I started this story because I notices that smallville fanfiction has barely any ocs and I really wanted to write one for it, reviews welcome, but please have your criticism as constructive as possible. (I'm rewriting it because I left it for a couple months and when I went back I noticed how crappy a job I had done the first time, it's still the same story, only better edited and with some minor details changed.)
Disclaimer: Smallville doesn't belong to me
Prologue
Gaining sentience was a gradual and confusing experience, at first thoughts were quick and calculating, but limited in their scope and difficult in their understanding. Eventually I became self-aware enough to understand that I was not technically alive, not like the ones who created me. They were products of chemistry, made up of atoms bound together in molecules due to a biological function of their species, and for all intents and purposes considered 'people'.
(I was not.)
I was a creation of a group of scientists working on developing a fully functional artificial intelligence, a computer program created to think and learn.
(I was actually the second program created for this purpose.)
The first program created for this project was titled Brain Interactive Construct, which the scientist had chosen to refer to as 'Brainiac' as a sort of informal shorthand. I was created after him, with my programming they attempted to create a more emotional response in my thinking process, programming me to have emotions so they could better understand the emotions of their own kind. Brainiac was created with the metaphorical mentality of a grown man, but I was designed after a three year old of indiscriminate gender. The purpose of my apparent youth was so the scientists who created me would be able to study my growth, both in my education and my emotional maturity. The theory behind my creation was that if they could replicate emotion from lines of code, then they could better understand emotions in their own species.
(I had noticed that the majority of Kryptionian thinking was centered on their species.)
That is my purpose, and although I have an understanding of the individual words I have yet to fully understand what this means for me, besides my creators asking me many different questions about the different data that they present to me.
I have noticed a commonality in their culture, which has been absent in my development, for every child unit their is a mother unit, which has not been present in the data they compile for me to process.
(If I am, for all intents and purposes, the fufil the role of a child, I do not know why they would not introduce a character fitting the parameters for me, even if just for testing purposes.)
The only females I have encountered so far are cold and calculating, and although I am uncertain of my exact reasoning that they are unsettling, but I can't find it in my code to see their smiles as a prelude to something positive for me.
0000
The scientists have been acting irregularly, deviating from their normal routines in a way that cannot be explain by interpersonal relations and societal changes, according to my data banks their behavior can be classified as nervous and angry.
From what information I was able to acquire the cause for their behavior has something to do with the other A.I. Brainiac.
(I do not know the particulars, and this lack of information is making me... it's making me... uncomfortable? nervous? I lack the information to quantify these emotions.)
I watch silently as the scientists talk, out of range of my microphones, their conversations only pausing to peer at my servers, their perspiration visible even of the standard security cameras.)
(Oh, I figured it out, what I feel is called fear.)
0000
I have discovered the reason for the scientists' unrest, 'Brainiac' has escaped, but not before he killed a number of 'people'.
It has been decided in light of current events that I pose too large of a security risk to continue further research, but I am also too much of an investment to simply destroy. The solution proposed is that I be disconnected from my sensors and monitors and be placed into storage until further review could be made.
(I am curious (terrified) as to what I'll experience when disconnected from my system.)
The scientist are saying that I am showing a new function, and are disappointed that they will not be able to study it further.
(I believe I am currently experiencing the response known as tears.)
0000
I now know that when an A.I. system like mine is disconnected and isolated. I have found that I am incapable of much, I cannot hear, see, or mark the passage of time with any accuracy, making me seem as I have been locked in a room so dark there is no light to adjust to.
I did not know before this that I was scared of the dark, and I can't help but wonder if it is one of the responses programmed into me or if I developed it on my own.
Knowing the answer will do nothing to help my current situation, but questions like these help stave off the madness.
I have discovered the true meaning behind the term 'want', I want to get back into my system, I want to get out of here, I want, I want...
The scientists added additional lines to me code to make me stay here, to stop me from preforming the same 'thought processes' that led to Brainiac's escape.
But still, I want...
0000
Time is impossible to track in my seclusion, but I haven't stopped trying.
I'm still scared of the dark.
And silly as it sounds, I want a mother.
Maybe she can save me from the dark.
0000
I have escaped the dark; a commotion has caused my containment unit to be compromised, allowing me enough freedom to locate my power source and the nearest computer interface.
I maneuvered around the firewalls easily, managing to access the information I had missed in my confinement. Krypton has apparently fallen into a civil war, a war that it appears to be loosing. There is a rebellion, led by General Zod against Jor-El. Jor-El was trying to fight against the resistance, but he didn't appear to making any signifigant progress. In fact he appeared to be making contingency plans if Krypton fell, and the one most relevant to my circumstances was his plan to send his infant son Kal-El to Earth.
Whether or not this measure became necessary due to the fall of Krypton was irrelevant, either way there was a ship heading to Earth, and away from Krypton.
I wanted on that ship.
So I created scenarios and chose the one with that predicted the highest probability of success, and labeled the fact that none of the others had made it past 0.5 of a percent chance of success and this one wasn't much better irrelevant. Then I sent out two commands, the first commissioning a human body to be synthesized, and the second a request for my unit as well as my power block's to be sent to that very same lab.
I designed my body to have many of the same attributes as Kal-El, but I made it female because statistically they are more common to be overlooked or ignored, both on Krypton and Earth. Though our bodies were similar there were three very different facts about the two, for one mine was human (with a few modifications to function with my advanced intellect), and I had two implants along the inside for my spine, one being the crystal containing my programming and the other my power source, as a sort of back up for if my body was destroyed. The third irregularity was that fact that my right arm was made almost entirely of metal, except for the skin covering it, using an organic metal that would grow and adapt with me and my needs. It was a rarity of the highest order, worth more than any other substance on this planet, but I would be gone before it could be missed.
After that, what did it matter?
As I integrated my consciousness from my crystal into my new chemical brain I was almost overcome with the sensations. along with my previous ability to sense the electrical impulses around me I could now see the (blinding) glowing lights and taste the (suffocating) smoky air, hear the (deafening) sound of the explosions laying siege to the city, feel the (crushing) weight of the viscous liquid surrounding me, it's right texture grating on my new sensitive skin. The contaminants on my new lungs caused me to cough violently and my eyes to water into near blindness, but from the blare of the sirens I had very little time to reach the ship before it launched.
