Chloe walked up the front steps with the same confident stride she'd had when she was twelve; the big city girl making her small town debut. She'd been hip to all the latest fads, eschewing farm girl chic for more artsy independent fashion. She was different, liked it that way, and she and didn't give a rats rear what anyone thought of her.
Only – she had.
Her confident, know-it-all attitude hid a host of insecurities. The outside-the-box appearance was meant to be a distraction for those who might have asked the difficult questions, who might have put her on the spot and forced her to confront things she didn't want to think about herself.
"Where's your mother?"
"Your father works for the Luthors?"
"Why would anyone want to move to Smallville?"
Chloe arrived in Smallville on the verge of puberty and attempted to integrate herself among others going through the same high-hormonal fluctuations, those who had known each other since birth and for whom the pecking order was already well established. Chloe found all the doors not only closed, but firmly locked. She was an outsider. The other kids let her know that right from the onset, and they never let her forget it. Try as she might to establish herself as someone cool and interesting, she found very few followers.
In fact, out of the entire student body of Smallville Middle School, there were only two who paid her any sort of attention at all – aside from the snide looks and comments she sometimes received from other girls when they thought she wasn't looking.
There was Pete Ross, dear Pete, the underachiever in a family of overachievers. His grades were average. He was small and un-athletic. His father, his mother, and his brothers were among the most respected citizens in Smallville. Chloe walked into what he'd always considered his dull-and dreary life like Glinda the Good Witch all dressed in sparkles. She had been a jewel among slag and Pete found her irresistible. If Chloe told Pete to run naked through the streets of Smallville singing selections from A Chorus Line, he would have done so in a heartbeat. Chloe figured Pete needed guidance. She was more than happy to oblige.
Then there was Clark Kent, the enigma, a portrait of contradictions. Her first impression had been completely wrong and she discovered that even Pete, his professed best friend – had some pretty wild ideas about Clark. Nobody knew much about him and they'd all grown up with him.
Chloe put her hand on the doorknob, pausing for just the briefest moment to reflect on the portrait Clark had painted. He'd been tall and handsome (was still tall and handsome) but so shy and soft-spoken he seemed almost to disappear into the background. He stammered nervously when anyone attempted conversation, and from the way he often stared off into space during class Chloe became convinced he was borderline autistic. He shied away from physical contact. He kept to himself and never smiled. During breaks, while other boys played ball or chatted up girls, Clark either had his nose in a book or his eyes to the skies.
The old door opened with a squeak. Chloe stepped inside the building.
I always wondered what you were looking for, Clark. Even before you knew the truth, you must have realized you weren't one of us.
She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. She could still catch the faintest whiffs of chalk, tempera paint, and floor wax. She could hear the sounds of rubber soled shoes squeaking on linoleum, the subdued roar of childish voices, and the crisp bleat of the school bell echoing through the hallway. Phantom children from her memories swarmed around her and ran out through the door.
When she opened her eyes again it was all gone. The hall was empty.
Continuing her journey, she followed the scuffed and dirty floor down the corridor, peering idly into each room she passed. Her memory supplied the chalkboards and books, the teachers' broad desks and the rows of student desks all lined up like little square soldiers. Gawky Clark had always looked out of place in them. Nobody else seemed to notice, but Chloe was an exception. Chloe had always noticed.
Maybe it was some alien thing, and truth be told it did come in handy these days, but Clark always seemed to fly under the radar. Chloe had asked about him in those first few days. The universal answer had always been, "Oh. Him? That's just Clark."
Just Clark.
"Maybe it's some sort of chemical reaction, something unique to your race, like a pheromone," Chloe had suggested only recently. "Or it might be a psychic thing, the power to create mass hypnosis."
Lois had reacted with her patented snorting scoff. "He's not a Jedi, Chlo."
Clark had simply blinked innocently behind the thick, distorting lenses of his glasses and shrugged. "I still can't believe it myself." He'd lifted one arm and sniffed. "A look-the-other-way pheromone? Seriously?" With a wink at Chloe he concluded, "Smells like Right Guard to me."
