Orokid: I wrote this, thinking about the last episode that I had seen on the WB, the one where Smallville writers felt that the viewers needed to see one of their favorite characters 'die'. While I have been told that she hadn't, I wrote this prior to that knowledge- and I am ever grateful to the ones who felt needed to share that piece of information because I was willing to go and murder the writers! Lol. Anyway… That's what I thought of when writing this, so… yeah. You get the idea, right?

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Smallville, let alone the plot of it. This is a fanfic based on the ideas of the show, mixed in with a small part of my own thinkings of what might've gone on IF Chloe had died. Thanks for understanding me- and not suing.

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A Letter From the Heart

Dear Chloe Sullivan, where ever you are:

I know that I'm the last person you expected this from, considering the fact that you've always seen me as much stronger than this. Fact is, I'm not that strong at all- I wasn't strong enough to save the people I loved the most when they needed saving. My father when he made his bargain with Jor-El… My mother when she had asked me to stop worrying over her an hour before she had that heart attack… Lex before his insanity began to sink in completely… And then, as a final punishment against my mortal soul, I lost you because I was stupid enough to believe that you'd be fine without me. It haunts me to this day the look in your eyes every time I went against your words or gone to Lana with my woes, or even those times when I had picked someone who hadn't meant as much to me as you did over you. Those memories always return, whether I'm walking the streets or flying between buildings from one place or another. Even in my dreams, you're there expecting my help, my encouragement, my attention, and receiving none.

And now there's no way for me to ever get that back, no matter how hard I might try.

Jimmy and I grew closer, despite the fact that I had grown to hate him more than I had ever hated a man back before we had lost you forever. We talked about things for the first time that we had been previously leaving for a less than jealous time. He spoke to me on how you were the first beautiful woman to have ever given him a moment of time, and he cried on my shoulders as he talked about having to live without you in his life. We talked about everything that we had put off, and our conversations, whether intentionally or not, had always led back to you. He spilled his heart out to me, the man he had once loathed with his entire being, while I merely sat there and listened to him like a fool.

I doubt he even knew that I was sorting myself out in my silence, listening to his words yet twisting them so they pertained to myself a bit more than they had. I remembered the good and bad of our days together, how you would take to smiling whenever I would beat myself up for one thing or another, and then tried my hardest to remember that I shouldn't keep blaming myself for what had happened. I guess nothing's really changed, and I suppose I'm as selfish as ever. I wanted to put the blame on my shoulders so that no one else had to feel the weight of it, and I wanted them to know without knowing that I had done it for them.

Stupid, I know, but it was all I had left of you. And I wanted more than ever to keep having those good and bad times, those thick and thin moments where I wouldn't leave your side ever again. I wanted to prove you wrong, to show you that I was trying my hardest to show the world that I fit in, and… that you helped me do that.

I guess there are other subjects to talk of now, considering our past. "Never beat yourself up for something you have no control over." You had said that to me once, long ago, when we had been in my barn alone and I was asking you why so-and-so had to die. I guess, for once, I should listen to you, even if I don't really want to.

I guess I should explain a little more, since you're probably looking at this letter, wondering what the Hell I'm talking about when I say 'other subjects'. You see, after you died, I had thought for sure that both of the women I had ever loved in my life were gone. But, if I hadn't heard Lana calling for me one night, I would have continued living with that guilt, continued thinking that both of your deaths had been my fault and mine alone. After I had found her, there had been nights when I had listened hard to the world, hovering high in the biosphere, hoping to hear you whisper my name in the dead of night. But… you never did, and I've given up on that recently.

Could you believe that Lana and I are distant now, after so long of trying to find a place where I could love her without being told (figuratively or otherwise) I couldn't. Sure, we have lunch with each other every so often, but it's a rare occurrence in itself. We talk about life, how it's treating us now in the wake of everything that's happened, but the conversations never last too long.

I've found that working as an investigative reporter, even in the most crucial of times, isn't as fun as it used to be. What's the use when you're stuck in blue tights and red underwear? Not as exciting as being in a reporter's suit, dogging someone's hide for answers. Amazing how quick you get answers when people know you can crush them, but I would still rather have the thrill of tracking people down.

Now look what you've done to me.

But that's beside the point.

It's odd to think that the longest conversation I've had with her, Lana, was about non-other than you. I think that it was around then, whether before or after returning to my apartment where our photos together hand, that I realized something about myself. No, not yet another power that I'd have to learn to control. It feels as though I have enough as it is, and I think that other super heroes like myself are starting to feel jipped by fate. I know that it was- no, is- something that I should have figured out long ago, but- as the saying goes- absence makes the heart grow fonder. In reality, it made me sort something out that was in definite need to be sorted.

I had started remembering your laughter, oddly enough. Every time you laughed or giggled, my day had immediately gotten better, and I hadn't known why. And then, there were your eyes, and I remembered how I would use them to figure out your moods. They were nearly golden whenever you had the "scoop of the century"; a forest green when you had something troublesome on your mind; bright and shining innocent blues when your favorite songs were on the radio… What finally convinced me though was the fact that I could still remember the taste of cherries whenever you had kissed my lips, and I knew that I hadn't ever liked those things (the actual fruit in question) until the first time our lips had met.

To sum it all up, in other words, I realized that I was in love with you- truly, madly, and oh so deeply. You're my weakness, my human 'kryptonite', and it's taken me this long to figure it out. Great timing, huh? Figure out that you've been chasing the wrong woman for most of your life, and the one you want is somewhere you can't even hope to reach.

I know this is probably the worst time to put down my pen, but Perry is eyeing me with that eagle eye of his, and I know that he wants me to get to work on that article (or, as others might term it, the obituary) on the passing of that old widow Whatshername… Ruth? Randal? I don't remember, but please tell her that I'll try and find anything to do her justice on paper.

Anyway, I suppose I should just finish up on this, since he's ready to start fuming flames from his ears all over again. I just hope that this letter reaches you at some time, even if it is on your grave, and that you know that I'm still waiting for you here on planet Earth, waiting until the end of time if I really have to.

I guess what I'm really waiting for is for you to fly back to me, Chloe.

With lots of love,

The man that finally grew into you.

The not-so-super Clark Kent

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Orokid: So… that was it. I thought it might've been an okay idea, considering the fact that they had left me thinking that she-who-should-end-up-with-Clark was dead. Thus the idea had come to me, even if it was wrong.

So, in all else, I just want to hear what you have to say to me about this. What did you think? What is your opinion of it, despite it's non-reliability to the television show? Does it make you think of cheese? If you answer those questions for me, I'll be happy. Thanks all!