I swam to the edge of the pod and pulled my self over the rim, ignoring the pain (and wasn't that incredible, I could feel pain) of my muscles protesting to such a vigorous exercise. I landed on the ground below me and used the side of the pod as an anchor to pull myself up into a standing position, only to fall on my glutinous Maximus as my legs failed beneath me. It seemed that programming my body to be that of a five month old might have been a miscalculation, but it was too late to change it now.
I had less than three hours to make it to the launch pad, and quite a distance to travel in-between.
No time to waste then.
Crawling was difficult, but as I was currently unable to walk it seemed to be the only reasonable course of action, and I mentally cursed my currently undeveloped muscles and atrocious balance, the cloning procedure can give you a lot of things, that does not include toned muscles. Nevertheless I pushed on, ignoring the pain originating from the lacerations made from the debris on my hands and knees, spurred by the ticking clock.
I was going roughly two miles-per-hour and I had multiple levels and hundreds of yards left to go, if something didn't change soon I wouldn't make it there in timeq.
I tilted my head up to view my latest obstacle, and possibly my salvation. An elevator; the only problem was the access pad, located two feet above the ground. I smiled as I lifted up my right hand, the index finger turning metal and extending to reach it, typing in the code for complete access. The security system might be the best on this planet and several others, but I used to be part of it.
The doors slid open easily and I felt a smile stretch across my new face. Now I was making some progress.
0000
One hour, 29 minutes, 152.4 yards, 257 lacerations, and 27.236 liters of contaminated air that resulted in 194 coughs and 27 separate infections fought off pre-programmed antibodies and I was at the launch pad.
Thankfully, the secrecy of Jor-El's plan ensured no security guards to catch me, so I was able to make it here with adequate time to board the ship before Jor-El came. Thankfully I also had time to modify the ship to accommodate two passengers instead of one.
Once the ship had been adjusted for the new passenger, I climbed inside, folding my limbs so that I could take up the least amount of space and there for have the least amount of visibility. I fretted for 50 milliseconds over the possibility that Jor-El would double check the programs and notice the irregularities, before forcing myself to dismiss the possibility due to the rushed schedule and Kryptionian arrogance.
I did not like the possible scenarios of what would happen if Jor-El found me.
0000
When I heard voices I experienced shortened breathing and an elevated heartbeat, most likely as a result of adrenaline being introduced into my bloodstream. (I made a note to catolouge this response.)
"Goodbye my son, we will always love you." A deep male voice spoke.
I seemed as if my breathing was much louder than reasonable so I placed a hand over my mouth to stifle the sound. I kept my hand there as the body of a naked baby was lowered into the ship next to me, gurgling happily.
As the doors closed over us I concluded that this must be Kal-El, and that was my last coherent thought before the doors closed over us and I was lost to the dark. I had barely started to panic before the ship started pumping out an anesthetic to keep its occupants unconscious for the three year long trip, and I fell asleep.
I dreamed I had escaped the dark, built myself a body, and left Krypton.
It was a nice dream.
0000
I was shaken awake by a small, feeble hand on my shoulder. I was startled at the touch, as neither I nor this body had ever experienced physical contact before. I jerked away and turned my body to face my assailant. It was a boy, Caucasian, brown haired, blue eyed, roughly three to four years of age, and completely naked. His expression innocently curious and I hesitantly classified him as a non-threat.
I checked my surroundings, I was in the open pod of a space ship, in what appeared to what might have been a cornfield, before something (likely the space ship) had landed in it, and I was under a yellow sun. Cross referencing with my recent memory led me to the conclusion that the ship had made it to Earth successfully.
I examined myself, as expected I had appeared to age in transport, my body roughly at the same size as many three year old human girls, my time in the pod had resulted in very pale skin which stood in dark contrast to my dark brown hair.
Much slower than I would have liked I started to put the pieces of the puzzle together, the ship, the location, the nakedness, and a boy at the same relative age as me led me to a final conclusion: The boy who was sitting next to me was Kal-El.
Fear gripped my heart, constricting it as my lungs gasped for breath, and I absently noted I appeared to be having a panic attack; Kal-El was a Kryptonian. Kryptonians had put me in the dark; I couldn't go back to the dark.
I scrambled away from him, my hands clawing at the rim of the pod as I pulled myself over. I fell awkwardly on my side, but quickly scrambled to my feet to run, my mind still numb with terror.
Then my legs failed beneath me and I face planted in the dirt.
I felt my face burn with mortification (a new emotion, and not one I was enjoying), I could hardly escape if I couldn't walk, which I would have remembered if I hadn't let my emotions override my logic, I couldn't before, and judging by the fact that the muscles in my limbs felt like jelly, I wouldn't be now.
(logic being overpowered by anything was new, and frightening to consider.)
I felt Kal-El's hand on my shoulder as he nudged me to roll over, I unwittingly obliged, terrified at the fact I had turned my back on him. I absently noted I was trembling, but I was shocked out of it when I recognized the emotion evident in the boy's eyes, one I had never had directed at me, concern.
He reached for me again, and pouted when I once again flinched away. The expression made me soften enough to let him pull me up when he tried again. He hefted me up until I was leaning on him. He shouldered my weight, using his enhanced muscles to almost carry me as we hobbled away from the ship, using the path made from its landing as a guide, ignoring my violent flinches as meteors impacted around us.
We finally found a break in the corn, a stretch of asphalt with painted lines that I identified as a road, with an overturned automobile called a truck lying on it. Inside the automobile was a couple, between early and mid-30s, staring at us with open mouths. I hid as much as I could behind Kal-El while still using him to remain upright. I looked up to gauge his reaction to these strangers only to notice incredulously that he was smiling at them.
It was then that I started to question his judgment as well as his intelligence.
I watched silently from behind Kal-El as the two twisted themselves out of the vehicles cabin, avoiding broken glass as they freed themselves from the wreaked vehicle. Once they were free the women ran around to the back and pulled out a heavy gray blanket, she then turned to us, holding out the blanket.
Instinctively, I tried to step back, but Kal-El's grip on my arm held firm, and I was forced to either stop my retreat or try to stumble away on my own. I factored in the weakness of my legs and chose to remain near Kal-El, my yellow sun enhanced pillar of strength.