"Look," Lois said, with some exasperation, as Chloe laughed at Clark's joke. "It's simple. If you present someone with a complete absurdity, a contradiction to all that they think they know, even though all the evidence points to them knowing what they know, then they'll say they don't know, you know?"
"No," Chloe and Clark had replied in unison.
"Lois, you're insane," Chloe insisted. "It's only a matter of time before someone outs Clark Kent as Superman. Look at him!"
They'd both looked. At that moment Clark had been hunched over his computer, his face screwed up in an expression of intense concentration, poking at his keyboard with one hand and eating French fries (left over from Lois' lunch) with the other. When he'd realized he was being scrutinized he looked up at them and said, "What?"
Lois gave Chloe a smug look, and Chloe, laughing, had conceded her point.
As she wandered down the hallways of her old school, Chloe realized it was simple. As a kid, Clark kept everyone at a distance. No one knew what lurked beneath the mild-mannered exterior. Now he played the same game, but he'd put a new spin on it, something he'd perhaps learned from the twelve-year-old Chloe. She'd played up her wild side to hide who she really was, to protect herself. She'd waved the shiny toy and distracted the cats away from the mouse. Superman's aura overshadowed everything in its wake, especially one quiet, unassuming, young reporter, and if anyone did happen to roll a curious glance toward Clark Kent, Lois was always there to poke them in the eye.
"Look, up there in the sky! It's a bird…"
Chloe figured that unless she came right out and said she'd known the truth all along, if Clark were to be outed as Superman, Lois Lane would go down in history as the biggest idiot of all time.
And nothing could be further from the truth. Talk about your crafty disguises….
Back in middle school, Chloe had gone to the guidance counselor, asking if there was someone he could hook her up with to show her around town, introduce her to some people. There was a method to her madness – Clark's mother often volunteered to help out in the school administrative office, and so did Clark. It was indeed Clark who met Chloe after school one afternoon.
But it had been a different Clark.
When he was alone with Chloe, away from the teeming mass of kids with larger personalities to overshadow his own, Clark was completely different. He stood up straighter, held his head higher; his shuffling walk became a long-legged amble, and he talked a lot more. He guided Chloe around town, pointing out landmarks, telling her where to find the library, the local grocery, the best place to grab a meal. A consummate tour guide, he gave Chloe an earful of Smallvillian history mixed with a spattering of small town gossip everywhere they went.
"That's the old theater, the Talon. It's closed now, but I know Lana's aunt has talked about renovating it sometime. Lana would love that I think. Have you met Lana, Lana Lang?"
Chloe bit back an "unfortunately" and replied, "Yes. She's nice." She couldn't lie. Even though she had not been impressed with Lana or any of the people in her little gang representing the popular crowd, Lana had been the only one who had been anything close to polite. After the initial meeting, however, she had gone on to ignore Chloe as if she didn't exist, or at least didn't exist on the same level as she did. Chloe thought she was self-absorbed and stuck up, just not as mean as the other girls.
If she were to be honest, she still thought Lana had the tendency to be self-absorbed stuck up, despite coming to know her as a good friend. Lana found redemption in her abandonment of Clark. If she hadn't gone away, if she hadn't let him go, there would be no Superman. Of that Chloe was certain. The world needed Superman much more than Lana needed Clark, painful but true.
During their tour Clark brought Lana up several times. It hadn't been difficult to come to the conclusion that Clark was suffering from an intense crush on her. Of course half the school probably had a crush on Lana Lang, and that included several teachers. She was popular, beautiful, smart, and a semi-famous local celebrity. Chloe had been shocked to discover Lana had been the child pictured on the infamous Time magazine cover. The town had been nearly devastated by the largest meteor shower the Earth had seen in modern history, putting itself on the national press radar. Lana's parents had been killed that day. Someone, no one knew who, had snapped a picture of a sobbing Lana only moments after witnessing their deaths. Lana once confessed to Chloe she'd often wished a meteor would have fallen on the heartless paparazzi too.
