Disclaimer: I do not own Smallville.
Summary: AU starting at the beginning of Season 1, what if when made aware of the scarecrow tradition Chloe had decided to take action.
Chloe stared at the two boys before her, brow furrowed in disgust. "Talk about years of therapy waiting to happen." She grimaced.
"Exactly." Pete started, looking at her intensely. "So you can see why we're trying so hard to join the football team, right?" He queried, raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah... I think I won't be able to join you at the homecoming dance, Pete." She murmured sheepishly.
The shorter of the two boys frowned, drawing back slightly. "Why?" He asked.
She stared at him in disbelief. "Because some freshman is going to be hung half-naked in a field covered in graffiti, someone needs to help him!"
Pete sighed. "Chloe, you can't."
She gaped at him, glaring. "And why the hell not?" She blurted.
Pete swallowed and opened his mouth to speak, but the question was answered by Clark. "Chloe, the football team does this every year, they won't appreciate you interfering. Just let it go."
Chloe sputtered, eyes wide as she processed this. "I can't believe I'm hearing this from YOU, Clark." She accused, causing the boy to shift guiltily. "Screw the football team, and screw tradition. I'm not going to stand by while this happens!" She raged.
And with that she stormed off, 5'2 of pure indignation.
Pete turned to Clark. "Huh. Girl knows how to run a guilt-trip, huh?" The other boy nodded silently. "Still, now I've gotta find another date." He pouted, walking away.
Clark stood there alone for a moment, turning to stare after Chloe's form with worried eyes, lips pursed in thought.
The next day found Chloe dressing up in a pair of dark green cargo pants and an olive green sweater as she thought over the events of the previous day. 'Clark seemed pretty upset when I showed him the wall of weird.' She pondered, looking into her bedroom mirror. 'And it didn't just seem to be from the fact that I'd kept it a secret up until now.' She paused. "And what the hell did he mean when he mumbled 'It's all my fault'?" She murmured out loud, frowning in thought. "Another classic example of the Kent family martyrdom, perhaps?"
She dismissed the topic from her mind as she tied the laces on her boots, deciding to focus on the here and now. "Well, I guess I'm ready." She straightened her top, grimacing. "God, wouldn't the General be proud right now, dressing in green and off to help a fellow American comrade." She joked, examining herself in the mirror.
Half an hour later found her brushing her way through Riley's field, trying to stay silent in case she was caught. "Help..." She started, hearing a familiar voice cry out weakly. "Clark?" She yelled, eyes wide.
"HELP!" Clark shouted again, louder this time.
"I'm coming!" She cried, running in the direction of his voice. "Hold on!" She skidded to a halt when she finally found him, tied to a cross in an otherwise desolate patch of land, a bright red "S" painted on his chest. She took in his laboured breathing and the copious amounts of sweat pouring off of him. "Jesus, Clark!"
She ran forward, pressing herself up against his side as she reached up, grabbing the robe and trying to untie the firm knot that held him in place. "Hang on!" She murmured into his ear as she stood on the tips of her toes, hands fumbling around the rope until finally, with a tearing sound from the frayed rope it snapped and Clark fell to the ground, something falling off of his neck in the process. "Clark!" She yelped, dropping to her knees beside him. "We need to get you to the hospital." She stressed, grabbing an arm and standing with him supported against her much smaller body.
She started when, after dragging him a few feet, something that felt like a lifetime of dragging heavy rocks, he stood abruptly and shouted. "Jeremy!" As though remembering something important.
"What about him?" She asked, staring up at him, dumbfounded at his sudden recovery.
"Chloe, call the Police." He yelled. "I need to get to the school, NOW!"
She immediately did as he asked, pulling out her phone and turning it on. "Clark, what..." She trailed off, finally noticing that he was gone. "What?" She mumbled, stupefied as to where he had gone. "Clark!" She yelled, looking for him. "Clark!" She repeated once more, before finally accepting that he was gone.
"Huh." She stared into space, wondering what she was supposed to do now. Without an excuse the Police definitely wouldn't listen to a highschool freshman calling at night, especially not with her record for trouble. A brief glimmer caught her eye and she walked over to where Clark had fallen, kneeling down to peruse the dirt, picking up a bright green emerald necklace with a gold chain. 'No,' She mused, examining it closer. 'Meteor rock.'