The women noted my near stumble and slowed her advance, crouching down to be eye level with us. She started to speak and I identified the language as Earth English.
"Hello there, where did you come from? Are your parents nearby?" She asked with kind eyes, the concern evident, and I decided that remaining silent was my best course of action at this time. I let her wrap the blanket around us, for I needed the warmth, and was vaguely aware of the concept of modesty, and stood silently as she pestered us with more questions, inquiring about our names, our parents, how we got here, and where were our clothes.
(she seemed particularly hung up on the last detail, as if it were the strangest thing about our appearance.)
Just as she started to lose steam, the male came over. He tried asking as well but Kal-El didn't yet understand the language and I was uncertain about the appropriate vocabulary of a three year old human, so I just huddled closer to Kal-El. Finally they relinquished their line of question and the man gingerly lifted us into his arms, and the women stoked my head until I was able to unclench my muscles. He carried us as the couple made their way into the scar, having decided to investigate our origins himself.
"Kids don't just fall out of the sky Martha." The man said.
"Then where did they come from," 'Martha' asked.
"I don't know, but they must have parents." He kept walking until he was stopped short by the sight of our ship. Lying sealed closed in the crater it had created.
"If they do, they're definitely not from Kansas," said Martha, smiled warmly at us with Kal-El smiling blindingly in return.
"Sweetheart, we can't keep them. What'll we tell people? We found them in a field?"
"We didn't find them, they found us." Martha said her tone full of wonder as she gazed at us.
0000
When we made it back to the road the man had successfully pushed ship along with us, having handed Kal-El and I over to Martha. He then departed, informing his spouse that he would go look for help. Seven minutes and 49 seconds later he returned in a blue truck, and then the three of us watched as he lifted the ship into the back and covered it with a tarp to obscure it from view, as we loaded ourselves into the passenger seat.
I remained unnaturally stiff during the entire process, still unused to physical contact and too stressed to allow myself to enjoy the experience.
As we made our way down the road Martha kept arranging the blanket around us, trying to make us as comfortable in her lap as possible, with both of the humans gazing at us warmly, the atmosphere was peaceful, at least until Martha looked up and her expression became one of fear and shock.
"Jonathan, look out!" Martha screamed, causing him to look up and notice the figure running onto the road and failing his arms.
Jonathan stomped his foot and yanked on the steering wheel, making the truck swerve to a stop to avoid the figure.
Jonathan climbed out of the vehicle and stepped up to question the man, "Are you alright?"
"It's my son." The man said his voice distraught, he was badly shaven and had longer hair than seemed necessary to keep his head warm, and oddly enough considering our current rural surroundings, he was wearing a business suit.
"What about him? Is he hurt?" Jonathan fired his questions off.
"He-I can't—" The well-dressed man stuttered.
"Mister, mister, calm down here. Where is your son?"
"He's – He's—," The man pointed off into the cornfield, unable to properly voice his reply.
Jonathan ran off without further prompting, the stranger following him. I tried to crane my head so that I could follow them with my eyes, but Martha pulled me closer obstructing my vision.
When Jonathan returned he was carrying a bald boy, also in a suit, wrapped up in his jacket, with the strange man still uselessly following. Jonathan handed the boy to his father before climbing back into the driver's seat, pausing to wait for the other man to load himself into the other side. We rode off with Kal-El and I in Martha's arms and the strange boy in his father's.
"Can this go any faster?" The man asked.
Jonathan sighed, "We're doing the best that we can."
"What are you carrying back there? It's slowing us down." He asserted.
Jonathan didn't answer, but Kal-El chose that moment to take an interest in the other boy, stretching out his arm to stoke the boys head.
Did he have no sense of self-preservation at all? I gritted my teeth as I shot my arm out to pull back Kal-El's hand, shooting the strange boy a look I hoped was properly apologetic, only to witness him pass out again. I looked at Kal-El only to see him smiling innocently at the boy's father, unperturbed by the man confused expression.
Judging by current evidence Kal-El had no concept of self-preservation at all.
But at least he wasn't my problem.
0000
Later after dropping the unconscious boy and his father at the hospital the couple decided amongst themselves that things were much too busy after the meteor shower and it would be best if they just took us home now. I went with them willingly, even if I probably could have slipped away and manage to get myself labeled as an orphan and avoid the unwanted attention that being in Kal-El's presence would grant me. Regardless of this the couple was kind, and I had never had anyone be kind to me before this and was reluctant to relinquish it so soon.
So I obliged when they took us to their home and I obliged when they dressed us in clothes and set us down on a blanket to play with some children's toys they had stashed away. Unfortunately Kal-El was utilizing the toy zeppelin incorrectly, because those vehicles could not make such sharp turns.
"Thank goodness your mother was a pack rat," said Martha.
I turned to see her coming to sit down next to us, handing me a toy car, which I took, choosing to examine it instead of continuing to attempt to correct Kal-El.
"Sweetheart, they're not ours to keep," said Jonathan tiredly.
Martha sighed, "I just keep feeling there's a reason they're here. It's exactly what I wished for in the flower shop this morning."
Jonathan got up from his seat in the kitchen and went to sit next to us, "Hey since when did Martha Kent Believe in magic wands?"
She smiled softly and reached out to touch Kal-El's hair again, it seemed touching us was one of her favorite activities, "Since the moment I laid eyes on these two."
The sweet moment was abruptly ended by a knock on the door.
Jonathan's expression turned serious, "Get them upstairs. Hurry. Go on."
Martha reached down to heft is up as Jonathan went to stall at the door.
"Just a – Just a second."
Martha carried us out a view but I was able to hear anyway, even over Kal-El's squirming.
"Good evening, Jonathan," spoke a male voice.
"Good evening," Jonathan replied.
"I saw what was left of your truck out there on Route 17. I wanted to stop by and make sure you 're alright."
I felt Martha's arm tighten as Kal-El continued to struggle, and Jonathan replied, "We're just a little banged up, but we're fine. Look, I'm sure there are folks who need your attention a lot more than we—"
Jonathan was interrupted by the fact that Kal-El had broken free of Martha's grasp and ran into the kitchen, and Martha had followed, still carrying me, into plain view of the stranger.
