Surprising to both, their dinner together went by pleasantly. The tension from earlier had begun to fade with the help of memories, food and wine. Though they spoke often of their shared past in Smallville, their conversation through the late evening centered mostly on the last five years, exchanging countless stories to help fill in the gaps for each other.
Chloe listened intently while Clark recounted the details from his trials. Jor-El, his biological father, had taught him everything there was to know about Krypton, such as its culture, it's geographical make-up, and it's people. He also taught his son everything about Earth - at least, what Clark didn't already know. Because of his ability to learn and read quickly, by the time Clark returned home from his training he could speak more than sixty percent of his adoptive planet's vast array of different languages. He had also become familiar with the societies behind those languages, having traveled through and resided in more than a hundred countries at his father's insistence. Jor-El felt it was important for his son to understand the people of Earth better if he ever wanted to serve them.
But more than the intellectual strides he had made, Clark had also strengthened his physique, his endurance, and had redefined his sense of right and wrong to help him become the complete hero humanity needed. Though he didn't like being away from his friends and family for such a long stretch of time, the experienced had matured him. He was a better person because of what his biological father had put him through, no longer stressed with the emotional burdens that so often kept him chained back in high school. He knew what he had to do now, and he accepted his responsibility with the heart of a hero ready to assume his destiny.
Clark Kent had become the leader, the example his biological father had wanted him to be all along.
Only after he finished talking did Chloe realize how long it had been since Clark had shared the latest secrets of his Kryptonian heritage. He used to confide in her constantly when they were merely a breath away from one another, down the road less than a microsecond in the timeframe of a hero. Certainly he was different now; something she concluded from the way he spoke, the way he laughed and conversed. Thankfully, this new version of Clark found no reason to hesitate in his storytelling. He told her everything, just as he always did, and left nothing out.
Chloe, on the other hand, told him everything there was to know about her life and career at the Daily Planet. And she wasn't surprised when his questions centered mainly on her name change, longing for an in-depth explanation. Because of the obvious security reasons, she had never considered sharing the full story with anyone until now. Clark had proved to her over the course of the evening that his devotion to their friendship had not weakened at all while they were apart. With it, she knew her trust in him had not weakened, either.
So, with no surprise, she didn't hesitate yielding to his curiosity - just as he did to hers earlier in their evening.
By the time Chloe began to tell him the first details of her darkest hour, they had moved from the dining room table to the back porch swing to make themselves more comfortable. The wine was still with them, half drunk and nestled at their feet as they sat together in the warm summer night. Clark was sitting closer to her than she expected him to, with his right arm stretched along the back of the swing behind her shoulders and his left hand holding his glass of wine between his legs. She could feel his right thigh pressed gently against her left, his heat, his closeness, and his cologne overwhelming her. Though she considered shifting away from him a little to keep a healthy distance between them during their conversation, Chloe didn't move. Maybe it was the weather, her heart, or even the warm drape of the wine over her senses, but using caution in Clark's presence was suddenly the last thing she wanted to do.
And with this right hand brushing over her right shoulder, she told him everything, starting from the beginning.
Less than a few hours after Lois was killed, Chloe used her cousin's name to write her final article on the crime boss she had been investigating. However, she never had the chance to see her work in print, as Lionel Luthor sent her away the next day to protect her under his watchful eye and infinite financial resources. She then spent the next full year in Europe, waiting until the world settled down and the men who once hunted her were behind bars or dead. Further still, she waited until the name Chloe Sullivan had been efficiently lost and forgotten in the sands of time, remembered only by a few friends and locals in Smallville who were saddened and shocked by her untimely death.
Yes, because even her friends and family were fooled by the lavish funeral Lionel had paid for. He kept the hasty switch of identities and the casket sealed beneath layers of pleasantries, sadness, and lies. By the time she was flying in the Luthor jet high over the Atlantic Ocean to escape her failures, everyone in her life believed she had been killed and Lois had been sent away in her stead. Diversion of the truth was essential to ensure her safe arrival into Luthor's personal sanctuary, to help her live another day.