She noticed a small engraving on the small tab around the back of the chain. "Lana..." She trailed off, realizing what must have happened. Clark had obviously been hung as the scarecrow by Lana's jealous boyfriend; The Quarterback, Whitney Fordman, and whilst he hung there he had been visited by Jeremy Creek.
She gripped the necklace determinedly and spun on her heel, sprinting through the field toward the highschool, barely noticing a startled Lex Luthor staring after her as she passed him.
Another ten minutes found her running through the school gates toward the front entrance only to be startled by a bright jolt flaring in the piping. "What the...?" She stared at the pipe, lit up by the electricity running through it.
Chloe turned around the corner and watched the tail-end of a brown truck enter through the wall, jolting to a stop abruptly. "Whoa!" She ran forward, her sense of self-preservation overtaken by her reporter's curiosity. She stared in stunned silence as she noticed Clark pushing at the front of the truck, why...? And that's when she noticed the static running through the water at his feet and the metal of the car itself. If the water was charged then he'd be fine because of the rubber soles on his boots, but with his hands on the actual hood of the car... her eyes widened in fear.
"Clark!" She screamed, running forward and into the water without a second thought as she grabbed the hem of his shirt. She had all of two seconds to pull as hard as she could and pull back before the car lit up with electricity... And both her and Clark's world's lit up with white, blinding pain. "AAARGH!" Both teens screamed, before they were thrown from the car with the force of a sledgehammer.
"Uh." She moaned dazedly, shifting slightly as she pushed herself up. "Clark?" She called, cringing.
"Chloe!" He cried, getting to his feet and sprinting across the room towards her as fast as he could without appearing inhuman. "Oh my god, are you alright?" He cried, grabbing her by the shoulders and looking into her eyes.
"Clark." She grimaced, batting away his hands as she got to her feet. "I'm fine." She looked down at her singed clothing, smoldering sparks falling from the now-frayed sweater. "Huh. looks like I'm gonna need to change before I can go to that dance." She joked.
Clark frowned, concerned eyes looking her over for any noticeable injuries. "Chloe, this is serious, you could have been seriously hurt, we need to get you to a hospital!"
Huffing, Chloe rolled her eyes. "Clark, I'm fine, seriously." She stretched her arms about, shifting her hips and kicking a few times. "See? In fact," She murmured, still shifting to and fro as she stretched her arms in front of her, examining her hands. "I feel better than ever."
Clark stared at her for a moment. "Well, if you're sure."
Both teens started as they heard a plaintive cry from the car call out. "Hello?"
"Jeremy." Clark realized, turning and jogging over to the car, reaching out to pull the door open only to draw away with a hiss as static jolted his hand, causing him to draw it away. He stared at his palm for a moment, absently moving his knuckles to get rid of the leftover pins-and-needles feeling running across his palm.
"Clark!" Chloe scolded, stepping around him to pull the car door open, dismissing the loud groan and sharp snaps that sounded as a side effect of the crash. "Are you alright?" She asked the confused looking boy in the car.
Jeremy Creek looked around, seeming disorientated. "Where am I?" He questioned, looking between the other two teens.
"You're in Smallville." Clark told him, leaning over Chloe's shoulder.
He looked beyond them at where he was, taking in the leaking pipes, the crashed car and darkness beyond. "I wanna go home." He said nervously.
Chloe pasted on a smile, faking it so-as to put the former-meteor freak at ease even as Clark sighed in relief behind her.
"Clark, we're both proud of you." Jonathan told his son after hearing his (abridged) story. "But you're sure Chloe didn't see you using your powers?" He questioned his son concernedly.
"Dad, I'm positive." He assured his father, rolling his eyes at his over-protectiveness. "Chloe doesn't know anything about my abilities."
Martha put her hand on her husband's shoulder. "Jonathan, Clark has this under control." She smiled up at him, eyes light. "If Clark thinks that Chloe doesn't know anything about his powers then he's probably right."
Both mother and son smiled at the older man whom merely huffed and crossed his arms, grumbling under his breathe. "Alright, if you're sure..." He reluctantly relented. "And this jolt you felt, you're sure it wasn't... something else."
"I'm sure." Clark smiled at him. "My powers faded for a while, but after a while I was fine, and Chloe was fine. I think it was just something to do with Jeremy or the water." He shrugged. "Nothing could possibly be wrong."
Elsewhere a young blonde stared down, shocked, at the front door to her home, broken directly off the hinges, door handle warped and dented. She looked down at her hand and blinked.
"What the hell?"