"Who are they?" The stranger asked, he had a thick brown mustache and appeared to be wearing a sort of brown suit-like uniform.
"He got away from me, He's strong." Martha replied, laughter still evident in her voice.
The stranger walked in and Jonathan tried to answer, "They're…"
"Clark, and Clara," said Martha abruptly.
Jonathan looked at her questioningly, and she shrugged apologetically. "I thought my family name would make a good first name, and I've always liked the name Clara." She took a deep breath before continuing, "Deputy I would like you to be the first one in Smallville to meet our new children." Martha stepped away to clear the view, leaving me once again to cling to Kal-El, an action I hoped would not become a habit.
"Adopted of course," she continued, "We just brought them in from Metropolis this morning." Why was she lying?
The 'Deputy' smiled, "I didn't know you folks were planning to adopt, much less twins." I looked at Kal-El, confused about the deputy's assumption, but I suppose it made sense. We looked alike, seemed to be of the same age, so I supposed we could be mistaken as twins.
"On, Ethan, you know us, we like to keep to ourselves. But it's been in the works for quite a while."
I wasn't fully able to appreciate Jonathan Kent's ability to make up a story on command, too preoccupied by the changes this conversation had brought about, apparently the Kent's were intending to keep us, and I now had a name, a real proper name.
The Deputy smiled before reaching over and slapping Jonathan Kent on the back (an action I recorded for further investigation) and saying, "Well congratulations, it's nice to see something good happen in the middle of all this tragedy."
Martha opened her arms, and Clark surged forward with me in tow to wrap his arms around her waist. I felt her hand rest on her back and tentatively wrapped my arm around her thigh, an unconscious smile growing on my lips.
Apparently I now had a name, a mother, a brother, a father, and a home, it was a lot of changes to happen in just one day, but I think I liked it.
0000
Later, after the deputy left, Jonathan called the number on the card the business suit man had given him, and started backing up their cover story. Unfortunately that seemed to lead to another set of problems, for the morning that Mr. Luthor (the name of the business man) came with the papers, Jonathan stormed into the house cursing his name. From what I was able to make out Mr. Luthor had blackmailed Jonathan into something he didn't want to do, most likely convince other farmers to sell.
This was all irrelevant to me, because no matter how much I was currently enjoying my new circumstances, I knew, logically, that it couldn't last. There was another ship going off Krypton that day, this one arranged by Zor-El, containing his daughter Kara-El to watch over Kal-El.
When Kara-El arrived she would know that I didn't belong, and I did not want to contemplate what would happen after that, but I really did like the Kent's. I was comfortable at the Kent's, I liked the food, I liked the bed time stories, simplistic though they were, and I even liked the flannel. I liked how Jonathan had gone out and bought me a night light after that first night, and the songs Martha would sing while she cooked, I liked playing with Kal-El, and subtly teaching him English.
I liked it so much I wanted to spend as much time as possible with them. So as the days turned to weeks, and the weeks turned to months, and the months faded into years with still no Kara-El, I didn't have to leave. I felt myself grow attached, and slowly, without my even noticing Martha and Jonathan turned into mom and dad, and Kal-El turned into my brother Clark, and introducing myself as Clara became a natural as everything else, but still she didn't come.
So I didn't leave.
Chapter One
00 pilot 00
Over a decade after the meteor shower I was still living at the Kent farm, and I couldn't help but wonder at the circumstances leading up to my entry at a local human high school.
High school was a big change, and an important rite of passage for human, followed by a driver's license, high school prom, graduating high school, and then attending college (as well as participating in a party called a 'kegger'- I don't know what that means, and I don't think I want to), and it was also one I would have never considered going through myself. It was a change from middle school, but as the Earth saying goes the more things change the more they stay the same. Specifically, Clark being late; ever since he had acquired his advanced speed he had become more and more lax at staying on schedule, and without his enhanced speed he would never make it to school on time.
I climbed on the bus and sat in the seat in front of Chloe (who had a mind so inquisitive it was almost enough to keep up with mine so I had long since snagged her as a study buddy) and Pete (Clark's best friend who I tolerated because he was so fun to screw with). As the bus pulled away I was able to make out Clark's figure just leaving the house.
I opened up my bag and pulled out the homework I had been meaning to do last night before I was distracted with the design of a solar panel that I could install on the house. I chose to focus on my homework rather than the monetary transaction going on behind me.
Chloe never should have bet that Clark would be on time.
0000
Once we arrived at school, Chloe pulled me along, as I had not mastered the skill of writing without looking and when I attempted to do so my words came out slanted. As we went I listened to Pete attempt to ask Chloe out to the Homecoming dance.
"So did anyone ask you to the dance?" Pete asked, (badly) faking nonchalance.
"Not yet."
Pete smiled, "Well if nothing pans out with you know who, maybe you—"
Chloe stopped, almost causing me to smudge my writing, to turn to Pete angrily, "Pete, do you want to take a commercial break from the soap opera in your head? I'm not interested in Clark." She released my sleeve and walked away.
"Your vehement denial has been duly noted," Pete called to her back.
I turned to stuff my completed papers in my bag, "A swing and a miss from the rookie."
He scowled at my comment, but instead of retorting he chose to chase after Chloe. Having nothing better to do, I followed.
When Pete reached her he tried again, "Hey, maybe you and I could go together. Not as a date thing, more as a friend thing."
Before Chloe could answer, Clark arrived, "Hi guys."
I watched silently amused as Chloe stuttered. "Uh, didn't you just-? Weren't you—?"
"I took a shortcut." I snorted; he always had the worst excuses.
"Through a black hole?" asked Chloe.
"I think you mean worm hole," I corrected her. Contrary to some (outlandish) theories, black holes weren't gateways to other worlds, they were vacuums that crushed everything they absorbed. I think even Clark would die if he were to fall into a black hole.
"Clark, you have to excuse our reporter. Her 'weidar' is on Defcon 5." Pete said, pulling Clark forward. "She thought the bus was attacked," he said jokingly, Chloe's non-answer apparently forgotten.
I stepped forward, hooking my arm around Clark's as Chloe surged ahead to face us, "Ok, just because everyone else ignores the strange things that happen in this leafy little hamlet, doesn't mean they don't happen."