"She doesn't like to talk about it," Clark warned, as if Chloe would immediately seek out Lana for a heart-to-heart about her dead parents.
This was something Chloe could relate to. Clark asked her about herself, her family. Chloe said her parents were divorced and left it at that. She sensed Clark was too polite to pry, and had this confirmed with a change of subject.
"Would you like to see the farm?" he'd asked shyly, and blushed. "Town is – town. I figure if you're a city girl it might be kinda interesting…."
"Sure!"
It was then that he'd smiled. Such a genuine smile was always a gift from anyone, but being on the receiving end of Clark Kent's smile was like being presented with handfuls of diamonds and gold. The pure honesty of it was breathtaking, and so was the way it lit up an already handsome face. Chloe was dumbstruck by it. It made her heart stop – or so she thought – and when it resumed…
Chloe found herself in love.
She now stood in a classroom at the end of the hallway, a corner room flanked on three sides by windows. This had been the room where she and Clark had shared their one class together – English literature. Early morning sun streamed through all these windows, illuminating the room, chasing away the signs of age and neglect. A broken pane let in a hint of a breeze, bringing with it the scent of the wildflowers that grew in a wooded lot behind the school building.
An old path, worn by countless kids cutting through the lot on their way home, had been reclaimed by a tangle of blackberry bushes and honeysuckle and was now impassable. Chloe had been down that path too many times to count. It led through the woods, and out into the fields surrounding Smallville. Mr. Townes grew sunflowers, acres and acres of sunflowers, and threatened anyone who cut through his fields – unless they were with Clark.
Through the sunflowers and under the fence and we were on Kent land.
That fall day there had been no sunflowers, just a dry, empty field of tilled earth – Mr. Townes had brought in his harvest already. In the field next door were acres and acres of tall brown corn-stalks and Chloe had to make sure she kept Clark in her sight lest she get lost. She wore bright pink high-top sneakers that slipped unnervingly in the lumpy soil, threatening her ankles and forcing her to keep a slower pace. Luckily Clark was a beacon in a bright red sweater. A flash of red among the golden-brown corn and Chloe could find her way again.
"This is our feed corn," Clark explained when they finally reached the end of the field and emerged out into a wide expanse of green grass. "We'll be harvesting this weekend so by Monday it will all be gone – watch your feet."
"Yipes!" Chloe quickly sidestepped the cow patty Clark had just stepped across. In the distance a small herd of pale beige cows lifted their heads to look at her quizzically with large, liquid brown eyes. "Feed corn, for the cows?" She paused to look back at the animals, and suddenly felt a little ill. They were sweet looking animals. "And then you eat the cows?"
"No," Clark said, smiling reassuringly at her squeamish expression. "We don't raise beef cattle. Those are Jerseys. They're milk cows – and my mom has named every one of them. She'd eat me before she'd eat one of those cows."
In the field next to the cows were a couple of horses, a rangy black horse with a white blaze, and two big burley white horses with short tails. Clark introduced them as Decca, Pops and Junior. Decca had once been his mother's show horse, now retired, while Pops and Junior were farm horses.
"You still use horses? What are you, Amish?"
This made Clark laugh, which in turn made Chloe grin. She'd only been half serious, but had to admit that she knew very little about modern country life – something she might have to learn more about given she and her father were the latest residents of this small farming community.
"No," he explained. "We have tractors and combines, but Dad likes to keep a good team of work horses around. Sometimes a horse can get to places where a truck or a tractor can't, and if you get the tractor stuck in the mud, what are you going to pull it out with?"
"Good point."
Chloe smiled to herself at this memory, now knowing that Jonathan had kept the horses more for nostalgia than anything else. If the Kent tractor got stuck in the mud Clark could pull it out with one hand and toss it back to the barn when he was done. The Kents' money issues had always been borne more of bad luck than anything else, because their overhead was kept so low. As he grew older and stronger, Clark could do the work of a dozen hired hands and do it very quickly. Chloe often heard whispers among classmates whose parents also farmed – the Kents must have had fairies or (among the more fanatical religious types) demons doing all the work at night.