However, even after the swell of the funeral was over, outside contact with her closest friends was forbidden until her safety was certain. And although she knew the precaution was necessary, she hated living a lie, living in secret. She couldn't bare the thought of her father and friends believing she was dead, and having no way of telling them she was okay. Further yet, she could hardly sleep at night knowing she was the reason why Lois had been killed. Sam Lane had no idea his daughter was the actual body in the casket, buried under the tombstone labeled Chloe Sullivan as an attempt to rescue the real Chloe Sullivan from further danger. It sickened Chloe just to think of the sacrifice Lois and Sam had made, neither knowing otherwise; to help wipe away the devastating mistakes she's carelessly committed.
And only she, Lionel, and a handful of his closest, most trusted aides knew the truth.
Along with no communication with her family, Chloe was also forbidden to tap into the outside world during her lockdown. Lionel stashed her in a gorgeous cottage less than a mile off the Grecian Coast lining the Mediterranean Sea. The land was beautiful, the people kind and friendly, and she had been fully equipped with all of the bare essentials. However, Lionel had thought it best to keep her as out of tune with the world as the world was out of tune with her. So she had no cell phone, no television, and no Internet access to help her pass the time. The only communication she did have was through the landline phone from her cottage, and it barely had enough juice to make a call to the next town. If there was an emergency, Lionel left her with a tiny earpiece in which she could call his nearest office for assistance.
Otherwise, only the occasional visit from one of his men reminded her there was another world outside of the one she was currently leashed to.
For the first month of her isolation Chloe stayed in doors, content with the life of a hermit because of the shame she could not ignore. She hid mostly in her bedroom, under shades, candlelight, and blinded by her salty, guilt-ridden tears. When living became bearable again, she kept her mind off of her personal transgressions with mundane tasks. She shopped in the street market of the local town, spent hours in study, and wrote daily in her journal. She also visited with her neighbors and walked the countryside when she deemed her surroundings safe. She even outlined a novel and wrote the first few chapters.
But usually the tasks weren't enough. Chloe was intensely disgusted by her own actions, so she naturally and prudently spent quality time in personal reflection on her life and the choices she had made. Over lemon-flavored tea, inside next to the fire when it was cold and outside on the terrace when it was warm, she reminisced on the events, the tragedies, and the faces most important to her. Lois tended to be at the center of her sadness, followed closely by her father and her friends. Long evenings under a cloud-covered moon often set her most dismal feelings in motion, brought on by an overwhelming sense of inadequacy growing deep inside her heart. Any measure of confidence she had ever earned in her life and career before then had been swept away.
And for the first time in her life she felt truly alone. Though Chloe didn't divulge this to Clark during their conversation, she remembered how strongly she prayed for his heroic return, to save her from the darkest chapter of her life. Long evenings had not only resurfaced her feelings of inadequacy, but they had also resurfaced her desperate need for the only person who could comfort her. Thoughts of the oak tree often visited her on those dark nights, and even if he wasn't there with her, the memory of his smile and the impression of his kiss always made her feel a little better.
Of course, the impression and memory of him was nothing compared to the real thing.
They sat together in a comfortable silence after she finished. Clark seemed lost in his own world as he tried to fully understand the depths of danger Chloe had survived while he was away. By the thickness in the air, Chloe could sense his guilt. She had come to recognize the signs of it over the course of their friendship. They were too close not to feel apologetic towards one another when something in each other's lives went south. Through so many problems in the past, they had been there for one another, helping, protecting, and comforting. So it was hard not to feel responsible, or less of a friend because neither found a way to make the situation for the other better. Naturally, they wanted to wipe away each other's pain, even thousands of miles away and separated by time and space.
"I'm sorry you had to go through all of that alone," Clark said suddenly, breaking the silence.