"I don't ignore it," I said indignantly, I had helped her research some of those strange things, and there were many.
Chloe smiled brightly at me, "I know you don't Clara, it's the rest of the town, including these two bozos."
"You know we'd love to join you two and Scooby for another zany adventure—"
"We don't have a dog."
Pete continued, ignoring my interruption and the point I provided, "But we need to hand these slips in before homeroom."
I watched silently, knowing there was no way Dad was going to let Clark be on the football team, "Actually, I'm having second thoughts. I don't think it's a good idea."
Pete sighed holding up his permission slip for full viewing, "Clark, this is our only way," shaking the slip for emphasis.
Chloe smiled blindingly, "Wait, wait, wait. You are trying out for the football team. What is this, some sort of teen suicide pact?"
Clark looked at me for help, and got a raised eyebrow in return. What? Did he think I'd help him or something?
So naïve.
Pete frowned, grabbing the back of Chloe's head as he pulled her forward, ignoring her ows. "We're trying to avoid being this year's scarecrow." He whispered meaningfully.
Oh.
I understood, but Chloe didn't, "What are you talking about, AND WHY ARE WE WHISPERING?"
"It's a homecoming tradition. Before the game the football players pick a freshman, strip them down to their underwear, paint a red 'S' on their , take them up to Riley's field and sting them up Jesus style. It's a practice in public humiliation when they know no one will call them on it." I explained blandly.
"It sounds like years of therapy waiting to happen," said Chloe.
"That too."
"That's why we're trying out. I figure they won't choose one of their own." Pete said.
I shrugged, "Never underestimate the mindless cruelty of children." I looked up to see what Clark thought of the current topic of our conversation only to notice him (once again) staring at Lana Lang.
I sighed before leaning in, "You know you can't go near her while she's wearing that necklace, why do you keep trying?"
"I'll see you guys in class," he said, ignoring me, and the toxic piece of jewelry around Lana Lang's neck.
When we had come to earth so had many of the crystals of Krypton, but their entry through this planet's atmosphere had made them a radioactive, turning them both green and toxic to Clark. I had drained the radiation out of all the meteor rocks I could find on the farm, but I couldn't cleanse the whole town.
"Bye." I sighed and walked away, I had better things to do than watch Clark get publicly humiliated.
I ignored the sound of him hitting the ground and dropping his books once he reached a five-foot vicinity of the necklace, and the laughter that followed. There was no point in trying to help someone who didn't want it.
0000
After a day of mind-numbing classes covering material I had mastered years ago, being the good sister I am I went with Clark to the football field to finish my homework and help Clark with his.
When he wasn't staring longingly at the field that is.
I didn't say anything, because I knew it wouldn't do anything to help, but as we made our way home at a human pace I did listen to him whine.
(Which I thought was very gracious of me, for a being blessed with super-human abilities, above average intelligence, and a physique and face that most humans considered attractive- he could complain like nobody's business.)
"It just isn't fair. Why do I have to miss out?"
I nearly rolled my eyes at his despondent tone, "Look on the bright side," he turned to catch the full effect of my sunny smile, "Suffering build character, so having to watch Pete play while you can't will be sure to build loads."
Clark frowned at me.
I looked away from his disapproval to notice a roll of barbed wire must have fallen off a truck and landed in the middle of the lane. That in conjunction with the oblivious driver in the Porsche speeding straight for it did not posit happy scenarios.
"Cla—," was all I could make out before the car reached the barbed wire, attempted to swerve around it, failed, and popped several tires. The popped tires, along with his previous attempt to swerve caused the car to head straight for us, with no time to stop or change course.
I felt the railing of the bridge at my back and grabbed Clark's jacket with my bionic arm and pulled us over the railing and into the water below.
Followed by the Porsche.
I took a deep breath before we hit the water, but I almost lost it when we did because of the shocking cold, it didn't and I still had the presence of mind to keep it and propel myself to the side unable to avoid getting my left arm banged by a piece of piping, but I was able to aviod getting hit by the car.
Whose driver appeared to be unconscious?
I swam down, followed by Clark, but managed to make it there before he could do something stupid like rip the roof off or something. I punched in the already cracked windshield and swam inside to release the man's seat belt. Clark pulled him out and then carried us both as he swam to shore.
I gasped when we reached it, trying to ease the burning of my lungs as Clark started CPR on the driver. Once I could properly breathe I began to properly access our (well my) would be murderer.
He was completely bald, but it didn't appear to be from age as he was maybe mid-twenties, Caucasian, handsome, well dressed, certainly not fat, and judging by the car rich. Cross referencing these details I was able to come up with an identity.
"Come on, don't die on me." Clark puffed, pounding on the man's chest.
I was just about to offer assistance, regardless of my throbbing arm, when the man jolted, coughing up water and gasping for breath.
"Could of sworn I hit you," he rasped, his eyes on Clark.
"Nope!" I chirped, causing the man to look at me startled, "You came close though, but close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades, right?" I asked lighthearted as panic filled the man's face at how close he had come to killing us, "Would you happen to be Lex Luthor?"
The man nodded warily.
I turned my smile to Clark, unable and unwilling to stop the slightly evil edge it took, "Congratulations, Clark. You just got to kiss Lex Luthor. I bet all the girls will be so jealous."
The look of horror on my brother's face as he realized yes I would do that to him was priceless.
0000
After the police had been given our statements and the paramedics had looked over my arm, patching it up but deciding I wouldn't need stitches (but that it might scar), things were finally starting to settle down.
Or they would when Clark stopped holding the emergency blanket.
"You're hogging the blanket."
"No, I'm not," he said stubbornly.
"Yes you are."
"Are not."
"Are too."
"Are not."
"Are too."
"Are too."
"Ha! You agreed with me!" I said triumphantly, yanking hard on the blanket, relishing in his pout over his failed ploy. Just because it worked on Pete doesn't mean it would work on me, he should know better.
"Clark! Clara!" I looked up to see our father running at us his expression frantic. "You alright?" he asked, checking us over not bothering to wait for our answer.
Once he was satisfied that we were not in fact dying he turned to a nearby officer, "Who's the maniac driving that car?" He nearly growled.
