Filling the Silence

Welcome...

2008-08-02T17:11:00.000-07:00

...to my archive. I realized LJ might not be the best place to house all of my fics, so I hope folks find this easier to navigate.

I was early to Smallville and late to fandom, so you won't find a ton of early season fics here. Even before I wrote fic, I believed that the Clark/Lex and Chloe/Clark dynamics were the most compelling on the show. I could probably watch Allison Mack, Michael Rosenbaum and Tom Welling read the dictionary and be entertained.

Most of my stories lean toward Chlark, because that's where I see the most opportunities.

Happy reading!

h2osprincess

Starry Night

2008-06-09T01:06:00.000-07:00

Title: Starry Night
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Smallville
Pairing: Chloom, Chlark references
Spoilers/Timeline: Season 8 spoilers
Disclaimer: I own very little, certainly not these characters. Please don’t sue!
Author’s Notes: Yes, Chimmy sucks THAT BAD. I still love Chlark, but I must admit that after seeing Sam Witwer at ComicCon, Chloom has promise. This is just a beginning based on the knowledge that Doomsday was coming, before we had many details.

--

It doesn’t start the way these things should.

She’s reckless, driven to panic at the tiny body crumpled in the road. She can hear the sirens, knows she’ll be caught, but the boy is so little, and his mother’s desperate wail tears at her soul.

When she wakes, she’s not in a morgue. She makes out simple, mission style furniture in the murky light filtering through drawn blinds. It’s not Clark’s sun-dappled farm, and the hint of aftershave she smells isn’t Jimmy’s.

She slips quietly out of a comfortable bed. Spotting her sweater on the door, she wraps it around herself. The post-death chill is always hard to break.

When he coughs from the corner she practically jumps out of her skin. He’s standing immediately, holding his hands up in a placating gesture.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

She remembers who she is, what she’s survived, and straightens even as her brows knit with the need to know. “Who are you?”

“I’m D…Davis. My name’s Davis.”

“Where am I?”

“My apartment.” He steps forward and she reaches for the doorknob, ready to bolt. He stills at the gesture.

“Why am I in your apartment?” She grinds, as evenly as she can manage. She was undoubtedly dead when he brought her here and tucked her in, so this might just be a brand of crazy she hasn’t encountered yet.

“You were…you were dead. We pulled up, and I saw the light.”

Her eyes go wide.
“I saw what you did.”

“No…you must be-“

“That little boy didn’t have a scratch on him. Everyone on the scene, save his mother, knew he was dead. Then that light, and you were, instead.”

“But why-“

“You took a chance on him. I had to take a chance on you. It was…a miracle.” The awe in his eyes reminds her a little of Jimmy.

Her lips thin to a tight line. “Please,” she begs. “You can’t tell anyone what you saw.”

He blinks, obviously surprised, but his answer is surprisingly firm. “Never.”

She stands her ground as he takes a tentative step toward her.

“I’m sorry I scared you.” Another step, and he pauses at the warning in her eyes. “I didn’t know what else to do when I saw what happened. I had to get you out of there.”

Something about the way he accepted her gift makes the hair on her neck prickle uncomfortably. She tilts her head suspiciously.

“But you didn’t know I would come back. How could you?”

“You’re right, I didn’t. But I’d just witnessed one miracle. It didn’t seem like too much of a stretch to hope for a second. I couldn’t just abandon you.” He runs a hand through hair the color of midnight. “I’m a paramedic. I deal with the worst of pain and death every day. You can’t know how much I needed something like you.”

She recoils. “I’m not some sideshow freak, Mr. Davis.”

His laugh catches her off guard. “Davis is my first name, though I’d prefer if you didn’t call me Mr. Bloom, and I never said you were a freak. When I first saw you, I thought you were an angel.”

She scoffs at that. “Believe me, I’m no angel.”

“Well, you’re not a freak, either.” He reaches out tentatively and cradles her cheek. It only strikes her later that she should have been uncomfortable, rather than strangely warm, at the uninvited familiarity.

Her only excuse is that he’s looking at her with dark, solemn eyes that somehow remind her of her best friend. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Later, when Clark asks why the Daily Planet basement is abuzz with rumors of an angelic intervention near her new apartment, she’s strangely reluctant to share. It doesn’t make sense, but somehow the intimacy of that one moment feels like a betrayal.

He frowns at her vague dismissal of the topic, but even with Lois riding him to help her land her first published story, she doubts he’ll chase this lead. He has enough going on with his own hero work.

Of course she’s wrong.

Three weeks later, she finds Clark waiting outside her apartment when she arrives just before dawn. His nostrils flare as he takes in the dark circles under her eyes, but she’s really too tired to care.

She’s never answered to him, but this might be the first time she’s completely disregarded his feelings on a topic. It’s an oddly heady sensation.

“Where’ve you been?”

She brushes past him into the apartment. “I wasn’t aware I had a curfew, Clark.”

He squints.

Her voice is raspy. So what? Dying three times a night will do that to a girl.

She drops her purse and keys by the phone and flops onto the couch, sinking deep in the worn cushions. God, she’s never felt such bone-deep weariness.

Clark’s voice breaks the illusion of privacy. “Where have you been, Chloe?”

She can’t contain a slight giggle at hearing his condescending “Kara voice” aimed at her. She rolls her neck, letting out a satisfied sigh as some of the tension flows out of her shoulders with a pop. Her answer is simple.

“Out.”

“Out, where?” The disbelief is almost tangible.

“Here and there.” She knows he’s not letting this go and she’s so tired. “I tagged along with a friend at work.”

“What friend?” Long strides and now he’s facing her.

She opens her eyes, offering what she hopes will pass as an ironic grin and burying the bitterness as deeply as she knows how. “Shockingly, I do have friends outside The Planet, Clark.”

She scoots up and tucks her feet beneath her. “Don’t get me wrong, I love helping Ollie and the gang, but I’m pretty sure someone is going to wonder how I pay for this place if I don’t find a job eventually. The Inquisitor isn’t quite my style.”

He has the decency to look guilty, and Chloe knows she’s won.

“I’m heading over to the Watchtower at one. Is there something I can help you with before I go in?”

“No, I…uh. It can wait.”

“Okay.” She says around a yawn. “Can you lock the door on your way out?”

There’s a beat. “Sure, Chloe. I’ll see you later.”

As the door clicks shut, she wonders where Clark goes with all his unanswered questions these days. He hasn’t come to her much since he returned.

There’s no joy in twisting the knife of guilt, but she’s not ready to share her budding relationship. So many of her previous attempts at love have been borne of a need to show Clark that he doesn’t define her.

This time, she wants to prove it to herself.

Maybe it’s not forever, but Davis knows what it’s like to choose others’ needs over his own and he likes her for all of who she is. Clark never quite managed either completely.

They haven’t been intimate yet, but she feels closer to him than she ever did to Jimmy. They’ve spent almost every night together since she woke in his bedroom the first time, whether she tags along with him to work or not, and she can talk to him about things she’s never shared with anyone.

When he told her what he knew of his parents’ deaths, of the way he always felt like the odd man out in the foster homes he finished out his rocky childhood in, they cried together. She loves that he took all that pain and loneliness, and turned it into something beautiful.

He’s a survivor, just like her. She needs to be that right now.

When they make love the first time, it’s beneath a canopy of stars. He is dark and beautiful, and when he whispers his love into her skin, she can’t help the tears that slip past her defenses.

He is strong and powerful, caring and true, but she’s not blind. Secrets have been her life since she learned they existed, and his scare him.

She’s patient.

Chloe’s dreams have shattered around her, and she has to remake herself in a new image. She can’t be the girl she was, never leaving a story unexplored. Besides, she thinks, Davis helped her find a new calling. He’s earned the right to tell her when he’s ready.

She’s saved almost forty lives since that day in the road, and finally feels like she’s gained some control over her gifts. They take less from her every time, and the back of an ambulance is a much safer place when you glow.

She hasn’t sacrificed her Watchtower duties. Vic greets her at the door to “Isis” with a grim look, and the lightness that lingered after a night off with Davis falls away.

“What’s the matter?”

“We have a problem.”

Oh God. “Don’t tell me Lex is back.”

“No, but whoever this is seems to be even more dangerous.”

Their research leads them along a path of destruction through the urban warehouse district over the last few months, piecing together what they can of the pattern. The attacks are poorly scheduled, but rarely seem to happen at night. Every eyewitness account describes the same thing, a hulking mass of spikes and glittering eyes as black as midnight. The police have no leads.

She uses the contacts she has left to ensure Lois and Clark get the story.

Davis is on-call the next night, so she’s placing their standard take-out order at Dragon Palace and saving the last of her research when Clark blows in - literally. He grins and pulls the phone from her hand.

“Edward? It’s Clark. Cancel Miss Sullivan’s order. We’ll be right over.”

She’s still gaping in shock when he pulls a bouquet of wildflowers from behind his back. It’s too much.

“Clark! What do you think you’re doing?”

Maybe it comes out a little harsher than she intended, because he looks like she just kicked his puppy. In her defense, it’s been a while since he barged into her life. They’ve both been too busy for social calls.

“We just got slated for page one, and I owe it all to you. Can’t I take my favorite news hound out to dinner to say thanks?”

He’s looking at her with pleading eyes, and for the first time, they remind her of someone else.

It’s time.

“I can’t, Clark. I have plans.”

The incredulous tilt of his head makes her want to slap a little. “With who?”

“With Davis. He’s a…friend.”

Clark blinks and speaks slowly. “What kind of friend?”

She purses her lips at his practiced confusion. “The kind I date, Clark.”

“You have a boyfriend? What happened to Jimmy?”

“You work with Jimmy every day. You can’t tell me he hasn’t told you.”

For reasons beyond understanding, Clark looks stricken. She didn’t know he and Jimmy had grown so close.

There isn’t much else to say, so she starts gathering her things. He follows.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

She shrugs. “You were busy. Besides, I didn’t want to jinx anything before it really went anywhere.”

“Do I at least get to meet the guy?”

She can’t help but roll her eyes. “I already have a dad, Clark. I don’t need a spare.”

“You’re still my best friend, Chloe.”

She manages to contain a chuckle. Yeah, he’s the BFF that got her arrested and didn’t spend enough time with her to notice that she’s had a serious boyfriend for over two months. That definitely gives him the right to sign off on her newest beau.

“Look, I haven’t exactly mentioned you to him. I didn’t want to scare him away.” She puts a hand on his arm to comfort him, and he just stares at the spot where their skin meets.

There’s more to say, but her phone rings. It’s Davis, and she turns to give herself the illusion of privacy.

“Hey, beautiful.” God, just his voice makes her shiver.

“Hey you.”

“You’re late.”

“I know. I’m on my way.”

“Actually, I’m glad I got the chance to surprise you, for once. Go to the window.”

He stands in all his tuxedoed glory before a black limousine.

“You’re crazy, you know.” Her voice is soft, and she fights tears. She’s never felt this important to anyone.

“I know. Crazy for you.” He pauses, his voice thick with emotion. “Come down?”

“Of course.” She snatches her purse and shoots Clark an apologetic look before sweeping out of the office and taking the stairs to the first floor.

When she exits the building, breathless from her rushed descent, she almost falls over. He’s on one knee, and the ring is far from plastic. Even in the dark, the diamond practically glows.

“Chloe Ann Sullivan, I’ve loved you from the first moment I saw you.” He’s practically whispering and they’re standing on a busy street in downtown Metropolis, but his voice is all she hears. “You’re the most giving person I have ever met, and if I can’t spend the rest of my life with you, I’m lost. Will you marry me?”

She lets the tears flow unchecked, nodding when her voice fails her. Slipping the ring on her finger, Davis sweeps her into the most mind-blowing kiss of her life.

When he holds the limousine door open for her, Chloe glances up at the window. She can’t be sure in the darkness, but she could swear Clark is watching her. It sends a chill up her spine.

Davis follows her gaze. “Do you need to lock up?” He squints, and tilts his head.

“Nope. I left a friend up there. They’ll take care of things.”

Read ellie06's amazing sequel here.

Breaking the Day

2008-06-08T23:45:00.000-07:00

Title: Breaking the Day
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Smallville
Pairing: Angsty Chlark
Spoilers/Timeline: Post Season 7
Disclaimer: I own very little, certainly not these characters. Please don’t sue!
Author’s Notes: Written spoiler-free after season 7. Twisted therapy for the question of what would happen if there was no rescue.

---

He finds her in the last place he thought to look.

Naked as the day she was born, she glides confidently across the black depths of Crater Lake. The pre-dawn haze would render her anonymous to anyone but him.

A consummate city girl, Chloe Sullivan was always terrified to swim in water she couldn’t see. He only stopped here because he was out of options.

“Chloe?” He calls, not sure what should come next.

She turns at his voice, treading water steadily.

After watching him a moment, she cuts a clean path through the water until she reaches the shallows. Then she stands and stalks toward him without a hint of embarrassment.

“Clark.” Her voice is steady, but after all these years, he recognizes the knife edge to it.

Her eyes dare him to comment. Something tells him he’ll regret it.

“I waited for you.” He offers instead.

“I told you not to.” She runs a hand through her hair and twists the ends over one shoulder. She’s still soaked and it takes every ounce of willpower to keep his gaze on her face.

“Like that ever stopped you.” He retorts.

“That was…before.” Apparently, it is as bad as he thought. He held out hope that he’d failed Chloe again and somehow gotten her release date wrong.

“Chloe, let me take you home.”

A mockery of a smile twists at her features. “You forget, Clark. I have no home.”

“Then you can stay with me.”

“Why?” She advances until her breasts brush against him, her voice dropping. “Why would you want to take in a stranger?”

“You’re not a stranger, Chloe. You’re practically family.”

“Oh, but I am, Clark. You don’t know me, no matter what you think.” She drops the smile and plants a hand on his chest before pushing off and bending to retrieve her dress. The anger isn’t hard to see.

“You don’t know me.” She repeats, slipping the sundress over her head. “I doubt you ever did.”

“Of course I know you.”

“No. You don’t know what I’m capable of. What I’m willing to do to survive.” His stomach drops at the tears in her eyes.

“I don’t believe you.” He whispers. “You’d never betray me.”

“You’re right.” The smile makes a shaky return before crumbling a bit. “But I don’t have much of a problem betraying myself.”

He wants to be sick when she stalks back over.

“You want some company at the farm, Clark? It’s been five years. I had to learn some pretty amazing tricks to survive with a $2 million price on my head in a minimum security facility. If you’re lonely, I’m happy to compensate you for the trouble.”

“Chloe, no.” He’s not ashamed when his voice breaks.

“Don’t you dare.” She grinds. “Don’t you dare pity me. I made it. I survived, damned it. I should be dead a dozen times over, but I’m not. So don’t you try to feel sorry for poor Chloe. Poor Chloe did what no one could. What you weren’t willing to do. She beat Lex Luthor at his own game.”

She’s still breathing hard, and he can’t check the tears.

“He took five years of my life. God only knows how much more from others. He almost killed you and he wouldn’t have stopped going after either of us until he was dead or incapacitated. What I did? Was mercy.”

He thinks of the last time he saw Lex, curled into the tightest ball possible in the corner of his cell. It’s not hard to imagine what Chloe shared with him when he finally came to finish the job personally. Obviously, even the billionaire’s most brilliant researchers didn’t anticipate that particular quirk to her gifts.

Not for the first time, Clark curses Lex’s bigotry. If he hadn’t been confined to a Kryptonian coffin, he could have freed Chloe in a heartbeat, protected the purity that used to shine in her smile.

All that’s left is single-minded determination. Even that seems to have failed her now that Lex is incapacitated and Clark is free.

“Give it to me.”

She recoils, and it’s the first sign of real emotion since he found her rotting away in federal prison.

“No.”

“Please.” He’s not ashamed to beg. The burden of guilt is too big, and anything is preferable to being responsible for the light going out in her eyes. Inaction was her undoing.

She squares her jaw, and he aches at the gesture. “It’s mine. Not yours.”

“But I…”

“You nothing, Clark. You can’t fix this, and I’m not willing to.” She takes a shaky breath. “It’s mine, and you don’t get to take that away from me.”

He nods, not understanding in the least, but terrified he will lose her completely if he pushes. She follows him back to the truck and the ride to the farm is silent.

The girl he loves is fading away before his eyes. The night lingers, and Clark fights the urge to clutch at her physically to be sure she’s not just a figment.

He wonders, if Lex hadn’t planned so well, what today might have held for the girl who could never let go and the boy who was always too late. He tucks those dreams away to the rhythm of her heartbeat and wishes for daybreak, instead.

End

Solace

2008-06-03T01:26:00.000-07:00

Title: Solace
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Smallville
Pairing: Chlark, mention of Chimmy
Spoilers/Timeline: Post-Arctic, vague spoilers for season 8
Disclaimer: I own very little, certainly not these characters. Please don’t sue!
Author’s Notes: Written for the August’s Chlark 24/7 theme, vacation. Guaranteed AU for the start of season 8. Lyrics are from All We Are, by OneRepublic. Yes, I chew Stride gum on occasion, too. :P

---
I tried to paint you a picture, the colors were all wrong
Black and white didn't fit you, and all along
You we're shaded with patience, and strokes of everything
That I need just to make it, and I can see that...

Lord knows I've failed you, time and again
But you and me are all right
---

She’s never where he expects her.

With his memory back, he shouldn’t be surprised to find her sprinting away from the facility when he arrives. He covers her body with his own out of instinct as the explosion brings down the squat cement structure.

In the strange silence that follows, he sees all the conversations they’ll never have in her eyes. The finality terrifies him, and he can’t will himself to break contact.

He doesn’t let go of her hand all the way to Oliver’s.

They spend the week after her “rescue” roaming the Queen estate in Star City. It’s the vacation she would never allow herself if she didn’t still have a warrant hanging over her head.

Clark suspects Ollie might be slow-rolling the process of clearing her name. Chloe is so eager to get back to life, it’s a little scary. She hasn’t talked about her captivity, and they’re out of ways to ask.

One afternoon, she packs up a basket, grabs Clark’s hand, and leads him out to the cliffs that line the West end of the estate. They can see the Pacific from here. Once the blanket is spread, they eat quietly and watch the sea.

She breaks the silence first. It shouldn’t be a surprise, but it is anyway.

“I missed you.” Her voice is soft and low. Her eyes linger on the horizon.

“I missed you, too.”

She quirks her head at that, finally looking at him. “I thought you said you didn’t remember?”

“I didn’t know why I was so lonely, not until Oliver…” She nods, looks away, so he presses on. “It felt like I was looking for someone, all the time.”

“Hey now, don’t tell me you’re confusing me with Lana.”

He catches the hand that waves away his sincerity, holding it firmly. “I’m not confused, Chloe. Believe me. I’m sad Lana left, but it was you I was looking for.” He looks down, swallows. “It’s always you I look for first.”

She stills, and he finds himself scared to look her in the eye. When he registers the sob, she’s already curled against his chest. He’s not sure who moved, but he’s holding her and she’s trembling and he can’t check the tears that threaten.

“I was so scared, Clark.” She sobs into his shirt. “I thought you’d come and I hate that.”

“I’m sorry, Chlo. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there. I’m sorry.” She’s clutching fistfuls of his tee shirt, seeming to pull him close and hold him at a distance simultaneously. All he can do is whisper apologies into her hair.

“You don’t know... You can’t know what they did, what they took from me.” She looks up, and he can hardly breathe at the devastation in those eyes. “You’d hate me.”

“Chloe…” He starts, pulling her away so he can look her in the eye. “Chloe, listen to me. There is nothing, nothing that could make me hate you. Do you hear me?”

She searches his face almost desperately before nodding. He doesn’t miss the hesitance.

He sees the moment she pushes past the fear. Her lips tighten, and her tearstained features quiet. He wants to follow when she backs away, but stills at the purpose in her movement.

She sets a hand past the edge of the blanket, and a russet shadow begins stretching past her own. The ever-growing circle of withered grass stretches around her, expanding until it reaches a nearby tree. He watches, shocked, as the limbs droop and the leaves shrivel to dust.

As quickly as it began, it ends. When he looks back to Chloe, he sees her attention is on a glowing gold orb floating over her now upturned palm.

“I can take it away Clark. Everything, if I wanted to.” She looks up, and he can almost feel the crushing weight of this responsibility in her gaze. “I don’t know if it was Brainiac or the scientists, but it’s so much worse, so much stronger than it was, and I’m not sure I can hold it all.”

She looks back up, a little wild, and he finally gets the desperation. “I loved you, Clark. I would have given you everything. But they…they took it all. They took…me.”

He’d do anything to get the last three months back.

“So, I…I took it away from them.” Her voice is small, and Clark reels in denial.

“No…”

“I begged them to stop. I promised I would help them understand.” Tears trace silent paths down her face. When her voice shifts from monotone to venom, Clark can’t decide which is worse. “But they just wouldn’t. They could have. They knew I was a person, and they treated me like a thing. Like some freak cross between a lab rat and a savior.”

Her voice drops to a whisper. “In the end, I showed them all of it…everthing. I showed them all.”

Oh, God.

Clark surveys the scorched earth around them, imagines the withered skeletons that must have occupied the facility before it blew, the shock on the researchers’ faces when they realized what she’d been hiding.

She watches with eyes he doesn’t recognize, weighing his reaction. He has to search his own heart, wonder what three months of torment would drive him to do in her place. The answer isn’t hard.

“Chloe, I told you. I could never hate you.”

She sags, and the alien look in her eyes fades to a weary relief he knows too well. She lowers the orb to the grass, and he watches the light spread, leaving new growth in its wake.

When she turns, he’s there. Holding on for all the times she’s been his shelter.

---
I walked a minute in your shoes, they never would have fit
I figured there's nothin’ to lose, I need to get
Some perspective on these words, before I write them down
You're an island and my ship has run aground

Lord knows I'll fail you time and again,
But you and me we're alright
---

By day, she maintains the façade, but the nightmares are killing her. The entire security detail came running the first time, and she swung at anyone who got close until Clark arrived.

She sobbed her terror and shame into his shoulder for the better part of an hour before falling into a fitful slumber. He moved into the room next door a few nights later.

After three weeks, she asked him to stay when he walked her to her room.

It’s not sexual, just a matter of safety. She dreams of lab coats and needles and lasers and scalpels, and fear drives the desire to make it all go away.

Clark always made her feel safe, even before she knew his secret. She needs that if she’s going to protect the rest of the world from her power.

She tried the only permanent solution she could think of in the lab. The resurrection that followed served to make her a more fascinating subject.

Tonight, she’s curled against him, head resting on his shoulder while his fingertips trace circles on her arm. She finally voices the words that have been bouncing around inside her head.

“I want to talk to J’onn. See if he can help.”

“You sure?”

“I have to try.” She smiles wryly. “After all, we can’t be bed buddies forever.”

The hand on her arm stills. She can barely make out his profile in the inky gloom, so she can’t imagine his reaction to that little slip.

After a pause, he sighs. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. What would Jimmy think?”

She snorts. “I doubt he’d think anything before trying to punch you. And that would just get messy.”

“It would, wouldn’t it?” The smile in his voice fades. “You know I love you, right?”

“Of course you do. What’s not to love?”

“I’m being serious, Chlo.”

“So am I.” She giggles before sobering. “I know you love me, Clark, and I’ll always love you. I just…I don’t think it’s enough this time. I can’t hold onto what happened any more and be who you need me to.”

“You don’t have to be anything, Chloe. Just be my friend.”

“I want to be that, Clark. God, how I want to be that.” She sighs, wrapping her arm around him and snuggling closer. “I miss being the one supporting you. It’s not as fun the other way around.”

“You sure? Because I seem to make a great body pillow, and there was less spooning with your support.”

“That’s because you’re a prude.”

“I can’t believe you said that!” He chokes.

“What’s the matter? Too much truth for you, mister pure-as-the-driven-snow?”

“Oh, now that’s it, missy. You think I’m prude?” He shifts, and suddenly her arms are pinned over her head while he tickles her ribs mercilessly with his other hand. “I'm prude?”

“I think you're scared. Always have been.” She forces the words out between giggles.

He silences her the last way she expected. His lips are warm and softer than she remembers. When he parts them to nip at hers, she can’t help surrendering herself to the kiss.

Suddenly it’s light and life and everything she’s missed. He keeps her hands pinned and rolls more fully toward her, pressing against her.

There’s nothing but gasps and sighs for a moment, and she hates how quickly the heat builds in her. Nine years and she still hasn’t tamed this wish.

She knows how precarious things are right now, and losing Clark would break her in a way she couldn’t come back from. It takes every ounce of self-preservation to push him away.

He backs away as though burned, and she can practically see the blush in the hunch of his shoulders.

“I’m sorry.” She speaks first because he apologizes far too much.

“No, I…I shouldn’t have.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Clark. Any other time and…” She stops, realizing any direction she goes with this is terrifying. “Look, things are really shaky for me, and I need you. I just…if anything happened I don’t know what I’d do. I can’t risk it.”

“I understand.” His hand covers hers and she wonders if he ever can, really. She hopes not.

His hand comes up to brush the hair out of her face, lingering a moment too long.

“Tomorrow, I’ll talk to J’onn.”

“Thanks, Clark. It means a lot.”

When she settles against him, she holds on even tighter than before, willing him to understand how much she really loves him.

---
We won't say our goodbye's, you know it's better that way,
We won't break, we won't die, it's just a moment of change
All we are, all we are is everything that's right
---

When he calls J’onn in the morning, he can’t quite place the uneasiness. The Martian arrives that afternoon, and meets with Chloe alone.

He waits outside the library where they talk, hating himself for wanting to peek. When he does, they’re just sitting, facing each other in silence.

Kara said Martians were psychic. He wonders what else they are.

One hour passes, then another. After three, they finally emerge.

Relief floods him at the open smile on his friend’s face. She quirks her head when he hugs her just a little too tight and brushes past saying something about needing to talk to Oliver.

He turns to J’onn, confused.

“You were right to call me, Kal-El.” The Martian intones. “She was barely containing the power, even with your support.”

“How did you fix it?”

“I merely removed the trigger so she could focus on the positive side of her gift.”

“What trigger?”

“Her captivity, of course. She no longer has any memory of it.” The pause is bursting with meaning. “She also asked that I remove her recovery. Your friend knows herself. If left the clues of her recovery, she would find the trigger again.”

It’s strange. He just found out Chloe’s going to be okay, and it feels like someone knocked his feet out from under him. The fact that she won’t remember the distance they crossed together shouldn’t matter in the face of her being okay, but somehow it does.

J’onn places a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Sit, Kal-El.”

He does.

“Chloe Sullivan is a brave girl. She gave me a gift. I would be honored to deliver it to its rightful owner.”

Clark nods, and suddenly, he’s somewhere else.

He can see himself on his old couch, eyes closed and face flushed with a fever. He can hardly believe he ever looked so young.

“I want to let you in on a secret.”

Her voice washes over him and it feels like coming home.

“I'm not who you think I am. In fact, my disguise is so thin I'm surprised you haven't seen right through me. I'm the girl of your dreams masquerading as your best friend.

“Sometimes, I want to rip off the façade like I did at the spring formal. But I can't because you'll get scared and you'll run away again. So I decided that it's better to live with the lie than expose my true feelings.

“My dad said there are two types of girls -- the ones you grow out of and the ones you grow into. I really hope I'm the latter.

“I may not be the one you love today, but I'll let you go for now, hoping one day you'll fly back to me. Because I think you're worth the wait.”

The words warm him and he can’t help the awe at anyone feeling that way about him, especially someone as amazing as Chloe.

He sees himself stir, hears Lana’s name, and understands more about the last seven years than he ever wanted to.

He was a fool, but he can do better. He knows she has Jimmy, but if there’s even a chance, he has to try. Fear has led him for far too long.

---
And every single day that I can breathe,
You change my philosophy,
I'm never gonna let you pass me by

So don't say our goodbye's, you know it's better that way,
We won't break, we won't die, it's just a moment of change
All we are, all we are is everything that's right
---

-End-

Forfeit

2008-05-18T17:05:00.000-07:00

Title: Forfeit
Rating: PG
Fandom: Smallville
Pairing: Chlark friendship, Chlex friendship
Spoilers/Timeline: Post-Quest (spoilers from Apocalypse and Season 8)
Disclaimer: I own very little, certainly not these characters. Please don’t sue!
Author’s Notes: Since spoilers have conclusively proven Clark has no brain to grow, I thought I’d mess with something other than Chlois or Immortal!Chloe for once. This was already disproven by more recent spoilers, but I still wanted to play. I may continue this after I get some distance from S7, depending on how much I hate what they do with Arctic.This was beyond wierd for me to write, because I love dialogue, and it's crazy-short on it. My apologies if it sucks.

Lyrics are from “Last Thing On Your Mind” by Lights, which may become my Chlark anthem.

--
Don't think too hard, if you think it hurts that bad
Don't talk about it, don't let it get you down
--

Chloe Sullivan is familiar with sacrifice. Repeatedly handing her heart to an intergalactic traveler knowing he’d trample all over it with his size fourteens was good practice.

When the DDS agents catch up with her, she has little hope of escaping a prison sentence. She’s terrified that given enough silence, enough solitude, her meteor infection might get the better of her.

Chloe will die before she’ll betray Clark. That’s why she hopes she’s found a way to save him, one last time.

Escaping custody was the easy part. The gadgets Ollie couriered over after her first run-in with the DDS are officially worth their weight in gold and probably cost more. Regardless of Jimmy’s insistence and Clark’s super-sized denial, Oliver knew it was only a matter of time.

Standing over Lana Lang’s still form, she caresses her friend’s cheek. These are probably her last moments of freedom, and she hates that she can’t even call Clark to tell him he’s loved; that she wants him to be happy and take care of her big cousin and her doofus of a boyfriend and save the world. She’s so proud of the man he’ll become.

He’s out of range. If he weren’t, he’d never let her go through with it.

None of this is fair, so she lets the tears fall in defiance. She’s not ashamed to feel this. Chloe loves her life; these people. And Braniac had no more right to hurt Lana and Kara than Lex has to control Clark.

Her life is forfeit, and her family will have to deal with the fallout of the DDS. Even if her power could do the impossible, she wouldn’t have a name to go back to. All because she chose to do the right thing.

Her uncle Sam always told her that bravery was doing what needed to be done even when you’re scared. She’s beyond terrified now, so she figures she’s on the right track.

Squaring her shoulders, she focuses her power on Lana. As the light overtakes them, her last coherent thought is for Clark. After that, the shrieks drown out everything that matters.

--
It's only one part, of the story
Just let it go, don't let this get you down now.
--

“Please…please don’t look for me. I can’t be what you need. I’m just not…I’m not strong enough to go through that again, Clark.”

He pauses the video at the same spot he has the last 27 times he watched it. He just can’t figure out how it all went so wrong. He tried so hard to be the man Lana needed. He sacrificed everything for their quiet, domestic life.

He gave it all up - everything and everyone who mattered – the whole world, really. And it wasn’t enough.

Maybe it was too much. He’s tired, and he has no idea what comes next.

God, he misses Chloe. He can’t think about her for long anymore, either. Knowing the pain she put herself in for Lana – for him, if Ollie’s right.

The archer usually is, no matter how hard Clark wants to deny it. It’s all too much.

In the days since he returned from the fortress to find Chloe’s 33.1 story published and Lana awake, he’s been forced to reassess his assumptions about a lot of things.

His best friend wasn’t a visible cornerstone in his life, but he suddenly feels like someone ripped away his foundation. He’s shocked at how much it hurts to go on.

The first time he glimpsed her still form through the hospital window, the surge of anger startled him. She looked so small; weak in a way he’d never seen her, even in death.

Damn Chloe Sullivan and her hero complex. He should have known she could never leave well enough alone. Now all she’s done is compound the tragedy.

Lana is walking around, somewhere on the other side of the world, and Chloe is never expected to wake up. The specialists have no idea how she’s even alive, but Clark has learned to expect the unexpected where his best friend is concerned.

He knew he was selfish in his desperation not to be responsible for Lana’s pain. Guilt drove him then. It’s broken him now.

Chloe Sullivan was supposed to save the world with him, not waste away in a state-run long term care facility.

When he huddles by her bedside, her tiny hand enveloped in his own and milky eyes beholding a tableau of horror that he doubts his nightmares do justice, the words finally come pouring out.

He tells her she shouldn’t have sacrificed herself that way. That he had made his choice when he didn’t ask before, and though he regretted having to choose, he didn’t regret his decision for a moment. She is true, and she is just, and she is fire, and she is love and he just can’t do this without her.

It’s all too little, and too late.

--
Sing, the last thing on your mind
The last word on your breath
I'll be the one to keep you, keep you at your best
--

She’s been here forever, long ago forgetting that the screams are her own. This cacophony has been her existence since…always.

The silence is beyond jarring; the lack of pain disorienting. She feels like she’s floating. Like she might be free.

That’s an important word, even if she doesn’t know why. It’s a word you fight the pain for. A word you hold onto when everything else is torn asunder.

She flinches at the memory teasing the edges of her consciousness.

Opening her eyes slowly, she puzzles at the darkness after a world of swirling chaos and bright lights. Something in the back of her mind screams “It’s over!” But she has no idea what an end is, so she shrugs it off. Eternity is all there is.

But eternity…it never felt like this, smelled like this. Clean and soft and…home. It never sounded like this, like quiet puffs of breath on her shoulder.

She shrinks away when she recognizes the other presence in the room. That’s what this is…another trick. Another wraith come to offer peace and deliver horrors beyond her wildest imaginings.

“N-no…” Her voice catches on the tubing and she pulls it out through her nose, oblivious to the discomfort. Desperately pulling wires and tubes from her body, she scrambles back when the wraith raises confused eyes to meet hers.

Its shock is almost convincing, but she’s no fool.

She looks around desperately, seeking some protection. Like all the times before, there's nothing. A box on stilts beeps at her. It’s light, so she throws it at the wraith.

Strangely, the box goes straight through the wall. The wraith looks even more surprised than she is. It speaks, but she isn’t interested in making sense of the gibberish. She just wants out of here.

So she runs.

--
The last thing on your mind
'Cause I don't need your mess
I'll be the one to keep you one disaster less
--

Fortune smiles on the prepared.

When the man once known as Lex Luthor finds the ghost of Chloe Sullivan wandering the streets of New York in a hospital gown, he knows enough not to gun her down on the spot.

The girl who stole his freedom is supposed to be comatose. This woman doesn’t know her name or remember a shred of her former life. She doesn’t even seem to know English.

Lex always considered her a formidable adversary. She promises to be an even more powerful ally. Even without her memory, she is cunning in ways that can’t be taught. Between their perseverence and their pursuit of truth, he wonders if they could have passed for siblings in another world.