"I'm glad you decided not to sell after all," Chloe told Clark only the day before. "I couldn't stand the idea of a Bargain Mart sitting where the barn used to be."
"Chloe, I never pegged you for being that sentimental."
"I'm exceedingly hormonal right now," Chloe said as an excuse, but she knew he'd seen right through her. The farm meant as much to her and Lois as it did to Clark, and when she happened to it to Pete during a phone conversation, he'd been shocked.
"No! He can't sell the farm!"
Chloe put a hand on her stomach. There wasn't much there yet, just a small bump, a gentle curve beneath her hand. If it weren't for Oliver's demanding work schedule as both a businessman and Green Arrow, she would have liked to come back to Smallville for a little while. To live there permanently, maybe not, for Chloe was a city girl at heart and her small role in helping to protect the Earth was just as important to her, but there were times when she really missed….
"It's quiet," she'd said, as Clark led her into the shadows of the barn and up into his "Fortress of Solitude," a modified loft room with a large open window looking out over the barnyard to the west.
"It's great," Clark replied, with a tone of both pride and affection. "And it stays surprisingly cool in the summertime. There's a good breeze. I sit up here and read until it gets dark, and then I can look at the stars." He gestured to a large telescope set up near the window.
"You're a science geek, huh?" Chloe leafed through a copy of Astronomy magazine. She found Omni and Science Digest as well as a few dog-eared comics. It had surprised her to learn that the day-dreaming Clark who never seemed to pay attention in class was a straight-A student. Up in the loft she had to amend her conclusion that Clark was a science geek upon finding a bookcase crammed with literary classics. He read – a lot.
"I guess. I like it okay."
He stood by the window in the ruddy light of the setting sun. Chloe joined him there and saw the sky outside painted with brilliant streaks of pink, orange, yellow and violet. Light outlined the few puffy clouds, illuminating them from behind, and far above the horizon, where the dusky light of evening followed the sun down past the Earth's westernmost curve, a few faint stars could already be seen.
"Wow," Chloe exclaimed, slightly breathless. "It's beautiful!" She turned her head to look at her companion, but had to quickly return to gazing out the window. "This view – there's nothing like it in the city!"
"I know," Clark said softly. He joined her at the window's edge.
Chloe looked up at him again, at the precise moment he looked down at her, and something in her got broken, something that never would heal quite right. She could admit it now. She'd learned to live with it, and she was as happy with Oliver as she could ever be, but deep down inside her a tiny wound still festered, and it had started with a kiss.
She'd kissed Clark there in the loft that day, framed in a window made of light. Little did she know what she'd started, or where it would ultimately lead, and if asked if she had any regrets, she would have to say, "No."
The sound of someone clearing their throat startled her out of her reverie. She turned quickly, her hand leaving her abdomen and reaching instinctively for her purse. Enemies were everywhere. Chloe came prepared, even in Smallville.
This, however, was no enemy. Chloe relaxed.
"Hey, Clark."
"Are you okay?" he asked. "Lois said you left in a hurry."
"They're tearing it down tomorrow," Chloe said, gesturing toward the room in which they stood. "The school board voted to go forward with the new construction." She gave him a slightly teary smile. "This is where we met, Clark, remember?"
"I remember." His concerned expression didn't waver. "Are you sure you're okay, Chloe?"
"Yeah, I'm just feeling nostalgic. It's a pregnant thing."
"I wouldn't know," Clark replied, deadpan. "But being an alien species, I don't doubt anything."
Chloe laughed. "Can you imagine the headline?" She raised her arms as if holding up the front page. "Superman or Supermom?"
"Do they make spandex maternity suits?" Shaking his head, Clark gave a slight grimace. "God forbid."
"Oh, come on, Clark. Alien or not, I think you've established the fact that you're definitely male."
