The first time she'd met him she offered him hot chocolate. He'd looked lost, alone, like he needed company. So she had stepped into his line of sight and offered to share some of The Talon's finest. It wasn't very often a new face appeared in a small town coffee shop and her inquisitive nature got the better of her.
The first thing she noticed was the glasses he had on, how different they were, how odd. And the fact he never took them off, not once while they spoke. He seemed shy, hesitant at first but as she subtly pried his story from him it became obvious why that was, he had no memory. All he had were the clothes he carried with him in his backpack, some money in his pocket and the glasses he wore.
Chloe told him about a guest house he could stay at for a reasonable price and bought him dinner. Something about him made her want to help him, help him find what he'd lost. Or maybe Chloe was just a sucker for a guy with a secret, even if it wasn't one he was intentionally keeping.
Although he hadn't asked for her help she took a quick look to see if she could find anything that might tell her who he was but she didn't have much time that night and nothing sprang out at her. Work kept her busy the next few days, and she had to go back into Metropolis leaving behind the mystery man.
Curiosity meant she wouldn't or couldn't stay away, it was hard to say which and so she found him in The Talon one sunny afternoon a cup of hot chocolate in his hand. He seemed relaxed, more at ease with himself although he still couldn't remember anything but he seemed to be coping. He talked telling her what he had been doing, and she told him about her job while keeping her own secret.
Days, then weeks past but although he knew she could help he still didn't ask and Chloe sensed not to push but it didn't matter she found herself not wanting to find something that might mean he would leave.
One day over dinner she reached to take off the ruby coloured glasses that covered but as she did so his hand moved and stopped hers, "No." There was an edge to his voice, something she couldn't quite make out, fear? Anger? Both? More? "Sorry," she said dropping her hand and she left it at that.
More time passed, more days, time spent together and apart and she found she preferred the days they were together, he made her smile. And he wanted nothing from her other than what she was prepared to give. Until the day he asked her to see if she could find out who he was.
A little digging here, some probing there and finally Chloe had found what she was looking for. His name was Scott Summers, and he was dead. The obituary was in a paper in upstate New York, the Westchester Times. It gave her the next clue, the next place to check. A house on Greymalkin Lane, not just a house but a school.
She sat with him as he sipped hot chocolate and she drank coffee explaining what she had found out. Just looking at his expression she knew he wanted to go there, to see if he could regain his memory of who he had been.
The day he left he brought her flowers, stroked her locks and kissed her softly telling her he would be back, would call, would email and think of her each day. He spoke gentle words in her ear, reassuring her before his whispered his final farewell and left her, cheeks damp with tears.