When she clutches his hand so tightly she breaks it, he knows he has to tread carefully in building her new life. She’s worth protecting.

She might save them all one day.

Tess Meyers is born on July 5, 2008, though her papers say her birthday is October 12, 1987. She is devoted in ways Lex only ever dreamed of, and he knows then that Clark Kent poses no real threat.

The man who would take that kind of loyalty for granted deserves to lose it.

--
Straighten up your tie, take the microphone
Forget about it, don't let it get you down
Now is not the time, and you're not alone
Shut up about it, no one can bring you down now
--

Clark searches for months, but Chloe hides even more thoroughly than Lana. It’s not until Lex’s new plaything arrives in Smallville six months later that he understands how damaged everything is.

He tries to speak to her at the mansion, and she acts like he’s crazy, calling for security like she doesn’t know how useless they will be.

“Chloe wait.” She stiffens at his hand on her shoulder.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about, Mr. Kent. You obviously have me confused with someone else.”

The attack is brutal and without warning. As he brushes off bits of stained glass and grass from a quarter mile away, he has to wonder what really came back.

---

End(?)

Overdue

2008-05-18T16:57:00.000-07:00

Title: Overdue
Rating: PG
Fandom: Smallville
Pairing: Chimmy, Clois, Chlark
Spoilers/Timeline: Post-Series
Disclaimer: I own very little, certainly not these characters. Please don’t sue!
Author’s Notes: Scarily fluffy, by my scale. The Chimmy/Clois sucked me in after the crap of Sleeper. The way TPTB are painting the characters, it’s entirely possible Clark will need a million years to grow into Chloe, because he’s that dense, and Chloe shouldn’t wait forever. Lyrics are from Salt Point by Buddy.

--
Anyone could guess
that you'll be holding your breath
until you're blue.You won't let them look,
read you like a book
so long overdue.
--

She watched the pain in Curtis Knox’s eyes, her own wide with horror. Something about his assertion that she could grant his Sophia immortality shook her to the core.

Clark caught her gaze, and she had little doubt that the fear in his eyes was mirrored in her own. He might not have understood the synchronicity, but they were both watching their own future.

--
I won't ask for much,
I won't ask for anything.
I won't ask for much
as long as you come back
for me.
--

She’s still holding his hand when he wakes.

“Hey, Bright Eyes.” Blue eyes sparkle with utter joy. “You came back.”

Her chin trembles, and she can’t stop the tears that well and break, even as she smiles back at him. “I never left, Jimmy. I couldn’t.”

He drifts a moment before replying. “Yeah…yeah, you never could stay away long. Guess it’s my stunning good looks.” He grins ruefully, and it breaks her. She can’t imagine a world without that smile.

“No? Must be my winning personality, then.” She laughs through tears. “Not that either? Well, at least I finally know the truth.”

He’s gasping a little, and she knows well enough not to mention the tears running freely down his weathered cheeks.

“You only want me for my body.”

He laughs so hard at his own joke that he’s doubled over coughing for a good five minutes. She does her best to support his fragile frame, thinned by a valiant effort against the same stubborn monstrosity that took Lois a decade ago.

Time has become her worst enemy. Its wear is beyond even her considerable gifts, and yet it carelessly denies her the mercy it has granted everyone she loves.

The only other person exempt from time’s clutch hovers in the hallway. She threatened him with Kryptonite if he interrupted them. After all the years they spent helping him, they deserve their time.

Chloe and Jimmy, saving the world one story at a time. Even Superman couldn’t pull them apart. Lord knows he tried often enough in the ten years since Lois passed on.

She’s not sure whether he was trying to assuage his own guilt, or if he honestly had a change of heart, but it doesn’t matter. Her heart’s belonged to Jimmy far longer than it was Clark’s. She knows where she belongs.

--
It's only fear
that keeps you away from here,
keeps you from me.
You can't see the spark,
cause you're afraid of the dark
and I'm afraid of the day you leave.
--

After, she wants to hate Clark all the time. She hates him for being alive when Jimmy’s not. Hates him for living forever. She never wanted to be the Tink to his Peter.

Maybe she hates him most for being so good that she could never let go completely. For all the years she couldn’t love Jimmy with her whole heart, for looking at her grandchildren and imagining them with darker hair and fuller lips.

She doesn’t want to be petty, but Jimmy was her mooring, and she feels like she might fly off into orbit without him.

Clark moves them to Atlanta.

He could move them to Zimbabwe for all the good it will do. They’ll just have to start over again in another 10 years.

Knowing how every single person she meets will one day fade away wears at her soul. As a girl, she had an academic understanding of time, but watching it sweep by without her has given her an entirely new respect for the horror and synchronicity wrought with every tick of the clock.

--
I won't ask for much,
I won't ask for anything.
I won't ask for much
as long as you come back
for me.
--

She and Clark have given up the pretense of brother and sister by the second time they cycle through New York. Even though they never risked a romantic relationship, years of friendship without borders have left an easy partnership that’s more easily explained by marriage.

He even tries to talk her into a ceremony, but she brushes off the idea, saying her hacks are untraceable and ironclad. They don’t need an actual ceremony to pull it off, and it feels too much like betrayal to even consider it.

--
Maybe we took way too long
waiting for someone to come
look for us.
Maybe I took way too long
waiting for you to just come
back for me.
--

He sulks for almost a year afterward. It’s not until their next pilgrimage to Metropolis that she understands why.

They come here every year. She suspects he visits more often, but doesn’t want to rub in the freedom his speed and flight allow.

It’s been 15 years since she’s seen Clark weep over Lois’ tomb. His granddaughter now rests three plots down from her own. If they’re not careful, their families will spill into each others’ soon.

This time, when she wanders back from her visit with Jimmy, he’s slouched on the bench at the foot of Lois’ grave, head in his hands. It seems to be one of those rare moments when she’s snuck up on him, because he keeps talking.

His voice is gravel, and his hands shake.

“She just…she refuses to see. It’s like we’re together, but farther than we’ve ever been. I don’t know how much longer I can stand to be so close to her and have her blind to the real me. I know it’s what I deserve - I get that - but I’m not as good as her. It’s been almost a century, and it still feels like she blames me.

“I know you’re somewhere laughing your butt off at all of this, now that you know…everything.” He sighs, scrubbing his face before clasping his hands and addressing the tombstone directly.

“I am so, so sorry, Lois. I’m sorry I could never give you that last inch. I’m sorry I still wonder what Jonathan might have looked like if he was hers. What we might have been if I hadn’t let my fear rule me as a kid.

“I really did love you, in my own way. It took me forever to understand, but Chloe had me from that first day in the barn, so that last inch – the first inch, really – it wasn’t mine to give.”

--
Every day that passed,
I thought you'd never ask
and you never did.
I'm happy for your ring,
sorry for everything
I never said.
--

She brings a hand to her mouth, unable to draw a breath through the horror and replaying a thousand conversations in a new light.

Shit. She thought he was being overly dramatic with the way he brought up the ceremony, but it seems she’s officially the only girl to turn down a proposal from Superman.

That understanding sparks the startled gasp she’d suppressed, and his head spins in her direction faster than her eye can track. She has no words, so she just stumbles forward and traces his cheek with shaky fingers, finally recognizing the anguish she’s ignored for so long.

“God, Clark. Why?”

“Because I’m an idiot. I never deserved you, Chlo.” He leans into her hand, but looks down, ashamed.

“Did you ever think of what that might have done to me?”

“What?” He looks up, confused.

“Do you know why I was so angry with you when Jimmy died?”

“Because I didn’t?”

“Yes…” She feels him shrink in upon himself. “…and no. I was furious that I was never able to give him what he really deserved. I loved him, he loved me, and he gave me a beautiful life. That should have been enough. I shouldn’t have always wanted something else.”

“You…what?”

“You were always unavailable, in one way or another. I knew that from the day that I met you. I should have been able to let go and live my life. But you were always there, always fighting for what was right, and I never felt more alive than when I got to fight by your side.

“Jimmy knew that, and he told me early on that if that’s where he needed to be to love me, then that was where he would stay.”

“I hated that.”

“What?”

“He took my place as your partner, and all I could do was watch. Lois and I tried. We worked in our own way, but we were never really equals. Not before she knew, and certainly not after.”

She knows. It hurt for a long time to watch them both try so hard. Somewhere along the way she got busy with her own kids and her career and the League and a million other things, and she stopped watching.

Now, she can’t be sure whether she stopped watching because she was too busy, or whether she busied herself so she didn’t have to witness the moment they figured it out.

--
I won't ask for much,
I won't ask for anything
at all.
I won't ask for much,
as long as you come back
for me.
--

He knows all her weaknesses, save one, apparently. A triple mocha and chocolate scone can make her to forgive a late save in a heartbeat, his puppy dog eyes can get her to believe the most far-fetched observation imaginable, and a well-timed hug can turn a scream-fest into sobs.

“No one could ever take your place, Clark.” She whispers. “Never.“

He sags, pressing his tear-stained face into her shirt. “Oh Chlo. I’m so sorry.”

She sighs. “What for this time?”

“For not realizing, and not telling you when I did. We wasted so much time. We hurt them.”

“Time, we have. And they love us enough to forgive us.” She runs a hand through his hair and hugs him tight, resting her chin on his head in a familiar gesture. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t regret a day of the life that’s led me here. Well, I could have done without the karaoke incident in Barstow, and maybe the undercover prostitution sting, but really-“

“Chloe?”

“Yeah?” She looks down, still playing with his hair distractedly.

“Shut up.” His mouth covers hers and she thinks maybe she was over-qualifying.

They’re long overdue, and the years between have worn on both of them, but Chloe Sullivan doesn’t regret a second.

---

End

We Were Here

2008-05-18T16:51:00.000-07:00

Title: We Were Here
Rating: PG
Fandom: Smallville
Pairing: Chlark, mentions of Clois
Spoilers/Timeline: Post-Series
Disclaimer: I own very little, certainly not these characters. Please don’t sue!
Author’s Notes: A future-fic with a twist that I dug out of the graveyard for tehzo. Chloe will make such a great memory-keeper.

--

Chloe Sullivan remembers him, long after the world forgets. Her heart breaks that he could be so quickly forgotten by the people he gave up everything to protect.

She’s in a drugstore when she overhears a kid who can’t be older than seven ask his mother what a Superman is.

She barely makes it to her car before she dissolves into tears. It’s so unfair.

When she can see again, she stares into the darkness. Finally coming to the decision that she’s done enough of that lately, she starts the engine and drives three hours to the tiny town that started it all. She can’t stay away any longer.

The sun is rising over the road, and she is reminded of the thousand Kansas mornings they shared in their years here. She stops at the Talon, picks up a coffee and tries to settle her nerves for the short trip to the Kent farm.

Some of the storefronts are new, and a few of the farms have been turned into subdivisions, but there’s a beauty here that still steals her breath away. It’s little wonder that he loved this planet so much, with this idyllic setting introducing him to his adopted world.

The farm is eerily silent even as her tires crunch along the gravel path, a monument to more peaceful times. It has its share of ghosts.

She gets out of the car, and slides up onto the hood with her coffee. Leaning back to gaze at the morning sky and just…breathing. She takes so little time to relax these days. It feels like the first time she’s stopped in decades.

After a time, restlessness steals its way into her consciousness. The old barn beckons.

The dark, dank structure reminds her just how many years have passed since anyone sought comfort here. Dust a quarter-inch thick covers everything, and cobwebs have overtaken the shadowed corners.

She climbs slowly, taking in every detail. Over there is the toolbox where Clark once kept the key to the caves until she laughed and found an actual hiding place for it.

That loose floorboard once held Kara’s crystal, then her bracelet.

On the landing, her mind flits over a thousand days and nights spend laughing, crying, brooding, planning, and just…being there.

God, she misses him. It’s a physical ache that is as sharp as the day it happened, despite the long years that stretch between then and now.

By a strange twist of fate the farm fell to her after…everything. It is equal parts comfort and pain; honor and burden.

It is her albatross and her most precious haven. Much like he was.

“We were here. We mattered.”

She whispers it to the birds now nesting near the window, to the fields that lie fallow, to the farmhouse devoid of laughter and love after so many generations.

She says it to herself.

A beat passes in silence before she steps lightly over the rotted out wood that composes most of the loft these days. It’s a strange dance she learned over decades, and leads to the same destination every time.

At the old bookshelf, she withdraws the tattered copy of The Catcher in the Rye. She still mourns his veto of her first choice, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to The Galaxy, but she wouldn’t know how not to support him, even now.

She doesn’t worry over the photos and knickknacks like she has on other visits. Instead, she pockets the disk and follows her tread marks back to the rickety stairs. She feels compelled, rather than desperate, for the first time…since.

The drive to the caves is smoothed by new pavement paid for by the Kent Foundation. The farm may be her albatross, but the Foundation and its far-reaching charitable impact in meta and human communities worldwide is her tribute.

She’s dressed for the biting cold, but the first sting is still a shock. The snowy trek didn’t get any shorter, so she spends the journey cursing kryptonian travel systems. It’s a good thing she hasn’t aged past 20. She doubts even the spryest 80-something body could cover the ground she needs to.

The silence inside is deafening with the howling wind still echoing in her head. Still, she calls out a greeting.

“Jor-El.”

The lighting intensifies, acknowledging her presence.

She stops before the console, just out of sight of the chamber that holds the reason for her visit. She shakes her head at her superstition.

As long as she doesn’t look, he’s Schrodinger’s Cat.

Never one to lie to herself for long, she sighs and calls out. “How is he?”

“Much better, thanks.”

She spins and sputters, nearly choking on her surprise. “Wh-wha…C-Clark?”

The impossible vision before her blushes and looks down before meeting her gaze. “Yeah. It’s me.”

“Oh my…Oh my God!” She’s leaping into his arms before she registers her feet moving. “You’re not…I mean you’re…You’re alive!”

Her emotions are on overdrive, and she’s babbling through her tears a second later. “You’re alive! All these years, I thought…but here you are, and. God! Do you know what you did to me? To everyone? You big…“ smack “…insensitive…” smack “…alien…” smack “…jerk! Ow!”

“Chlo, stop! ” He’s laughing. That’s good, right? “Are you done?”

She shakes her head into his shoulder, sniffling and not letting go for anything.

“Can I talk now?”

She pauses, and nods hesitantly into his shoulder.

"Are you okay?”

She can’t help the tears that fall at the question. “Not really.”

“I’m…I’m sorry. About everything.”

“I don’t care about everything. I never did. I just…I missed you so much.”

He’s cradling her head and stroking her hair and she’s convinced this is a dream. She never wants to wake up again.

“Oh Clark.” She speaks into his shoulder and breathes him in. She never imagined a single scent could hold so much, but her mind floods with years of friendship and unspoken bonds.

“I’m here, Chlo. I’m not going anywhere.”

At that, she just loses it. She spends the better part of an hour sobbing half a century of grief and worry into his ratty old jacket. Neither says anything and she finally she drifts off to sleep in his strong arms. Hiccups echo her sobs, even in slumber.

Clark Kent regards her silently. No matter how painful it was to return to a world where his wife and baby have rested in the cold ground beneath Centennial Park for fifty years, it feels right ease her pain. She always bore the burdens of the ones she loved without complaint.

No one should be abandoned for that.

---

End

More Time

2008-05-18T16:46:00.000-07:00

Title: More Time
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Smallville
Pairing: Chlark, Chlois
Spoilers/Timeline: Post-Series
Disclaimer: I own very little, certainly not these characters. Please don’t sue!
Author’s Notes: Sleeper made me want to slap the crap out of Clark. Call this the reset button I want to push when SV finally comes to an end.

--

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” Brainiac’s hand on his crown is a twisted benediction.

He huddles more tightly around her, pulling her limp form closer as the tears stream. “You, you can’t…”

“Ah, but that’s the beauty of it all, Kal-El. I didn’t.” He smirks. “She did. So did you, if you think about it, letting her think that was all you wanted. Humans are so predictable, especially when they’re noble.”

When the machine touches her hair, Clark practically growls and snatches her away from the seeking hand.

“You don’t get to touch her.” He spits. “Bring her back. Now.”

“Such demands from someone with so little understanding.” The construct circles them, unconcerned with the fortress’ defense systems all targeting him. He pauses. “You want your little reporter back?”

Clark tries not to break her with the strength of his grief. All he manages is a strangled. “Yes.”

Braniac crouches low, meeting his broken gaze. “And just what would you offer me in return?”

“Anything.” He whispers, and it’s true even if Chloe would hate him.

“How about…a little more time?”

“W-What?”

“Time, boy.” His tone is a mockery of kindness. “What if you never met your little blonde sidekick, Kal-El?”

“She…she’d still be...”

“Alive, yes.” Brainiac speaks as if talking to a particularly slow child. “And what else do you suppose would be different, if you hadn’t had her to save all those years ago?”

“I…uh.”

“You would have completed your training when this fortress was created, yes?”

“I…I guess.”

“Trust me. You would have had no other reason. Your relationship with Miss Lang would have been pursued without regret and you’d have parted as friends by graduation.”

The machine rises and begins to circle casually.

“And do you know what wouldn’t have happened?”

“No.” Clark is confused and all he wants is Chloe and how is he supposed to make sense of this when she’s so…gone?

“No, I don’t suppose you would.” Braniac sighs, frustrated. “You would not have disobeyed your father’s Artificial Intelligence, and it would have left the wormhole closed. There would be no lesson to teach.”

“Wormhole?”

“Yes, wormhole. You didn’t actually think Jor-El was able to summon a meteor shower by himself, did you?”

“Jor-El made that…?”

“No, you twit. He merely sped it up because of your constant rebellion. He felt you needed to understand your importance to this inferior race.” At that, the android stills and pins Clark with a penetrating glare. “I can save her from you. And all I ask for in return is a little more time.”

“But what-?“

“Zod will have another chance at this world. You will be older and fully trained. And any failure will fall on his shoulders.”

“Why would you want that?” Confused doesn’t begin to cover where Clark is right now. “Why the do-over if I’m going to be better prepared to fight him?”

“I merely want to be absolved of the constant blame. It was her who caught me by surprise last time, and I’d like to see what happens without her in the equation.” For the first time, the machine looks weary. “It really is a win-win.”

“I...I won’t know her at all?”

“Kryptonians are unique in their innate understanding of time’s flow, so no, I can’t make you forget. But with some minor adjustments to the events of 1991, Chloe Sullivan as you know her never moved to Smallville.” He looks solemn, as though he knows what he’s saying when he continues. “It is she who won’t know you, Kal-El.”

Clark looks down at her still features, relaxed in death as he’s never seen them in life. There’s no choice, not really. Chloe Sullivan gave up everything for him. He’d give more if he were asked.

Searching his heart, it’s a little scary when he considers what he’s willing to give to get her back. This is a bargain for both him and the world.

He looks up at Brainiac, wishing he could wipe that smirk off the machine’s face permanently. Instead, he nods.

“What do I need to do?”

“Oh, just this.” He starts when the android leads his hand to a crystal on the console. Energy flows through their joined hands and the world explodes in a cacophony of light and color.

It feels a lot like being turned inside out and upside down at the same time, and when reality spins to a stop, Clark finds himself across the street from The Daily Planet.

The globe spins, golden and bright, and he draws comfort from the fact that this one thing remains constant.

“Move, Kent!”

“Excuse me?” He turns, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose without thinking.

The woman in the car looks exasperated. He stares dumbly at the open door for a moment before taking the hint.

He slides into the passenger seat of the microscopic hybrid and finally gets a good look at his companion. He can’t contain the gasp.

Two sets of memories collide in a supernova of what is and what wasn’t. Despite the long dark hair, slightly different nose, and entirely different attitude, he is reminded of days at the lake and a grin that could outshine the sun. He also remembers an unsteady alliance and a star reporter whose editor thinks she needs a little balance.

“Chloe?” He asks, and even as he does he knows that’s not her name. She stops cold.

“Where did you hear that name?”

“Uh…um, you mentioned it?”

“Doubtful, Kent. I don’t talk about that. Ever.”

“Why?”

“It was the worst day of my life, that’s why. I lost my baby cousin and my uncle and my own face in a single car accident. That’s a lot for a six-year-old to take in.” She smirks at his silence. “Happy now? Can we please move on with our day, Mister Intrusive?”

“Uh-Of course, uh, Lois. Sure we can.”

“Gee, thanks, Smallville. I can’t tell you how relieved I am to have your permission.”

“Me too.” It just slips out and he can’t imagine a universe that would be this kind after…everything.

“You too, what?”

“I’m relieved, too.” She looks over, suddenly curious at his serious tone.

“You okay, Kent?” The last of his doubts evaporate at the care in her eyes. Chloe is alive and they’re a team again.

“I’ve never been better.”

---

End

All The King's Men

2008-05-18T16:41:00.000-07:00

Title: All The King’s Men
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Smallville
Pairing: Chlark friendship
Spoilers/Timeline: Post-Lara AU
Disclaimer: I own very little, certainly not these characters. Please don’t sue!
Author’s Notes: So tobywolf13 felt there was more to be told to Life’s Little Ironies. I agree, but I’m afraid my muses are impatient and jumped ahead a bit. I wrote this to soften the transition.

Most of all, it’s a birthday present to someone who shares their engaging stories and ridiculous talent with us almost daily. Happy Birthday, Toby!

--

His skin cannot be pierced. Even the most extreme temperatures have no effect on him.

So why can’t he shake this chill?

Her defenses are painfully secure. Clark Kent knows he’s been given more chances than anyone deserves, but after leaving Chloe and Jonathan in her room for some bonding time, he finds it hard to fight frustrated tears.

He should be thrilled. She’s back. She’s healthy and Jonathan is whole and free. She even handled the news that she was a parent far better than he did.

Maybe that’s a human thing, maybe it’s a girl thing. He has the sneaking suspicion it’s a Chloe thing.

He ponders that while he crosses the short distance to the room next door. When she was gone completely, the silence and uncertainty nearly drove him mad. Just hearing her breathe is a comfort.

She’s been his best friend since he was a child. The depth of his panic at watching her fall in that operating theater surprised him anyway.

Upon reflection, and he’s had time for far too much of it lately, he knows he’s a poor excuse for a friend. Ollie, Bruce, Vic, AC and Bart all have these special little rituals for her, and it’s the strangest thing to see.

He always thought he knew everything there was to know about Chloe Sullivan, but he had no idea she loved the sunset in Gotham, or that she kept a satchel of white tea in her pillowcase. He didn’t know that she likes the doors open in the afternoon, when the Wayne gardens gleam in the hazy sunlight.

AC brings her a new seashell every time she comes back from the dead. Vic says it started when she described death as floating on sea foam.

The size of the collection is humbling.

Clark is accustomed to strangeness. He has lived it every day he can remember, but her gifts are more than a little intimidating.

He can’t help but listen through the wall as she marvels aloud at Jonathan’s eyes and his perfect little nose.

“You are just the cutest little guy I ever met, you know that? How on Earth could you be mine? Hmm…yeah. Never mind about the how. That’s definitely more complicated than usual.

“Has your daddy been taking good care of you? Did he give you lots of hugs while I was sleeping? I’m sorry about that, little man, but even if you weren’t mine, you were important enough to save. I guess there will always be someone to save. We’ll have to work on that, or at least have a backup plan, now that we have you.”

She falls silent for a second and he can almost see her staring out at the burnt-orange sunset.

“We…God, this is officially the strangest thing that’s ever happened to me, and that’s saying a lot. Why did it have to be him? Anyone else, and…” He hears her sniffle and doesn’t try to check the shame. “Well, I guess it doesn’t matter now. You’re here and we’re going to take good care of you, no matter what we figure out for custody.”

Custody…since finding out they were in this together, he’s never put their situation in those terms. It stings a bit more than he was ready for that it’s the first place her mind goes.

For some reason, he had dreams of them raising Jonathan together as a team, a partnership. They may not be romantically involved, but that doesn’t mean they have to deny their son a whole home. He knows how much having both parents helped and she knows how much it hurts to be away from one of them. Why shouldn’t they try to make it work?

--

She looks down again. They are bound by this tiny little person. No matter what came before, she owes it to Jonathan to mend some fences. She calls out to the empty room she knows has ears.

“Give it up Clark. We might as well talk now.”

She hears huge feet shuffle in the hall outside her door moments later. He peeks around the door, obviously caught.

“Come in.”

“Maybe this isn’t the best time, Chlo.” He sniffs and approaches the chair by her bed reluctantly.

“Oh for…are those tears?”

He swallows and looks away.

She sighs. “I know this must be a big disappointment, Clark. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry things ended up as weird as they did.”

He looks up sharply at that, confusion written plainly in his eyes.

“You and Lana.” She tries for patient, reminding herself that this is for Jonathan.

His brow remains furrowed. Is he seriously going to make her spell this out? She’s not a fool.

“I know you wanted her to be the mother of your children. This…situation…is a million miles outside the realm of possibilities either of us considered. I know it’s a lot to take in, but I’d…I’d really like to be there for him, too.”

“Do you…” He starts in a whisper, swallowing a look of shock. “Do you really think so little of me?”

She looks down at the baby, who’s watching her with Clark’s wide eyes. When she speaks, she keeps her tone gentle, for both of them. “We’ve been friends forever. I think I’m pretty clear on why you’re upset.”

She tries to put as much dignity as she can muster into her next words. “It doesn’t change the fact that he’s my son. Like it or not, we’re going to have to figure this out. For him.”

“Chloe.” Her name is a horrified whisper. “I know I’m slow on the uptake - believe me, the guys have spent most of the week reminding me - but Lana is a monster. I’m beyond glad she has no right to him.”

His eyes are welling with tears, and she can barely fight the urge to smack him. He has no right to grow a brain when everything’s so broken.

“I never thought I would get to be a dad. In a way, I’m grateful to Lex and Lana for giving me the chance.” He pauses, and swallows almost nervously. “And I can’t imagine a better mother for him.”

Damn him. Now she’s fighting tears of her own. She takes a deep breath, regaining control and completely uncertain what the protocol is for a situation like this. “O-Okay. I’m, uh, glad you think so.”

He doesn’t meet her eyes. “So where do we go from here?”

For all her bravado, she hates that he looks beaten in a way he didn’t when he realized the extent of Lana’s betrayal. She shifts her focus to the baby, who is starting to fuss.

“I guess we start by feeding the little guy. Can you…?” A bottle of formula appears before she finishes the request, and she can’t stop the crooked smile that sneaks across her face. “Well, that’s convenient.”

Jonathan eagerly accepts the bottle, his gaze never leaving her.

“He looks so serious for such a tiny baby.” She wonders aloud.

Clark leans in. “I don’t think he got much human contact…there.”

She stiffens at the proximity, and notices how the baby starts and looks at his father with something akin to fear. Taking a deep breath, she forces herself to calm, even leaning in a smidge to let the little guy know it’s okay. “Everything’s okay.”

“Yeah, it is. It will be.” The conviction in Clark’s voice is heartbreaking, because she doubts it will ever be simple for them. Any of them.

---

Clark Kent has slept in this too-soft bed in a drafty mansion for three weeks now. Every night, his dreams are the same.

It’s unnerving.

Chloe Sullivan has always been a whirlwind of motion. She is a bright, shiny bundle of energy that never stops fighting for what’s right; never stops pushing people to be better.

Seeing her sit stock-still on the old ratty couch in his loft as she gazes at the setting sun with a calm determination is downright freaky. He’s terrified to break the silence, so he watches.

He waits for the spell to break itself. For her to shake off whatever distraction has caught her attention and return to the fidgety girl he knows and loves.

But her silence is unbroken.

He can’t take the unsettling image any longer, so he clears his throat and climbs the remaining steps. She turns to him with a grace that he’s sure he’s seen, but never really registered, a tentative smile playing at her lips.

“Hey, Clark.”

“Hi Chlo. Everything okay?”

“Mmm. Good as ever. Sorry for invading your old fortress. I promise I’m not playing the creepy stalker. I just needed some down time.”

“Hey, my fortress is your fortress. Feel free to mope here any time you like.”

“I wouldn’t dream of competing with an intergalactic champion. I’m just thinking.”

“Yeah, that’s what I call it, too.”

“Ha. Funny.” She rises and swings her purse over her shoulder. The eerie stillness lingers. “Well, I’d better be going.”

“Just like that? You don’t want to hang out?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not the best idea, Clark. Lana is waiting for you.”

“Why would she care?”

“We’re…not exactly on the best terms lately.”

“Is this because of last month?”

“It’s not really a you and me thing, so I’d rather not go into detail. I’m sure we’ll work it out.”

She brushes past him like she has a hundred times before, but the familiar gesture only increases his unease.

“Chloe?”

“Yeah, Clark?”

“What’s really going on?”

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with.” She stills, as if listening to something only she can hear. “Go back to Lana. She needs you.”

With that, and barely a whisper of the dirt under her feet, she sweeps out of the barn. He works hard to place the discomfort he feels as he listens to her get in her car and drive off. There’s still a muted quality to the air around him, and he knows he’s missed something big. He just can’t figure out what it is.

He wakes with a cry of alarm, covered in sweat and choking on grief. Listening, the mansion is silent, save the sounds of its occupants and a few bats in the lower levels. He squints in the dim light, switching to x-ray to read the clock.

Three in the morning. It’s always three when he wakes. He has no idea why.

He does, however, know why his mind keeps returning to that afternoon. He was sick with worry when it looked like Chloe might not return from saving Jonathan. He spent a lot of the first few days beating himself up for being oblivious to the changes in his best friend.

She lived through a week straight out of his worst nightmares, and he never even noticed the difference when she returned. He wracked his brain to pinpoint the moment things changed.

After replaying almost every conversation he had with her in the last three months, he finally stumbled upon that afternoon. It was so unsettling he’d honestly tried to put it out of his mind.

He didn’t have to ask the guys. Even with the tattered state of their friendship, he knew she had sought his comfort.

And once again, he let her down.

He’s terrified he can never earn another chance. It’s still shocking how much he needs one.

---

End(ish)

How to Thrive

2008-05-18T16:36:00.000-07:00

Title: How to Thrive
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Smallville
Pairing: Chlex, hints at past Chlark and Clana
Spoilers/Timeline: Post-Series
Disclaimer: I own very little, certainly not these characters. Please don’t sue!
Author’s Notes: So this may not be what I’m rooting for, but I haven’t been able to get this picture out of my head since certain sidekick comments were posted and retracted. I’m hoping this ficlet will satisfy the evil bunnies in my head for a while.

--
“Think carefully before asking for justice. Mercy might be safer.”
- Mason Cooley
--

It’s a cold universe. It doesn’t care about spoiled little rich boys or perfect small town princesses or lost sons. It certainly doesn’t care about little girls who dreamed big and lost everything, even themselves, somewhere along the way.

She understands loss. She’s been stung by it so many times she’s immune by now, so the loss of comprehension in his eyes doesn’t touch her. Of course he can’t understand.

For Clark Kent, the world is black and white; good and evil. He never could appreciate the grays.

She always did.

As a girl, she humored him because, like his power, his innocence was rare and worth protecting.

That doesn’t stop her from opening the box.

She lost one too many hopes to this - to him - over the years. He never broke her on purpose, and there is no malice in her vengeance. It’s a matter of survival, and she’s thrown in her lot.

He just chose the wrong side.

Clark gasps, and falls back on the crimson cape that’s a fitting tribute to his friend-cum-foe’s childhood obsession. She’s not entirely sure whether the gaping has more to do with the kryptonite in her hand or his first real look in her eyes.

“Chloe…” It’s a horrified whisper, and she can’t hide the smirk.

It’s funny, really. A year into his private war, and he’s only now noticed her. She’s been here all along, helping from the shadows since the day he returned from his training. This is just the first time she’s been forced to reveal herself.

She and Lex are…complicated. They’re both beyond saving, and they know it. It isn’t love, but it’s more than survival.

He gives her something she lost by the pint long ago - a drop of her soul spilled in the woods after a storm, another on a football field. So many over the years that she bled dry before she ever understood what was happening.

After the worst of it - after the passion and the love and the tears and the guilt; after Lana came back and showed her who was important and who was unworthy, it was Lex who picked her up.

She holds no illusions. Knows he did it for selfish reasons. She had her own, after all.

None of that matters.

It was Lex who helped her put the jagged pieces of her soul back together. Into something that wasn’t quite recognizable, but was close enough to resemble humanity. He taught her more than just survival. He taught her how to thrive in the darkness she was cast into.

Clark Kent broke her. She can’t miss the irony that it was Lex Luthor who granted her “Mercy.”

She says it out loud and nods an introduction of sorts to the man who could never grant her that particular kindness.

He blinks.

She lays the stone on his chest with a steady hand and no regrets before dragging Lex toward the helicopter. Her eyes never leave Clark’s. He’s so confused, and the pain etched in his features is as much emotional as it is physical.

She wants to find comfort in the anguish. She can’t, but she will not choke on her own heartache. She’s better than that. More.

She doesn’t just survive like the ghost of a girl she was.

Mercy Graves thrives.

---

End

Full Circle

2008-05-18T16:30:00.000-07:00

Title: Full Circle
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Smallville
Pairing: Chlark, mentions of Clana and Clois
Spoilers/Timeline: Post-Fracture AU
Disclaimer: I own very little, certainly not these characters. Please don’t sue!
Author’s Notes: I blame the show for this mess. Nonsensical episodes force me to give characters back key traits (like self respect). This could technically be post-Stri…er…Hero, since the episode contained zero story progression.

---
“The wheel is come full circle.”
- William Shakespeare (Edmund in King Lear) -
---

Her heart.

Of course it’s her heart that’s infected; forever changed by the fire that fell from the sky. The symbolism had her crying herself to sleep for a week after Knox and Jimmy.

Chloe Sullivan has given everything. Every single piece of herself has been sacrificed in one way or another. Now, she hardly knows how to get through a conversation without handing out another piece of herself; her soul.

She once entertained the idea that her infection is what ties her stubborn heart to a man who will never see her the way she sees him. Maybe loving him hopelessly is coded into her DNA.

Never one for delusions, she dismisses the idea as the excuse it is.

He has Lana now, and seems to revel in her company even more since his return from the fortress. Maybe the distance that grew between them in his absence is exactly what she needs to start living beyond his orbit.

It’s passed time to move on, and she’s so very tired of playing the third wheel.

The dorm fees are paid up at NYU, and there’s already a desk waiting for her on the second floor of The Times. She wasn’t above letting Ollie place a call. Metropolis is stifling, and she needs to breathe soon.

Doesn’t it just figure that Clark and Lana beat her in announcing their plans to move on? Knowing those two, they probably decided that morning over breakfast in bed.

Still, it hurts to hear - especially when Clark’s acting like a pod person and Lana thinks she’s jealous. She just can’t win.