"Ah, but some species of amphibians and fish here on Earth will turn from male to female if conditions are right. Heat vision, gender bending, who's to say?"
Chloe caught the mischievous look in his eye after she paused to think about this possibility. "Oh, stop! You know I know better."
Clark chuckled. "Got you for a minute though, didn't I?"
"I'll deny it to my dying day that I ever gave it a second thought," Chloe laughed, and then, staring at him, she suddenly sobered.
He'd obviously come from the farm, not Metropolis. Beneath the button-down shirt and jeans he wore a plain white t-shirt, and sturdy work-boots were on his feet. He'd left behind not only the suit, but the "super" suit, and all his guises, for in his shirt pocket he'd folded up his glasses. He looked back at her like he had all those years ago in the loft, a gentle soul, raised in America's heartland, with good Kansas soil beneath his nails and eyes squinting in pure prairie sunshine. This wasn't Clark Kent, reporter for the Daily Planet. This was no alien Superman. This….
Oh, him? That's just Clark.
Before she realized what she was doing, Chloe found herself close to him, rising up on her toes and catching his face in her hands. This was no twelve-year-old peck on the cheek, but a kiss on the lips from a sexually mature woman and the passion behind it took both of them by surprise. Inside Chloe's heart a small, smoldering burn became a raging inferno, and she experienced an emotion she hadn't felt, had desperately tried to suppress, for many, many years.
I love him. I love him so much…
She broke off the kiss with a mumbled apology, turning away quickly before he could see the tears.
As if that helps. He can see through my head.
Chloe expected anger, annoyance at best, or perhaps even pity; she certainly didn't expect any return upon her foolish behavior. He'd chastise her for sure. Clark always followed the rules, and the gold bands on each of their hands set some pretty clear boundaries.
Oh, Ollie. I'm so sorry!
Clark didn't say a word. He quietly stepped up behind her and pulled her close to his chest, wrapping her in his arms and laying his own chaste kiss upon her cheek. "You are feeling nostalgic," he said softly.
"I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking. Can I claim temporary insanity? I love Oliver."
"I know, Oliver loves you too, and I'm glad he didn't see that because I'd probably have a Kryptonite arrow in my back end right now."
"Clark…" Chloe wriggled free of him and turned around. "It's just that I…"
"Chloe," he interrupted gently. "Look at who you're talking to, and think about where we are. You know I have my own memories of the 'good ol' days.'" He gave her a hard stare. "Right?" He repeated himself, much more softly. "Right?"
"Lana," she said, and felt the same old pang of heartbroken disappointment she'd come to know so well during their school years.
"It doesn't go away." Looking around, Clark's expression was one of sadness and grief. "Even if everything is torn down around you, that feeling, your first great love, it never goes away." He favored Chloe with a sympathetic smile. "But you'll always have me, Chloe. Maybe not in that way, but I'll always be here if you need me – I think you can count on that now."
"Our friendship has taken some pretty hard knocks," Chloe admitted, reaching out for a hug.
"And bounces right back." Clark gave her a gentle squeeze with arms that could crush boulders, and then took her by the hand. "Come on. Right now I need you back at the house. Lois has decided to make muffins – from scratch."
"Oh, my God!" Chloe exclaimed, hurrying down the hallway towing Clark behind her. "What were you thinking leaving Lois alone in the kitchen!"
"I went for help, obviously!" Clark laughed, following her down the front steps.
At the bottom they both paused, looking back at the old school building together. Chloe could now look at it more clearly and saw only a dilapidated old building unsafe for children. The Board had been right to condemn it. Smallville needed a new middle school; a new, modern school for a modern age. Aliens were real and the human race needed to start looking more toward the stars than they ever had before.
Chloe gave Clark's hand a tug. "Come on. Let's go."
She felt better now about leaving, about letting go. She didn't need an old building to bring back memories of the boy she'd fallen in love with once upon an autumn sunset, the boy she would always love with all her heart.
Buildings were only temporary.
Superman was forever.