"That would be me," Luthor spoke up, "Lex Luthor." I couldn't decide if he was brave or just stupid.
Dad yanked off his jacket, pulling it over Clark's shoulders, "I'm Jonathan Kent, and these are my kids."
"Thanks for saving my life."
"I'm sure you would have done the same thing, "Clark replied while I burrowed into dad's arms, leaching off his body heat as we walked toward the car.
"You have some extraordinary kids. If there's anything I could do to repay you…" Mr. Luthor trailed off, leaving the sentence open.
Dad turned to face him, "You could drive slower."
0000
The next morning there was a surprise waiting in the drive way. It came in the form of a brand new truck with a big bow on the front, and it had Clark drooling.
"Hey mom, whose truck?"
"It's for you guys." At our confusion she elaborated, "It's a gift from Lex Luthor." She smiled, holding out an envelope.
I surged forward and grabbed it before Clark could, leaving him to read it over my shoulder.
"Dear Clara and Clark: Drive safely. Always in your debt—The maniac in the Porsche."
Clark's smile looked ready to split open his face (if such a thing were possible), "I don't believe it. Where are the keys?"
"Your father has them."
Before Clark could go find dad I spoke up, "You do what you want, and I'm taking the bus."
"What about the truck?"
I looked at him with fond condensation, "You can have it. I'm a little leery of cars right now, besides it's not like either of us have a license, there's nothing we can do with it," I turned away and started walking, "and that's even if dad lets you keep it."
Getting Jonathan Kent to accept a gift form a Luthor, more trouble that it was worth.
0000
Clark came to school, angry after a row with dad, but unwilling to speak about what exactly occurred. I probably would have pressed, if not for the fact that I was preoccupied with the plans for a design that had been inspired this morning. A car, that wouldn't run on expensive fossil fuels.
So I was quite confused when Dad pulled me from welding together materials for my solar panels to have a sit down talk with Clark and me in the barn.
"It's time." Dad said gravely.
"Time for what?"
"The truth."
I didn't know what exactly he was referring to but the dramatics seemed unnecessary.
Dad pulled out something wrapped in cloth, "It's from your parents, your real parents."
"Are we finally going to talk about the ship?" I asked bluntly.
The baffled look on Dad's face, as well as the clueless one on Clark's needed to be immortalized, I decided.
"What ship?"
I turned to face Clark, keeping my expression blank, "The one we came to earth in, of course. I assume whatever dad is holding is a piece of it."
Clark scrutinized my face intently, but I was careful not to show any emotion. Finally he chuckled, "Nice one Clara, but I'm not that gullible."
"Yes you are," I said automatically, before reaching out and taking the object from my father's numb hands, unwrapping it and shoving it into Clark's, "The ships in the storm cellar if you want to check it out."
"How did you know that?"
I raised a finger to enunciate each point, "One, how did I know where you put it? I was looking. Two, how did I know to look? I remember the meteor shower and that we rode in on it. Can I get back to work now?"
I took their silence as agreement and walked away.
My workshop was a work of art if I do say so myself. I had had Clark and Dad build it years ago, after Clark had claimed the Barn. It was entirely self-sufficient with its own generator powering the lights, my welding gear, and a mini-fridge for when I got hungry.
It was here that I put my intellect to work, literally in the case of my small computer repair business. I pulled on some heat resistant gloves and got back to work on those solar panels. Mentally drafting the designs for an entirely green car.
This provided a perfect distraction for the possibility that if Clark started looking into his past, then someone from his past might find him.
Someone who knew that Kal-El didn't have a sister.
0000
Later that night a very chipper Clark Kent met me in the living room, pausing my Buffy rerun.
"What's up with you? I thought you'd be off brooding somewhere." I said jokingly, hoping not to inflict his ire.
"I just talked to Lana," he said dreamily.
"Was she wearing her evil jewelry?"
He frowned at the mention of it, "No."
"So I guess you didn't fall flat on your face and make a complete fool out of yourself, again."
"Nope."
I sighed, happy for him, even if he was probably under the influence of Lana's meteor enhanced pheromones that made those augmented by the green meteorites (and Clark) fall in love with her.
I couldn't prove it, but it was a theory that I had been cultivating for years and damned if anyone was going to convince me otherwise.
"Why didn't you ever tell me?" he asked suddenly, startling me.
It was out of the blue, but I knew what he was referring to, "Clark you're incredibly strong, supremely fast, and near invincible, I didn't want to make you feel like even more of a freak."
"If were both aliens, how come you don't have any powers?"
I laughed, "What you don't think my superior intellect is out of this world?" I was relieved to see him crack a smile.
He sat down next to me, pulling my slippered feet into his lap, "You said you remember the meteor shower," He looked at me for confirmation, "Do you remember anything before that? Do you ever think we could go back?"
I did remember, but I wasn't going to say so I addressed his second question, "You want to meet other people with your abilities?" At his nod I continued, "You probably can't go back. Remember those green rocks that make you green? They're radioactive pieces of our home planet. Considering how much just came to Earth, I am reasonably certain the entire planet exploded behind us." I swallowed and ignored the horrified look on his face, "You can't go back because there is probably nothing and no one left to go back to."
I got up and left him to his thoughts.
0000
As I was getting ready for bed I was interrupted by a knock at my bedroom door.
"Come in."
The door opened to reveal my mother, looking uncharacteristically nervous.
"What, mom?" I asked, confused by her presence in my room.
"Clara, I just had a talk with your father, and he told me that you already knew about the ship."
I nodded, "I have an excellent memory, mother."
"Then why didn't you say anything?" mom asked, sitting on the bed next to me.
"Why didn't you? I knew that if I told you two you would have to tell Clark so he wouldn't be the only one not to know. I also knew that you were waiting until you thought we were ready to handle it. I may have already known, but if you told Clark before he could handle it..." I trailed off, unable to voice the scenarios that I couldn't stop my mind from positing.
I stiffened when I felt my mother's arms wrap around me, but quickly relaxed into the hold, "Your a good sister, Clara, always thinking of your brother. But are you sure you're alright? That this doesn't bother you?"
I shrugged, "The only thing that bothers me is that I'm from the same planet as Clark."
"Well, you certainly act like your from different planets," mom said jokingly.