When the real Clark shows up, she’s tempted to cancel her plans. Predictably enough, after a week of making sense, he jumps right back into domestic bliss and begins blaming himself for everything.

It’s not hard to give up on him then.

She spends most of a day dead, and decides waiting is overrated. Her bags are packed and her bulkier stuff is in storage less than two weeks later.

She knows she’s on Lex Luthor’s list of soon-to-be-unemployed, and Clark screwed any chance she had of working full-time with Ollie. This will be her last night in Smallville.

She wants to laugh when Clark drops by and asks what they’re doing to the floors of the apartment. Most of the furniture is staying with Lois, so it’s funny that the absence of her “flair” makes the place seem empty enough to comment on.

No wonder Lana can’t find her way. For all his talk of openness and honesty, Clark manages to lie for all of them.

She shrugs noncommittally, and pats herself on the back for letting him do what he does best. He talks about his fear that he and Lana won’t be able to find a way to trust each other again and mopes at the way a science project gone wrong made a better boyfriend than he did.

True to her nature, Chloe gives him what’s left of her forgiveness and understanding. She crosses her fingers that she won’t need it where she’s going.

She queues up her favorite playlist and takes off into the pre-dawn haze shortly after he leaves the apartment. Better not to linger. Insomnia without consequences is just about the only cool side effect of her infection.

She drives straight through, and holds her breath for the first few days in the Big Apple. Three weeks on, and she almost stops jumping at the breeze.

Which makes sense, because he’s in her apartment when she trudges home that night.

She looks up, unimpressed. She knew she only delayed the inevitable when she left without the dramatic goodbye. Maybe she’ll get lucky and he can make this a monologue. Or better yet, he could brood silently while she takes a long soak in the tub.

“Hi, Clark.” She drops her coat and purse in the foyer and toes off her heels.

He’s staring at her like she’s lost her mind when she sinks gratefully into the couch. He has no idea what it’s like to tail a source on foot wearing three inch heels. She’d love an ounce of that invulnerability he whines about so much.

She knows on some level she doesn’t need it, but sleep beckons more out of habit than anything else. She’s almost drifted off when she hears him speak.

“Lana’s gone.”

“Okay.” Big shock.

“I asked her to leave.”

Huh? “You…what?”

“I asked her to move out. I just couldn’t take it anymore.”

“Huh.” She knows she’s capable of waxing poetic, especially on this topic, but she’s out of words.

He kneels in front of her, his face coming into view. It’s strange that he looks more grown up than the last time she saw him.

Must be a trick of light.

“Chlo. Come home.”

“I did.” She says quietly, without malice. “Welcome to my new home.”

“You belong in Smallville.”

She smiles sadly at that. “I never belonged in Smallville, Clark.”

He looks down. “Yeah, well Smallville isn’t the same without you.”

“This is how it’s supposed to be.”

“You don’t believe that.”

“Yes, I do.” She wants it to be true so badly.

He sets his jaw. “Well I don’t.”

“Are you planning to drag me back against my will? Threaten my boss like you did Oliver?”

“That’s not fair.”

“No. It wasn’t.”

He looks a little wild; a little desperate. “I only wanted to keep you safe, Chlo. I just…I can’t stand the idea of you getting hurt.”

Ah, so that explains it. She can’t help the patronizing smile. “Perfect. You don’t have to worry.”

“How can you say that? I can’t protect you here.”

“I resent the insinuation that I need your protection. Even if I get hurt, nothing’s going to stick, Clark.”

“But Chloe, how can you know-“

She holds up a hand to silence him. “I know more than you think, Clark. I’m fine. I’ll stay fine, and this is where I need to be right now.”

He swallows whatever he was about to say, and she knows from the determination in his eyes that this won’t be the last time she sees him.

She gives him what little patience she can scrape up, and sends him on his way with a hug. No tears.

They were Woodward and Bernstein, Truth and Justice, laughter and brooding.

They should have been epic; should have blazed a trail across history that no one would ever forget.

Instead, they just kind of…faded away.

Half a century later, word reaches her at The Post that Lois Lane is retiring from The Daily Planet.

It’s the end of an era.

She can’t congratulate her cousin in person. They drifted apart decades ago, when she decided not to share her infected status.

It wasn’t that she didn’t trust her cousin – she knew Lois would never betray her on purpose. It was just that she already had, in all the ways that mattered, and Chloe couldn’t bear to be that close to her anymore.

Besides, Chloe Sullivan is long gone now, replaced thirty years ago with a new label and another start.

She hangs back at the retirement party, which turned out to be a roast, letting her auburn locks fall across her gaze and laughing till she aches. Oh, the stories she could tell.

Seeing Jimmy Olsen take the podium is a bit of a shock. If anything, he seems sweeter now than the day she met him. Tears cloud her vision and she has to retreat to one of the service entrances before she draws attention to herself.

Jimmy is imitating Lois’ reaction the first time she was rescued by Superman, and she pauses at the door to capture the moment. Laughter and happiness are all too fleeting in her experience, and she suspects this will be the last time she’ll watch Jimmy’s eyes crinkle with delight or hear Lois’ deep belly laughs.

The end of an era, indeed.

When an immovable hand falls to her shoulder, she curses under her breath. She knew better than to linger.

She can’t very well move until he lets her, so she simply turns. Dana Charles has nothing to be ashamed of, and Chloe Sullivan is tired of running.

It’s hard not to give in to the tug of a smile at his gasp. His face drains of color as he shakes his head in denial.

“You…you…how can this…?”

She smiles, tries to soften the blow because she’s gotten better at holding onto the pieces of herself and she’s never been good at cruelty.

“I told you a long time ago. Nothing sticks.” She steps around him and he’s obviously too shocked to hold on. She pauses halfway down the hall, and looks back. “See you around.”

If there is one thing she’s learned in all her long life, it’s that, eventually, everything comes full circle.

She leaves Clark Kent, or whatever he’s called these days, gaping at the door to his wife’s retirement party. The echo of laughter is an odd soundtrack for the shame on his face.

It’s a pity that it takes leaving him behind twice to live without the what-ifs for the first time since she was a girl. The upside is that she still has plenty of life left to enjoy.

She hasn’t aged a day past 20.

Sometimes she regrets that; wishes fate had seen fit to leave her at a more ambiguous age. Even with makeup, she hasn’t managed to keep an identity for more than 15 years. She’s never entirely sure what to call herself anymore.

Chloe was a foolish girl who chased her dreams only to watch her cousin live them.

Amelia may have been one of the most prolific war correspondents of her time, but she was haunted by her own ghost.

Avery was a careless lover and a completely unremarkable novelist.

Breanne spent a decade as a Peace Corp. volunteer who lost it a little in the end and blew up the home of an especially ruthless dictator in western Africa.

Dana rediscovered her love of truth. She freed herself and spent a decade exposing the ugly underbelly of American politics.

Emily was a business owner and freelance PR guru. She was engaged once, but she couldn’t bear to watch him waste away like everyone else, so she left.

Today, she’s Fiona. While she’s enjoying this quasi-retirement of a life she’s allowed herself, the peace she garners working in her garden is fleeting.

Only recently did she overcome enough of her old resentment to consider applying for the JLU. Meta is downright vogue, and it is so tempting not to constantly play the wide-eyed girl when she has amassed two lifetimes of wisdom.

Fiona finds herself weary of the world. Does it really warrant saving anymore?

She finally understands why Grandpa Sullivan had to be kept away from the newspaper at all costs. It’s hard to fight the urge to rail when you see humanity struggling with the same problems, on a bigger scale, again and again.

When news of Luthor’s latest political coup reaches her rural community, she quietly packs up, transfers her assets, and leaves the property to a local charity.

Unlike her, Lex never let go of his first identity. It’s a shame, really. He might have been so much more if he had.

When she hacks the JLU mainframe with a coded message, she starts counting. She doesn’t make it to twenty before he’s standing before her, resplendent in blue, red and gold.

The shock is still there. The guilt is, too.

There’s a lot to be said. For now, she just wraps him in a hug. It’s awkward, since he’s as big as a freaking house these days, but she pretends not to notice the sniffles.

She’s Chloe again, for the first time in over 80 years, and it’s the strangest thing. Dying on almost a weekly basis is the only thing that’s made her feel alive in the better part of a century.

Superman can be an even bigger ass than he was as a boy sometimes, and she gains the respect of some key members when she calls him on his shit from day one. She never once flinches when he goes into self-righteous speech mode.

The prevalence of psychic powers among the League caught her off guard, but Clark’s embarrassment at the blackmail material they seem to have lifted from her brain is so worth it. She gets all the entertainment, and none of the guilt.

Clark himself is a strange combination of the strong leader she always knew he could be and the moping barn-dweller of days long past. Chloe lets him introduce her to his world, reminded of the first time he helped her adapt to an alien environment.

The Watchtower – and the irony of the name isn’t lost on her – is a far cry from a hick town in Kansas, but it’s hard not to get nostalgic.

Regardless of the return to her old name, she is not the girl she once was. Never is that more apparent than the night Clark shows up looking almost feral, his eyes flashing crimson.

She uses tricks gained over most of a century spent unattached and unhindered by mortal concerns of heaven and hell to get him right where she wants him – over her, under her, pinning her to the wall. He’s Superman, and she’s no fool.

It’s not till he’s drifting, lazy and satisfied, that she opens the box and lets him sweat out the rest of Lex’s poison.

He’s sputtering apologies in classic Kent style, but she merely places a silent finger to his lips and hands him his clothes.

He dresses half in a daze as she tidies up her quarters, unconcerned with her nakedness.

After avoiding her for three days, he practically bowls her over in the cafeteria.

“Chloe, we need to talk.”

She looks up from her meal and tilts her head curiously. “About what?”

“About…the other night.” He’s practically squirming and she can’t suppress the chuckle.

“No, Clark. We don’t.”

“But-”

“Really, it’s okay.”

“But Chloe, we…”

“…had a lot of fun, but that was it. I’m a big girl now, no matter what I look like.”

“You…” He runs a hand through his hair. “Of course you are.”

“So, we’re good?”

He looks strangely sad. “We’re good.”

Good or not, he’s back at her door less than a week later. This time his eyes are a Caribbean sea.

It’s gentler than she’s become accustomed to, but it’s nice, not to mention convenient. Neither has to pretend it’s something it isn’t.

She doesn’t recognize her folly for almost a year. Like most things, it hits her over coffee.

Clark sits across from her, talking about this new restaurant in Metropolis he wants to take her to, and she cracks a joke about them needing to be careful.

“After all, we don’t want people getting the wrong idea about us.”

She says it lightly, because they’ve finally gotten back to a place where teasing is okay, but Clark looks like she just slapped him.

She takes a moment to count the nights they’ve spent together over the last month in her head, and stops when she reaches 30.

Shit. They live together.

She should have known that even after hitting the century mark, Clark Kent would never be able to deal with a strictly sexual relationship.

She knows herself well enough to question whether she did it on purpose, but the honest answer is that she grew out of revenge a long time ago. Clark never hurt her on purpose, any more than Lois did.

A week later, he’s begging her not to leave the Watchtower.

“Clark, this can’t work.”

“Why not? We’ve always worked well together.”

“Yes, but we never worked well.”

“Why? Why are you always leaving me? Why am I never good enough?”

His voice cracks and it’s enough to stop her in her tracks. She turns slowly. “You don’t know?”

He looks so lost when he shakes his head slowly.

She covers his huge hand with her tiny ones. “I loved you. I loved you so much I gave up everything because I couldn’t watch any more, and I didn’t want to stand in your way.”

She didn’t think it was possible, but his face falls even further. “Loved?”

“You know I love you as a friend, so shut up. I finally get why you never saw me that way.”

“Obviously. That’s why I spend so much time at my place.” He deadpans.

“Bitter doesn’t become you, Supes.” She sighs. “That ship sailed forever ago.”

“Aren’t you the one who told me that everything comes full circle?”

She shrugs. “Maybe that’s what this is. Clark, no matter what, there was always someone – Lana, Alicia, Lori, Lois. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you are with Diana.”

“Diana has been a good friend, for a long time. She reminds me of your mother, for Rao’s sake!” His nostrils flare, and he reigns himself in a bit. “You’re right. I was always chasing someone. Lois hated that more than anything. I really did love her, but...”

“But?” She breathes, incredulous.

“But the things I loved most about her were the ones that reminded me of you. I didn’t even understand it myself until I saw you at the party. I think she always knew.”

She deflates a little at the honest grief in his voice. “Lo always was better at being me. She was amazing.”

“Yeah, she was.” His nostalgic smile fades a little as he meets her gaze again. “Didn’t you ever wonder why I stopped chasing love after she died?”

“I hoped it was because you’d already found it.”

“I did.” His reply is enigmatic, at best. He steps closer. “In you.”

“What? Clark, Lois has been gone for 20 years.”

“And you weren’t ready. I figured, maybe…it was my turn to wait.” He bows his head and it’s beyond strange to see the most powerful man in the world reduced to begging. “Don’t go, Chlo. I’ll wait as long as you need. I’ll be your friend – with or without benefits, but don’t leave. Please, not again.”

Damn. She doesn’t want to hurt him, but that’s exactly what she’s afraid will happen if she lets this farce continue.

“I can’t, Clark. I can’t do that to you.” She tries to pour all of her affection for him into the words.

“What if I need you to?” He practically whispers. “I know I hurt you before, but I was never you, and neither of us is the same person we were back then. I need you. Any way I can get you.”

She hates that after 20 years of freedom, her chest still aches at the raw honesty in his eyes. She only ever managed to say no to him once, and she doesn’t think today will see a repeat performance.

Not for the first time, she acknowledges the quiet comfort in knowing that the universe almost always presents another chance.

---
“Perchance we may,
Where now this night is day,
And even through faith of still averted feet,
Making full circle of our banishment,
Amazed meet”
- Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore -
---

End

Only You

2008-05-18T16:23:00.000-07:00

Title: Only You
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Smallville
Pairing: Chlark friendship, maybe a smidge more; mentions of Clana
Spoilers/Timeline: S7, Persona through Fracture
Disclaimer: I own very little, certainly not these characters. Please don’t sue!
Author’s Notes: Call it a character study. I needed a frame of reference for the last few eps. Lyrics are from “Only You,” by Joshua Radin.

---
Sometimes when I think of her name,
When it’s only a game,
And I need you.
Listen to the words that you say.
It’s getting harder to stay
When I need you.

All I needed was the love you gave;
All I needed for another day.
And all I ever knew;
Only you.
---

---
Homecoming Day
---

“You gave up your abilities for Grace. That must have been a difficult decision.”

“I knew in the span of a heartbeat.”

He thought that, of everyone he’d ever encountered, this man, this…Kryptonian, would understand the torment of deciding between the object of his affection and his true nature - his destiny.

Dax-Ur’s certainty horrified Clark, who had never been that sure of anything except the fact that he wanted Lana. He had no idea what to do with her once he had her, so he just kept wanting her anyway.

It was…comforting…to live that way with her. Certainly not easy.

That night, he stops and stares at the bed they must have made together. It takes every ounce of restraint he possesses not to rip the sheets and mattress to shreds. She’s relentless, and refuses to retreat to the room she slept in the last time he was here.

He wants to rage, to run, to hide in a corner and weep. He misses his mother’s hugs, misses Chloe’s understanding eyes. He even misses his cousin’s suicidal antics.

She touches him, and his skin crawls. Wanting her is a habit he never managed to break, but the genuine connection he saw in their eyes, the sadness that lingers in hers, revolts him.

He finally yields and settles in to feign sleep. She sighs prettily, and sniffles.

After weeks in an arctic fortress, he has finally learned patience. Two hours after they begin the farce, her heartbeat finally slows and her breathing shallows.

Clark is dressed and out the door in under three seconds.

Out on the porch, he draws great gulps of air as relief from the weight of her presence washes over him. When did his dreams turn into nightmares?

The rain hasn’t let up, and even with the chaos that has become his life, he can’t resist the urge to step off the sheltered porch. Cool water slides over his skin. He lets it rinse away some of the shame.

He breathes deep the mingled, earthy scent of rain and wet earth; lets the roar of thunder, wind, and driving rain reverberate through him. Until now, he never really understood the intoxicating freedom of physical sensation.

Being denied the ability to feel anything for six weeks is all the reminder he will ever need to cherish the little things.

Still relishing in the crisp winter rain, Clark runs his hands through his hair. Soaked through, he can’t very well go back inside without waking her up. He’s not sure he can go through that again right now.

It’s an hour later in Washington, so visiting his mother is out. Lois is out of town, though, and he hasn’t taken the time to tell Chloe just how much he appreciated the latest save. In a moment, he’s knocking on her door.

He hears a sniffle as she approaches the door, and takes note of the puffy eyes that greet him. His concern spikes. What happened while I was gone?

“Chlo?”

“Clark?”

“Are you okay?” They ask in unison.

“God, I missed being on the same page as you.” She sighs and gathers him into a hug, heedless of the fact that he’s soaked through.

“I missed you too, Chlo.” He whispers roughly over her shoulder, realizing this is exactly what he needed. Again.

She pulls back, grinning, and runs her fingers through his hair before cupping his cheek affectionately. The echo of her touch lingers on his skin after she bounds to the linen closet. It almost…tingles.

Returning with towels in hand, she grabs him boldly by the elbow and leads him over to the couch. She settles one towel on the bench muttering about Lois and her precious upholstery, and tugs him to sit while she dries his hair.

This? Is the essence of Chloe. Not always everything he wants, but consistently what he needs, right when he needs it. He lets her fussing wash over him like the rain, reveling in the relief and affection in her touch.

His hands cover hers as they drape the towel around his shoulders, and her bright smile trembles. They’re still dancing safely within the widening gray area they always leave undefined between friendship and…more, but it feels like he’s not the only one who could use some reassurance.

“Chlo. Talk to me.”

The illusory smile crumbles a little more, and God, does he hate seeing her cry. She wipes dismissively at the tears and shrugs noncommittally, sitting beside him so their knees touch.

“Hey. Six weeks in an ice fortress does not make me any better at telepathy. What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing, really, Clark. I just feel bad about all of this.”

“Why would you…?”

“I’ve known you forever. I should have known he wasn’t you.” She’s letting the tears flow freely now.

“But-”

“I mean, I knew something was wildly off, but I never imagined…” She looks up, pleading. “He knew a lot about you, and I was just so relieved that you were okay. I never even checked.”

He wants to hold her, but he’s nowhere near dry. He settles for grabbing her left hand between both of his. “You had no way of knowing. Even Lana didn’t know.”

She stiffens at that, and he hates that she’s pulling away over the woman who drove him to her in the first place.

“What is it?”

“Lana… God, Clark. I can’t be the one to tell you this.”

“Oh, that.” He looks down and the shame is back. “I know.”

“O-Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Wow.”

“That about sums it up.”

“At least she came in with the save in the end?”

“I wasn’t sure which way it would go for a while there.”

“Yeah. Me neither.”

Huh? “What did you say?”

She looks caught. “Oh. Well, you never called to let me know you were okay. I knew you’d go back to get Lana first, so I…kinda accessed the clock tower monitoring system and saw the video feed.”

“There’s video feed?”

“Ollie’s a billionaire. Of course there’s video feed. There’s audio, too.”

A certain Valentines Day disaster flashes through his mind.

As if reading his thoughts, she smiles wryly. “Don’t worry. I’ve been accessing the server directly for over a year and deleting any sensitive material before the nightly backup. I got rid of tonight’s, too. We don’t need anyone knowing exactly how blue kryptonite affects you.”

He doesn’t know whether to hug her or cringe. This might just be worse than Ollie seeing it.

“Clark. Lana was confused. I’m sure she didn’t mean it.”

“She said you told her I was having memory problems.”

“I told her something wasn’t right.”

“I take it she disagreed?”

She studies her hands.

“Chloe?”

“She…She told me the only thing different was that you had finally opened up to her. That I needed to let you go.” She looks up, and the genuine hurt in her eyes makes Clark ache. “I really didn’t think I was holding on.”

“You have every right to hold on, Chlo. You’re my best friend in the world. Nothing’s going to change that.”

“That’s not what she meant and you know it. I know you guys have been down some bumpy roads before, and Lana’s never really understood our friendship. I’ve worked hard to give you both the space you need so I can be there when you do need me.

I just…I thought I was doing okay.”

Understanding dawns. “That’s why you never call me anymore?”

“Well, I did try to call you when I almost got blown up. You can thank your stand-in for that save.”

And really, is it sad that hearing that actually warms him to the phantom? He can’t imagine returning to find her dead.

Still, she’s diverting and he knows it.

“Bomb scares that I want to hear all about aside, is Lana the reason you’ve been avoiding me?”

“She’s a consideration, but I have a lot of reasons.”

“Such as?”

“Such as I have a new, not-so-cool power to figure out, the antichrist just bought The Daily Planet and fired half the staff, I’m barely maintaining my GPA, and I’m pulling side jobs whenever our mutual friends need a good hack.”

He just stares, slack-jawed.

“See? Lana’s the only you-specific reason in a sea of validity.”

He likes to think he’s a decent friend; that he doesn’t just use Chloe for her ability to sniff out the truth, or listen and really care like no one else in the world, but he can’t honestly say he’s ever felt this disconnected from her. He’s surprised at the strength of his grief at the distance.

“I…I’m sorry.”

She looks at him strangely, confused. “For what?”

“I didn’t realize… “

Her hand covers his. “Hey. It’s okay, really. Priorities change. I get that. If staying on the farm with Lana is what makes you happy, then that makes me happy. Just because we’ve both been busy, doesn’t mean we’re not friends.”

The spark of truth dances in her green depths. He’s not sure why he’s disappointed.

“You’re lying, Clark, to yourself. You’re so busy trying to do the right thing, you don’t even see it!”

And yeah, he is aware that guilt plays no small part in his determination to make things work with Lana. After all, she left the life of a billionaire bride and faked her own death to be with him.

But maybe he was premature in thinking he would never know the certainty Dax-Ur approached his decision with. Sitting beside Chloe in the softly lit apartment, he thinks back over the years of their friendship and knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he would sacrifice his powers in a heartbeat if she needed him to.

The beauty of Chloe is that she would never ask, even if it cost her everything.

At that thought, he does reach around her shoulders and pull her closer, kissing her forehead. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Chlo. And I never want to find out.”

“Well, I might be drier.” She snarks. “But life would be so much less interesting without you in the world, Clark.”

He feels the familiar magnetic urge to hold her forever, but she wiggles out of his grip a moment later and stands. Wordlessly, she rifles through her makeshift wardrobe and returns with a pair of boxers, one of his old tee shirts, and a victorious grin.

She thrusts them at him and laughs at the confusion that must be written all over his face.

“Get changed, Clark. I’m not letting you hang out in your soaked clothes all night long.”

“But what about…?” He tugs at his tee shirt to make his point.

“Hello? Heat vision?” She taps him on the head playfully.

“Oh.”

“I swear, you wouldn’t use your powers for anything useful if I wasn’t around.” She scoffs. “How do you live with these abilities every day and not think to apply them to the mundane stuff?”

“Because, that’s just not…normal.”

She laughs and tosses him a blanket followed by a pillow. “Normal is entirely subjective and highly overrated.”

“I’m pretty sure drying your clothes with heat vision falls under everyone’s definition of abnormal.” He doesn’t even try to hide the sarcasm.

“Well, there are three of you on earth we know about. If all of you do it, doesn’t that make it normal?”

He just looks at her, slightly dazed.

“I love you, Chlo.” It slips out with a hint of awe.

“Don’t sound so surprised, superboy.” She chuckles without missing a beat. “I’ve always been this great.”

His mind races over a thousand little moments. “You have.”

She watches him for a moment, her expression shifting to wary before she picks up a throw pillow, tests the weight of it in her hands, and chucks it at him.

“Go change, uber-dork.”

He catches the pillow easily, still reeling from the warmth slowly spreading over his chest.

Once they’re settled in for the night, her on her bed and him on the couch, he drifts to the lullaby of her heart and wonders what he’s supposed to do with all…this. He knows he shouldn’t rush into anything. A lot has changed, a lot hasn’t, and he needs to get it straight in his head.

When the time is right, he’ll tell her.

---
Two weeks later…
---

Lying awake next to a girl he barely knows anymore, Clark wonders how much time he really has.

It’s a little freaky, but listening to Lois pour out her heart about how hard it was to have a relationship with a hero hit Clark harder than he expected.

He has to give her credit for recognizing her own limits and being willing to voice them for both their sakes. He can’t say he’s ever had the courage to do the same.

He wants to understand Lana’s similar shortcomings, and he’s coming to grips with the idea that she might not be the one he’s destined to be with. It’s a dangerous game they play, when she knows so much about him. At the very least he has to get them back to a place where they can trust each other.

She may not be his soul mate, but he’s loved her as long as he can remember, and he’s determined to help her find a way to live with herself before he thinks about letting her go.

The strangest part of the evening was the way Lois’ outburst paralleled his concerns about Chloe. He’s never told anyone how terrified he is of losing her, so he was caught off guard hearing his own worst fears and impulses pour forth from her cousin’s lips.

He knows Oliver is right - he does put her in danger every other week. But he also knows her well enough to be certain she’d find trouble on her own if she wasn’t by his side. At least he can protect her when she’s with him.

Clark Kent has seen what his world would look like without Chloe Sullivan three times, and the last two nearly killed him. He’s not eager for a repeat.

She seems to be.

He knows, on an intellectual level, that one day he will lose everyone who matters to him. Humans are so fragile; their lives so easily snuffed out.

As teenagers in Smallville, it wasn’t hard to imagine Chloe’s swirling justice was a force of nature. Lord knows, she got herself out of almost as many pinches as he did.

By the time they hit their junior year, he began to realize that she got into twice as much trouble as she could ever get herself out of. And she showed no indication of slowing down to save her life.

Even then, it terrified him. It wasn’t until the summer he lost his powers that he was able to put the reason into words.

He can’t count the number of nights he spent awake that summer, staring at the stars and resenting her for making him question the gift of his humanity. An honest relationship with Lana was all he ever wanted, but how was he supposed to save Chloe like that?

He thought he’d found a way to deal by acting as her sidekick. It made him wonder briefly whether that was why she adopted the same role for him.

The joy was short-lived. Clark took a bullet while Chloe screamed and thrashed and cried her eyes out. When he’s honest, he admits that some part of him was glad she finally understood what he went through every time she put herself in harm’s way.

He’s not proud of the sentiment.

---

When he saw her face today, all the fears he’d buried in domestic bliss gone bad came rushing back with a vengeance. He wanted to kill Oliver for even thinking about putting his Chloe in a situation like that.

Ollie has no special abilities, so when Dinah Lance disabled his arrows, Chloe was completely defenseless. She could have been killed.

The man just didn’t think.

Chloe looks for trouble enough on her own. He’s not sure he can take it if seeking it becomes a full-time career. With Lex in charge of her precious Planet, there’s no telling what she’ll do.

In the end, that’s the crux of it. Clark Kent is no better than Lois Lane.

He loves Chloe Sullivan. That hasn’t even been a question in his mind since he found out she knew his secret. He’s pretty sure she knows their relationship is more than friendship - more than romance on some levels - but he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to tell her all of what he feels.

As scared as he is of losing her, the idea of committing his whole heart to her is overwhelming. She wouldn’t think twice about sacrificing herself to do the right thing, and where would that leave him?

He’s not sure he can share her with the world if he admits everything she means to him. He can barely manage it as friends. Losing her would break him, and he doesn’t want to know where that would leave the rest of the planet.

He rolls over, and his secrets chase him into dreams.

---
One week later…
---

Chloe Sullivan died today.

He’s spent most of the last day in denial, assuring himself that she’s come back before. But it’s been almost 18 hours, and it’s finally starting to sink in.

Clark has never been much of a praying man. After all, finding out your entire planet blew up makes it a little hard to believe in benevolent deities.

Still, he’s been praying for the last 12 hours straight. It started out as a long-winded request, detailing all the reasons that Chloe deserved to live. As the hours passed, it’s been pared down to a mantra.

Elbows planted on his knees, lips pressed to folded hands, he rocks to the rhythm of his plea.

“Please come back, please come back, please come back…”

He wasn’t wrong. He’s completely lost it twice already, and he can feel another panic attack building.

He’s a mess without Chloe.

The shaking sets in again, and the cacophony of the world takes over again. He hears everything but what he needs most…her heartbeat.

He shakes and weeps and tries to ride out the wave of terror. Only the fear of freaking her out when she wakes has kept him from crawling into bed with her and telling her every secret of his heart, until now.

He can’t imagine wanting to save a world without her in it. The secrets he kept so carefully seem stupid now that she’s gone - never knowing what she meant to him.

It’s not getting any better. Sliding under the covers, he curls around her body protectively and finally allows himself to really look. To understand.

Chloe is dead.

There will be no more secret grins, no more comfortable silences, no more intuitive leaps beyond that of mortal men. No more Chloe and Clark. Just…Clark.

He’ll have to face Lois, face Lana, face Gabe…God, his mother.

He’ll have to say goodbye. He wonders how many people will come to her funeral. It seems like Chloe knows everyone. She has a connection in every law enforcement agency he’s heard of, not to mention labs, morgues, hospitals.

How will he tell them? How can he face goodbye?

Oh God. What if they ask him to speak at her funeral? There aren’t enough words on Earth to sum up what she is…what she was. There’s so much that needs to be said, and anyone but her would miss all the important context.

Stroking her hair, he tries his voice again.

“God, Chlo. You’re meant for so much more than this. You sacrificed so much…too much, for me. I wasn’t worth it.” Tears slide silently, soaking a pillow that smells like her shampoo. He wants her back so badly that he can practically hear the cadence of her heart. He wonders if this is what it feels like to lose your mind.

“You are by far the most amazing, selfless person I will ever meet. I was always too afraid of losing you to tell you, but now…” His throat closes around the pain, and his voice cracks.

“…now, I understand. I love you Chloe Sullivan. I think I always will.”

Tears blind him for a moment, and when he opens his eyes, she’s staring back at him, startled.

He practically bursts across the room.

She is silent, her eyes wary.

For his part, Clark is just gaping like a fish. She was dead. Her heart was silent. For 18 hours.

She’s struggling to sit up and he’s an ass. He rushes to her side and tries to help. He doesn’t miss the flinch at his touch.

Unsure what’s happening here, he needs to help. “Can I get you anything?”

She nods, and speaks carefully. Her voice is low and rough. “Water?”

He rushes to the sink faster than the eye could track, if she were looking. He’s filling the glass, but isn’t taking his eyes off her. He’s terrified this is a delusion.

“Here you go.”

“Thanks.” She nods, as if still distracted. “Lois didn’t, uh, see me…you know…dead, did she?”

“No.” He wants to be surprised that her first concern is being caught dead. “She headed straight back to the planet to write a story about what happened in Detroit.”

She chuckles. “Yeah, Lex’ll kill that story in a heartbeat.” The bitterness in her voice tells, and he wonders if she’s having the same trouble he is maintaining the filters they’ve always allowed each other.

His are barely hanging on by a thread.

“Speaking of heartbeats, you didn’t have one for over 18 hours.”

“Look, I was hoping we could skip the lecture and go straight to the welcome back dinner. I’m starving!” She tries to maneuver around him, but he’s not letting this go. He can’t.

“That’s 15 hours longer than the last time, Chloe. I’ve been sitting here literally trying to think about what to say at your funeral.” She gives him an indecipherable look, and he wonders just how much she heard.

“Well let’s both be glad than I’m alive. ‘Cause I know how much you hate giving speeches.”

Why does it feel like she just let him off the hook…again?

“Chloe, I appreciate what you did for me. It goes…beyond friendship. But you can never do it again.” Please, no. Never again, Chlo.

“Clark, I have the power to save peoples lives. Now obviously, I am the last person who thought she would drag Lex back from the clutches of death, but it was my decision to make.”

He wants to scream. He wants to rail. But this is Chloe and that never works.

“Of course it was.”

“But you know you’re not wrong.” Thank God. “I mean as great as this power is, it does come with a lot of consequences. And I think that one of the responsibilities for both of us is…staying alive. Maybe I am pushing my luck with this whole death thing…I mean it is death, after all.”

“Does that mean you’re never going to use your abilities again?” Pleasepleasepleaseplease…

“It means I’m…more confused now than ever. Out of the entire catalogue of meteor abilities, why was I the one chosen to be in charge of such an amazing gift?”

Because you’re amazing. Because you do everything with your whole heart. Because you’re the only person on Earth who would use a gift like that so unselfishly that you would bring Lex Luthor back from the dead after everything he’s done to you.

He can’t voice those reasons - not so soon after getting her back - so he just stares, hoping she misses the truth in his eyes.

---
This is gonna take a long time,
And I wonder what’s mine.
Can’t take no more.

Wonder if you’ll understand
It’s just the touch of your hand
Behind a closed door.

All I needed was the love you gave;
All I needed for another day.
And all I ever knew;
Only you.
---

End

Beat (Part 5)

2008-05-18T16:09:00.000-07:00

Title: Beat (Part 5)
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Smallville
Pairing: Chlark, Chlois
Spoilers/Timeline: Post-Series
Disclaimer: I own very little, certainly not these characters. Please don’t sue!
Author’s Notes: So I’m hoping Clark grows a brain at some point. Maybe a little good, old-fashioned Kryptonian education can help. This one’s pretty fluffy for me. I posted it as a WIP at K-Site, and didn’t want to add it here until it was complete.

---

Three weeks later, and he hasn’t gotten any better at balancing things. He’s past the darkest day of the year, but he can’t help thinking his darkest day is just a few months off.

Christmas was a mess. Lois, only a week out of the hospital, demanded that he spend the holiday with her and Richard. He’d tried to claim that he just wanted a quiet holiday at home, but she wasn’t hearing any of it.

It was even more awkward than he imagined.

As if deferring to Richard’s territorial posturing wasn’t enough, he and Lois found themselves having to duck out to cover the bombing of a local department store. When he met Richard’s eye on the way out the door he was enormously grateful that humans didn’t possess heat vision.

Between Richard, Lois, The Planet, and his patrols, he’s more exhausted than he’s ever felt when he flops into the worn old couch.

Pizza. News. Patrol. Sleep.

Same as always.

He’s jolted awake by a hand on his shoulder and nearly hits the ceiling.

“Jeeze, Clark. Jumpy much?”

Of course it’s Lois. Who else would sneak up on the superpowered alien?

He lifts his glasses and rubs his eyes. “Actually, thanks for the wakeup call. I needed to get going.”

“Where?”

“Um…out.”

“Out, out?” At his nod, she shakes her head dismissively. “Clark, you look exhausted, and this place is a disaster. Do you even take any time for yourself anymore?”

