce leads them down the hall and past three levels of security.
It’s a struggle to get Clark to relinquish the baby, but they finally lead him into the observation room next door to the main operating theater. She leans in close and reveals the lead container she’s palmed. Clark shakes his head and whispers. “They shouldn’t need it. I always had tough skin, but it wasn’t impenetrable when I was little.”
She nods and settles in to watch. They draw blood successfully, and she breathes a sigh of relief. It’s one thing to tell the crew of Clark’s intergalactic heritage, but it’s another to expose his only weakness.
He’s the most powerful being on Earth. That kind of strength has to be protected, no matter how much of an ass he can be.
The lead surgeon pinpoints the location of the GPS transmitter using a nifty handheld scanner that she’s going to beg Bruce for come Christmas. She feels a twinge in her shoulder when he announces that Lex hasn’t gotten any more creative in placing these devices.
They’ve administered the anesthetic and are monitoring it closely, given Jonathan’s mixed heritage. All hell breaks loose when they reach the device.
Alarms screaming, it’s the frightened shouts that propel her through the door behind Clark. He collapses within five feet of the operating table.
Lex is more of a monster than she ever imagined.
When she gets to the table, almost all of Jonathan’s visible skin is covered in the green veins of kryptonite poisoning and he’s not breathing. He is a sweet baby, innocent in all of this, so she doesn’t even have to work for the tears to come.
The world goes white.
--
She wakes to a ridiculously soft bed and a perfumed breeze. She recognizes the room and smiles at Bruce’s thoughtful gesture.
The outline swaying in front of the oversized French door is unmistakable. She tests her voice.
“Is he okay?”
He turns, unsurprised, and smiles. “Yeah, he’s healthy as a horse. Thanks to you.”
“How long?”
His smile falters. “A week. We were afraid you weren’t coming back. You were right about Bruce, though. He refused to give up.”
“He’s a good guy, even if he does have a slightly disturbing fascination with rodents.”
He stares at her like he’s trying to figure something out until she can’t take it any more.
“What? What is it?”
“Huh?”
“Why are you staring at me like I might have the answer to life, the universe and everything tattooed on the back of my skull?”
He considers for a moment. “Did you know?”
“Know what?”
“About Jonathan?”
“What are you talking about? You were there when Ollie told me. I mean, I knew Lana was…”
“No. Not that he existed. That he…Chlo, he’s ours.”
“What? That’s…” A really good reason for the connection I felt? The weirdest thing I ever heard? Probably the grossest IVF process ever invented? “…ridiculous.”
“Lex must have taken your…material…while he had you. I don’t even want to know what that means Lana did to turn mine over.”
“Wait, so he’s…actually ours?”
“According to the DNA test. Bruce ordered it re-run three times, and it’s a good thing you didn’t show him the kryptonite, because I think he wants to kill me a little.”
“How is that even possible? I mean, I’m kryptonite-infected and you’re allergic to kryptonite. That shouldn’t work, should it?”
“According to the records Vic downloaded at the facility, they tried with a number of human subjects, both infected and normal. Yours was the only one that worked.”
What the heck does one say to that? “Er, you’re welcome?”
A scary thought hits her. Oh, God. “Were there…more?”
“We’re looking, but we haven’t found anything yet.”
He’s swaying with the little guy over his shoulder at her bedside, looking at her with his eyes all soft and glowy, which she can’t take after being completely ignored by him for so long. She distracts both of them by extending her arms and silently asking for the baby.
He settles Jonathan in her waiting arms, and sits beside the bed. Chloe looks down in wonder. She’s been terrified of having children since she discovered her mother’s illness. It’s a hard fear to overcome, even with what she knows now.
But here, looking down into clear green eyes, she can’t be anything but glad this little wonder has come into the world.
“Hi, little guy. I guess I’m not just your auntie Chlo anymore. I hear I’m your mommy.” She strokes a round little cheek and he looks up at her with wonder. “I know this is a bit strange, but I think we’ll work it out okay. You see, your daddy and I have been friends since before he had his big growth spurt. We’ve hit some rough patches, but we’ve gotten through, and we both like you a lot, maybe even love you. So that’s not a bad starting point, is it?”
Clark’s hand covers hers. “No, it’s not.”
She helps. It’s what she’s done since before she understood that the world is full of people with gifts beyond those of mortal men. Is it any wonder that fate has chosen her to play mother to the world’s newest superhero? Hardly.
The irony is there in spades, and all she can do is smile.
---
End
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