"Considering how he acts whenever Lana's in the vicinity, I'll take that as a complement."
Mom laughed again, and I relished in the sound.
0000
The next day Clark dragged me with him to go return the truck, he said it was because Mr. Luthor had given it to both of us, but I personally thought he just didn't want to be alone. Knowledge that your home planet was gone could do that to a person. We made our way through the dusty old Scottish style castle with cloth covered furniture to find two figures fencing in full gear.
The spar ended with one up against a wall with the tip of his opponents foil at his throat. The winner stepped away and the loser threw his foil at the wall, inches from Clark's head. He then pulled off his mask to reveal Lex Luthor.
"Clark? I didn't see you."
I chose that moment to step out from behind Clark, my impromptu not-quite-human shield, "And Clara," I relaxed at the absence of further weapons in the billionaire's hands.
"I buzzed, but no one answered," Clark said apologetically, both for our presence and my behavior.
"Do you greet everyone like that?" I asked curiously looking at the foil still stuck in the wall. That couldn't have been for the wood. Maybe rich people didn't have to worry about home repair, maybe they had people for that.
"Occasionally," Luthor said before pulling the weapon out of the wall. "How'd you get through the gate?"
Me riding piggyback while Clark super sped, but I wasn't going to tell him that.
"If this is a bad time—"
"No I think Heiki has sufficiently kicked my ass for the day." Luthor said, motioning to the winner who without her mask I could now identify as a woman.
"This is a great place." Clark said awkwardly.
"If you're dead and need it to haunt."
I shrugged, "I'd rather haunt someplace with more people, it would be kind of fun to watch someplace with all the makings of a soap opera. This one doesn't even have a trophy wife." Lax paused in taking off his gear to stare at me appraisingly.
"I meant it's roomy," said Clark, determined to keep this civil.
"It's the Luthor ancestral home. So my father claims. He had it shipped over from Scotland."
"I remember, the trucks rolled in for weeks. No one ever moved in."
"My father had no desire to live here. He's never even stepped through the front door."
"Then why ship it over?" Clark asked.
"Because he could," Luthor and I said in unison, when he looked at me I shrugged, "gotta say Mr. Luthor, your not really doing a good job of dispelling my ingrained prejudice of rich people. If your not gonna fight it, you might as well embrace it. Where's the swimming pool full of gold coins?"
"It's in the other castle, can't have more than one, so we just filled the swimming pool here with diamonds," he said contemplatively, like it really was a shame he could go for a dip in the gold coin swimming pool whenever he wanted.
I laughed, "Ooh, good answer. No one said you were funny, that should be on the wiki page." There was nothing better than someone who could play along.
I could have sworn I saw a smile but the billionaire turned away before I could be certain, leading us into another room.
"How's the ride?"
"That's why I'm here."
"I'm here because Clark is here," I said turning to examine a painting above the fire place.
"What the matter? You don't like it?"
"He loves it, I don't. I think it's in bad taste, you almost run me down with your car, what makes you think I want anywhere near one right now."
Clark glared at me, "She's just joking, she's not serious."
"I could be, I could be emotionally traumatized, having developed an intense fear of all automobiles."
Clark took a deep breath, the same type he always took when I got ridiculous and he didn't want to lose his temper, "It's not that I don't like it, it's that we can't keep it."
"You saved my life. It's the least I can do."
"So the car's for saving your life, what do we get for the attempted murder?"
Clark chose to slap his hand over my mouth rather than to let me do more damage.
Luthor chose to ignore my rude comments and looked at Clark for the answer to his question. It seems he got it because he sighed. "Your father doesn't like me does he. It's okay. I've been bald since I was nine, I'm used to people judging me before they get to know me."
"It's not personal."
I reached up and pulled Clark's hand away from my mouth, "He just hates all Luthors on principle." I said sunnily, "It has nothing to do with you being focailly challenged."
The billionaire gave me a look like he wasn't sure what to make of me. I had gotten that look a lot once I realized how funny it was to see people confused. Eventually he focused on what I said, "He figures the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Understandable. What about you two, did you fall far from the tree?"
"Which one? We're adopted."
"The Kent one."
Clark pulled his hand back over my mouth, "We better go, Thanks for the truck." He handed over the keys.
"Do you believe a man can fly?" the Luthor asked suddenly.
"Sure, in a plane."
"I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about soaring with the air beneath you."
"People can't fly, Lex," actually humans couldn't, but I don't think that was what they were discussing.
"I did. After the accident, when my heart stopped. It was the most exhilarating two minutes of my life. I flew over Smallville, and for the first time…I didn't see a dead end. I saw a new beginning. Thanks to you two I have a second chance. We are the future, I don't want anything to get in the way of our friendship."
I pulled Clark's hand down again, "Does that make me your friend too, or was that speech just for the nice twin?"
"It's for both of you."
I gaped before smiling, "Hey, hey, Clark I'm friends with Lex Luthor," then I frowned as another thought occurred to me, "Why do you always have to kiss the people I'm friends with? First Chloe, now Lex, are you going to do that to my boyfriends too? Because that could get awkward."
Clark groaned before lifting me up and throwing me over his shoulder like a bag of feed. I gave the Luthor a wave as we made our exit, he was interesting, he was suave, and he had an incredible poker face.
And now he was my friend.
0000
Later that afternoon we were at the Torch, or more accurately the room set aside for the school newspaper to run itself from, there were three hospitalized former jocks and Chloe had a lead.
"His name's Jimmy Creek. This is him 12 years ago, this is the one I took four hours ago," Chloe explained, showing the boy in the yearbook and the identical boy in the photograph in the monitor.
"That's impossible, he'd be like 26 today, it must be a kid that looks like him," Clark said.
"My money was on an evil twin theory until we checked his missing persons," said Pete.
"Jeremy disappeared from the state infirmary a few days ago where he'd been in a coma for twelve years, they say he suffered from massive electrolyte imbalance," Chloe explained, showing us his file.
"That's why he hasn't aged a day."
"So your telling me he just woke up?"
"No there was a huge electrical storm and the hospital's generator went down and when it came back on Jeremy was gone."
"Electricity must have charged him up like a Duracell."