He wants to point out that he never really needed all that much sleep, but stays silent on the point. She’s wandered away from his side and seems to be inspecting his apartment.

He knows she’s never been much for keeping up appearances, but he’s embarrassed just the same. He hasn’t had company since she barged in three weeks ago, and he’s barely slept here since then.

She spins, and the grin on her face is more than a little scary. “All this saving the world one story and heroic act at a time must take a lot out of a guy. Do you even sleep?”

He gapes for a moment. What the hell is she even doing here?

She doesn’t wait for an answer. “I doubt you sleep much more than I do, and I know that’s not enough.”

“Did you come here to insult my apartment, or my work-life balance?”

“Actually, I came here to solve all your problems.”

Oh, so you’ve realized Richard’s not the guy for you and you’re madly in love with me. Superman is just a perk?

He settles for quirking an eyebrow.

“We are going out.” She waves two tickets in front of his face like he should know what it means and grins at him expectantly.

“The bash at Centennial Park?” She pauses, obviously not seeing the reaction she was going for. “Tell me you didn’t actually forget tonight is New Year’s Eve, Clark.”

He blinks.

She shakes her head and stars opening cabinets, one by one, until she finds a box of plastic bags. She clears the kitchen counter into a garbage bag, starting with the pizza he pulled out when he walked in the door.

“Hey! I was eating that!”

“Yeah well, now you’ll be eating with me.”

Wait. “Why are you inviting me?” He leaves out the obvious question.

“Because I want to, Clark.” She looks tired, like she just had this discussion with someone else. He doesn’t have to wonder how Richard reacted if she’s here alone. “You’re my partner, and tonight is about putting the past behind you; looking forward.”

She looks him in the eye with such compassion it aches, and in this moment, she’s all Chloe. “Besides, with all you do for this city, you shouldn’t be alone on New Year’s Eve.”

He looks at her, and tries to pour all of his gratitude into the silence between them. “Okay.”

The apartment is clean in a heartbeat. He’s wearing his suit underneath, but he doubts she’ll mind. He extends a hand, going for gallant.

“Shall we?”

“I though you’d never ask.”

--

He hasn’t seen her smile this often since he was a boy. She just…shines, and he isn’t the only one who notices.

She’s a little tipsy. At least that’s what he tells himself to excuse the way he holds her closer every time another man looks at her appraisingly. It goes a long way toward explaining the way she clings back and leans her head on his arm as they make their way through the throngs in Centennial Park.

She tugs him over to a booth selling Superman-themed party-hats. It’s still ridiculous how thoroughly humanity commercializes their heroes. In the months since her article, he’s seen all manner of insane merchandising. His father would roll over in his fortress if he knew how popular condoms bearing their house symbol had become.

In the midst of this revelry, he can’t spare a thought to the woes of a capitalist society. She’s up on her tiptoes, leaning into him unsteadily. The husky note in her voice bowls him over, and he can hardly contain a gasp at her warm breath on his ear.

Her voice washes over him, and he wants to drown in it. “Please, Clark?”

He finally registers the rest of her request and passes the vendor a bill without breaking eye contact. Swallowing thickly, he asks the question that frequents his dreams. “What do you want?”

A slow smile stretches across her face. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” She whispers, and he doesn’t miss the flicker of her eyes down to his lips and back up again.

Oh, God. There’s no safe way to respond, so he just lifts his hands to her elbows. He’s lost.

She takes mercy on both of them, and turns to select a tiara with a stylized “S” in colored rhinestones and an equally gaudy top-hat for him. The merchant hands both to him and he can’t fight the flare of heat that blooms when he gently places the jewels on her head. She just giggles.

She rarely allows herself to laugh these days, and it’s such an abrupt change from the day-to-day that it catches him off guard.

Teasing eyes soften as her laughter dies, and he realizes he’s stroking her cheek. He shouldn’t, but for the life of him, he just can’t stop. She’s so beautiful the idea of not touching her aches.

Her heart pounds in a cadence that matches his. He swore he wouldn’t hurt her again, so he pushes his glasses up, tucks her under is arm and starts back down the path to the lake.

It snowed most of this week, so the lake is an expanse of white lined by sparkling trees. He’s so caught up in her expressive eyes as she tells a story about Jimmy pulling off drag a little too well trying to nab a photo of the mayor’s newest fling - and almost becoming the news, himself - that he fails to notice the kid until he’s right behind her.

Her eyes widen, her heart rate spiking, and he knows something is horribly wrong.

The boy can’t be more than 16, but he’s obviously worse for the wear. His pulse is racing and his pupils are dilated unnaturally. Switching to x-ray, Clark’s stomach drops when he realizes the kid is digging a loaded gun into her back. It’s too close for even Superman to catch the bullet.

“Hand over your watch and your wallet, and nobody gets hurt.”

Clark is stuck. He can’t do anything but comply without risking her. He reaches slowly into his coat pocket to pull out his wallet, and the boy takes a step toward him, turning the gun to the side for an instant.

That moment is all Clark needs to relieve the kid of his gun and toss him 30 feet into a snow bank. The boy scrambles when he realizes he’s five feet from a policeman on horseback and limps into the night.

Clark is already hovering over Lois, desperate to know she’s alright. After everything with Kenny, he suspects there are a few aspects of her gift she might not have mentioned, but he’s still terrified at the thought of losing her.

She smiles ruefully. “I’m fine, Clark. Nothing a hot cup of Joe won’t fix.”

He nods toward the Starbuck’s stand, and she hooks an arm in his elbow, leading the way as always and completely unfazed.

God, he loves this woman.He doesn’t get a kiss to ring in the New Year, but he’s not imagining that the hug that lasts till almost 12:05am means more than just friendship. Her heart tells him as much.

---

She’s gorgeous, and he wants to be sick.

Nervous, and slightly flustered by a tardy florist, she stands expectantly in front of the mirror. She picks up the diamond necklace uncertainly and looks back at Clark with pleading eyes.

“Clark, can you please…?”

It’s her something borrowed, from Oliver, no less, and she looks terrified to touch the thing, much less wear it.

“Sure, Lo…” He crosses to her, lifting the jewels to her neck.

His hand brushes the delicate skin at her nape, and he holds back a gasp. He feels her pulse quicken under his touch, and the sensation is louder than anything he ever heard with his ears.

He looks over her shoulder and is struck by how right the picture is – him in his suit and her in her gown. He gives himself a mental shake, remembering this is not his day.

The moment is theirs and he wants to cry.

His fingers feel about three times their normal size as he attempts to fasten the delicate clasp. When he finally manages it, he steps back like he was burned.

Contrary to the story her heart tells, she looks so much the blushing bride. An uncertain smile breaks across her features, and she sighs.

“I am so, so scared right now. God! Get it together, Lane.”

Even in his heartache, he can see the humor in watching the interminably tough Lois Lane pacing frantically in lace and talking to herself. He just can’t bring himself to laugh.

He did this. He practically pushed her into Richard’s arms. This is his penance.

“He’s a great guy, isn’t he, Clark?”

Ouch. “He is.”

“And we’re going to be happy.”

“You are.”

“And you’re happy for us, right?”

“I…am.” He’s never been a good liar, and she stops cold, pinning him with the look she saves for her toughest sources.

“Then tell me something.”

Uh-oh.

“Why did you stop listening?”

“I…” He can’t answer her.

“Why did you even listen for me first?”

“You…I…”

She advances on him slowly, and he swallows his tears. This is too cruel.

“Clark. I need to know.”

Doesn’t she know this is killing him already?

“Please.” He begs. “Please don’t make me…” He’s only marginally surprised at the depth of his reaction. Most of his life is spent burying who he really is and what he really wants. Having the one person who knows all of him, who he wants more than anything, beg him for truth is beyond cruel.

It’s more than he can handle.

He crushes his lips to hers in answer. Hot tears break free in the same moment as his passion. For this one moment, she has all of him.

She gasps in surprise, and his stomach drops. He almost pulls back in shock when she responds in kind, granting his tongue access and caressing it eagerly with her own.

His entire body hums with electricity at finally holding her this way, and his hand finds its way to the nape of her neck, tilting her head back for better access.

When they finally come up for air, his body is thrumming and his hands are shaking. He can’t decide whether he wants to be let down easy or hard.

It’s her wedding day, and he suspects he’s deserved the latter since he left her on the dance floor freshman year.

She leans her forehead against his and breathes deep. “Oh, Clark. What am I going to do with you?”

“Just…just please, love me. I…I know I don’t deserve it. I know Richard does, but I just…I can’t…”

“I know. It’s okay.” Her patient smile reminds him of the time she begged him to let her go, and his heart twists painfully. He grasps her shoulders as tightly as he dares.

“No. No, you don’t know. I…when I heard you, I thought…my whole world was over. I wasted so much time running away from how I felt for you. Even when we were kids. It was big, and it scared me, and I knew I was never good enough for you.” The tears are flowing freely, and he’s unashamed at the display.

“If you marry Richard, I’ll still be here.” He turns, because he can’t look her in the eye. “I’ll always be here. I just want you to know that it’s not such a miracle that someone would choose you.

"It was always you, Chlo.”

His heart is a freight train and hers is as steady as the tide. He’s lost.

She takes his hands in hers. “Meet me at Planet. Rooftop.”

She sweeps out of the room, gown and all. Of course she no longer wants him in the wedding.

Three hours later, he’s in full costume and his mind is racing over a million scenarios. He could have listened, but he wasn’t sure he could handle what he’d hear.

The wind rustles, the sphere creaks as it makes its 70th rotation since he’s been here. He bows his head at the telltale scrape of the door. He’s never been so terrified in his life.

He just wishes he could stop trembling.

She stands beside him, looking out across their city. No matter what she’s about to say, it will always be their city.

“So…”

“So?”

She takes a deep breath. “I sent everyone home.”

“You w-what?” Hope blooms

"I told Richard it wasn’t fair to commit my life to him if my heart was already spoken for.”

He has to fight the urge to fall at her feet in gratitude. Instead, he raises a tentative hand to her cheek. “It is?”

“I’m afraid so, Superman. The truth is I’m in love with someone else.”

He drops his hand, confused.

“His name is Clark Kent.”

He can’t resist the pull for another second, and sweeps her up into the kiss he’s been dreaming about for months.

Slowly, they spin upward from the rooftop. They’re hovering a hundred feet above when she pulls back, flashing the trademark grin that could outshine the sun.

“Take me flying, Clark.”

Her heart beats in cadence with his, and he might just burst with joy. “I’ll take you anywhere you want, Lois.”

He listens, and knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that this is exactly where he needs to be.

---

End

Beat (Part 4)

2008-05-18T16:00:00.000-07:00

Title: Beat (Part 4)
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Smallville
Pairing: Chlark, Chlois
Spoilers/Timeline: Post-Series
Disclaimer: I own very little, certainly not these characters. Please don’t sue!
Author’s Notes: So I’m hoping Clark grows a brain at some point. Maybe a little good, old-fashioned Kryptonian education can help. This one’s pretty fluffy for me. I posted it as a WIP at K-Site, and didn’t want to add it here until it was complete.

---

Clark Kent received a wedding invitation today. He knew she’d picked a date, but she’d done that three times since his return. This was the first time she committed it to paper.

When he opened the lined envelope and registered what he was looking at, he barely managed to stumble to the couch in his tiny apartment and sit.

He thinks, maybe, something inside him must be a little broken. How is it he only knows what he wants when he can’t have it?

She and Richard are the kind of happy together that people only dream about. Hot on the trail of a story, she’ll drop everything for a lunch date with him. He almost literally stopped the presses the last time she got a cold.

It’s enough to make Clark grind his teeth to dust.

He’s grateful for his part in her life. She even invited him to stand up for her at the wedding as her uber-liberated “Man of Honor”. He accepted for one reason - he couldn’t bear to be the one giving her away.

Perry White will have that honor, and while it is unconventional, Chloe says she can’t think of anyone more fitting.

She doesn’t lie when she sees Richard. He can tell she’s honestly happy from the cadence of her heart.

Clark also can’t help but notice that her heartbeat quickens uncomfortably around him. She downright flirts with Superman, so it breaks him that she works so hard to keep things professional with Clark Kent when he’s all but told her what she means to him.

It’s been a rough week, and they just turned in an expose on dirty campaign contributions in the city council elections. Just the same, he plans to grab some day-old pizza and watch a few minutes of the news before he heads out on patrol tonight.

He realizes his brand of celebrating is a bit warped.

He’s just warming the pizza when he recognizes her heartbeat over the horrible clanking of the antique elevator that serves his building. He suddenly regrets giving her a key for emergencies. She’s the last person he can handle talking to right now.

Apparently, she misses his psychic pleas to leave and knocks on the door with the same brash assertiveness she approaches everything with.

He stares at the door. Maybe she’ll think he’s already on patrol.

“I know you’re in there. I can practically hear you brooding heroically.”

Oh for Rao’s sake… He opens the door grudgingly, and she breezes past him.

“Good grief, Clark!” She exclaims once she rounds the corner to the living room and catches a glimpse of the kitchen. “I know you’re not exactly concerned about catching something, but I’m surprised no one’s called the health department. This place is a disaster!”

“I’ve been busy. Two jobs will do that to a guy.”

He sees her eyes light on the invitation, still open on his end table, and an unreadable expression passes over her features. She spins on her heel and grabs his elbow.

“Cry me a river, Kent. Come on. We’ll grab a bite on the way over to Belle Reve.”

Life with Lois is never boring; he has to give her that.

“And why, exactly, are we visiting an asylum at…“ He consults his father’s watch. “…7:00 on a Friday evening?”

“Hot on the trail of our next headline, of course.” She’s pulled him into the elevator before he really registers that he’s out of the apartment. “Come on, big boy. It’s for the cause of truth and justice.”

And he knows she remembers the words. Her heart is pounding as soon as they leave her lips, and she puts a few feet between them for good measure before selecting their floor. He looks down, trying to give her the space she needs.

They grab a sandwich at a deli down the street while she fills him in.

“It’s a real blast from the past, Clark. You remember the Freshman quarterback that replaced you back at Smallville High?”

“Kenny Braverman?”

“The one and only. Turns out he was a member of the kryptonite-enhanced community. He’s been off the map for almost five years, and resurfaced in Suicide Slums last month rambling about black-ops CIA work.”

“How does this make for a story?”

“What, beyond the potential government manipulation of Krypto-mutants?”

“Well, yeah…that seems so ten years ago.” He tries to prod.

She rolls her eyes. “It is. Unless you consider the fact that he also claims to know the true identity of Superman.”

He coughs around his sandwich. “W-What?”

“You heard me. A lot of whack-jobs in that place claim to be Superman, but according to my source inside Belle Reve, our dear friend Kenny seems to have developed something of an obsession with you, Clark.”

He tries no to let that shake his faith on the drive over. He has Lois by his side, so he’s braver than he should be when he checks in with the guards at Belle Reve.

Kenny’s voice is low when he spots Clark. It should be his first warning to be wary.

Instead, he saunters in like a fool behind the woman of his dreams, because she’s always been stronger than she looks. Even when she let him rescue her.

Kenny is out of his chair in a heartbeat. He touches Lois casually, and she falls to the ground with a sickening thud.

That’s when Clark hears the gathering.

He doesn’t know how, but Kenny is pulling every scrap of energy in this godforsaken place into himself. The building goes dark, and the sound of power being sucked into him, from even the other inmates, is sickening.

“Clark.” When he speaks, it is low. “It was always you. I know that now. No wonder I couldn’t win.”

“I wasn’t aware there was a contest.” He raises his hand in a placating gesture, hoping beyond hope that whatever the young man did to Lois is reversible. He can’t hear her heart.

“Of course there’s a contest. It’s always a contest. My father taught me that, before he sent me away.”

“Kenny, I just want to help.”

“Of course you do, Clark. But you can’t. Not even Superman can help poor Kenny. He’s too broken.”

The grin is feral, the green lightening that shoots from his hands terrifying. Pain lances through every cell simultaneously. Clark’s muscles clench uncontrollably.

“Lex can help, Kenny.” Another voice cuts through the whiteout of pain.

Kenny cocks his head to the side, and studies the bald intruder.

It’s the first time he’s seen Lex since his return from training, and Clark is struck by the utter lack of humanity in his eyes.

Only the predator is left behind. He has met this man before, and he knows how much he has to fear.

“Come with me, and we can walk out of here together.” Lex extends a hand foolishly.

Kenny seems to consider it a moment.
Lex continues. “We could be great together. Clark Kent was never worth greatness.”

That seems to get Kenny’s attention, and he’s crossing the room before Clark’s fully recovered from the first attack. His body still seizes outside his control.

Lex looks at him with distain, before stepping over him. “Clark.”

It is an acknowledgement and a dismissal in a single breath, but all Clark can focus on is regaining control of his limbs and getting to Lois.

She still isn’t breathing.

---

Everything hurts.

His hands shake, warm tears trail down his face, and he can taste blood.

None of that matters as he lurches like an inchworm on crack toward where she lays. Clark is trying desperately to listen for her, but the fear and his own ragged breath drown out everything.

He can feel the blackness trying to swallow him whole, and he’ll be damned if he’s going to give in. Chloe, Lois…the name doesn’t matter. He has no intention of living in a world without her smile.

His right hand seems to be the only one listening to him, and even that’s questionable. He’s terrified to touch her when he finally drags himself to her side. One uncontrolled swing could crush bone, and she doesn’t need anything else to worry about.

A high-pitched whistle seems to accompany his every breath, but he leans in to listen anyway.

The silence is like a knife in his gut. He feels nauseous.

This can’t be how their story ends. Even if he never got her the way he wanted her, he doesn’t know how to face a sunrise she won’t see. It’s wrong in a million little ways, and his mind is railing against the reality of it all.

Lex…

The bastard knew this was going to happen. He knew Braverman would take them both out.

The anger seems to do Clark good, and he can feel a cold calm steal over him. He knows what he has to do.

He listens one last time, and brushes the hair out of her face before pressing a chaste kiss to her lips. “I’m so sorry.”

In the span of a heartbeat, he’s dressed as his alter ego and hurtling through the sky toward a Cadillac SUV on Route 71. He can hear Lex’s pulse, slow and smooth, next to Kenny’s staccato beat.

They are both going to die tonight. Then Chloe can decide what to do with them.

He finds it fitting that 13 years after he performed the miraculous save that put him on Lex’s radar, the man still looks surprised when he tears the roof off his plush SUV and knocks the driver out with a tap to the head.

He has them both out of their seatbelts and hovering at 15,000 feet in a matter of seconds.

Kenny grits his teeth and raises an open palm. “You shouldn’t have done that, Superman.”

“No!” Shouts Lex.

“Do it.” The grin is feral and completely out of place on the face of a supposed hero. Clark couldn’t give a damn.

“Kenny, don’t. We’ll fall, and then we can’t fix you.”

“But…”

“He can’t fix you, Kenny, any more than he can fix himself.” Clark practically spits. “Besides, neither of you are going to get that chance.”

Lex’s eyes widen at that. “Superman doesn’t kill people.”

“Any other day, I’d agree with you.” He spreads his arms and they both struggle against his iron grip. The display of power, the fear, is intoxicating. The world will be better off without them.

Suddenly, he’s aware of a flutter, a slow cadence at the edge of his consciousness. He almost cries out when it settles into a familiar rhythm.

He’s breathing hard, tears tracing silent trails down his face, and he realizes with a jolt what he’s about to do. He will lose her forever if he does this. She fights for justice, and these two are unworthy of revenge.

He sends a quick prayer that she’s alright and flies at top speed to the nearest recycling plant without regard for the comfort of his cargo. He uses his heat vision to create rubber bindings for Kenny, but that doesn’t stop the younger man from trying to give him another charge.

It’s like watching a transformer overload, and he doubts Kenny will claim to know anything about Superman after this. He leaves both of them at the nearest police station with instructions on how to safely transport Kenny back to Belle Reve.

In street clothes again, her heartbeat guides him back to the room they were in, and he watches in horror as the paramedics work feverishly to provide her with oxygen. He rides with them to the hospital, and leaves only when he sees Richard coming down the hall. There are too many questions, and he’s still a mess.

Smallville Medical. He can’t help but laugh at the irony. Both Chloe and Lois spent far too much time here when they were young.

He spent three hours patrolling Metropolis and confirming that Lex and Kenny are taken care of, but he can’t stay away. Daisies in hand, he heads for the room he knows she occupies.

He stops around the corner, peering through the wall to see a distraught Richard at her side. He’s weeping the same way Clark was earlier, so he decides to give the man his pride. He settles a chair against the opposite wall and waits.

“Come on, Lois. You’re a fighter. Stay with me.” Richard begs. “You are the strongest woman I’ve ever met. Did you know that? I was terrified that first day, when I asked you to the Sharks game. When you said no I bought season tickets, just so I had an excuse to try again.

“Three seasons, I dragged my dad to every game. It hurt like hell every time you turned me down, and I was terrified I could never compete with a ghost, but you were worth the wait, Lois Lane.”

He sniffs, and she stirs.

“Lois?”

“Mmm…Clark?”

Richard’s face crumples and he buries his face in shaky hands, weeping openly. Clark leaves the daisies at the nurse’s station and resumes his patrol with an added burden.

He’d love to see Richard as an opportunist who took advantage of Lois when she was lost and alone. But the simple truth is, he’s a good guy who loves her as much as Clark does and who never once broke her heart.

How can he stand in the way of that?

---

Continued here...

Beat (Part 3)

2008-05-18T15:56:00.000-07:00

Title: Beat (Part 3)
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Smallville
Pairing: Chlark, Chlois
Spoilers/Timeline: Post-Series
Disclaimer: I own very little, certainly not these characters. Please don’t sue!
Author’s Notes: So I’m hoping Clark grows a brain at some point. Maybe a little good, old-fashioned Kryptonian education can help. This one’s pretty fluffy for me. I posted it as a WIP at K-Site, and didn’t want to add it here until it was complete.

---

He never expected this to be so hard, but when rumblings of a flying man around Metropolis make it to The Daily Planet’s 31st floor, Lois Lane narrows her eyes at Clark and promptly informs Perry she’ll land them an exclusive with the newest hero in town.

As a journalist himself, he’s avoided the press like the plague until now. Besides, the traditional Kryptonian garb that preserves his identity is bound to land him on the butt end of quite a few private jokes. With everything else, he’s not sure his pride can take that.

Then again, she always has had a way of derailing his plans.

He turns away for a minute when he hears her scream from the rooftop. He’s changed and out the door in a nanosecond, and meets her in time to stop her descent at the 23rd floor.

“I’ve got you.” He cradles her and offers the first open smile he’s dared since his return.

Her eyes twinkle as she snarks back. “And who’s got you?”

He chuckles and tries to suppress his reaction to being so close to her, holding her the way he’s wanted to since he first laid eyes on her. When he lowers her gently to the rooftop, he swallows thickly around the tears that threaten.

“You should be more careful.”

“And you should consider the value of positive press. It does a super hero good in this town, and I’ve earned the exclusive.”

He looks her in the eyes and tries to put all the gratitude and guilt he has into his response. “You have.”

She flashes a familiar grin. “My place. Seven. Balcony. Don’t be late.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Miss Lane.”

He flies off to change and return to the bullpen, but not before he hears her whisper. “It’s a date, Superman.”

He practically floats through the rest of the day, fueled by the secret smiles she grants him. If he’d known all it took was an interview with his alter ego to have her look at him, he’d have offered her the exclusive the day he got back.

---

He can fly, run faster than the eye can track, and has a photographic memory, so it’s ridiculous to think that he would be late for a simple interview.

At least, one would assume that to be the case.

It doesn’t change the fact that the distance between the Daily Planet and her apartment happens to be littered with three muggings, a car-jacking, and a lost old lady.

“You ought to consider a better neighborhood, Miss Lane.” He says in the voice he reserves for his other identity as he lands lightly on her balcony.

“Mmm…” She looks him up and down. “And you might want to consider a better way to hide your identity. All those primary colors are a dead giveaway, Superman.”

“Super-who?”

“Superman. I can hardly call you Superboy anymore, not when you’re standing there looking all…incredibly buff.” She waves a hand in his direction casually.

A little flame glows somewhere inside at the offhand compliment.

“Let’s get started with that interview, shall we?”

He nods distractedly and sits at the patio table she directs him toward.

“Are you married?”

“What the…” At the knowing smirk, he finds his footing. Secret identity. Right. “Uh, no-no I’m not.”

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

“Uh, no I don’t, Miss Lane. But if I did, you’d be the first to know about it.” She raises a disbelieving eyebrow at him, but stays silent on the point.

“And how old are you?”

“Over 21.”

“Oh, I get it. You don’t want anyone to know how old…ha. Okay.” She scribbles furiously on her tablet. “And how big are you?” She blushes crimson and presses forward. “How tall are you?”

“Uh, about 6’4””

“Wow. And, um, how much do you weigh?”

“Mmm…around 225.”

“Well, I-I assume then that the…the rest of your bodily functions are…normal?”

“Sorry…beg your pardon?”

“Well, putting it delicately, do you…eat?”

“Uh, yes. Yes, I do.” They grin goofily at each other. “When I’m hungry.”

“Of course you do. Well then, is it true that you can see through anything?”

“Uh, yes, I can. Well, pretty much.”

“And that you’re totally impervious to pain?”

“Well, so far as I’m ready for anyone to know.”
“What color underwear am I wearing?”

“Hmm…” She looks incredulous. He’s just trying to hide his shock beneath a look of concentration. He knows the best way straight to the dirt of an interview is to keep the subject off guard. “The planter.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s lead.”

A smile curves her lips. “So it is.”

She steps away, daring him with her eyes.

“Pink?” He looks up. “I never really saw you as a pink girl.”

“Hardly surprising.”

He tilts his head.

“You never really saw me at all.”

“Unfair.”

“Exactly.”

They’re circling each other verbally, so it’s barely a surprise when she wanders off to the far side of the balcony. He can’t take the distance in her voice, so he follows.

She’s leaning on the rail, looking down, and it’s the most weakness she’s shown since his return. This isn’t right. He didn’t want to hurt her.

It takes every ounce of his strength not to envelop her in a hug. She is going to be someone else’s wife too soon, and he learned his lessons about infidelity long ago.

“I…I didn’t ask you here to talk about the past.”

He straightens. “Of course.”

Her heartbeat tells. The current line of conversation has her terrified for reasons he can’t hope to comprehend.

“Someday, though?”

“Just say when.”

They skirt the chasms between them, and keep the remainder of the interview professional. Once they’re finished, she sends him away to patrol. They agree without words he’ll be back to see the story before she turns it in.

---

He’s knocking on her door three hours and one major structure fire later.

Something about exposing his other self to her has him twitchier than he expected. After all, there was so little she didn’t know already.

Her expressive face is almost somber when she answers the door. Her eyes well with unshed tears. They break free as the sunflower grin spreads across her face, reminding him of the girl she was. She wipes the tears away like a nuisance she no longer permits.

“I wanted to thank you, Clark.”

“For what?”

“The…input. Trusting me to write this at all.” She gestures toward her laptop. “After everything…it means a lot to me.”

“After everything, there’s no one else I would consider trusting.”

She freezes, and it kills him that her eyes widen in shock. How could she not know?

He’s been so good about not touching her, but he can’t stop himself from gasping at her hands a little desperately at the disbelief in her eyes. “Ch-Lois, I can’t change all the stupid things I’ve done, especially to you, but you have to know how much you-you’re friendship has always meant to me.” He catches her gaze and holds it. “You’re the only person on Earth I ever trusted completely.”

She pulls her hands back reflexively at his last words. With a start, he realizes that defending herself against his brand of hurt is so deeply etched into her memory that it’s pure instinct now.

He watches helplessly as she turns away. “I’m not sure I’m the person you think I am, Kent. A lot has happened. Even more has changed.”

“I can see that. But things haven’t changed so much that I don’t know a good heart when I hear it.”

“Hear?”

“Yeah. It was the last part of my training. Learning to really listen.”

She tilts her head and regards him curiously. He’s not sure how much to tell. Not sure how much he can tell without hurting both of them.

It strikes him that his silence has already hurt them beyond measure.

“It’s how I heard you for the first time, while I was training. You were the first person I listened for.” He can’t hide the blush that heats his cheeks, but he tries to look away.

“When?” She speaks quietly.

“Three years ago. Maybe four.” He finally meets her gaze. “All I heard was ‘I do.’ I stopped listening after that.”

Whatever she expected to hear, that wasn’t it. Her mouth works silently for a few seconds, trying to form a response. “That’s…? That’s why you…?” She growls and retrieves a glass of wine she abandoned on her coffee table earlier, draining the glass in two gulps. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that? Running off half-cocked for two freaking years and then coming back and…upsetting, well, everything.”

“I know. I’m sorry. You can’t know how sorry I am.”

“That’s right. And I don’t want to know. You’re not going to tell me. Got it?” A bottle seemingly appears from nowhere, and she’s refilled the glass and drained it again before he’s sure what’s going on. “God! Do you even know what you heard? Three-and-a-half years ago I was busy putting the devil himself behind bars. I gave a bazillion depositions, was sworn in more often than both Clintons combined, and every time, I had to say ‘I did.’ You can’t know how tired of the phrase I got. Now I find out my best friend ditched me because he couldn’t stick around to get context?”

He collapses on the couch and scrubs his face. So much time lost. So much he can’t say. Apparently frustrated beyond screaming, she grabs the bottle of wine, stomps through the living room, and slams the balcony door.

---

The laptop sits expectantly on the coffee table. He can’t resist her words. He never could.

The confidence and reverence in her story makes his chest ache with longing for the days when she looked at him the way she talks about Superman. He wishes he could be her hero again.

His gaze wavers between the laptop and the French doors. There is no clear path, so he follows the tug of his heart outside.

He finds her seated stoically at the table in the corner, idly turning the bottle. She looks out over the glittering lights of metropolis.

“My city.” She says it with such affection. The brittle smile almost breaks his heart, as does the little sniffle she tries to conceal with a sardonic laugh.

She looks back at him, her eyes shining and her smile fading. Seeming to come to a decision, she pulls a Sherman from a gleaming cigarette case. He knows better than to question her habits now.

“Why did you come back, Clark?” She takes a long draw on the cigarette, and blows the smoke right in his face.

“Do you…is this the best time to talk about this?” She’s obviously heading toward tipsy, and he’s not sure how much proximity he can handle when her heart is practically racing in his ears.

“No time like the present. Besides,” she waves the bottle casually. “Liquid courage.” Her sarcastic smirk reminds him of the fresh-faced teen who once had a nasty run-in with an alien parasite. “Stop dodging the question. Why did you come back to my city?”

“Our city.” He can’t help it. “Metropolis was always our city.”

“Hmm.” It’s somewhere between humor and consideration. “It was. But that was a long time ago.”

“It could be again.” He tries to swallow against the hope.

She breaks his gaze at that, and he can practically watch the reels of memory pass before her eyes as she regards the city once again. “Might as well be another life. We were such kids, rushing off to save the world without a thought to the many ways it can screw us over.

“So many ways, so little time.” She puts out the cigarette and turns back to him. The war-ravaged wisdom in her eyes hurts to look at. “For most, anyway.”

He can’t watch her strip her defenses bare before him with nothing in return, so he gives her what he can – truth.

“I-I couldn’t stay away.” It comes out as little more than a whisper. He has every right to be ashamed. “I just couldn’t stay away from you any longer.”

It seems so wrong for her to look up at him, so he slides into the chair opposite. Four hours ago, his alter ego sat here and confidently answered her queries. Now, it’s not hard to pick out the disguise.

“I learned so much while I was away…Lois. So much about myself.” She regards him warily. “I was an ass. I was always an ass, but I was an even bigger ass when it came to you.”

She stares blankly for a moment, and inexplicably, begins to laugh. Giggles quickly digress into full belly laughs.

“I’m glad you find that so amusing, Lois.”

“Oh, God.” She waves him off. “I was just wondering whether I should include your status as an ass in the article. It might help humanize you, you know. I can see the headline now…”

“Ha ha. I’m serious. I just…” He reads the caution in her eyes, knows he’ll only hurt her again if he’s honest now. “I’m glad Richard is such a smart guy; that he was there for you. You deserve happiness more than anyone I know.”

Her relief is palpable. She practically glows with it. “He is pretty great, isn’t he?” Clark is reminded of the insecure girl he once knew. “There are days when I wonder how I got here. I still have a hard time believing he would pick me.”

“Why would you say that? You’re brilliant and beautiful. Only an idiot wouldn’t want you.” The words are out before he knows it.

“Or an ass.” She gasps and covers her mouth, chagrinned at her own words. “Sorry. Too much wine brings out the worst in me.”

“It’s okay. I deserve it.”

“Yeah, well…”

“Yeah.”

They sit and look out over the city until the silence grows less awkward. Clark still listens, he always listens. He knows that this is where he needs to be right now.

Seeing her profile against the glimmering cityscape is breathtaking, and he is again struck by how right it feels to be by her side.

“Lois?”

“Hmm?”

“After the wedding, do you think we’ll still be able to work together? Hang out now and then?”
“You make it sound like Richard has a choice in the matter.” She looks back nonchalantly. “Even before you came to town, he knew I was a package deal. Makes it even crazier that he accepts it all.”

He can’t help it. He pulls her into a grateful hug before either of them knows what is going on. There’s no going back, so he holds on like he never wants to let go.

---

Continued here...

Beat (Part 2)

2008-05-18T15:49:00.000-07:00

Title: Beat (Part 2)
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Smallville
Pairing: Chlark, Chlois
Spoilers/Timeline: Post-Series
Disclaimer: I own very little, certainly not these characters. Please don’t sue!
Author’s Notes: So I’m hoping Clark grows a brain at some point. Maybe a little good, old-fashioned Kryptonian education can help. This one’s pretty fluffy for me. I posted it as a WIP at K-Site, and didn’t want to add it here until it was complete.

---

He’s perfected his bumbling reporter routine through years of practice at the Times, but running into Jimmy might just be the funniest reaction he’s ever gotten to it.

Nervous as hell, he wanders into the main lobby that just draws the eye up, up, and away. He is aware of the location, status, and intent of every one of the building’s occupants, but he allows himself to bump into three people within his first five steps.

He runs headlong into Jimmy, scattering proofs and copies of his resume everywhere.

“Jeeze. What are you, a brick wall?” Jimmy rubs his shoulder and winces.

Okay, so maybe Clark didn’t give as much as he normally would have. On some level, he’s admitted the sinking suspicion that Jimmy might have stolen his life six years ago, and he’s only catching on now.

Jimmy meets his nervous gaze, and surprise washes over his features. “C…K?” He says, like he just saw a ghost.

Pushing his loose frames up on his nose. “Yeah…uh…Hey Jimmy. L-long time no see.”

Now Jimmy looks at him incredulously. You would think he just sprouted eyestalks. “Sure. Long time. Where the heck have you been, CK?”

“Oh, here and there.”

“Are you here to see…”

“Perry White. “ Clark interrupts. He’s still not ready to go there. He begins gathering his papers and nods toward them. “I actually have an interview in a few minutes.”

A mix of emotions pass over Jimmy’s face, but all Clark cares about is the blessed lack of a band on his left hand. He wants to hug the kid. Looks like they were both left in the dust. Instead, he checks his watch.

“Well I…”

“Yeah, good luck, CK. Come see me on the 12th floor as soon as you’re done. We gotta catch up.” He leans in, meeting Clarks gaze with a strength and urgency he didn’t consider Jimmy capable of in his former life. “It’s important.”

He’s still pondering that request when he wanders into the bullpen.

“Great Caesar’s ghost! Look what the cat dragged in!” Perry launches himself across the room when he sees Clark. He moves at a speed that leaves little doubt who the heart of this bustling office is, and shakes Clark’s hand vigorously.

“Good to see you again, Mr. Kent. What happened to your eyes?”

“Uh…what?”

“Eyes, Kent. We all have them. Yours used to work just fine, though with less blinking. What happened?”

“Oh, that. I guess I always had astigmatism, it just didn’t bother me enough to get checked out till college…”

Perry squints at him. “Never mind that, let’s get down to brass tacks, shall we?” He leads Clark into his office, motions for him to sit, and the only thing more surprising than the amazing view is the utter lack of rhyme or reason to the furniture and décor.

A photo of Elvis hangs in the midst of various ground-breaking Planet headlines. An outdated typewriter sits next to coffee-stained proofs, atop a sleek art-deco desk that looks like it came with the office.

Perry White, whose hair seems to have taken his last name far too seriously, settles into a green monstrosity of a leather chair. He motions at the plastic chair opposite. Clark isn’t sure it will support his large frame, but he sits anyway.

This is it. This is his chance to return to the city that’s been his since…since he learned to love truth and justice from a chipper young editor.

He is absolutely terrified.

Perry is going over his portfolio and asking random questions about how he approached his interviews with certain victims, where he gleaned a contact in the Secret Service, how he snuck into the coroner’s office to get an official report indicating the former Whitehouse Chief of Staff’s involvement in a prostitute’s drug overdose.

Clark prays to Rao that the veteran interviewer buys his claim that a good reporter never reveals a confidential source.

“Well, I suppose as your editor, I won’t want to know.” He drops the portfolio. “I pay my debts, Kent. You’re getting in. What I need to know is are you ready for the big league, or do I put you back on the city beat?”

“I-I’m not here for the spotlight, Mr. White, sir.” Clark pushes the glasses up his nose, subtly trying to make the point that he’s not star-reporter material. “I just want a chance to prove myself.”

Perry grins like he finally sees something he recognizes. “I hoped you might say that.” He stands and shakes Clark’s hand vigorously. “And I’m about to give you the chance to prove something for both of us. Hell of a handshake, by the way.”

Uh-oh. The gleam in the older man’s eye makes Clark wonder just what he’s stepping into. He can tell from the cadence of his heart that he’s excited about something.

White steps back and booms, “LANE!”

Lois?

Clark can hear twenty heartbeats accelerate, but no one seems to be approaching. He nearly goes through the roof when someone huffs not three feet away. He’s still turning when he hears the one voice he hoped to avoid.

“What is it Per…ry?” She finishes lamely and gapes a bit. He’s pretty sure he has her beat on the shock level.

She looks so…different? Beautiful? Pissed?

Definitely pissed.

Deep brown hair curls gracefully around a face with more angles than he remembers, but the span of years did nothing to dim his memory of the curious girl who uncovered his secret so long ago. He stares into familiar green eyes.

The suit is the same, but the cockiness is new. The shock fades almost immediately to make room for anger. She’s nearly shaking with it.

“Lois, this is Clark-“

“Kent.” She breathes, eyes narrowed and nostrils flared. “I read his work at The Washington Times.”

A little something swells in Clark’s chest. It’s quickly crushed beneath her heel.

“It was crap.”

“Well that’s more than your everyday brand of acerbic wit. Glad to see you saving the good stuff for your new partner.”

Barely concealed anger shifts like mercury to murderous rage. “My what?”

They both whip their heads in White’s direction.

“Welcome to The Planet, Kent. I’m partnering you with my top reporter to prove my theory that even a shooting star needs balance.”

She sputters for a moment before regaining her voice. “I cannot believe this, Chief! Is this because of the STAR Labs fiasco? I keep telling you, it isn’t breaking and entering when the security guard leaves his station!”

“It’s more than that and you know it, Lane.”

“I work alone!”

“You work however I say you work, damned it! Now get Kent a desk and bring him with you to the press conference.”

“But…”

“Less arguing, more walking, Lane. Unlike the rest of the bozos around here, you don’t scare me.”

After a tense moment where he wonders whether she’ll actually back down, she spins on her heel and stomps out of the office.

He looks helplessly at White, who just nods for him to follow. “Good luck, kid.”

Stumbling after the woman who has played a starring role in his dreams for the better part of a decade, the bumbling reporter act becomes less of an act than he’d like.

“Excuse me, Miss…uh…Lane?”

She charges through the bullpen, and he doesn’t miss the wide berth her fellow reporters grant her.

“Miss Lane!” Still no response.

“Chloe!” He half yells, half whispers.

That gets her attention. She rounds on him with a fury that made her look tame in Perry’s office and he can’t help but shrink back a bit, which, yeah, is a little bit ridiculous.

“Don’t you ever say that name again! Regardless of what we never meant to each other, you can grant me the common courtesy of respecting my name, especially when it’s the only thing keeping me alive right now.” She hisses the last part through clenched teeth.

He has a sudden sympathy for the reporters who skittered out of her way as she stomped by. He’d love to crawl in a hole somewhere and stay there for a while.

She stands with a frustrated huff, and seems to collect herself before crossing to a cluttered desk next to the window and undocking a smart phone. She glances at it before holstering it at her hip and looking up expectantly.

He’s still in shock, so he barely manages to raise his eyebrows helplessly and adjust his glasses in response.

“What are you waiting for, Kent, a written invitation?” She looks at him like he’s two and motions toward the desk facing hers.

“I…u..uh.” He sighs, tries to take a calming breath and starts over. “It’s good to see you again, L…Lois.”

“I’m sure.” She eyes him thoughtfully, and turns to undock her laptop. “Glad to know you can be taught. Get your stuff, we’re late.”

He has nothing to get that he didn’t have with him, so he just stares as she slips her computer in the bag and it’s only then that he notices the diamond on her left hand. In that moment, Clark decides that suspecting something for two years and actually seeing it sparkle in the morning light are two totally different animals.

He’s got superhuman strength, but he suddenly feels beaten as never before. He can’t breathe, he’s dizzy, so he just kind of…plops down into the chair nearest him.

Ready to go, she looks up at him. He sees the first hint of the girl he once knew hidden in the concern her eyes carry. “Clark, what’s wrong?”

“He…I…I’m fine. Sorry, this is just all a bit sudden.”

She stands, and he can pinpoint the moment her walls go back up. “Suck it up, Kent. A good reporter is ready for anything, at any time. Didn’t the city beat teach you anything?”

She doesn’t wait for a reply.

---

He follows her downstairs to the parking garage and almost laughs to find that her taste in vehicles has changed very little. Tiny and foreign do not make a comfortable ride for his 6’4” frame.

She barely acknowledges him until he’s squeezing into the passenger seat, which is a tight fit even if it was already pushed back as far as it goes. A chuckle escapes her as he tries to huddle while carefully closing the door.

“Richard makes the same face whenever he rides with me. He hates my taste in cars.”

Ah, now Clark has a name to go with the hatred. He tries to play it cool, but can’t help a glance at her ring. “Richard?”

She catches the gesture, of course, and glances down herself. She blushes and ducks her head. “Yeah, he’s the editor of the business review. It’s not managed by Perry, which is the only reason HR let the nepotism slide.”

“Richard…White?”

“The one and only.” Like Clark should know his name.

“Congratulations.” He tries for cheerful.

She’s laughing again and it’s so close to his Chloe that he wants to cry for a second. “Careful there. You might melt those stylish glasses of yours.”

Oops. He blinks away the heat.

“Sorry about that, it’s just a bit of a…surprise.”

She raises an eyebrow. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just act surprised that someone wants to marry me.” She deadpans.

“But I…That’s not…ugh. I give up.”

“Smart move, genius. No one messes with Lois Lane.” She puts the car in gear and pulls out of the parking space.

“Speaking of that, what happened to Lois?”

She freezes at that. “Chloe Sullivan died saving Lois Lane.” Her gaze drifts down guiltily. “Trying to, anyway, only it turns out there are limits to otherworldly gifts. Later, Lois Lane had to be resurrected for Chloe Sullivan to live.”

It doesn’t explain everything, but he gets the idea. “I’m so sorry. How long?”

“Four years at Christmas.”

A horn blares behind them. She swallows whatever else she had to say and they’re off a little faster than necessary.

He takes the hint that they’ve exceeded comfort level.

She’s all business when she speaks again. “So, your turn, Kent. You cleared out pretty quick. Did you have fun finding yourself?”

“It was training. It wasn’t exactly backpacking through Europe.”

“Whatever. That’s the story you told Lois, who by the way, you actually said goodbye to…twice. I didn’t find out the truth till I talked to Lana.”

He winces at that, lifts his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose. He has no excuse, so he says nothing.

She eyes him again and he wonders if this isn’t the cause of the distain he saw upstairs. “So, you disappear to the snowy North for four years, and crop back up in D.C. a little over two years ago. Care to share why it took an act of the journalistic gods to get you in touch with your former B-F-F?”

“I…I just wasn’t ready, I guess.”

“For two years?” She’s not even trying to hide her incredulity.

“How did you know I was back?”

“I kept my eyes open, waiting for you to get back, for four freaking years, Clark. Your mom had the decency to call me before one of my searches came up with your name in a byline.”

He honestly tries to get a handle on the annoyance that bubbles up at her assertion that she waited, but the “Yeah, right,” is out before he knows it.

She slams on the brakes. “What exactly is that supposed to mean?”

“It means whatever you want it to mean, Chlo.”

“It’s Lois, thankyouverymuch. Miss Lane, if you prefer, and I want to know what the hell you think it means, asshole.”

“I’m sure Richard was a big comfort to you.”

She throws the car back in gear, squeals back into traffic and it’s a wonder flames don’t shoot from her eyes. “You bet your ass he was, Clark. Richard was there. He bugged me for a date every week for almost three years before I finally caved on my workplace relationships rule, and I turned down his proposal six freakin’ times before I agreed to wear his ring. He is by far the most patient man I have ever met and he cares about me in ways I had given up hope were possible.”

She’s fired up and on a roll. “And do you want to know what the biggest comfort Richard offered was? He saw me.

"Me. Not the perfect girl-next-door or my cousin’s rack or every other girl on the planet. He could have had anyone he wanted, but he wanted me, with all my idiosyncrasies and imperfections. So fuck you, Clark Kent, and the Kryptonian ship you rode in on. You don’t get to say one word against my fiancée when you couldn’t even act like a decent friend to me six years ago, much less now.”

She’s flushed and breathing hard, but she’s obviously done, because she blasts the stereo all the way to LexCorp.

Finacee… In that moment, he knows she’s right – he’s a fool.

---

The press conference is little more than a retooled version of the press release. Questions of substance are glossed over or ignored completely, but Clark is still struck by her silence. They are midway back, to the left of the stage, and he’s pretty sure she specifically maneuvered them to this spot.

When the reporter in front of them asks their question, she ducks down and makes like she’s adjusting her shoe. The avoidance is definitely not what he expected of The Daily Planet’s “star reporter”.

It’s over in less than twenty minutes, and she tugs him out the door with the first set of video crews leaving. It seems she didn’t want to call attention to herself as the first to slip out, but she wasn’t too keen on staying.

He desperately wants to learn more about why LexCorp is recovering so well while their former CEO rots behind bars for crimes against humanity, but he figures research can wait. Regardless of how much it hurts to know she’s in love with someone else, he’s felt more at home during the last hour than he has for the better part of a decade.

Avoidance was a miserable mistake. He’ll take her any way he can have her.

He just can’t handle her hating him.

They’re settling back into her car when he finally breaks the stony silence. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

She has her hands on the wheel, keys ready, but she just lowers her head. “I know. Me too. I guess I didn’t know how much I’d held onto.” She still isn’t looking at him when she starts up the car.

They drive back in silence, but at least the air doesn’t thrum with anger. A kind of sadness hangs between them, though. Clark tries to count his blessings.

In the elevator, she fingers a disk he hadn’t noticed before.

“What’s that?”

“This? Oh, it’s the real scoop on LexCorp’s new research.” A mischievous grin slides across her face. “Inside source. You didn’t think I picked that seat for the view, did you?”

He can’t help the answering smile. “I should have known better. You never were one for low-profile.”

“I’ve learned a thing or two over the years. Investigative reporting is far easier when you’re invisible. As soon as I decrypt this, the real work begins.”

“Will it take long?”

“No more than 20 minutes. Why? You have something better to do?”

Clark notices they just passed the 10th floor and hits the 12. “Nope. Just need to check in with an old friend.”

She nods as he steps out. “Tell Jimmy I said hi.”

He stares dumbly as the doors close.

---

Jimmy is in the midst of a heated discussion with a young brunette when Clark finds him. He immediately tells her to go with the caption he wrote and ushers Clark into his cubicle.

“So, how’d it go, CK?”

“Better than I expected. I still haven’t seen any paperwork, but I’ve already been assigned a partner.”

Jimmy shakes his head and chuckles. “God, Perry can be evil. He put you with her, didn’t he?”

“Um…” Clark’s voice drops a register. “You mean Chl…uh…Lois.”

“Yeah, and you’d better not screw up the name. She’s been known to take a man’s head off for less.”

“I got that impression. What the heck happened to her?”

“What didn’t happen might be a better question. Between her cousin, Luthor, her mother and father, that mix-up at the morgue, and White Junior chasing her skirt till he finally wore her down, it’s no wonder she’s not eager to settle on a wedding date.”

“Whoa. I only caught half that. What happened between her and Lex?”

“Before or after Lionel?”

“Um, either?”

“Lex was on the hunt for a bride number four and Chloe, as usual, was after the big story. For the longest, I thought she was going to start something up with Oliver Queen. They were always together in public. Then she shocked the world and started dating Lex.”

“She…what?”

“I feel ya, CK. That was pretty much everyone’s reaction. Turns out she was just trying to get close enough to expose him, but she put on a very convincing show. She had him so snowed that he got sloppy when he killed his father.

“When she exposed him, he didn’t take it so well. He wasn’t content to take her out; he wanted to eradicate her entire family.

“Bombs struck simultaneously at her apartment, her father’s house in Gotham, and her mother’s hospital. Thirty-three people died that night, and a body was found in her apartment and identified as her. Everyone here was really torn up until she showed up six hours later wearing nothing but a coat and covered in soot.

“Turns out there was a mix-up, and her cleaning lady had been in the apartment, instead of her. Still odd that the coroner’s office claims they had a dental match. Not to mention the disappearing body.

“It was Perry’s idea to let her stay dead. We knew Lex had an in with the FBI, so we partnered with Queen Industries to legally change her name and keep her hidden. The power of the press isn’t limited to news ink, you know.

“Anyway, she took on her old pen name, Lois Lane, and I’m sure you followed the rest of the story well enough to know how it ended. “

Clark is so overwhelmed he doesn’t even try to hide his confusion.

“Where the Hell were you, CK, Siberia?” Jimmy looks incredulous. “It took a year and an Attorney General who grew some balls, but she testified under the condition of anonymity. It was Lois Lane’s first big story – she won the Pulitzer.”

Jimmy looks at Clark expectantly. “She did it, Clark.” The note of reverence in his voice is unmistakable. “She took down the greatest criminal of all time and lived to tell the tale. Well, sort of. Technically, she died, but she’s the biggest legend around here.”

And that’s the crux of it. While he was busy learning how to be a hero, Chloe was back here doing it. He has absolutely no business breathing the same air as this woman.

He leans back against the desk. He could leave right now. He hasn’t even given notice at The Times, and if the last two years are any indication, he is as needed there as he is in Metropolis.

No. She may be a hero in her own right, but now that he knows what a fool his fears made him, he can’t leave her. Even if she never sees him the way he sees her. Even if he has to watch her happy with someone else forever, he is as close to whole as he’s been in a long time.

He’ll make this work, damned it.

---

Not surprisingly, the first test of his commitment comes little more than five minutes later.

He steps into the occupied elevator on its way up, barely registering the look of recognition on the other man’s face.

“Excuse me. I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“Probably not. This is my first day.” Clark doesn’t look up. He just registers a 30-something male, in good health. Heartbeat’s a little elevated, but not so much as to concern him.

“Richard White.” The man extends his hand, and Clark’s eyes snap up, suddenly taking more careful stock. White is about the same height and build, with lighter brown hair, a wide smile and friendly blue eyes.

This is the man who has stolen his happiness. The man he forfeited his life to out of fear.

Clark finally registers the outstretched hand and shakes it. “Clark Kent.”

“The infamous Clark Kent! I thought I recognized you from Lois’s scrapbooks!”

“Uh, yeah.”

“So you’re joining The Planet team?” He ushers Clark off the elevator first and, much to his annoyance, they begin making their way to Lois’ desk.

“Looks like it. Perry just hired me.”

“He putting you on the city beat?”

“Features, actually. He seems to think I can help balance Lois out.” Yeah, it’s a low-blow. But Clark can’t resist rubbing in his new status.

It gets a reaction that’s even better than he could have expected. White’s heart rate jumps through the roof and the subtle increase in his pupil size, respiration and perspiration are unmistakable. He’s beyond angry.

Whatever he may feel, he flashes a tight smile and puts his arm around Lois as he reaches her desk. “Lois does have a tendency to find the most dangerous stories out there. Maybe you can help her find something a bit more…” His eyes roam over Clark’s carefully nerdish appearance. “…tame.”

Lois looks back and forth between the two of them with a disbelieving grin.

“I see you’ve met my new partner, babe.” She can’t hold back a chuckle.

“Yes ma’am.” The grin is less forced at her endearment. Clark’s isn’t.

“Well, buckle down, Kent, because we have work to do.” Her hands fly over the keyboard and he is struck by the image of her younger self, chasing down a lead so he could take them down.

He reminds himself that he chose this. He chose to let his fear keep them apart. He could have fought for her, rather than spending the last two years hurting her with his distance. Who is he to take away her hard-won happiness?

He sits and boots up the computer at his new desk. First order of business, e-mail his resignation and let his mom know where he is. Second, assist the best civilian decryption expert this side of the Atlantic in taking down the evil mega-corporation.

Things are definitely looking up.

---

Continued here...

Beat, Part 1

2008-05-18T15:34:00.000-07:00

Title: Beat (Part 1)
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Smallville
Pairing: Chlark, Chlois
Spoilers/Timeline: Post-Series
Disclaimer: I own very little, certainly not these characters. Please don’t sue!
Author’s Notes: So I’m hoping Clark grows a brain at some point. Maybe a little good, old-fashioned Kryptonian education can help. This one’s pretty fluffy for me. I posted it as a WIP at K-Site, and didn’t want to add it here until it was complete.

---

Solitude.

It is all the man who was once Clark Kent has known for years.

In that time, the last son of Krypton has accumulated lifetimes of knowledge and an intimate understanding of the powers granted by the yellow sun shining to the South.

His hyper-sensitive hearing has been dampened by the fortress shielding until now. This will be the last skill he perfects before meeting his destiny. His last task before freedom.

He understands why the world needs him. Even before he bowed to his birth-father’s will, those closest to him instilled pride in his abilities and a will to serve those who could not help themselves.

It is their memories he honors through every day of his exile.

“Still your mind, Kal-El. Concentrate.”

He controls his breathing and wills his heart to slow.

“Filter out the sounds of your own body. Filter the wind, the voices. The million natural and unnatural sounds of this world.”

The silence is far more absolute than even the isolation affords him. It is deafening.

“Concentrate on a single human heart. One you know well.”

There is one he can recall easily. One who makes him feel safe, trusted, admired.

“Recognize its cadence.”

Slowly, a steady rhythm invades his existence, warming his entire being. He has blocked the sound of his own heart, but he can still feel it rattling his ribcage.

“Take note of its speed. Is its bearer asleep, excited, frightened? Listen.”

He listens. She sleeps. She dreams. Hours pass in the world beyond. He hears the tempo accelerate when she wakes, probably late. He can’t help but smile.

It is a strong, sure beat. It quickens periodically with the inevitable excitement of her day-to-day existence, and he feels his own race to match it in shared anxiety.

Days, then weeks pass as Kal-El concentrates, meditates, becomes attuned to that heartbeat, stripping away the other sounds emanating from that same body, one by one.

There are moments of exhaustion where he can feel the physical weight of a world of sounds pressing down around him, daring him to slip into chaos for a moment. Only his own desperation to connect to another being keeps him focused on that single pulse, even in his dreams.

She is the one he longs more than anything to see, to tell the secrets he uncovered in this place. He needs to tell her what a fool the boy who left was.

His skin burns with the itch to reach out.

After an eternity, his father’s voice interrupts his meditation.

“It is time to move to the next phase of your conditioning, Kal-El. Concentration has been mastered, but it is a childish game compared to the task of expanding your focus at will.”

He steels himself for what is to come. Father’s cautions are rarely without painful consequences.

“Slowly, with control, expand your focus to include other sounds of that body. Notice the respiration, the slide of blood through the pulmonary system.”

Her breath is rougher than he remembers. He wonders briefly if it is because she spends too much time in the city with no reason to return to the wide open spaces they shared in youth. She was always one to push her body past its limits.

“Now, Kal-El, expand your focus to include the voice. Do not stop monitoring the pulse and respiration. Can you hear their words? Does their heartbeat quicken to indicate a lie? Or remain steady in honesty?”

Her heartbeat quickened while father spoke. Her respiration increased as though she was under stress. Instinct tells him it was not deception that drove the increase. He pushes his senses outward.
His world shatters at the first English he hears in over four years.

“I…do.”

Concentration broken, his mind explodes in a cacophony of sounds; of pleas, shrieks, clamors, and clangs. He is chaos. He is lost.

Darkness swallows him whole.

---

He wakes to silence like he has never heard before. It’s claustrophobic.

He realizes the absence of her heart is what deepens the emptiness. The anguish returns, this time without the madness.

She is lost to him. He is still lost.

He knows he never gave her a reason to wait. It wasn’t until he was alone, utterly alienated from all he once knew, that he understood the nature of his heart. His old life fell away, and with it, the pointless boundaries erected.

They were lines drawn in the sand by a boy who knew nothing.

He wonders who she said those words to. Wonders how much time really passed while he was here. It could be years, it could be decades. His sense of time has been warped by the meditation required to master both information and skill.

He would trade the near-eternity he knows he will live, trade his powers, trade the fate of the universe, to be the man she was speaking to.

If wishes were horses… Jonathan Kent used to say that. His other father with the kind eyes and simple truths.

Clark Kent gave up on changing the past years ago. No matter the warning, the cost always surprises you in the end.

“Kal-El.”

Jor-El’s voice is a thunderclap in the silence.

“You must resume.”

Clark closes his eyes, breathes deeply to clear his mind. He can’t bear to focus on the rhythm of her heart. He needs comfort, so he seeks the only rhythm he knows better than hers.

Martha Kent will always embody strength through love, and he needs her more than ever in his misery.

Ah. There it is. Like a warm blanket on a dark night. Soft, but strong. Like the woman it belongs to.

He acclimates quickly, stripping away the interference. Then slowly forces the boundaries of his focus outward.

“I’m so relieved to hear you’re safe…Lois.” Her voice is hushed, but amused. “Call me when you’re back home in Metropolis.”

Pulling out a fraction, he hears a low beep and the click of a cellular phone snapping shut. He is blind to her surroundings, but as he pulls his senses outward, he can hear the rustle of her heels on carpet. Further still, he hears large oak doors opening, and a respectfully hushed “Senator Kent.”

He can almost see the imperceptible bow as a young man greets his mother.

Steadily over the next few hours, he expands his senses to include the floor of the senate. Rustling papers, hushed arguments, and official statements create a perfect picture, with his mind unconsciously matching imagery to sounds.

Throughout, he is able to maintain his focus on Martha Kent’s heartbeat.

Later, he follows her through the halls and across the street to her office, where she greets an assistant named Kylie, and brushes through to an inner office.

She drops her briefcase on a maple desk. From the slide and whoosh, coupled by the sounds of traffic and birds, Clark knows she is standing idly by the window. She sighs heavily.

The rhythm tells. She’s worried about something.

Miraculously, she stills. He hears the rustle of her hair as she turns to examine the rest of the room.

“Is someone there?”

His heart leaps into his throat.

“Clark?”

He hears her scrub her face with her hands and laugh nervously. “I must be getting senile.”

---

In the weeks that follow, Clark Kent learns to hone this power. It will be his most valuable asset in the quest to save humanity from itself.

Soon, he has learned to distinguish a thousand voices, calling out at once. They are the multitudes, but they are individuals, their heartbeats and laughter, unique.

Thousands of voices become millions. Millions spill into billions. Each is unique. Each knows love in its own way.

This is the most burdensome gift of the yellow sun. It gives him the means, and therefore the responsibility, to choose.

He knows that even he, for all his powers, cannot be everywhere at once. He must inevitably choose who dies in order to decide who lives.

He is trained in the logic of his people. He understands the necessity. But he is still a child of Earth, and the very idea tears him to shreds.

He still blocks that single heartbeat. He knows he is a coward. That he could miss it if something happened to her, but he isn’t ready to hear her content without him. Not when he never had a chance to tell her what she really meant to him.

Soon, he will face the world. Once he is well settled in his new life, he will seek her out to congratulate her. Not before.

He returns to his meditation, identifying and prioritizing crises even in his sleep.

In the morning, he finds street clothes laid out for him.

“It is time, Kal-El.”

There are no tears at this farewell. The fortress will be his refuge whenever the weight of the world becomes too great. It is his father’s last gift.

He is dressed and knocking on the door to Martha Kent’s apartment in 10 seconds flat.

This time, he feels his mother’s love as much in the words as in the embrace. Even on a rainy afternoon in Washington D.C., she smells like home.

---

His mother has always nurtured with food, so he soon finds himself staring down the biggest meal he’s seen since his last Thanksgiving at home.

Not that he minds in the least. The Kryptonian dishes his father replicated had been bland at best. God, he missed the smell of meatloaf and mashed potatoes.

She’s updated him on the farm, Lana, her time in congress, and even that nasty business with Lex. He could only be relieved that the rest of the world finally recognized the criminal mastermind for what he was and had him safely behind bars.

His mother nods at his assessment of Lex’s crimes exceeding what he was imprisoned for, then pauses, slightly wary.

“Clark, there’s something else you should know. Chloe…”

He cuts her off. “I know, mom.”

“You do? How?”

“At the end of my training, I learned to use my hearing to find anyone on Earth. I heard her.”

Inexplicably, she beams. “Well, it’s about time.”

Shocked by her reaction, he looks down. His third helping of mashed potatoes becomes fascinating.

“Clark?” His mother sounds confused. Maybe she doesn’t read his reactions as well as she used to.

“Is she happy?” He’s ashamed at the weakness in his voice.

“Of course she is. It’s what she always wanted. The name thing didn’t seem to bother her as much as I expected.”

Pain lances through him. He’s not sure why. It’s not like he thought he was what Chloe always wanted, but he’s terrified that is exactly what she is to him. And he’s missed all the chances he’s going to get.

Puzzled, his mother takes mercy on him and changes the subject.

“So, tell me all about Jor-El’s ‘destiny’.”

He knows she hates the idea of trusting his Kryptonian father, so it’s that much more meaningful that she trusts Clark enough to support his destiny as savior to mankind. She even calls in some favors to get him a decent cover story for the last four and a half years.

Apparently, Clark studied journalism in Europe. He even has a job waiting for him at The Washington Times. It’s not The Post or The Planet, but it is a start. He’s into his own apartment in less than a month, and he’s promoted to the third floor three months after that.

Having super-senses definitely helps when you’re on the city beat, and he discovers that journalism is a great cover for being in the right place at the right time to do some good.

Despite his competitive streak, he never once picks up a copy of The Planet, and he steadfastly avoids looking at his mother’s subscription when he visits.

He knows his long-term goal is to return to Metropolis. After all he’s been through, it still feels like his city. It has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that it’s her city, too.

After two years at The Times, he submits his portfolio to The Planet. He’s surprised to hear back from Perry White less than a week later.

“Kent! You little rascal! I knew you were hiding a real reporter under that bumbling farmboy routine.”

“Um, thank you?”

“So, I find myself in a position to settle my debt. Can you join me Thursday at 9:00am sharp?”

“Sure, Mr. White, but…may I ask why?”

“Why, to interview for the newest position opening up in my bullpen, of course. Tell me you did enough research to know who The Planet’s latest and greatest Editor In Chief is.”

---

Continued here...

One to Grow On

2008-05-18T15:28:00.000-07:00

Title: One to Grow On
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Smallville
Pairing: Chlark, Clana
Spoilers/Timeline: AU, diverges just after S7 “Wrath”
Disclaimer: I own very little, certainly not these characters. Please don’t sue!
Author’s Notes: A little angst. AU just after “Wrath.” Bizzy’s been sent packing, Grois is still on, and Kara never disappeared. Lyrics are from “You Got Growing up To Do” by Joshua Radin.

--
I've been down this road before.
I walk out the door, leave you on the floor.
Sometimes you run and hide -
Your foolish pride’s what keeps me from giving you more.
So the best thing I can give to you is for me to go, leave you alone.
Cause you got growing up to do.
--

She’s gone.

It’s a sunny Tuesday afternoon, and you haven’t been exposed to any Kryptonian germs in over a year, so the dizziness seems a bit out of place.

You plop into a wheeled office chair, reeling in shock and trying to think up an intelligent response to your companion’s flippant inquiry.

“Well, Smallville? What part of ‘no longer works here’ don’t you understand?” Guilt shifts behind Lois’ eyes, and you know there’s more to the story. There always is.

“Where?” Okay, so it’s not intelligent, but you have to know.

“How should I know? All I got was a note by the phone and a half-empty closet.”

“Wait. How did she pack without you noticing?”

“I…stayed the night with a friend. Your cousin said she left last night. Ask her where she went.”

Still slightly dizzy, you stumble out of the building. You’re behind the Talon in seconds.

Kara has a bit of a superiority complex, but she’s still a 19-year-old girl far from home. The few friends she has – Lana, Lois, Chloe, and Jimmy – mean the world to her, so you try to control your reaction to her pride that she managed to keep Chloe’s secret all day. It’s the smug look as she hands you the card that undoes you.

“I think it’s funny.”

“What’s funny?”

“That you would react this way to something Lana did for your relationship.”

Dread fills you. “What does Lana have to do with this?”

“She helped Chloe get settled in her new life. They said it was best for everyone this way.”

You swallow thickly, and open the card. It’s one of those cheesy black and white pictures of children. You can see why she picked it.

The boy is staring at a little girl walking by, dressed in her Sunday best, while the tiny blond seated beside him on the steps stares at him. You’re beyond pretending not to see the meaning behind it.

With shaky fingers, you open the card.

Clark,

I’m sorry if you don’t understand why I’m leaving. There are a lot of reasons, but it all boils down to the fact that I need a fresh start.

Lana’s right. If I can’t be part of the solution, I need to stop torturing all of us by repeating myself. You’ve made your position on the topic clear, and I respect your right to trust her.

I wish you all the happiness in the world. Look in on Lois if you have time. I’m worried about the direction she’s headed, too.

Always,

Chloe

You fold the card and carefully return it to its envelope before looking back at Kara. She’s staring at you with a puzzled expression.

“Are you okay?”

“No, Kara, I’m really not. Where is she?”

“Ka-lark, they made me promise. She begged me herself. You’re the one who taught me how important integrity is. I won’t betray my friend.”

And there it is. Kara obviously understands more about friendship than you do, so who are you to judge?

The world is still on tilt, but you let it ride for months without fighting it. You figure it’s the least you deserve for what you said to her when she tried to question your girlfriend’s intentions after you ousted your doppelganger.

All she did was voice your own fears, but you weren’t ready to face them, so you drove her off.

Spring has come and gone by the time you figure out why Lois wasn’t invited to the party. It’s the scandal of the season when it comes out that the Daily Planet’s Editor-in-Chief was Lex’s plaything. It nearly trumps the fact that he was sleeping with his top reporter.

She goes to stay with her sister in Germany within a week of the news breaking.

You’ve never been very good at putting yourself in someone else’s shoes – that was always more of Chloe’s territory, anyway. But you find yourself making more of an effort these days, just to feel closer to her.

You try to imagine what those last few months must have been like for her. Trying to find a cure to her infected status, losing Jimmy to Kara, losing her friendship with Lana trying to protect you, and, in the end, seemingly losing your friendship because she voiced her concerns for your safety.

You hope she’s found better friends, wherever she is. Goodness knows it can’t be hard to beat the old set.

This morning while Lana worked in the garden, you sat on the porch steps and stared at the empty space beside you, willing your little blond friend to reappear. You swear you wouldn’t ignore her if you had another chance.

Then you caught Lana staring at you thoughtfully, so you went inside to make some lemonade.

--
Looks like the rain’s pouring down on me – it’s drowning me now.
And all I want is to come back home.
And this old corduroy coat, it’s not keeping me dry,
but I can't think of what else to try.
That's why the best thing I can give to you is for me to go, leave you alone.
You got growing up to do.
--

It’s the strangest thing. You saw Chloe only a handful of times after you and Lana moved in together – you were lucky of you talked a couple of times a week. So why, now that she’s gone, do you constantly find yourself turning to someone who isn’t there to share some ironic observation?

You’re not looking for Lana at your side these days, though she’s still there, regarding you carefully.

The two of you barely talk about anything meaningful anymore. It’s as though you’ve run out of conversations. Take away the secrets and lies on both sides, and it doesn’t seem like you have much to say.

Lana leaves. She says she needs to be the one who goes, before you grow so far apart you hurt each other. You can’t dredge up much of an argument to that.

Weeks pass, and you feel as empty as the farm is now that Kara has moved into Lois’ old apartment. You both go through the motions, monuments to something that once was.