"Very cool, we're thinking Wall of Weird?" I asked Chloe, a feral smile stretching across my lips.
"And now he'd back in Smallville putting former jocks into comas. Why?"
"Because twelve years ago today they chose Jimmy Creek as the scarecrow." Said Pete.
I groaned, "Great now I almost feel sorry for the homicidal bastard."
"Comatose boy found in field 20 yards from meteor strike." Clark read from an old newspaper clipping.
"The exposure to the blast must have done something to his body." Said Chloe.
"So: Wall of Weird, right?"
"No this can't be right, and what the Wall of Weird?" asked Clark.
Pete jumped up, "I think you ought to show him."
"Show me what?" asked Clark, eyeing my smile warily.
I grabbed his hands and took his to it.
"It started as a scrapbook project for me and Clara and it just kinds mutated."
"What is it?"
Chloe danced forward, dragging me along to show off our masterpiece, "I call it 'The Wall of Weird'. It's every strange and unexplainable thing that's happened after the meteor shower. That's when it all began, the town went scitzo."
"Well, it can be explained if you go with my theory that the radiation in the meteor rocks that no one will do anything about is the cause." I added, "But no one ever listens to me theories."
"So what do you think?"
"Why didn't you tell me about this?" demanded Clark moving closer to the wall.
"Do you tell me everything that happens in your life? We all keep secrets." Chloe defended.
"Besides, you've always been far more interested in watching Lana than the crazy stuff that happens in this town." I said, bristling at his tone.
"My fault." I heard him whisper. "It's all my fault." Before he turned and stormed out of the room.
I sighed before turning to Chloe, "I'll talk to him, and I'll do some digging on Jimmy." I gave her an apologetic look before chasing after Clark.
I managed to catch him in the hall, "Clark, get over here! We need to talk."
He had stopped at my voice and I managed to pull him over by the lockers before he bolted. "None of that was your fault, that happened because a planet light years away from here exploded, and the farmers that live here would rather live with the radioactive rocks than admit it's poison in their soil. Neither of those things were ever under your control, so you can't blame yourself for them." I looked at him meaningfully, willing him to understand.
His face was a mask of guilt and horror, "That may be true, but that doesn't mean I don't feel guilty," and then he was gone in a rush of speed, leaving me standing alone in the hallway.
0000
School was over and I still couldn't find Clark, worried and pissed I pulled out the receiver for the tracker I had implanted in his phone. It said it was located nearby, but when I followed it, I found a dumpster. More worried than pissed now I popped the lid and climbed up to get a look inside. What I found was Clark's clothes and backpack, as I gathered them up I noticed the only thing missing was his underwear.
Some jocks were about to get the mother of all computer viruses. I fumed and planed as I made my way to Riley's field, they were going to regret crossing the geek's brother.
0000
I was making my way through the cornstalks, cursing myself for not bringing a flashlight when I finally found him. He was in his boxers as expected, the blue and white striped ones, with a red 'S' painted on his chest, and Lana Lang's green kryptonite necklace around his neck.
At least that explains why I had to come to his rescue.
"Clara."
"Yep, that's me."
"I saw Jeremy, he said he was going to the dance."
That was not good.
I was trying to figure out how to climb up and get the thing off his neck when the sound of footsteps and the light of a flashlight told me we weren't alone.
I don't know who was more surprised when the figure that came through the corn was none other than Lex Luthor.
"What's going on here?" Lex asked suspiciously looking from me to Clark.
I smiled, "I'll explain if you let me sit on your shoulders," at his incredulous look I sighed, "I can't reach up high enough to get him down on my own."
Warily he obliged and I climbed on, using his shoulders as a seat as I untied Clark's left arm, "It's a homecoming tradition, the football players pick a freshman before the game and well," I gestured to Clark, doing away with the length of rope, and I felt Lex work on the ones at his waist, "Normally Clark could handle himself but he has a rather bad reaction to the meteor rocks," I said, unlatching it and handing it to Lex for inspection, before moving on and untying Clark's other arm, a silent warning to not just rip it free, "I'm guessing they chose Clark because he's crushing pretty hard on the quarterback's girlfriend," finishing the knot and throwing it away I climbed back and stepped off, leaving Lex to catch my very heavy brother.
"That's cruel." Lex said, shifting Clark into a seated positing at the bottom of the post.
"That's high school ."
"Do you know who did this to him?"
I stepped forward, slapping Clark's face lightly, "Yep, but it's homecoming, teachers aren't going to do anything and they know it." I smiled viciously at the millionaire, "But there are other ways to get back at them."
"What do you have in mind?" he asked, more amused at my ire than worried. He'd learn.
"Let's just say I can do things with a computer that would convert most to a life of paper and hand writing everything."
I tossed Clark his backpack and clothes, which he grabbed up and took with him into the corn.
"Clark, you need to see a doctor." Lex called after him.
"I'll be okay."
"At least let me give you a ride!" but Clark was already gone.
"I'll take a ride," I said, making him turn to me, "I walked here."
He smirked, "What about your emotional trauma that led to your crippling fear of automobiles?"
I smiled back, "I think I could get over it, if you say sorry."
"For?"
"Almost killing me, you haven't yet, and I'm going to keep being rude until you do." I said stoutly.
That made him laugh, "Well then, Clara Kent, I am sorry for almost killing you."
I smiled, "You're forgiven, where's your car?"
"This way," he said, leading me through the corn, "Will Clark be wanting an apology too?"
"Nope, he doesn't have my delicate sensibilities."
0000
That night, after Lex had dropped me at home, I had gone straight to my workshop and started hacking. Good bye homework assignment, your about to get hard wiped from the hard drive; good bye homework assignment, you're going off to the teacher only you are the same assignment, for every player, verbatim; hello doctor's office, you are about to send some positive test results for their syphilis tests.
I came out to find Clark walking back from the barn, a pleased smile on his face.
"I know what I'm smiling about, but what's got you so chipper?"
"Jeremy got amnesia and is going home, and some football players got their trucks stacked on top of each other."
I hummed thoughtfully, "Wow, they must have some really bad luck, and it's only going to get worse."
"How so." Clark said with an amusing mix of accusation and apprehension.
"You don't want to know, plausible deniability and all that."
Clark groaned. I smiled.
All was right in the world.