With Lana gone, you have nowhere left to hide, and you wonder if that’s not what you feared most in the first place.

You lease out the farm, and find a new way to hide. You travel under the guise of your father’s training, but you know you only suggested it as a way to look for her.

You’ve been scanning the crowds for a tiny blonde, so you forget to hide your shock when you run across a sleek brunette at a tea house in London. You only noticed her because she was gaping at you.

She collects herself quickly, and tries for a hasty exit. She doesn’t look surprised when you block her path.

She’s lost some of the softness you once knew, but you recognize the pain that lines her eyes. The kindness is still there, too.

“Clark.”

“Chloe.” You try to match her even tone, but your voice breaks. You’re terrified.

“You look…well.”

“I-uh, I am good, uh, well.” You lie, bold-faced. “What about you? You look…amazing.”

She narrows her eyes at the compliment. “I’m doing okay. Busy… You know how it goes.”

“Yeah, me too. Busy, busy.” Now you’re just rambling like an idiot.

“What are you doing here, Clark?”

“Me? Oh, I’m just doing some traveling. My, um, father thought a little travel might be the best way to start my education, if you know what I mean.”

She relaxes a bit at that. “Yeah. It sounds better than going straight to school up North.”

You suddenly notice her glance past you, a little fidgety. “How long are you in town?”

“Not sure.”

“But you’ll be here a couple of days?”

You’re planning to rent a flat tonight, now that you realize this is your destination. But you figure that might tip your hand too early. “At least.”

“Good. We’ll have to catch up.” She fishes in her purse for a card and pushes it into your hand. Now her attention is firmly behind you. “Um, call me, and we can plan something. I…uh…have to be going now.”

She practically dashes in the opposite direction, and it’s not until two thugs try to bowl you over going after her that you realize it wasn’t just being seen with you that had her so jumpy.

You knock the thugs out with taps to their heads and sweep her off her feet. The two of you are in the countryside in moments.

“Well,” she gasps. “That’s one way to take care of the situation, I suppose.”

She wiggles a little. You take the hint and put her down gently. It’s been almost a year since you were this close to her, and the urge to hold on is hard to fight.

She backs away as if she can sense your thoughts, turning and taking a few steps.

“Why are you really here, Clark?”

“I needed to find you.”

“I’m fine. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“I could tell by the guys chasing you.”

“I could have handled them okay. I’ve gotten pretty good at defending myself.”

“You were always good at that.”

“Not good enough.”

“What do you mean?”

“A lot’s happened in the last year.”

“In Smallville, too.”

“I can only imagine.”

She sits on an ancient stone retaining wall, and you don’t resist the tug toward her side. The silence between you speaks volumes.

“You left.”

“I did.”

“Why?”

“Didn’t Kara give you my card?”

“She did.”

“I tried to protect you from everything for so long I forgot to protect myself. We weren’t good for each other any more.”

“That’s not true and you know it.”

“Don’t lie to yourself.”

“Fine. Maybe I wasn’t good for you, but you always made me better.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet. Is this where I cue the Barry Mantilow music?”

“Seriously, Chlo. I’m a mess without you.”

“And I’m a mess with you. What does talking about it accomplish?”

“Is it bad that I just want to hear your voice?”

“Probably, if you ask Lana.”

“Lana left.”

“Ah, now I get it.”

“What?”

“Why you’re here. Why you were looking for me. You miss your back-pocket girl.”

“I…”

“Clark, I lied to myself for years. I’m not going to let you lie to me now. You always knew I was there waiting, and yet you chased after every skirt in sight right in front of me. There literally wasn’t a girl you met you didn’t flirt with, except me.” She looks you squarely in the eyes. “I deserved better.”

“You’re right and I’m sorry. That doesn’t change the fact that you made me a better person. You showed me how to be a hero, with or without powers, and I’m lost without you.” You feel naked, and realize this is the first time you admitted any of that out loud.

“Don’t say things like that. Not now.”

“Why not now?”

“Because it’s taken forever, but I’m finally better. I’m finally okay. I have a life here and I won’t jeopardize that to protect you again.”

For some reason, it doesn’t surprise you. What does shock you is that the dizziness is back. It shouldn’t hurt this bad that she found her own happiness. That she doesn’t want you back in her life when you feel like you’re breathing for the first time in a year, just being by her side.

She stands. “I think you’d better take me back.”

“Okay.”

“You’re not going to leave, are you?” She sounds tired.

“I can’t, not yet. I’m sorry.”

“I get it. I do.” The sadness in her eyes feels a little like kryptonite exposure. “Just…please try to understand.”

You pick her up, and revel in the way time seems to slow when you run. Holding her feels like sunshine after months of rain, and you bask in every nanosecond of the trip back.

When you set her down in an alley near the teahouse, a shiver runs through you. It feels eerily like the goodbye you’re not willing to give her.

She gasps when you press your lips to hers, your tongue seeking entrance. A jolt of pure heat runs through you when she responds in kind, tangling a hand in your hair. Salty tears mingle with your kisses, and you’re really not sure who they belong to; maybe both of you.

Confusion whirls as pain lances through you. Suddenly you’re on your knees at her feet.

“I’m sorry, Clark.” She whispers through the tears. “I’m so sorry. I just, I can’t do this again. Please, don’t look for me.”

Her face crumples in grief as she backs out of the alley, leaving the glowing green rock just out of reach. You breathe through the fire in your chest, rocking back so you fall to a sit and trying with every ounce of willpower to back away.

When you can finally draw a breath without doubling over, the betrayal washes over you in waves stronger than the kryptonite. You finally let yourself weep for all the chances you blew.

--
Someday I'll return when it’s time for payment in kind.
The church bells will chime.
You’ll stand before me surrounded by lights, dressed in white.
You’ll throw flowers in the air this night.
But the best thing I can give to you is for me to go, leave you alone,
You got growing up to do.
--

End

Footnote (Drabble)

2008-05-18T15:24:00.000-07:00

Title: Footnote (Drabble)
Rating: PG
Fandom: Smallville
Pairing: Chlark, Chlois
Spoilers/Timeline: Future
Disclaimer: I own very little, certainly not these characters. Please don’t sue!
Author’s Notes: This just wrote itself and never wanted to grow into anything else.

--

“You’ll see, Clark. I won’t even be a footnote in your legend.” Her sad smile breaks your heart.

“Somehow, I doubt that.” You’re wrong, Chlo. You’re everything.

And in the end, you’re both right. The world forgets Chloe Sullivan ever existed, and the woman who once wore her name becomes a legend in her own right.

Superman is a symbol of hope in a world of crumbling values. He’s a bit flighty - he once disappeared for five years - but people forgive him because they know he has the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Lois Lane is a constant. She reminds the world that you don’t need powers to stand up for truth, justice and the American way.

She’s so much more than a footnote.

---

End

Wanderings

2008-05-18T15:18:00.000-07:00

Title: Wanderings
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Smallville
Pairing: Chlark friendship, maybe a smidge more; Clana funnies
Spoilers/Timeline: Immediately following Siren
Disclaimer: I own very little, certainly not these characters. Please don’t sue!
Author’s Notes: Hee. I just wanted to play and this was fun to write. Dialogue heavy. Many thanks to whoever thought up the heartbeat/superhearing thing first. I think it might have been Ellyfanfiction, but I’m late to the party, so I don’t know for sure.

--

Chloe Sullivan is pondering the fabrication of kryptonite-laced brass knuckles when she gets the answer she should have expected.

“Sorry, Watchtower. No can do.”

“What? Who else is going to hack into the files?”

“You’d be surprised. Vic isn’t completely useless.”

“Yeah, but he’s supposed to be on the other side of the facility setting off an alarm on the closed circuit system.”

“Well, he’ll just have to move faster.”

Oh, for Christ’s sake. “Wait a minute…are you scared?”

“Of you? Hell no!”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. And you know perfectly well he’s harmless.”

“Hey, when I get a request from a guy who could bench press the clock tower, I tend to take said request pretty seriously.”

She’s going to kill him. “He wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“Yeah, well, he looked like he might bend the rules a bit if I put you in harm’s way again.”

“He’s not my father.”

“And he’s definitely not your brother, with the way he flipped out.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Gee, who’s playing dumb now?” She wishes for a cooler power just so she could wipe the smirk she knows is there off Queen’s chiseled features.

“Please. You did hear the first part about him and Lana making peace while angels sang, right?”

“Bitter doesn’t become you.”

Jerk. “Shut up. I just need to watch what I wish for a little closer next time. When he makes sense, he’s annoying. When he’s not annoying, he’s practically brain dead.”

“How did you guys end up best friends, again?”

“Totally not my fault. I was 14 and he obviously needed a handler. I cannot be held responsible for my teenage self’s generous nature.”

“That makes a scary amount of sense.”

“Anyway, the point is that he’s going to be trying twice as hard to bury his head in the sand this time than he did the first three times they ‘reaffirmed their relationship’. I’m pretty much guaranteed not to see him for a month.”

“And that keeps him from killing me how?”

“Well, his focus is Lana. How do you think he missed the broken arm after Bali? That took the better part of a week to heal. It was a total fluke that he noticed a little scrape this time. Like, the massive alignment of cosmic forces kind of fluke.”

“...”

“Arrow?”

“You have a point.”

“Bad pun. Of course I have a point.”

“We could use the backup.”

Yes. “I’m good as backup. I’m like the Swiss army knife of sidekicks. I even double as a field medic.”

“He doesn’t know about that, does he?”

She’s caught, so she doesn’t bother to respond.

“I figured as much. I don’t know if he’d worry more, or less.”

“Yeah, well…What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.”

“If you say so.”

“So, am I in?”

“You’re in. Meet us at the airport in an hour.”

“Yay! I’ll be there in 30 minutes, tops.”

“You were already packed, weren’t you?”

Her mouth twitches into a sideways smile. “Maybe a little.”

--

“Can you believe her?”

Lana rolls over, covering her face with her hands. “No, Clark, I really can’t. Can we go to sleep now?”

“Of course. I just…she never knows when to say when. I mean, God! She thought the knife-wielding ninja, who almost took her head off, was ‘really smokin’ cool’ because she took a nose dive off The Daily Planet!”

“You mentioned that. Three times.”

“’Really smokin’cool?!?’ How the hell am I supposed to keep her safe when she-“

“Clark-”

“-is constantly putting her neck on the line for every hero in Metropolis. Did I tell you about her stunt with the Angel of Vengeance?”

“Yes, also three times tonight. Clark-“

“I still can’t believe Oliver would be so irresponsible, she-“

“CLARK!”

“Yeah?”

He can hear her amused smile. “Stop. Take a breath. I’m sure Chloe is fine.”

“But-“

“No but’s. Chloe is a grown up and if this is the way she wants to live her life, it’s her choice.”

“She doesn’t-“

“Yes, she does. Maybe this is a good thing. Chloe’s got her own life to focus on, and we have ours. Now let’s go to sleep.”

“Wait. How is that a good thing?” What would he do if Chloe didn’t have room for him anymore?

“She’s giving us space to figure things out.”

“But Brainiac-“

“Don’t borrow trouble. When he resurfaces, we’ll deal with him.”

“Chloe’s already-“

“Let Chloe live her own life. She told me how often you were visiting her at work. Are you trying to give Lex an excuse to fire her?”

“What? She didn’t say anything.”

“She wouldn’t.”

“Oh.” Yeah, that would be because she’s a selfless friend and he’s still an inconsiderate ass sometimes.

“Come on, let’s get some sleep.” Her tone is a bit sharper than usual.

“Okay…”

“…”

“I’m glad you didn’t leave.”

“Me too.”

Silence reigns for a moment. He reaches out his senses, focusing on the rhythm he knows will calm the storm of fear and anger. He’s never really admitted to anyone that he’s used her pulse as a lullaby since high school. This time, like many others, knowing she’s alive and okay is all the comfort he needs to drift off.

The background noise is new…

“Chloe’s on an airplane!”

“Huh?”

“I can hear her. Why is she on an airplane?”

He can feel her tense beside him, and her next words are deathly calm. “Better question. Why are you listening to Chloe doing anything when you’re lying in bed with me?”

Oh shit. “It’s…I sort of…It’s a friend thing.”

“A…friend…thing?”

“I can…kinda…hear her most of the time.”

“Her voice?”

“Not…not exactly.”

“Not…exactly.”

“Yeah.”

“Then what, exactly, do you hear?”

“It’s kind of…her heart.”

“Wait. You hear her heart?

“Yeah.”

“All the time?”

“That…that’s about right.”

“No matter where you are, or what you’re doing?”

“Well…yeah. I heard it from the fortress.”

“Can you hear my heart?”

“Of course I can!”

“From anywhere?”

“Um…”

“Around Smallville?”

“If you’re close by.”

“So let me get this straight. You’ve been in love with me since you were seven, but you can only hear me if I’m nearby. You met Chloe at 14, have a purely platonic relationship with her, yet you listen to her heartbeat all the time?”

“Well, when you say it that way, it sounds-“

“I dare you to finish that sentence, Clark Kent.”

“Lana, it’s not like I can control it!”

“Oh, that makes it so much better. I don’t know why I was concerned.”

“Wait. Where are you going?”

“If Chloe’s on a plane, that means there’s an open bed over the Talon. I can’t take this right now.”

---

End

Chasing Shadows

2008-05-18T15:13:00.000-07:00

Title: Chasing Shadows
Rating: PG
Fandom: Smallville
Pairing: Chlark friendship, a smidge of Clana reflections, but only because the show made me.
Spoilers/Timeline: Post-Gemini
Disclaimer: I own very little, certainly not these characters. Please don’t sue!
Author’s Notes: Just pondering Clark’s musings in the fortress. What does one do while trapped inside an alien crystal? Lyrics are from The Counting Crows’ Hard Candy.

--
On certain Sundays in November
When the weather bothers me
I empty drawers of other summers
Where my shadows used to be
--

Clark Kent has been patient. His mind has rebelled and he’s gone a little mad. He’s been furious, and worked himself into exhaustion trying to escape.

All of that hasn’t earned him a blink.

He can’t see anything but the darkened fortress, distorted through Kryptonian crystal; can’t hear anything but his own heartbeat. Occasionally, his stomach growls and he has to fight not to think about his mother’s last Thanksgiving at home.

Even one of Lois’ god awful cakes would appeal to him at this point. That’s when he starts to worry.

He has no idea how long he’s been here, but the dark blanket of winter seems to have fallen upon the Arctic Circle.

Dreams tumble into the silence that stretches between slumber and waking.

--
You send your lover off to China
Then you wait for her to call
You put your girl up on a pedestal
Then you wait for her to fall
--

He sees Lana, small and happy, guiding her horse across a meadow, and he’s shocked at the innocence. The woman he knows now is badly scarred beneath the surface. He can’t help but wonder how much of that is his doing.

Seeing her, happy and young, reminds him how far Lana has fallen.

--
She is standing by the water
As her smile begins to curl
In this or any other summer
She is something all together different
Never just an ordinary girl
--

He sees Chloe, laughing and bright in his mother’s garden. He’s almost more surprised at the lack of innocence he sees when he looks back at the girl he knew. She was always sunshine and light, laughter and swirling justice; never innocence.

He knows more about the past that drove her, now. Understands how many times life had knocked her down by the time she moved to Smallville, where there was practically a secret under every stone.

Despite all that, Chloe puts all of herself on the line an awful lot. She was only ever conservative with matters of the heart, more so for knowing Clark.

Seeing her, young and wary, reminds him how far Chloe has climbed.

--
When you sleep
You find your mother in the night
But she stays just out of sight
So there isn't any sweetness in the dreaming

And when you wake the morning covers you with light
And it makes you feel alright
But it's just the same hard candy
You're remembering again
--

Strange that he should love two women in such different ways.

Lana buries the darkness deeper at every injury. Chloe lets the tears and the anger loose and frees herself. Where Lana’s tragedies chip away at her soul, Chloe’s seem to make her stronger and keep her hopeful in ways Clark can only ever dream of.

Even if he never leaves this awful place, he is a lucky man. Faults aside, he has known love in many incarnations, had the most amazing friendships imaginable, and saved the world once or twice.

His one true regret is that he never got to put into words what they meant to him - any of them. Not in the way they deserved.

Lana embodies every hope he has ever had to live a blissfully ordinary life. Her simple acceptance gives him relief from the crushing responsibilities of his powers, his heritage.

His mother grants him acceptance beyond all measure. She is strong, and loves him with the same certainty and strength of spirit she approaches everything with.

His father showed him how to be a hero when the odds are against you. He could be harsh, but he always fought to be fair. It is a battle Clark fights within himself.

Lex was the first person in his life who didn’t try to make him into anything else. All he wanted was to know the man Clark was becoming. It breaks his heart that he was never able to give him the truth he so desperately sought.

He doesn’t want to know where he would have ended up if he had never met Chloe Sullivan.

Where Lana may never understand the obligations that come with his powers, Chloe always understood them better than he did, even before she had her own. It’s her prompting that teaches him patience and understanding. She shows him the good in people when his faith starts to falter.

She is so integral to his existence that he is terrified of the day she outgrows him. He sees her for the hero she is already, and despite her fears, he has a feeling she is destined for greater things than he can imagine.

It’s crushing to think he might not get to see her become the woman she was meant to be.

--
Time expands and then contracts
When you are spinning
In the grips of someone
Who is not an ordinary girl
--

He spends an eternity in unbroken silence before she comes, her very presence chasing the shadows that haunt him.

Of course it’s her. It’s always her.

Clark wants to scream, to laugh, to jump. The warm relief is intoxicating, even if he can do nothing but stare at her image, fractured by the angles of the crystal.

She’s here. It’s going to be okay.

Later, after he’s dealt with his doppelganger and Lana’s frightening acceptance of his twisted motives, he’ll remember the dreams that occupied his mind for months. Some lessons are learned easily. Others take longer to sink in.

--
I put my summers back in a letter
And I hide it from the world
All the regrets you can't forget
Are somehow pressed upon a picture
In the face of such an ordinary girl
--

End

Life's Little Ironies

2008-05-18T13:22:00.000-07:00

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

Black and Blue

2008-05-17T23:19:00.001-07:00

Title: Black and Blue
Rating/Warnings: PG
Fandom: Smallville
Pairing: Chlark, brief mentions of Clana
Spoilers/Timeline: Post-Wrath AU; Next in the Murder of One series, following Catapult.
Disclaimer: I own very little, certainly not these characters. Please don’t sue!
Author’s Notes: The closing chapter in this series. In keeping with the theme of Murder of One, Time and Time Again, Angels of the Silences, and Catapult, lyrics are from “Black and Blue” by The Counting Crows.

--
Fading everything to black and blue
You look a lot like you
Shatter in the blink of an eye
You keep sailing right on through
--

He almost passed out this morning. Seeing your long-dead best friend will do that to a man, regardless of his planet of origin.

Ollie tried to prepare him. Told him she wasn’t ready to see him. Nothing could prepare him for the heartbreaking hesitance she approaches even the smallest tasks with.

There is a map to the horror she has known as a way of life on display in her eyes, for anyone to see. He is as close to invulnerable as anyone, yet he is terrified.

Like the coward he is, he follows her from room to room and watches from just out of sight using his X-Ray vision. He has never been so grateful for the adoration in Bart’s eyes. It draws her out in a way little else does. Her smile is the first thing he’s recognized.

The grin lingers as she jots a note in her journal and passes it to Bart. Chagrinned, he calls out.

“She can feel you watching her, Slim.”

As relieved as he is that the connection they always shared seems to remain intact, he’s still petrified. She deserves better friends than him.

He steps hesitantly around the corner. When she meets his gaze, he is overcome by the patient wisdom she regards him with.

Her eyes well with tears and he’s across the room and holding her before he knows what’s happening.

--
Every time you say you're learning
You just look a lot like me
Pale under the blistering sky
White and red
Black and blue
--

She can’t find her voice. He can’t find his courage.

They’re a fine pair.

They agree without words that she’ll speak when she’s ready. When she does, he’s not sure he’ll have the courage to ask the questions that keep him awake at night.

It’s become the world’s strangest one-sided conversation, because Chloe Sullivan could always say more with her eyes than words could capture.

“Lana appealed again.” He tries for a casual mention. “I think Lex might have tipped her off, because her lawyers filed a motion to exhume your remains. Lionel’s contacts in the prosecution are pretty sure the motion won’t make it past the judge.”

She looks up, amused.

“Yeah, I know you’re over it. I still don’t understand, though.”

Her fingers thread through his and she brings his hand to her cheek. She closes her eyes, and her gratitude for this moment is humbling. It’s hard to breathe.

He’s noticed his reactions to her physical presence more and more lately. He wants to control it; tries to clamp down on the flutter when she wraps him in a stubborn hug or brushes the hair out of his eyes.

As she recovers, she relies more frequently on physical gestures of affection, and seems to revel in having them returned.

The smile she flashes after he lands a quick kiss on her cheek is stunning. He recognizes the pang of regret for what it is, this time. Her eyes hold no trace of the girl who once wished for more.

“I want to understand.”

--
You've been waiting a long time
To fall down on your knees
Cut your hands
Cut yourself until you bleed
Fall asleep next to me
--

Clark Kent knew that immortality was a very real possibility from the time he was a teenager. He lived in denial for a time with Lana, but he never once dreamed he might share eternity with anyone, much less the first girl he ever kissed.

It’s not hard to find the irony.

He watches her and wishes, more than anything, that he could take some of the pain she has borne. She is a miracle by any definition, and he can’t help loving her.

He admitted it to himself a month ago, stopped fighting the urge to hold her. He tells himself that the affection seems to help draw her out of her reflection, but he knows it’s as much for him as it is for her.

She chews her lip thoughtfully, and scribbles a note.

You’re doing it again.

He smiles and gathers his courage. “I am, and I was thinking I might never stop.”

She tilts her head, curious.

“You’re amazing. You’re all I dream about anymore. All I want to dream about.”

Her hand caresses his cheek and the regret in her eyes warms him. She doesn’t want to hurt him. He wishes he possessed the wisdom to spare her so long ago.

“It’s okay. I know. This is enough for now.”

The hesitant smile she graces him with is worth the ache.

--
Have a dream I'm falling down
On my face
Scrape my knees
Scrape my hands until they bleed
Cause you're fast asleep next to me
--

He was lost without her, and she lost herself along the way, so it’s little wonder that they’re a perfect match. The only tragedy is that it took him so long to catch on.

He barely leaves Oliver’s compound, and the billionaire has questioned neither his motives nor his plans. Every morning, he tells her he loves her. Every night, he tugs her to his side and pulls the covers snug around them.

He hasn’t done more than kiss her cheek, but she knows every fear he left unspoken until now. His insecurities are laid bare before her. They rarely break contact when they are in the same room, and her easy laughter gives him hope that it’s helping.

It is Sunday, official day of rest, so they putter around the unofficially shared apartment that overlooks the sprawling gardens of the Queen estate.

She pauses before the French windows, suddenly captivated by the sunset.

“Do you ever think about what comes after, Clark?”

At the sink, he drops the dish he was rinsing in his shock. He tries to regain his composure and shuts off the water, unsure where this is leading. He doesn’t want to spook her.

“I used to. Now, I try not to think about it.”

“Mmm.” Her gaze doesn’t waver. “It’s…nice. Kinda like…coming home.”

He dries his hands and wraps her in a hug from behind. “I was there once. It was hard to leave.”

“Yeah, it was.” She leans into him. “Your dad was there, and Alicia. They seemed happy. They helped me.”

He tries to take that in without crying.

“Clark?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you, too.”

“God, Chlo.” He can’t help burying his face in her hair, and sends a prayer of thanks to whatever higher power sent her to him.

They’re battered, but not beaten. And they have an eternity to pick up the pieces together.

---

End

Catapult

2008-05-17T23:08:00.000-07:00

Title: Catapult
Rating/Warnings: PG-13; Character Death
Fandom: Smallville
Pairing: Chlark friendship, Chlex...well, not friendship
Spoilers/Timeline: Post-Wrath AU; Next in the Murder of One series, following Angels of the Silences.
Disclaimer: I own very little, certainly not these characters. Please don’t sue!
Author’s Notes: This is the darkest of the series, so be warned. I already have a fifth piece in this series ready to post tonight. In keeping with the theme of Murder of One, Time and Time Again, and Angels of the Silences lyrics are from “Catapult” by The Counting Crows.

--
All of the sudden she disappears
just yesterday she was here
somebody tell me if I am sleeping
someone should be with me here
(cause I don't wanna be alone)
--

Chloe Sullivan has never been so thoroughly, utterly, and hopelessly alone. She’s not used to giving up, but she long ago accepted that she is not going to be rescued.

Her hope is far more humble these days. Every time she wakes, she prays it will be the last time.

She ran out of tears an eternity ago. So imagine her shock when she wakes to bright light and beeping monitors. It is a chaos she cannot make sense of after so long a slumber beneath six feet of Earth.

Darkness calls to her through the burn in her veins. Unconsciousness is heavier than usual, but familiar enough to be a comfort.

She wakes again to more bright lights, blurry figures and hushed voices. She has forgotten how to make sense of the spoken word, and lets the sounds wash over her unchecked.

She misses the soft, accepting light of the afterlife with an ache far more intense than the pain chasing its own shadows throughout her body. Ache is all she understands.

Time passes without notice. All she knows is that she is alone, uncomforted, and terrified.

Her caretakers finally register her sensitivity to the light, and she is cast blissfully into a softer glow. A woman with kind eyes appears now and again. She never speaks, but her hands are gentle and unafraid. The others regard her with a mixture of horror and fear.

The kind eyes precede the darkness, for which Chloe is deeply grateful.

--
I wanna be the light that burns out your eyes
'cause I know there's little things about me
that would sing in the silence of so much rejection
in every connection I make
I can't find nobody home
--

She is told it is a month before she resembles a living being again. She only worked up the courage to look in the mirror last week, and the ghostly reflection that greeted her was so shocking that she flung the mirror across the room in fear.

The identity of her rescuer is still a mystery, but they are obviously not lacking in resources. The sterile facility is eerily familiar.

When Lex Luthor strolls in and grins, she knows why. She’s in 33.1.

She can’t do anything but laugh silently at the sight.

“Nice to see you haven’t lost your sense of humor, Chloe.”

She hasn’t successfully managed more than a croak since she woke, and he knows it. So she just regards him curiously.

“I must admit my surprise. I had my doubts that your abilities could handle a gunshot to the head, but to discover that you survived over six months in the grave. I’m impressed, to say the least.”

Six…Oh, God. Clark. Lois.

“No doubt the intrepid Chloe Sullivan’s first concern is for her friends and family.” He leans in close, unafraid where his staff is terrified to lay a hand on her. “Well, you might want to take a moment and worry about your own fate.

“I am understandably grateful for your forethought. Lana’s treachery did not go unchecked. Her conviction is the reason I felt safe in exhuming your body.”

It is so wrong that knowing Lana will pay for her crimes is this satisfying. Still, Lex’s gratitude is rarely healthy. Look what happened to Clark after he pulled the billionaire from a sinking Porsche.

“Mutually beneficial vengeance aside, I’m sure you can understand how important our work will be, Ms. Sullivan. Between my immune system and your ability to heal, death will no longer have any dominion.”

Dylan Thomas – how quaint. The defiance in her eyes must be telling.

“After what you’ve been through, I’m sure you think nothing you can face compares to the grave. You should remember one thing, though.” The self-loathing in his eyes is palpable as he continues. “If you fight me, I will send you back.”

--
All of these quiet battered voices
wait for the hunger to come
we got little revolvers and stupid choices
and no one to say when we're done
(Well I don't wanna bring you down)
--

She has died thirty times since she came to this awful place, yet she doesn’t have a scratch on her. She’s been shot, strangled, beaten, suffocated, and bled to death a dozen ways.

It’s unlikely that Lex hasn’t uncovered the secret to her gift and extracted it in one of the gallons of her blood now in his possession. Chances are, he simply doesn’t know what to do with her and he doesn’t want to leave her with enough time to find a way out.

She hasn’t been allowed a shred of news from the outside; nothing to let her know how long she has been here. It was the woman with the kind eyes who granted Chloe a lone connection to the outside world.

She leaned across as she adjusted her tubing, subtly dangling a jack ‘o lantern pin in front of Chloe’s face, then leaned back and pinned her with a significant gaze.

She understood, and tried to thank the woman with her eyes. She refuses to give Lex the satisfaction of screaming, so she hasn’t even tried her voice since the first time he killed her.

The next time she wakes, it is to an explosion. Her first thought is that Lex is taking things a bit far.

The shocked recognition on Arthur Curry’s face banishes her assumptions. When Bart appears beside him, she wants to cry.

The boys try to comfort her as they escort her out of the building with the other “patients”. For the first time in almost a year, she hopes for something more than death.

--
I wanna be the knife that cuts into my hand
and I wanna be scattered from here in this catapult
What a big baby won't somebody save me please
You won't find nobody home
--

She’s been dead, in one form or another, for almost a year. It’s a smidge jarring when she suddenly finds herself surrounded by people who care about her.

Near as she can tell, she’s at the team’s Star City headquarters. She did what she could to explain what happened to her. After so much time spent shying away from her captors, it’s strange attempting to put her story into words. She finally settled on the facts:

Lana killed me. I couldn’t die. Lex pulled me out of the dark so he could kill me - again and again. I’m a little messed up.

The tears in Oliver’s eyes as he reads her words are enough to break her where death couldn’t. At his hug, her own tears finally come, and Chloe Sullivan weeps. She cries for herself, for her family; her friends. She cries for Lex and Lana – the ones truly broken beyond repair.

She’s not sure she’ll ever be okay again; not sure where this life will take a girl who cannot die. All she knows is that she matters to these boys.

They give her that, in little ways. Victor shows her all his newest gadgets, Bart brings her food from all over the world, AC takes her to the aquarium to hear the dolphins laugh, and Oliver lets her cry.

It’s what she needs, and all she can take right now.

Green eyes filled with pain haunt her dreams. She will face them soon enough.

--
I wanna be the light that burns out your eyes
'cause I know there's little things about me
that would sing in the silence of so much rejection
in every connection I make
I wanna be the last thing you hear when you're falling asleep...
--

Next in the series...

Angels of the Silences

2008-05-17T22:56:00.000-07:00

Title: Angels of the Silences
Rating/Warnings: PG-13; Character Death
Fandom: Smallville
Pairing: Chlark friendship, brief mention of Clana
Spoilers/Timeline: Post-Wrath AU; Next in the Murder of One series, following Time and Time Again.
Disclaimer: I own very little, certainly not these characters. Please don’t sue!
Author’s Notes: Another side of the story. It gets pretty dark at the end, so be warned. I already have a fourth and fifth piece in this series complete, and will be posting shortly. In keeping with the theme of Murder of One and Time and Time Again, lyrics are from “Angels Of The Silences” by The Counting Crows.

--
Well I guess you left me with some feathers in my hand
Did it make it any easier to leave me where I stand?
I guess there might not be too many who would stand beside you now
Where'd you come from? Where am I going?
Why'd you leave me 'till I'm only good for...

Waiting for you
All my sins...
I said that I would pay for them if I could come back to you
All my innocence is wasted on the dead and dreaming
--

This is insane. That crazy bitch is actually going to kill her.

She noticed the tail on the way into the office this morning. It’s tough to be subtle when you’re following someone on a state route that spans 67 miles of farmland, but she had to give the guy an “E” for effort.

Judging by the make and model, this isn’t a small-time stakeout. She found a bug in her office phone that would make her CIA contact drool, and she’d bet her scholarship that her e-mail is monitored.

She tried calling Clark three times. She doesn’t dare call Ollie directly. If Lana is as twisted as she seems, she’d have a field day with a fledgling league of superheroes.

Chloe Sullivan is nothing if not a realist. Even as she reevaluates her short list for something she missed, she’s pulling the flash drive left sticking out of Lois’ computer. Thank God her cousin happens to be the least security-conscious reporter on the planet.

She compiles everything she has and backs it up to her and her cousin’s matching drives. It’s a good thing Lois splurged on the 4GB drives to assuage her guilt over getting hired. The video file is a behemoth.

She wants to trust that Clark will understand what he’s looking at, but she has a hard time believing Lana will give him the chance. Her cousin is so technologically challenged she can’t be sure the drive won’t get deleted before she figures out how to access the files.

She settles on Jimmy. Egyptian conspiracy theories aside, he knows to look for the message beneath the obvious. She can’t give up on Clark completely, so she sends him a copy, but uses The Daily Planet address to reduce Lana’s chances of intercepting it.

She drops them in different mail stations, conscious of being followed. Once they’re off, she finishes out her story on the rash of burglaries that recently struck a northeast neighborhood.

She’s pretty sure staring into space and pondering her own mortality would be counterproductive. It would most definitely tip off whoever’s watching her to the fact that she knows, which would lead them to question her recent mail drops.

Chloe is a multitasker by nature, so it’s unsurprising that she can’t stop looking for a solution while she writes. Her mind races over possible outcomes.

…She calls Ollie. Lana bites the new league in the ass. Thousands who could have been saved aren’t.

…She calls Lois. Lois is in New York. Chloe has to sleep in the building with only the cleaning crew to protect her until she gets back. A hit man kills both her and Vinny, the janitor.

…She tells Jimmy. Jimmy does…well, she has no idea what Jimmy could do, but she has a hunch it would be the death of both of them.

…She calls Lex. He takes the opportunity to haul her off to a lab forever. Clark stays with Lana and she leads him farther down the dark path she’s already on while Lex runs inhuman tests on her till she wishes she were dead.

…She calls Lana, who promptly denies everything in a whispery voice and Chloe dies one phone call sooner.

…She lets this play out, and prays her ability to heal extends to herself, if it comes to that. It’s bound to hurt like hell, but at least Lana would leave her alone long enough to take her down. If she’s not so lucky on the meteor powered front, Jimmy and Clark get all the evidence they need in three days anyway.

She feels nauseous, but the last option is the only one that doesn’t lead to 50 dead ends.

Once she’s come to terms with it, she’s almost relieved, in a macabre sort of way. She had no idea how to break the news about Lana to Clark. At least this way, there’s a strong chance she won’t have to.

Rationalizations aside, she’s shaking as she exits the elevator into the abandoned garage. Keys carefully wedged between her fingers, she’s determined not to go peacefully into that dark night. The echo of her heels matches the staccato of her heart. There is so much she will miss if she’s right.

Click, click.

Clark Kent’s smile - shy, humble, and true.

Click, click.

Lois’ deep belly laughs.

Click, click.

Jimmy’s enamored eyes.

Click, click.

Her father’s bear hugs – clinging like he’s scared to let go.

Click, click.

Her mother’s tears.

Click…rustle.

She spins and lashes out with her keys. Her attacker mutters a curse and she makes a break for her car. Only 15 feet to go.

She makes it ten before he knocks her to the ground. She’s shaking with terror as he places the silenced muzzle to her forehead. Closing her eyes against the tears and the terror, Chloe Sullivan cries out her last hope.

“Clark!”

Silence is her answer. The world flashes red.

--
Every night these silhouettes appear above my head
Little angels of the silences that climb into my bed and whisper
Every time I fall asleep Every time I dream
"Did you come? Would you lie?
Why'd you leave us 'till we're only good for...

Waiting for you"
All my sins...
I said that I would pay for them if I could come back to you
All my innocence is wasted on the dead and dreaming
--

Waking up is disorienting enough when you don’t expect it. For Chloe, the confusion is doubled by the inky darkness and claustrophobic confines.

She’s woken to this twice before. This time, her frantic banging produces only a dull thud that’s muffled even in the tiny space. She screams until she’s out of air, and lets blessed unconsciousness draw her in.

She wakes again, curses her gift, and knows she won’t have much time. She scrambles for something, anything. Her hand closes around a smooth metal cylinder just as she’s dropping off again.

Awake again, she discovers she’s clutching a small flashlight. Twisting it frantically, she tries to scramble back in shock, away from the words it illuminates, but only manages to expend enough energy to pass out before she’s read a single line.

The next time she wakes, the flashlight is almost dead. In the gloomy light, she reads what is to become her sentence.

Dearest Chloe,

If you are reading this, I imagine things look quite grim.

Aren’t you glad I convinced the mortuary not to embalm you? I suspect that might have been too much, even for your considerable gifts.

They did remove the bullet, of course.

Yours in truth.

LL

There’s no one to judge her, so she grieves herself in stolen moments. The light is long gone, and she’s been deprived of oxygen so long she can’t be sure if she ever really read a message.

The silence breaks her. Too dehydrated to make a sound, too delirious not to try, the utter absence of noise leaves her oxygen starved brain with way too much room to play.

This is hell.

LL. Lana, Lex, Lionel. Betrayal holds infinite possibilities.

Between the fevered dreams she wakes to and death, she chooses the latter, every time. There is peace there. Understanding. She can’t see them, but she senses others comforting her, praising her bravery, her dedication. Clark’s father, her aunt. Even lost little Alicia. She wakes to the darkness for a shorter stretch every time, so she can only pray that she’ll eventually get to stay in the light of the afterlife.

She wants to analyze her life, but even with an eternity of solitude before her, there’s never enough time. All she has time for in those brief moments is hope, and love, and grief.

Chloe hopes that, one day, the world gets its hero. She knows she would have loved the man behind the symbol, and she grieves the chance to tell him that.

Her heart leads her through the darkness. It always has.

--
I dream of Michelangelo when I'm lying in my bed
Little angels hang above my head and read me like an open book
Suck my blood break my nerve offer me their arms
Well, I will not be an enemy of anything
I'll only stand here

Waiting for you
All my sins...
I said that I would pay for them if I could come back to you
All my innocence is wasted on the dead and dreaming
--

Next in the series...

Time and Time Again

2008-05-17T22:45:00.000-07:00

Title: Time and Time Again
Rating/Warnings: PG-13; Character Death
Fandom: Smallville
Pairing: Chlark friendship; dying embers of Clana
Spoilers/Timeline: Post-Wrath AU; Sequel to Murder of One
Disclaimer: I own very little, certainly not these characters. Please don’t sue!
Author’s Notes: So yeah, I couldn’t leave well enough alone with this AU, even after actually liking the Bizzy twist in Gemini. In keeping with the theme of Murder of One, lyrics are from Time and Time Again by The Counting Crows.

--
I wanted so badly,
Somebody other than me,
Staring back at me.
But you were gone.
--

Clark Kent is one of two, maybe three surviving members of his entire race. Raised among humans, he has been uniquely alone all his life. He should be used to it by now.

He’s beginning to realize he’d hardly tasted the ache of real loneliness until now. Even when he had – when he discovered his true origins or a new power manifested, reminding him just how alien he really was – there was always a bright bundle of life and a mercurial smile to distract him, reminding him he was loved, in one form or another.

The gaping maw of his hunger for her face, her laugh, is humbling. He has never felt so alone, and there is no reprieve from this purgatory. It is what he deserves.

There is no mistaking the accusation in Jimmy and Lois’ glares. They wasted little time exposing Lana, and almost lost their jobs for going behind the editor’s back to include it in the morning edition. Only the fact that they scooped every major news source in the country on the biggest scandal since Lex’s arrest saved their careers.

He hasn’t been to see Lana since he understood the depth of her corruption. He still can’t comprehend the finality of her actions. Facing her is admitting it’s not just a nightmare.

He is alone.

Chloe Sullivan will never need coffee at 2:00am. She’ll never crack another code, or laugh at a private joke between them, or take the news world by storm. There will never be another unspoken conversation or overly-perceptive monologue about how he should lean on others more. She will never look at him and smile, her eyes brimming with pride and something…else.

It’s been three weeks since he broke down in a church on the way home from the cemetery. His parents hadn’t raised him to be strictly religious, but that didn’t stop him from screaming at the crucifix until the pillars shook and the banister was little more than sawdust.

How can there be a world with this much pain and injustice in it? How dare the Earth keep spinning like nothing happened?

He wakes up every morning, his chest strangely warm in the absence of pain for a few blissful moments before reality comes crashing in and the vise closes around his heart. It feels like its being squeezed and pushed outward in the same moment.

At first, he thought something had to give. A month in, and he’s learning to accept that the pain may never leave him.

On some level, he relishes the prospect. He never deserved the kind of loyalty she showed him, and he never once rewarded it the way she deserved.

He’s lost himself in fantasies a lot over the last few weeks. If he’d brought his stupid cell phone, they’d be having lunch right now. If he’d listened to his mother and Lionel about Lana, and let her go, he and Chloe might have explored her meteor ability together.

If he had it all to do over again, he wouldn’t have gotten so turned around at a dream of losing her last year, and would have taken the chance while he had it.

--
I wanted to see you walking backwards
And get the sensation of you coming home
I wanted to see you walking away from me
Without the sensation of you leaving me alone.
--

She knew.

She knew, damned it. She backed up her documentation, copied everything she’d found, including the video footage. She watched Lana take out a hit on her.

He could have saved her in a heartbeat, but all she did was mail him a stupid flash drive. She took herself away from him as surely as Lana did.

Some days, it breaks his heart that she didn’t trust him to believe her. To save her.

On days like today, it just pisses him off. How dare her take the choice away from him. He would have chosen her.

He always came back to her.

It will be today. It has to be today, when he’s so angry with Chloe that he has to fight the urge to pound her headstone to dust.

Today, the other woman in his life will give him the peace he can’t find himself. Lana will give him someone else to hate.

He waits, seething beneath the surface as the guards lead her to the Plexiglas barrier. The fear in her eyes is more gratifying because she knows that no barrier could prevent him from snapping her like a twig.

She squares her shoulders, and lifts the handset.

“Clark.”

There isn’t a trace of the whispery innocence she used to wear like a shroud. It’s that much easier to ignore any semblance of civility.

“Why?”

“Lex -“

“Fuck Lex. Why?”

“I can explain. It was -“

“I don’t want your excuses. You’re going to burn for this either way.” That shuts her up. “Tell. Me. Why.”

She stares wide-eyed for a moment, before her features twist with a hatred that makes her look more alien than he ever has.

“She had no right. No idea what it was like to be Lex’s plaything. To have him violate my body and toy with my emotions. She had no right to judge me.”

Reality hits him like ice water, and the anger drains out of him. When he speaks, it comes out as the horrified whisper it is.

“Yes, she did. She had every right.”

“Bull -“

“Lex kidnapped her. He ran tests on her. He took her memories and tagged her like a fucking animal. Then he took her mother and developed a treatment that would have kept her healthy only as long as she helped him control his prisoners. He gave her mother back to her so she could lose her again within 24 hours. Don’t tell me you’re the only one who knows what it’s like to be hurt by Lex.”

“But she…I…”

Clark is already rising. He’s not going to find his answers here. Lana is more lost than he is.

--
I wish I was travelling on a freeway
Beneath this graveyard western sky
I'm gonna set fire to this city
And out into the desert
We're gonna ride
--

Alert the media. Clark Kent is finally leaving the farm.

On some level, he’s doing it just because she would have been ecstatic to be the one who finally succeeded in turning him into a Metropolis man. As he checks the house one last time, he can’t help but pause and see her everywhere. For a city girl, she sure left a lot of herself in this backwater place.

Over there, she slipped in the mud with her new shoes. He and Pete were still rolling with laughter when the first barrage hit. The full-on mud-war that followed had his mom spraying them all down with the garden hose while his father detailed how they would all spend the weekend repairing the fence and removing mud from the side of the house.

Up in the loft, she gave him his first kiss so they could be friends. After she learned his secret, she encouraged him to change the weather and the world up there.

There on the porch, they discussed post-apocalyptic awkwardness and the value of peanut butter and jelly in a world with far too many alien AIs.

She is everywhere. Her tiny handprints mar so much of the tidy rural life he had planned. It’s a comfort to know she’s left the same marks on his soul.

He will never see a newspaper layout or a byline without thinking of her; will never hear laughter and not compare it to hers. He’ll never chase down the bad guy and not look for her at his side.

And maybe that’s okay.

Chloe Sullivan was one in a million. She did the right thing even when it was the hard thing. She taught him what true friendship looks like and why love doesn’t always have to be romantic to be forever.

She showed him the inherent value in fighting for truth, justice and the American way. If he becomes a hero, it will be because she showed him how.

The pain in his chest never really leaves him, and sometimes he has to be crushed all over again when he sees someone who looks a little too much like her. But pain means he’s alive, that he’s still fighting for the justice she never found in life.

If he had it to do over, of course he would save her. She’s still his world. But he wouldn’t trade a minute of the time he had with her, even if he’d known how much it would hurt to face a life without her.

He tries to move on, tries to fight the good fight. Because when things are darkest and he’s ready to lose hope for humanity, it still comes back to her.

It always will.

--
I wanted the ocean to cover over me
I wanna sink slowly without getting wet
Maybe someday, I won't be so lonely
I'll walk on water every chance I get
--

Next in the series...

Murder of One

2008-05-17T22:38:00.000-07:00

Title: Murder of One
Rating/Warnings: PG-13; Character Death
Fandom: Smallville
Pairing: Chlark friendship, imploding Clana
Spoilers/Timeline: Post-Wrath vignette, gratefully AU
Disclaimer: I own very little, certainly not these characters. Please don’t sue!
Author’s Note: A scary thought occurred to me as I re-watched the closing Chlana scene of Wrath recently. Good grief, I hope this isn’t the only way Clark would ever see Lana as beyond saving. I’m terrified it might be. Inspired by the lyrics to Murder of One by Counting Crows.

--
Blue morning, blue morning,
Wrapped in strands of fist and bone.
Curiosity, kitten,
Doesn’t have to mean you’re on your own
--

Dead.

Chloe Sullivan is dead.

It’s happened so often he should be used to it by now, but it still feels like he heard it backward and underwater. Nothing makes sense.

Dead?

Chloe doesn’t die. She bursts into rooms. She tears through research. She bounces down the sidewalk.

Dying is a passive thing. She wouldn’t know where to start.

Except, she does. She did.

No. No, that can’t be right. Not when he sees her as alive and furious as ever, in Technicolor. She’s telling Lana, with her ten million good intentions, that Clark deserves loyalty.

Chloe would know. Since telling her the entirety of his secret, he’s learned that Chloe Sullivan and loyalty are synonymous. It’s not a passive thing for her. Loyalty is action.

In fact, loyalty is nothing short of a full-contact sport where Chloe’s concerned.

That couldn’t translate to something so passive as death. So why was one of Chloe’s last acts mailing identical flash drives with documentation and this video? The packages were addressed to him and Jimmy, respectively. Both were delivered to The Daily Planet.

--
I’ve been watching you for hours,
It’s been years since we were born.
We were perfect when we started,
I’ve been wondering where we’ve gone.
--

The first time Jimmy called the farm, he could hardly make out the word “murder” through the broken sobs.

The police found her in the alley behind the parking garage. Someone stuffed her body in a dumpster like so much trash.

It took them a full day to find her, despite the obvious signs of foul play next to her tiny import. Even lacking her cousin’s combat training, she did not go gently.

He and Lana were just returning from a romantic weekend getaway in Star City when the call came in. She surprised him with the plans, so he hadn’t had time to charge his cell. He hadn’t even known Chloe was missing.

When Jimmy called today to report the package, Clark poured on the speed. With the funeral only a couple of days out, he still clings to the hope that something can bring her back. After all, her meteor power is healing. Knox said her heart could give his wife immortality.

It might be desperate, but it isn’t irrational, damned it.

Now, sitting next to the photographer, he’s utterly confused. Why would Chloe send him video footage of a conversation with Lana?

The young man next to him watches the footage with a bitter expression, tears tracing silent paths down his face.

Clark thinks tears and anger might be an improvement over the hollow, lost feeling he can’t seem to get past.

He jumps a little when the man next to him stands. Jimmy doesn’t bother to wipe at his tears before pausing the video, pulling out his cell and placing a call.

“Lois.” His voice is rough. “She left us the story. Get down here and we’ll put this ***** behind bars. Yeah, it is. I know. Bye.”

He turns to Clark, weary and guarded. “I swear to God, CK. If you warn her, I don’t care how huge you are, I’ll kill you myself.”

“What? Who?”

The distain Jimmy regards him with is palpable and more intimidating than he expected. “Gee. I wonder who had the motivation and the money to take out a lowly basement-dwelling reporter.”

“Lex was…”

“Lex planted Grant and was trying to distract Chloe with Lois. We figured that out weeks ago, and the situation was under control.”

“Then who?”

Jimmy just shakes his head and starts backing up the contents of the drive. “Just…remember who was loyal to you in the end.”

Loyalty.

He’s never been ill outside the presence of meteor rocks or alien viruses, but he vomits in the trashcan just the same.

Loyalty is a full-contact sport, and Chloe went down swinging.

Shaky fingers un-pause the video footage. Lana Luthor stares blankly as Chloe brushes past her. After a moment, she pulls her cell from her purse and speaks.

“I need a favor. Standard rate.” She speaks smoothly, and there is no hesitation.

--
One for sorrow, two for joy
Three for girls and four for boys
Five for silver, six for gold
Seven for a secret, never to be told.
--

Next in the series...

Stronghold

2008-05-17T22:30:00.000-07:00

Title: Stronghold
Rating: PG
Fandom: Smallville
Pairing: Chlark friendship
Spoilers/Timeline: Post-Wrath vignette
Disclaimer: I own very little, certainly not these characters. Please don’t sue!
Author’s Note: I actually liked this episode, minus the cheesy sex, but the lack of continuity in Lara was jarring. This was my first attempt at a transition. Call it a character study.

---

He can’t take the desperation in her eyes, and he can’t give her the answer she wants. Not now.

Hurting, and more than a little confused, he seeks out the one who has always righted the world when Lana or Lex turn it on its ears.

He left her at the ISIS Foundation, so he starts his search there. The rooms are dark. The monitors all display snow. Cursors blink on blank computer screens.

He wants to smile at the fact that he finds her at The Planet, but she’s staring off into space and chewing on her lip thoughtfully. He approaches warily.

“Chlo?”

Her eyes are misted, and she hides a sniffle as she turns back to her computer screen. She flashes a too-bright smile.

“Hey, Clark. How’d it go with Lex?”

He can almost see the walls go up, and for the first time since Lana moved in, he considers looking beyond the façade. The women in his life seem to be surprising him a lot lately, but if there is anyone he can trust, it’s Chloe Sullivan.

“He’s not going to press charges.” He places a gentle hand on her shoulder. “What’s wrong, Chlo?”

Her hand covers his in an automatic gesture. Even as he craves the comfort, he wonders whether she’ll ever let anyone ease her burden. “I’m just worried.”

“About Lana? I wouldn’t worry. It looks like Lex shut her down pretty thoroughly.”

She looks away, worrying at her lip again. “Actually? That was kind of me.”

“You did that?” He can’t help but be a little impressed, and the familiar pride warms him. Given the fact that Lana still had her powers at the time and seemed to have no qualms about squashing people like bugs, her sabotage took guts.

She blows out a breath, and looks miserable. “Yeah. I just finished wiping any trace of the ISIS Foundation off the Internet. I don’t know why Lana was making contact with the meteor infected, but I can’t shake the feeling that the fewer people who walk through those doors, the better.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that, so he pulls up a chair beside her and sits. He has enough doubts of his own, and he doesn’t want to share.

“Enough about me. How are you doing, Clark? This can’t be easy on you.”

There she is again, offering comfort without a thought to her own needs. He covers her tiny hand with his and threads their fingers together.

“You know, I learned something about myself tonight.”

“You did?”

“Yep. My parents raised me to make the right decisions, but I wouldn’t be half the man I’ve become without you, Chloe.”

She smiles and rolls her eyes. He leans in to make his point.

“I’m serious. My mother and father showed me how to make the right decisions, but you’ve always shown me why. Even without powers, you’re a hero.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll see what I become now that I have them.”

He squeezes her hand softly. “No, Chlo. You are the strongest, most caring person I know, and your gift fits you. Nothing can take that away from you.”

She shakes her head, but knows better than to voice her disagreement.

“It’s funny. Isis was the Egyptian goddess of fertility, light, and beauty. Her sister, Nephthys, was the goddess of night, infertility, and rebirth through death.”

He’s not sure how to safely respond to that.

“Remind you of anyone?”

“Is that how you see yourself, Chlo?”

“Well, Lana and I are the same age, and I don’t think she’s spent more than a month out of a relationship since I’ve known her. I, on the other hand, have had exactly one serious relationship in my lifetime, and that’s over. I’m practically married to my career, which seems to be quickly withering on the vine. I don’t see bouncing babies in my future.

“Lana’s your soulmate, and I’m your protector, the roles played by Isis and Nephthys for Osiris.”

“You’ve had boyfriends, Chlo. You’re one of the most vibrant, alive people I know.”

“I don’t count meteor freaks who turn on me within a few weeks, and don’t you mistake caffeine for sunshine. I’m obviously not much to write home over, or I wouldn’t be the last person everyone notices.”

Her self-effacing grin breaks his heart. “I always thought you knew…”

“Knew what?”

“That you’re beautiful.”

“Please, Clark. I appreciate the attempt, but I figured out a long time ago that the only thing to do with the truth is to face it head-on.”

“You really don’t think you’re beautiful?” He can’t resist touching her cheek so she looks him in the eye. “Chloe, you? Are beautiful.”

He’s not sure why she looks like he just hit her, but he’s pretty sure he said the wrong thing when the tears spill onto her cheeks.

“Hey, now. Don’t cry.”

She looks away and brushes the tears away furiously. “I’m sorry, Clark. I just don’t think I can take hearing that from you of all people.”

“Me, why…?” And then he realizes he’s an idiot. He just finished mulling over how Lana’s darkness is his fault, and yet, he realizes he’s staring at the one person he’s probably hurt more than anyone.

“Can I have a minute?”

“Sure. I’ll just…” He wanders toward the hallway, wishing he could bang his head on the wall without knocking down the building.

He’s not a complete moron. There have been hints over the years that maybe Chloe wished there was more between them than friendship. He can’t honestly say he hasn’t thought a lot about it over the years, himself, but it wasn’t worth the risk that he might lose her completely if things didn’t go well. He doesn’t exactly have a strong track record himself.

Still, his knowledge of her feelings should have factored in to the things he leaned on her for over the years, and it never did. Not once.

It’s then that he’s reminded of his part in Lana’s darkness. Chloe has been overlooked by him again and again, and for all her denials, he knows his presence has scared off a few suitors over the years. Despite that, she’s been his anchor. She constantly offers herself up as his human credentials, and bears his superhuman burdens without a word of complaint.

Wow. He’s an ass.

Maybe Lana is right. Maybe all he ever really loved was the idea of her. Because yes, he played the secrets and lies card for longer with Lana, and he broke up with her because he couldn’t deal with that, but Chloe has borne his unique brand of suffering for years with none of the worship Lana received, and she became stronger, brighter, more amazing for it.

Regardless, Lana is the one he’s with, and he can’t give up on her so easily. Not after she left her husband to be with him. For the first time, though, he sees her desperation to be seen as a person, responsible for the choices she has made, rather than some perfect being, incapable of her own bad decisions.

He can give her that, at least. Can’t he?

He hears Chloe shifting at the door to the basement newsroom. “Sorry about that. You didn’t need anything else to worry about. I’m honestly fine. I just haven’t been getting enough sleep lately.”

“Well, school’s almost done for winter, right?”

“Yeah. I plan to sleep for three days straight when finals are over.”

“How about I give you a lift back to the Talon? We can stop for take-out on the way.”

“Deal.”

He scoops her up and the open smile she rewards him with almost bowls him over when he considers the strength behind it.

Maybe Lana can be redeemed, maybe she can’t.

Maybe he’s not beyond hope, either.

---

End

Away (Adult)

2008-05-17T21:58:00.000-07:00

Title: Away
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Smallville
Pairing: Chlark
Spoilers/Timeline: Gemini AU
Disclaimer: I own very little, certainly not these characters. Please don’t sue!
Author’s Note: So I didn’t absolutely despise Gemini, because it could have been a good thing if the show had writers that understood continuity or character development. I still had to do a Chlark rewrite. Imagine Clark never got grounded by dad and Sprint got reception in elevators. -

---

She’s watching the timer. Thirty seconds to go, and she’s made peace with everything else in her life. One more person left, and it kills her that she has to do this in front of Jimmy.

“Come on, Clark. Pick up, pick up, pick up!” She gets his voicemail for the third time in a row. Now or never…

“You’ve reached Clark Kent. Please leave a message.”

“God, Clark. I didn’t want to do this on your voicemail. I’m so sorry. Please don’t blame yourself. Please be happy. I’ve always loved you.”

She hits the [End] button and huddles close to Jimmy. “I love you, Bright Eyes.”

She closes her eyes. “I love you, too.”

There’s a flash, and she feels the first blast of heat. The roar is deafening, and the sudden silence is…extremely disorienting. As is the crisp winter wind.

What the hell?

She opens her eyes. She’s still huddling close to Jimmy, but now they’re sitting on the park bench in front of the Daily Planet.

She’s pretty sure Jimmy Olsen just peed himself. She’s not sure she didn’t.

She looks up at the building, expecting to see flames and panicking partygoers, but nothing seems out of the ordinary. That’s when she spots a slightly disheveled and definitely singed Clark Kent peeking out from the alley.

How he got the message in time to figure it out is beyond her, but she’s ridiculously grateful to be breathing.

--

Five hours into 2008, and she’s managed to convince Jimmy that she didn’t know the extent of her powers, but no, she’s pretty sure she can’t grant him a repeat performance tonight. They’re just lucky to be alive.

Her car is on the bottom floor of the parking garage, but she only makes it to the stairwell before Clark stops her. Even in the dark, she can tell it’s him by the scent of barbeque emanating from his clothes.

“Chloe.”

“Jeeze, Clark. I wasn’t jumpy enough with the freaking bomb going off?”

“Are you okay?”

“Besides still shaking like a leaf, I’m great.”

He practically engulfs her in a hug, and she realizes she’s not the only one trembling.

“I was so scared.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s my line.”

There’s moisture in her hair and on her shoulder, and she wouldn’t dream of calling the big, tough alien on it, but…

“Are you okay, Clark?”

“Chlo.” His voice sounds strangled. “I almost lost you. I can’t lose you again.”

He pulls back, smoothing her hair and caressing her face with his sooty hands. She’s probably covered in enough ash to pass for special ops when his huge, gentle hands still and he looks into her eyes with an intensity she’s only seen when the world was ending.

Before she can register what’s happening, his lips meet hers, parting and seeking entrance for one of the most mind-blowing kisses of her life.

Gasping, she finally comes up for air.

“I’m lost without you.”

“Uh...Okay?”

He captures her for another kiss, and she can’t deny herself this, no matter how much her curiosity burns. It’s when he presses himself into her, the proof of his longing between them, that the reality of the situation hits her like a sledgehammer.

She pushes him back. “Clark…Lana.”

Obviously, his kisses cause brain damage. She’s lost all her words.

He brings his forehead to hers. “I know. I have to keep her distracted. After tonight, it’s obvious Lex isn’t fooled, but if both of them are gunning for you, I’m not sure I can protect you. She knows too much.

“I keep hoping she can be saved, but she scares the crap out of me, Chlo.” He nuzzles her nose with his own, breathing deeply. “I…I know I shouldn’t do this to you, when there’s no decent way out. I’m so sorry. I just wanted…God, I needed to feel you alive.”

Her heart is thumping wildly in her chest, and she winds her hand to the back of his neck, pulling him in for a kiss this time.

“Clark, take me away. And I mean Far. Away.”

In a blink, she finds herself staring into an early morning haze. An ocean breeze washes over her and she snuggles more tightly into his warmth.

They stay like that for a few minutes, serenaded by the sound of surf and sea birds. She finally lifts her head to meet his gaze as he gently lowers her to the sand.

“Where?” She whispers.

“Florida.”

“Is anyone…?”

“No. No one.”

She watches the play of his jaw as he tries for restraint, and offers him a small smile to let him know it’s okay. They’re okay.

He searches her eyes almost frantically, and he must see what he hoped for, because a tentative smile plays at his lips. They capture hers for a scorching kiss a moment later.

In seconds, they’re pressing, exploring. He stumbles back and she lands on top of him. Her hands are everywhere, trying to memorize the play of muscles under his shirt. His find her ass, grinding her into him almost desperately.

His strangled cry undoes her, and suddenly, she’s scrambling frantically at the charred remains of his clothes, while his large fingers struggle with the buttons on her coat.

If this is the only chance she gets to feel cherished by Clark Kent, she’s grabbing it without hesitation.

She’s sitting astride him wearing nothing at all in moments, and she covers his body with her own. He marks her with his teeth, his tongue. Marks her heart with his care.

He sits up and they’re struggling for dominance, tangled in their passion. He’s trembling again when she positions herself over his cock. The intensity of his gaze as she lowers herself onto him gives her chills. She can see the gooseflesh on his arms, and she can feel forever radiating from her core.

He’s bigger than anything she’s taken in her limited experience, but she’s so ready he slides home like he belongs there in one steady stroke. Their mutual sighs sound like a prayer, and she drops her head back because she can’t do anything else.

A gasp, then another, and she recovers from the initial rapture enough to meet his stare again. She rises slowly and lowers herself again, and again, establishing a slow, steady pace. His jaw clenches and his nostrils flare as he fights for control, his eyes never leaving hers.

It’s too perfect. So good she can already feel the ecstasy burning a path from her core to her fingertips, her toes, threatening to fill her to overflowing with mingled longing and satisfaction. She can’t contain her cries when he changes the angle to penetrate more deeply, straining against her cervix with every pass.

Their rhythm stays maddeningly slow, as if he refuses to rush this no matter what his body demands, and his skin is damp with sweat. The control is obviously taking its toll.

She can’t hold back. “I…oh, God. I…ah…love you.”

“Love you…so…f*cking…much.” His voice is gravel.

He keeps the steady pace, but she can’t help increasing the pressure. She grinds into him with everything she has until her back arches reflexively and she screams his name.

He practically devours the breast she inadvertently presents him with, and oblivion seems to go on forever. When she comes back to her senses, he’s finally increased the pace and is crying out in anguished pleasure with every upward thrust.

His hands hold her hips more tightly. It should scare the crap out of her, but the realization of how much strength he has to control just to touch her catapults her back to the edge again.

He comes deep inside her with a roar, taking her with him and trying to swallow his shocked ecstasy. She doesn’t stop, can’t stop moving with him until the last pulse rushes through her.

When they finally still, she follows him down and continues to rain kisses along his jaw without letting go. Her heart is beating so wildly it’s a wonder she can still hear the surf.

She’s gasping and staring at the perfect gold of his skin against the sand. It’s really all the pondering her brain is up for right now. She nuzzles him, pressing her lips to his collarbone distractedly while she continues to ponder skin and sand. She adds the perfect curl of dark hair at the nape of his neck to her musings.

After enjoying the view a while, she drags her hand up his body and over his shoulder to wind the perfect curl around her fingers. It’s as soft as it looks. Probably has the tensile strength of bailing wire.

“Huh.”

“Mmph?” Clark’s been busy alternating between tracing random patterns into the skin of her back and running his fingers trough her short hair.

God, she’s probably got sooty fingerprints everywhere by now. Stupid bomb.

Her internal muscles clench at him unconsciously. This can’t end. Not now that she knows what she’s been missing.

She presses another kiss into his shoulder and continues idly toying with the curl as she turns her head to pillow on his shoulder.

Even filthy, he has a fantastic profile. She could stare all day.

He looks down and smiles shyly, the dimples practically melting her insides.

“It’s settled.”

“What’s settled?”

“I’m never leaving this spot.”

He smiles, but she sees his eyes darken. He pulls her tighter against him and presses a kiss into her hair.

Reality sucks.

He would never leave the entire city of Metropolis to deal with the fallout of Lex and Lana by itself, and she can’t very well let the Luthor crimes against humanity slide unchecked, herself.

The weight of that knowledge leaves her gasping and clinging to him. She’s holding everything she’s ever wanted, and she knows she has to give it all up.

In another time, they could have been soul mates. In another place, they would have been partners, in every sense of the word.

Today, they are refugees of a fate lost to the world. Here, the darkness wins.

Tomorrow is a different story.

---

End

Detour

2008-05-17T21:30:00.000-07:00

Title: Detour
Rating: PG
Fandom: Smallville
Pairing: Chlark-ish
Spoilers/Timeline: Post-Bizarro
Disclaimer: I own very little, certainly not these characters. Please don’t sue!
Author’s Note: So I actually wrote this after Kara, to try and scrub the “special needs” smile on Clark’s face at Lana’s return out of my brain. This completely ignores that episode and goes AU after Bizarro. I already preferred my Chloe mostly pine-free at the time.

---

Chloe Sullivan is never going to get the man of her dreams, any more than Clark Kent was going to marry Lana Lang and live happily ever after. She may have the most stubborn heart in history, but she’s no fool.

First love just doesn’t work that way.

Admittedly, Clark had an unfair advantage in getting over his lifelong crush. She loves Lana like a sister, is crushed at the prospect of her death, but unless you consider not committing to a full blink in the presence of moonstruck aliens to be a superpower, Chloe’s first love is way cooler than his.

It’s the most pathetic cliché in the universe, literally. She’s in love with her best friend, and he isn’t even aware she has breasts.

She died, for God’s sake, and he barely blinked at having her back. All he managed was an ill-timed nagfest about getting checked out. Like coming back from the dead wasn’t a big enough “Kick me” sign without voluntary medical testing to find every other freakish symptom of her mutation?

Lois should be dead. Hell, Chloe should be dead. She would prefer the latter any day, as long as she got to stay that way.

And yeah, she realizes how stupid and suicidal that sounds.

It’s just…she can’t shake this feeling that was the way it was supposed to be. She’s a little fuzzy on the details, but she does know for certain she was in a better place. Everyone she loves would have grieved for a time, but it might have helped Clark put Lana’s death in perspective, and spurned him to take a more active role in saving the world. Heck, it might have even kick-started Lois’ integrity and drive for justice.

Now, she feels adrift; like she’s veered off the map and there are no landmarks in sight.

She washes the evidence of her death down the garbage disposal, and is struck by the images of an almost-fate – charred, perhaps beyond recognition.

After burying herself under a mountain of blankets because she’s spent far too much of her life with an unnatural chill and death was no exception, Chloe Sullivan drifts off to a single thought: There has to be a way to set things right.

--

The angle of the sun through the living room windows is far too close to 90 degrees when she awakes to the scent of old coffee and the sound of hushed voices.

Ignoring them would be a lot easier if Clark and Lois could manage five seconds in the same room without an argument. Sharp whispers carry easily through the early morning air.

“Earth to Smallville.” Lois grinds. “It is 6:30 in the morning. I know you have a lot going on, but Chloe and I both pretty much died yesterday. We’ve officially earned the latest wakeup call ever.”

“Lois, I’m not trying to wake anyone up. I can just wait here until you two decide to rejoin the world.”

“And, what? Watch us sleep? Eew.” The distain in her voice is tangible. “No way. Lana issues or not, I have had my fill of freaky farm boy for a lifetime.”

“Lois.”

“You are not watching me sleep.”

“And as glad as I am to have you among the living, I’m not here for you.”

“You…?”

Awkward silence hovers for a moment. The familiar rustle of denim and she can almost see him shifting his weight uncomfortably.

“Ohhh.”

Clark clears his throat. “Yeah, well, we know why you were knocking on death’s door, but Chloe…”

“Nice to know who’s important around here.”

“Jeeze, Lois. Can you cut me a little slack for once in your life? How did you get into that situation in the first place? Oh yeah, that would be you not listening to anyone. Again.”

The discussion is quickly escalating in the direction of “screaming match” territory. As much as Chloe loves the half-asleep fly on the wall routine, it’s time for an intervention.

“Ugh. Do I need to separate you two?”

At least they both have the decency to look sheepish. Clark recovers first.

“Hey, Chlo. I just finished up my chores and wanted to see how you were doing. Go back to sleep.”

“Can’t sleep.” She yawns and stretches like a cat.

“Why not?”

“Because the two people I love most are five in their heads.”

“Hey! I resent that, little cuz. I’ll have you know I am at least eight in my head.” Lois huffs. “Eight was a fantastic age. No body trying to stab me, or grab my ass, or…”

“Fascinating, really, Lo. So who has coffee?”

She finally looks up at Clark, and he’s staring back without really seeing. From his vacant, shocked expression, she wonders if he’s even awake enough for the conversation.

“Clark? You okay?”

“Huh?”

“Coffee? Don’t tell me you tried to bust in here this early without enough caffeinated beverages to go around.”

“Oh! I, uh. Just…left them…downstairs. Yeah. Be right back.”

Then and there, Chloe decides her next major purchase will be acting lessons. That boy knows nothing about subtlety.

He stumbles out of the apartment, presumably to retrieve the already-purchased coffee. Lois looks like she might drift off again, so Chloe shoos her back to her own bed.

For just a moment, the apartment is silent. Golden rays float shimmering motes across the living room, and Chloe breathes deeply.

She’s alive and there’s nothing to be done about it. She’s been given a second chance. A freaking miracle any way she looks at it.

If she loses her mind tomorrow, at least she has one extra day to take with her; to be remembered for.

She has a crapload of work to do. Superhero-sidekicking is cool, but it’s unfortunately super-secret and certainly not going to get her remembered as the Daily Planet’s star reporter. Even given the challenges of working and going to school, she’s neglected a lot of her life’s work over the last few years by her standards.

Once she’s left her mark, maybe she’ll see what she can do about getting Clark and Lois on the track fate tried to set them on before she came on the scene and screwed everything up by not staying dead.

For now, though, Clark is just standing outside her door. It’s weird.

She noticed a few minutes ago that he’d been gone far longer than was necessary to put on a show of getting the coffee. Then she heard the familiar creak.

It must have something to do with his weight or build, but Clark’s the only one who makes the floorboard beyond her door groan in protest. Maybe it’s a throwback to the days when Lana lived here.

He still hasn’t knocked, and he’s not even looking. He’d see her virtually staring him down and move or something.

Definitely weird.

She reluctantly leaves the comfort of her bed and pads over to the door. The air feels muffled when she opens it, and Clark still has his deer in the headlights look. They stare at each other in silence for a long moment.

Curious, she tilts her head. “Are you really okay, Clark?”

He sighs and his shoulders slump. “No.”

She pulls him over the threshold and takes the coffee from his hands, setting it on the counter. Then she tugs him into a hug.

Of course he’s not okay. She’s such an idiot, worrying about her problems when the woman Clark thought he would marry someday is still in a morgue. There will be no miracles for Lana Lang today.

She knows she is supposed to be comforting him, but she can’t help the tears that fall on his shoulder. Lana was the sister she never had. In some ways, they were even closer than she and Lois.

“You love me.” She feels his tears on her shoulder. His voice is gravel.

She strokes the back of his head like she would comfort a child. “Of course I love you, you big dork.”

Her response seems to break something in him, because he’s sobbing. “You died on me. You left me.”

What does a person say to that? “I did. I’m sorry.”

“I was lost.”

“What?” Maybe she is a little sadistic, but she needs to hear.

“My powers. I lost control. I thought I was going to lose my mind.”

She’s a bad, bad person, because a little warmth settles in her chest at his statement. She smoothes his hair. “But you didn’t.”

“No. My hearing went crazy. I heard you calling my name.”

She can’t speak around the lump in her throat. So she holds him tighter, instead.

“I think I always knew.”

She pulls back far enough to look into his eyes, the question evident in her own.

“I’m a mess without you, Chlo. It scares the crap out of me.”

She smirks, trying to lighten the mood. “Well, I would say that you’ll have to figure it out someday, but given the last 24 hours, I don’t know anymore.”

“I’ve forgotten how to live without you.” He says it so low she would have missed it if he hadn’t been speaking almost directly into her ear.

“That? We are going to have to work on.” It needs to be said.

“Why?”

“Clark, I know we have always been there for each other, and I don’t ever want to lose that. But I can’t shake the feeling that I’m…holding you back from this great destiny.”

She pulls away. Tries to, anyway, but finds that a bit of a challenge when the inhumanly strong alien doesn’t want to let go.

She supposes a few more minutes in his arms won’t hurt. She can start charting her course after coffee.

---

End

Exchange Rate

2008-05-17T21:05:00.000-07:00

Title: Exchange Rate
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Smallville
Pairing: Chlark friendship, maybe more
Spoilers/Timeline: Post-Blue
Disclaimer: I own very little, certainly not these characters. Please don’t sue!
Author’s Note: Okay. I admit it. I couldn’t resist playing a bit with Clueless!Clark. It’s surprisingly fun. I wholeheartedly recommend giving it a shot if you need to lighten up the mood around the house.

---

Clark is stacking hay in the loft when he hears a tell-tale buzz behind him. He’s not sure why the Martian makes that sound, but it’s what disconcerted him most when they first met. Now, it’s just a convenient early warning system.

“Kal-El, we must speak.”

“Now's not really the best time, J’onn.” He has to finish up the animal-related chores at human speed, and he wants to cook Lana dinner to celebrate their new commitment to an honest relationship.

“I insist. Our topic is of considerable importance to you.”

“What is it? I know Kara was a threat, but her crystal’s been neutralized.”

“This does not relate to the daughter of Zor-El. I recently learned some concerning news. You defied your father’s artificial intelligence when you used the crystal to activate your mother’s construct, did you not?”

“Yes, and I would do it again for the chance to have met her.” He’s tossing bales a bit harder than he needs to, but it’s a sore subject, and no one but Lana seems to understand.

“I hope you say the same once you comprehend the consequences of your actions.”

That gives him pause. “What do you mean?”

“It took an enormous amount of life force to animate the constructs of Zor-El and your mother. The fortress is equipped with a transference system that provides such resources on demand, outside of time. However, it must take the same type of energy from another point.”

His mind flashes to Jonathan Kent’s kind smile. “Are you saying he’s going to take someone’s life?”

“Someone must forfeit for the exchange. It is not something the artificial intelligence does with malicious intent. There are simply fewer quantum anomalies the closer to linear time the exchange is performed in.”

“How can I stop it?”

“You cannot stop it. You can only choose, and I’m afraid someone is trying to take even that option away from you.”

That’s impossible. “What do you mean?”

“Someone close to you has already offered themselves up in trade, to protect you.”

“Oh, God. Lana…”

Clark is in Metropolis at the Isis Foundation in a heartbeat, but all he finds are support staff. He searches the nearby area, and focuses his hearing to see if he can find her.

Out of luck and ideas, he heads for the Daily Planet basement near panic. He tries to explain what J’onn just relayed to Chloe Sullivan. The confused, horrified look on his friend’s face tells him he probably got it only half right, but she agrees that they should look for Lana.

She places a concerned hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure she’s fine, Clark. Everything is going to be okay.”

The conviction in her eyes soothes him. Chloe is wise beyond her years, and she usually has a sense for situations like this. Clark has learned not to worry much until she does.

He’s reminded of the time she went missing last year. Not having her as a mooring, he and Jimmy were a mess. It’s nice to have her on the case this time.

“There are only so many places we can check from here, Clark. We need more info. Where is our Martian friend now?”

“At the farm.” He should have thought of asking J’onn, himself. Obviously, the other man would have some idea of where Lana might go if he could ferret out a secret of this magnitude.

“Any chance I could get a ride by Kent Express?”

“Sure thing.”

Chloe can tell how shaken he is by everything, and she pushes him into the kitchen to make coffee while she and J’onn discuss options in the barn.

It upsets him that Lana would keep this a secret from him when they’ve only just committed to working together to take Lex down, but like the others, he knows this lie was out of love. He and Lex have scarred her beyond recognition. It’s only natural that has warped her views on honesty.

He makes the coffee absentmindedly, and brings it into the living room. He squints through the walls to take a peek at the barn. It’s surprisingly quiet out there. They seem to be mulling over maps, deciding how to break up the search.

He sees J’onn stare hard and cover one of Chloe’s hands with his own in an odd gesture of affection. “You are certain?”

He sounds almost sad.

“I am.” There’s that unshakable confidence he loves about Chloe. Even in the face of a Martian with unknown powers, she’s the expert.

He notices some papers on the end table, and goes to clear them, when he pauses. One of the papers is a monogrammed linen note card, Lex’s favorite.

See you at 4. – LL

He checks the time. It’s nearly 5:00pm. God, she walked right into the lion’s den. He runs outside to tell Chloe and J’onn.

“I figured it out. She’s with Lex.”

They both gape for a moment and exchange a quick glance. That nanosecond pause is pregnant with some meaning he can’t place as Chloe reaches up and…hugs him.

It’s a full-on Chloe Hug, full of the warmth and vibrant energy she puts into everything. Her voice wobbles a little when she whispers “Good luck” in his ear.

Then she lets go and steps back. His sense of time is warped in super-speed, so he has a moment or two to boggle the odd reaction on the run to the Luthor Mansion. No wonder he couldn’t hear Lana from Metropolis. She was all the way back in Smallville.

He can certainly hear her heartbeat now, staccato from stress. He doesn’t bother playing nice when the woman he loves is about to sacrifice her life for him. Instead, he blasts through the doors to the study, frantically seeking her out.

He nearly chokes on the vision in front of him. Lana is naked as the day she was born, sitting astride Lex in his $1,800 office chair and riding him for all he’s worth.

She’s turned away, but the smirk on Lex’s face is enough to make him see red. All the pain pours out of him, as he desperately seeks understanding.

“How could you?!”

Lana’s head spins almost comically as she falls out of Lex’s lap. The billionaire is laughing openly now, and Clark can’t tell if his amusement is directed at him or her. Probably both of them.

She scrambles for her clothes, spouting apologies as Clark backs away in horror, shaking his head in denial. His eyes lock with Lex’s.

“You were right, Clark. I am rather fond of vengeance, aren’t I?” He tosses her shirt at her like so much trash.

Clark just can’t breathe.

He wanders outside, heedless of the security guards who try to rush him. How could she betray him this way? How could Lex?

He understands anger, and he knows his judgmental attitude had a lot to do with Lex’s current state of mind, but this? This is taking a fated couple and heartlessly tearing them apart.

Wait. That can’t be right, can it? If they were so fated, it wouldn’t have been so simple a thing for Lex to seduce her.

He ponders the bald man’s words of only a month ago. Obsession outlives everything.

Is that what he’s felt for her? What they’ve all felt for each other?

He is lost, and confused, and he suddenly knows where he needs to be. Who’s words of comfort and wisdom he needs to make things right. He takes the long way back, trying to process what he saw.

She’s his best friend, but there is something so humiliating about explaining the situation out loud to anyone - especially when she probably suspected exactly what he found. Her strange hug suddenly makes a world of sense. She was trying to prepare him the only way she knew how – by reminding him he was loved.

The thought suddenly fills him with a strange sense of loss. It wasn’t long ago that he’d hoped to build something with her, before he screwed it up by agreeing with her at the exact wrong moment for the second time in their relationship. Before he ever met that little pipsqueak Jimmy Olsen.

He knows her breakup with the photographer affected her a lot, but he was so frustrated to see her crying over someone not worth her attention that he’d blown it off.

Well, maybe fate is trying to tell him something.

She's available, and he's in a place where he can definitively say he will not be welcoming Lana back with open arms. Maybe this is their chance to explore what happened on Dark Thursday. That invisible barrier they have been terrified to cross for years becomes stifling now and again. Maybe the only way out is through.

He’s still pondering this as he climbs the porch steps. He’s surprised to find only Kara sitting in the living room, looking decidedly unhappy.

“Kara?”

She’s up like a shot and hugging him. “Kal-El. I am so sorry. I feel like this is all my fault.”

He squints at his cousin and wonders whether she suffered permanent brain damage in Motor City. “How could this be your fault, Kara? No one could have predicted that Lana would betray me.”

Now it’s her turn to look confused. “Lana? I don’t…”

He looks around again and listen for Chloe’s heartbeat. She’s bound to have a better handle on the woes of a teenage girl than he is. “Kara, where are Chloe and J’onn?”

Her eyes widen. “You mean you don’t…” She swallows thickly, tears pooling in her eyes. “You don’t know?”

His heart drops through his stomach. “Where are they, Kara. It’s important.”

“The fortress.”

Suddenly, it’s hard to breathe. How could he have been so stupid? Just because Lana would kill for him never meant she would die for him. He’s just seen what her brand of loyalty looks like.

Now he’s running for his life, and for hers, because he knows that even as friends alone, he’s never been anything productive without her by his side.

He stops before the main console, uncharacteristically winded. The sight that greets him is no kinder than the scene at the Luthor Mansion.

J’onn cradles a small body tenderly. Clark kneels beside him and takes her into his arms, frantically searching for any sign of life. Her expressive face bears an unnatural stillness, and the peaceful expression breaks his heart. She is a tiny rag doll in his fumbling hands, and he brushes back her wisps of gold, begging her to come back, begging anyone who will listen to take him instead.

At her lack of response, he pulls her against his chest and releases the keening wail that’s been building since he laid eyes on her body.

The Manhunter leans over his shoulder, both supporting him and cradling the crown of Chloe’s head. He recites gentle words in what must be is native tongue, and Clark is again struck by the emotion in his voice.

“Why?”

“She would have gone to the ends of the Earth for you, Kal-El. She wanted Lana to offer you that kind of love and loyalty, but she knew no one else would take this burden knowingly, so she shouldered it herself to spare you the pain of losing Lana or your mother.

“She is…was…truly a unique creature. Perhaps there is more hope for mankind than I once thought.”

Clark’s voice hardens. “You knew. Back at the farm.”

“I did. She gave me permission to read her when we went out to the barn. She wanted to know if there was an alternative she had not considered; an aspect of her motivation that concerned me. She was worried that I had already told you too much for her to go through with it.”

“You should have told her it was too late. You should have stopped her!”

“Do you know what I found when I looked into the heart of Chloe Sullivan, Kal-El? I found a love so pure, so intense, nothing could have stopped her from sacrificing herself for you. She would do it again and again if she had to. If her memories are to be trusted, she already has. This was just a physical manifestation.”

“No. Chloe loved me as a friend. She didn’t…”

“Lie to yourself, Kal-El, but I can read your heart, and she deserves truth now. It may give her the hope she needs to find a way back.”

Clark looks up sharply at that. “What?”

“When I looked into her mind, I saw that she returned from the dead once. She may not have held out much hope for a repeat performance, but I am a recovering optimist.”

He cradles her closer and rocks her like a child with a broken toy. Hope weaves tentative tendrils in his heart as he begins to speak.

He talks about all the adventures they had together over the years, about all the near-misses and close calls, both in life and their relationship. He weeps and tells her he wouldn’t be the man he is today without her and that he needs her to be the man he’s supposed to be.

When he runs out of stories, he resorts to begging, promising her the most extravagant night on the town she’s ever seen if she will just come back to him. He’s mid-way through promising he’ll apply to Met U’s Journalism program so they can make the news together when he feels her shudder.

He stops mid sentence and gapes at her. He can’t breathe with the hope and fear churning within him, gripping his chest like a vise.

Is he hallucinating, or do her cheeks seem to take on a warmer shade of pink? He listens, but her heart is silent.

“Come on, Chlo. I need you. How am I supposed to do this without my sidekick?”

J’onn crouches closer, and takes her hand. “She is fighting.”

“You can sense her? She’s still in there?” He had all but forgotten the presence of his protector.

“She is…present. Her strength of spirit is surprising.”

Clark lets the tears he’s been holding back fall at that. She’s the strongest person he ever met, and the one he took for granted most.

Thump…thump, thump…thump, thump. Her back suddenly arches and her mouth gapes in a silent scream.

Ohgodohgodohmygod.

“Chloe?”

Her eyes are wide as she looks around frantically. Her gaze finally lands on him. “You…you stopped me? Clark, you can’t…”

He looks down, ashamed. “I didn’t. I got here after…”

Her pupils dilate with fear. “Oh. Well, it looks like there’s one redeeming side effect to being infected.”

She pushes out of his lap and straightens her dress, looking at J’onn uncomfortably. “Thank you for staying to see. I guess you were right.”

“I am glad that is the case, Chloe Sullivan.”

Clark can’t take the casual way she’s treating her death. “Chloe, what are you doing?”

“Getting ready to go home.”

“Um, don’t you think we should talk about this?”

“In case you haven’t noticed? We’re in the arctic and I’m wearing my work clothes. Any discussion will need to take place back home.” She shoots him an annoyed glare and yells. “Jor-El!”

“Yes, Chloe Sullivan.”

“Is the exchange still valid?”

“It is. No energy was taken from this system when you awoke. Balance is achieved.”

“Good. That’s good.” Her features relax a bit, despite her shivering. “J’onn? Any chance I could get another ride? I swore on the way up that I’d do that again if I had the chance.”

“Chloe!”

“What, Clark?”

“Don’t you think I should take you home? It’s safer.”

“I just died and came back. I’m not terribly concerned with safety. Besides,” she smirk as she steps up to J’onn and he swoops her up in his arms, “you still have to work on the flying thing. This is just too cool.”

With that, the two disappear in a red streak. Clark sighs, and turns to run home.

“Kal-El, wait.”

“What do you want?” He’s still not thrilled with the AI. After all, he just killed his best friend.

“You should know that I did not agree to this exchange lightly. Your friend was very insistent, but I tried to send my paladin to warn you before the exchange took place.”

“I…thank you.”

“She is a noble creature. I can see why you are so determined to believe in humanity’s goodness.”

“Yes, she is.”

“Few display such purity of intent, my son. Do not let her goodness prevent you from seeing the evil in others.”

“Believe me, my eyes are wide open now.”

“Go now, my son. Be with your helpmate. It soothes me to know that she fights by your side.”

“Goodbye.”

As he runs, he thinks.

His helpmate. She fights with and for him, is his staunchest protector, and cared enough to die so he didn’t have to lose those he cares for more.

And why does he care so much more for everyone else? Does, he, really? Or is he so secure in her love that he never has to question whether she’ll be by his side?

If he’s learned anything today, it’s that she may not always be there. He could lose her more easily than anyone else because she is unafraid to do the right thing.

He pours on the speed. There’s a lot to talk about, and he has an ex to move out before she gets there.

---

End

Past

2008-05-17T20:44:00.000-07:00

Title: Past
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Smallville
Pairing: Chlark friendship, maybe a smidge more
Spoilers/Timeline: Post-Wrath
Disclaimer: I own very little, certainly not these characters. Please don’t sue!
Author’s Note: Like most, the whole “kick Chloe while she’s down” dance is getting old for me. I needed to see a future through the haze these characters have been written into, since nothing in Wrath seemed to stick.

---
"Time past and time future
What might have been and what has been
Point to one end, which is always present."
Burnt Norton - T.S. Eliot
---

He always looks past her. Today is only a surprise for her noticing.

Then again, it’s not every day Chloe Sullivan leaves Metropolis. She tried, she really did. She worked hard to expose Lana without hurting Clark, and all it got her was a dressing down from the guy who’s supposed to be her best friend. It felt like she was 15 all over again in his eyes.

She’s better than that, and she’s tired of pretending otherwise.

She gave it a good effort, and is leaving Lois with the breadcrumbs to publish a story if Grant looks the other way. There are enough questionable activities to trigger her cousin’s unique brand of journalism.

There’s not much to pack. She and a couple of suiters meet the Queen Enterprises jet on the rain-slicked tarmac.

It’s liberating, sneaking out under dark of night to adventures unknown. A new life and a little intrigue is just what she needs right now.

She sits back in the leather seat, humming happily.

--

It’s rewarding work.

She makes a difference in the world, every day. She’s pulled every member of the team out of the fire at least once, and Bart and AC have a running bet on who can get her to agree to date them first.

The appreciation is almost jarring after going so long without it.

She and Dinah debate politics over wine when they both need a girls’ night out, and she hardly has to talk down to anyone who doesn’t use the word “Dude” every three seconds.

She’s in Turkey this week, and the team is in Malaysia. Ollie hates to keep all his eggs in one basket.

They’re in the middle of a mission when he makes the offhand comment she knew was coming eventually.

“So, a friend asked for a favor.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yep. Wants me to keep an eye out for a blonde reporter. You wouldn’t happen to know any of those, would you?”

“Nope, just us brunettes out here in the desert. I haven’t even seen a reporter in months. I’ll let you know if I see one, though.”

“You do that. And Watchtower?”

“Yeah, Arrow?”

“It’s great working with you.”

“You boys aren’t half bad yourselves. Stay safe out there.”

“Will do. Arrow out.”

She thought she might have some regrets after cutting him out of her new life, but she honestly didn’t understand how much of herself she sacrificed for him all those years until she was free. It’s unnerving.

A few weeks later, she hears a familiar voice in her earpiece.

“Green Arrow. I should have expected to see you here.”

She knows better than to try and prompt Ollie and the boys through this one. She just hopes that he didn’t hear their previous conversations. Her curiosity about what drew him to Motor City, USA isn’t worth giving up her newfound freedom.

“Nice to see you, too, Boy Scout. You ever going to join the good fight?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” His tone is clipped.

“You know what I meant.”

“Actually? I think I’d like that.”

Just like that, he comes crashing back into her life.

Oliver is an angel. She spends the following week meeting with his best tech guys to outfit an interface that will deliver her instructions via a synthetic voice. A simple voice modulator won’t cut it when you’re dealing with super-hearing. He would recognize the cadence of her speech even if it did.

The first mission they try it out, he questions her code name. Bart brushes it off with the cover they agreed upon – that she’s really an AI housed at their headquarters in Star City. Clark pauses, and she’s pretty sure they’re all holding their breath until he points out that there are armed guards on the other side of the door they’re about to open.

It still sucks rocks, because the only one who can visit her any more is Bart, since he can actually lose the big, dumb alien on the team. After he saves Oliver from a chemical explosion in Dubai, she rethinks wishing he would just crawl back under a corn stalk.

Even so, she doesn’t have to be happy about the situation. He saves everyone else, but he has taken two lives from her now. It’s hard not to resent that.

Of course it’s Bart and AC who out her. As if she ever had a doubt.

They pretended to be grown-ups for a little more than a month, but it was only a matter of time until their bickering cascaded into a mission, especially when Bart is the only one allowed to visit her.

She can almost hear the gears turn as Clark asks, “Why would you want to date a…”

The horrifying silence speaks volumes, as does the wide berth everyone affords him. At least no one is dead yet.

As an added bonus, only half the stuff that was supposed to blow up does so, and she has to walk him through strategically detonating the remaining charges. His voice is tight and he uses a little more force than necessary, nearly causing the entire structure to collapse.

When the team returns to their temporary base camp all hell breaks loose. She knew he was seething, but she’s never heard him so angry before.

It’s ridiculous, considering how little he ever really noticed her.

“Where is she, Oliver.”

All she hears are gasps and sputters.

“Dude, put him down. He can’t talk like that.”

“I’ll put him down when somebody tells me where she is!”

Another crash. Things are getting out of hand. Chloe scrambles to bypass the synthetic voice system.

“You hid her from me. You took her from me!”

“Boy Scout, chill. She wasn’t kidnapped or anything.”

Almost…there! “Clark! Clark, stop!”

She hears a final thump and Oliver’s wheezy cough as he gulps for breath.

“Dude…”

“Clark, I’m fine. I asked them not to say anything.”

He takes a shaky breath. “Chl-Chloe?”

“Yeah, Clark. I’m here.”

“Where.” It’s not a question.

She sighs. “Madrid.”

In the span of a breath her door is kindling. Shame, really. She’d admired the intricate carvings on her way in.

This was inevitable, she supposes.

He’s standing before her, looking lost and hurt and relieved all in the same moment. She hates that she could never turn him away when he needed comfort, even as she steps forward to place a hand on his arm.

“You’re okay.” It comes out as a relieved sob, and he envelops her small frame in a hug. She pats his shoulder a moment before hugging him back awkwardly.

“I’m fine, you big oaf. Breathing would be nice.”

“Oh, God. I’m sorry.” He immediately pushes her to arms length, frantically checking her over.

“No, I…are you X-raying me?”

“Well you…”

“No..uh-uh. Uninvited, that definitely pushes the boundaries of polite company.”

His face hardens at the comment, and he backs away. He resembles a caged tiger as he paces the suite’s dining area.

“You left.”

“I did.”

“You didn’t tell anyone.”

“I didn’t.”

“I’ve…We’ve all been a mess. Lois has searched three states for you.”

“Let me guess, New York, California, and Florida, all on assignment for Grant?”

“Yes, but…we were worried something happened to you.”

“Contrary to popular belief, I do manage to take care of myself rather well.”

“With Lex’s research, how could we not think…”

“What, that Chloe Sullivan got herself into another mess? Well, as you can see I’m just fine. Run along home and tell everyone they can stop worrying.”

“Chlo, that’s not…you can’t just leave your life behind.”

“I’m not, Clark. I’m living it for the first time.”

He looks like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Don’t you see, Clark? I’m happy in this life. I make a difference, and the League appreciates the help. Besides, you really can’t beat four-star world travel on the company dime.”

“Chloe, you’ve always made a difference, and I appreciate your help, too. Come home with me. You belong at The Planet.”

“Wherever I am is home, Clark. I don’t think that place fits me any more. Between Lois and you, Kansas has the news and the hero angles pretty well covered.”

“No one can replace you. Didn’t you know that?”

“Of course I did, but there’s little demand for a third wheel and an ‘old school’ journalist in that city.”

“Third wheel?”

“Do you even remember our last conversation, Clark? I got to play the evil harpy constantly looking for an excuse to besmirch the angelic Miss Lang, while you got to play the patient father-figure. Forgive me if I’m not looking for a repeat performance.”

“I remember. I also know you never gave me a chance to apologize.”

“How many chances were you expecting, exactly?”

“Too many. I get that. But you can’t throw away seven years of friendship over one stupid fight.”

“I didn’t. I moved on with my life after spending three years sacrificing everything from my personal life to my career to keep your secret and being damned near invisible when you didn’t need something. Here’s a tip. Learn how to use Google. It’s a lot less sensitive and it’s not likely to go anywhere.”

He gapes. “Do you really think I never saw you?”

“Clark, we both know you never saw me. How many times did you visit when you didn’t need help researching something, or need to vent, or just need company?”

“I…”

“I’m not finished. And exactly how many times were you there for me? The last few months I was there, my life was crashing down around me. My dream job was in danger, I watched my boyfriend fall for a girl I had no hope of competing with, and I had to figure out what to do with my new and not-so-cool meteor power. Oh yeah, not to mention the fact that I DIED. And what was your reaction when I tried to talk about it? You rolled your fucking eyes at me like I was being dramatic.

“I dealt with your messes when all you wanted to do was mope in your barn over the girl YOU broke up with for reasons that defy all logic and was about as supportive as a friend can be when you proceeded to woo her back after she had married someone else. How hard would it have been to listen to me when I needed an ear?

“I’m safe. I’m making a real contribution to a good cause and having a blast doing it. I even brush and floss regularly. Go home, Clark. Tell Lana I said hi.”

She turns and runs a shaky hand over her face. She barely knows where she’s kept all that anger, but it was obviously still there after all this time. Maybe now she can really be free.

“Lana and I aren’t together. You were right.”

She doesn’t turn. “Of course I was right. I know what I saw.”

“She tried to kill Lex again.” He takes a deep breath. “Chloe, I know I’m the worst friend ever, and I am so sorry I was an ass when you tried to warn me. I should have known you were the only one I could really trust.”

“I’m not going back.”

“Fine, okay. If I need to stay with the League to be friends with you, I’ll stay.”

“I didn’t say we were friends again.”

“Chloe, please.”

“If you stay, you need to chill with the possessive crap. You don’t own me. You never did.”

“As if anyone could.” He muttered. “Please, Chlo. Give me another chance.”

“No, Clark. Things can never be the way they were. I’m sorry.”

“Then I’ll stay for the chance to make something new, different.”

“I don’t know if I can give you that chance.”

“You’ll see. I’m pretty patient.”

“And I’m determined to live my own life these days.”

“Good. It suits you.”

She doesn’t turn, but she can’t resist a little smile. Jerk.

--

August, and she’s back in Seattle. She loves the serenity of the bay at sunset.

The boys and Dinah meet her for lunch and a debriefing. It’s sunny enough to eat outside, but they recently learned how scary satellite surveillance can be, so they take the corner booth at a cafe down the street from her hotel.

Bart and AC sandwich her between them. No one knows exactly what went on between her and Clark in Madrid, but everyone has caught on to the distance that lingers between them. Speedy Gonzales and Guppy Love are adequate stand-ins for chivalrous defenders of her honor. She’s pretty sure they wouldn’t be so fond of their respective nicknames, but she loves them both for their attentiveness.

Clark, for his part, never seems to take his eyes off her when they’re together. She can almost feel the weight of his gaze as she diligently avoids eye contact across the booth.

Oliver has studiously ignored the incident. He addressed it once with Clark, in private, and has displayed nothing but trust for their newest team member since. She admires the strategy behind his support, and the others have fallen in step with his example.

They also all have concealed lead chambers that release kryptonite gas if their panic button is pressed. Queen Industries is nothing if not adept at managing risk.

It’s time to head back to the hotel, and they all hug their goodbyes, save she and Clark. Bart and AC whisper their standard inappropriate platitudes, and she brushes them off with a laugh before slipping out of the diner and heading down to the market.

Clark’s voice in her ear makes her jump. “You’re headed for store number one, aren’t you?”

“Well, I’m here. I have to see where the Great Caffeine Rush began. You still have a ways to go on that whole ‘don’t give a girl a heart-attack’ thing we’ve talked about, by the way.”

He smirks. “I’d think you’d be over that with Bart.”

“Yeah, well, somehow being goosed by a punk is less creepy than a whisper from nowhere. Especially when you’re trying hard not to be insane.”

“I’m sorry, Chlo.” He keeps walking with his hands in his pockets.

“Are you following me?”

“Nope, just stalking.”

“Wonderful. Could you do it a little farther over that way? You’re blocking daylight with your tallness.”

“Gee, thanks.” But he does give her a foot or two of space. They walk in silence for a few more blocks.

“Chloe?”

“Yeah, Clark?”

“What happened to us?”

“Honestly?”

“Nothing but, I hope.”

“I think I gave just a little too much. I don’t blame you for that. I chose to do it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You say that a lot, but I don’t blame you for my unhappiness back there. It wasn’t your fault I had my hang-ups and couldn’t let go in time not to get hurt. I’m just glad I finally did.”

“Did what?”

“Let go.”

“Really?”

“Well yeah. I’d really like to go through life without turning into a bitter old spinster.”

“So, you’re looking for a relationship?”

“Nothing quite so desperate. I just don’t intend to spend my life alone.”

Something in her expression makes him uneasy. He stops and studies her more carefully. “You’ve…met someone?”

She blushes and grins at the little warmth, before returning to her quest. “I might have.”

“How, with this life?”

“How else would I have a chance to meet a good, open-minded person who understands what it’s like to want to save the world?”

He squints at her, oddly breathless, and abruptly changes the subject.

“Have I mentioned I love your hair this way?”

She blushes a little. “Thanks. The length is taking some getting used to, and it’s freakish how different people treat brunettes, but it certainly makes it easier to blend in most places. The blonde was just a little too much of an attention-getter in Rio.”

“So, what does the new and improved Chloe Sullivan do when she isn’t working?”

She shoots him a curious smile, and holds the door open for him.

“Other than drinking too much coffee, that is.”

Once they have their old favorites, he follows her around the market. It’s a familiar brand of awkward, so she just meanders through the various vendors and spends a good 30 minutes watching the fish vendors.

They chat about this and that, skirting the big issues until she finally pins him with her calculating gaze. “Why did you always choose Lana, Clark?”

No one ever accused Chloe of abusing subtlety.

“I don’t know.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Fine. I guess…She was harmless, and she always seemed to need me. You know? Nothing like you. You’ve always been a little scary. You’re like this furious bundle of truth and justice. Even Lex was - is, I guess - scared of you. You never seemed to need anyone.”

“I could have used a friend.”

“I want to be that for you, Chlo.”

“See, now? I have friends. I have a whole crew that would die for me the same way I’d die for them, which, yeah, isn’t much different than we used to be. The difference is that these people care how I feel. I can call any one of them and talk about whatever’s on my mind and know that I’m not a distraction or an inconvenience. They actually care.”

“I’ve always cared, Chloe. I told you a long time ago that you mean more to me than you know.”

“You did, and you followed up on that by pining over Lana and ignoring me when you finally got what you wanted.”

She stops, and the patience in her eyes nearly undoes him. “That’s not friendship, Clark. That’s using someone, and I’m not going to let it happen again. We both deserve better than that.”

“Okay.”

--

They don’t have another real conversation for two months. When he does catch up with her again, he seems angry. For the life of her, she can’t figure out why.

“Are you done yet? You’re going to wear a hole in the floor, Boy Scout.”

He stops and glares. It’s a wonder she doesn’t turn to ash on the spot.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“AC or Bart, I could have handled. I wouldn’t like it, but I could have dealt. Wayne? Are you trying to get hurt?”

“I’ll have you know I can handle anything Bruce Wayne can dish out. Don’t you worry your pretty little head over me.”

“How am I not supposed to worry, Chlo? You hardly talk to me, but you’ll date the guy with the most questionable methods on the team? What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing is wrong with me. Bruce has a better track record than you do when it comes to me, so I think I’ll take the mysterious billionaire over the heartless farm boy any day.”

“Heartless? Hardly. I know I screwed up, but I’m here. I’ve been here fore the better part of a year waiting for you, and you still won’t even speak to me. I…I can’t take this any more. I can’t be this close to your life and not be in it.”

She’s tired. “Then go, Clark. I’ve been trying to tell you that from the start.”

“I guess I wasn’t listening very well.”

“You’ve never been very good at that, have you?”

“Not really.”

She stares at him expectantly. He looks decidedly uncomfortable.

“I’m going to start my training. I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

She nods and swallows the unexpected disappointment. This is exactly what she hoped for, isn’t it?

“Staying is killing me, and it seems like it’s making you unhappy too. I’m sorry for that.” He looks down and actually gulps. “I wish you nothing but happiness, and I’m sorry to drop this in your lap at the last minute, but I can’t leave it unsaid.”

Worry curls in her gut, and she steps closer, looking into his eyes. “What is it, Clark?”

He squints, as if trying to see her thoughts, and seems to come to a decision. Before she knows what’s happening, she’s swept into one of the most mind-blowing kisses of her life.

“I love you, Chloe Ann Sullivan. I think I always have. I know I always will.”

And in a rush of air, Clark Kent becomes a memory.

--

Thank goodness she’s well-practiced at getting over brooding heroes. After a few months, she recognizes the silent longing in Bruce, and sends him back to Rachel with a reminder that a woman can only take so much.

It’s an amicable breakup, and they still meet for coffee when he’s in town.

For her part, she’s allowed herself some roots in the years since she stopped having to hide from the most stubborn friend in history. On days she’s honest, she admits how much she misses the hiding.

Lois failed to take her sisterly advice and break things off with Grant. A few months after her breakup with Bruce, she receives a panicked call from Perry White begging her to return. Her cousin’s indiscretions put The Daily Planet’s reliability as a trusted news source in question.

She returns to her old pen name reluctantly, and with every intention of only staying long enough to put to rest the scandalous rumors. Before she realizes it, her cousin’s name has achieved the success she always dreamed about. She can’t turn her back on it, but she still does side work for the League.

She’s not sure where this life will lead, but she can’t regret the past that brought her to this space. She is Chloe Sullivan, intrepid reporter. On paper, she is Lois Lane, and some days, she is Watchtower.

She used up her first life longing for someone who never saw her. Her second was spent running from inevitable disappointment.

No one will take her third life from her.

She has an amazing set of friends, and two jobs that allow her to be a positive force in the world around her. What more could a girl want?

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End