Chloe glanced up from the glass of wine she had been holding throughout her elaborate tale. All around them crickets sang into the night, soft and peaceful. Clouds from the west began to drift in above them, merely translucent wisps of gray gliding over the stars and the moon. She remembered the weather report from the radio on her way here, and realized the heavy rain clouds would soon be on their way.
The calm before the storm, for sure.
She sipped her wine, and then finally insisted, "It's okay. I played Russian roulette with my life to win a Pulitzer, and rather than die in the flames of my own ambition, I threw my cousin on the sacrificial alter instead. I deserved the ticket to the Luthor witness protection program, if only so I was appropriately cast out of society for a year. It was my jail cell, and I built it with my own two hands."
Clark squeezed her right shoulder, his voice soft, reassuring as he spoke. "You didn't deserve it. Lois' death wasn't your fault. You two carried many of the same genes, and one of them was your insatiable curiosity. Lois would have run into that warehouse whether you were next to her or not."
"But it was my ass the mob was trying to hang, not hers," she countered softly, barely a whisper.
"What you did, though," he offered, circling the rim of his glass leisurely with his fingertips, "Investigating, writing the article, turning the mob boss in ... it's admirable what you did. You took something tragic and changed it into some good, something meaningful. Lois would've been proud of you."
Chloe turned away from him and glanced out into the night. She had heard every explanation, every attempt from her friends to help her rationalize her actions. In the end, no matter the words, nothing could erase the outcome of Lois' death. Maybe Chloe couldn't control her cousin's actions, and maybe the unfortunate sacrifice was actually a wonderful blessing to the rest of the world, as a mob front full of evil men were finally given justice. Certainly, had the mob boss been left in power, he would have killed many more people to achieve his own interests, and in the grand scheme of things the death of one reporter for the sake could be considered a forgiving, if not acceptable trade.
But Lois' death wasn't right for any reason, and Chloe would never accept her cousin's fate as a mere pawn in a much larger, unshakeable destiny. If she had the chance, Chloe would give the criminal the key to his freedom if it meant Lois would have the chance to live again.
With a large sigh, both from frustration and sleepiness, she decided to let the thoughts of the past slide away. To settle her nerves she laid her head back, and found Clark's arm still there, stretched along the back of the swing and cushioned close to her neck. Awkwardly, she suddenly remembered how easily she had fallen asleep in his arms in the past, on everything from old couches to living room floors. It was almost embarrassing for her, as she could never overcome the powerful warmth of his embrace. She felt lost in a plush pillow, or within the furry belly of a big teddy bear whenever she found herself lucky enough to be in his arms for a short while. So falling asleep in those same pair of warm, comfortable arms had always come easily to her.
If she wasn't careful, the current combination of the wine, his warmth, the soft night, her morbid thoughts, and the threatening rain promised it might just happen again.
Sensing her lingering sadness, Clark slid his body closer to her. When she didn't try to move away, he leaned in and placed his left hand over her left forearm to comfort her. Then after a long moment of comfortable silence, he slipped his hand down and entwined his fingers through hers. Clark smiled when he felt her muscles tense to this new gesture, one of tenderness and rebirth. Loving her again had been his hearts desire the moment he left her standing alone under the oak tree. She was always so easy to love, then and now. Why it took him so long to recognize her always astonished him.
"I guess it doesn't matter now," she finally added, closing her eyes.
Clark rubbed the pad of his thumb in a circular motion along the back of her hand. He considered pressing the validity of his point, but decided against it when he remembered how long it had been since Lois' death. Over the past three years, Chloe certainly has heard her share of sympathy. No doubt more than a handful of her friends had tried to lessen the impact of the tragedy on her life, and to no avail. There was no reason to believe his words would be of any difference to her, especially when she's had such a long time to build the wall circling her emotions. What she wanted now was not another friend telling her the pitfalls of personal punishment, but rather a friend to help her forget.
He's heard the story now. And there was no more reason to discuss it.
"You know, I haven't told you everything about my training," he suddenly replied, slicing through the silence with a tactful diversion.
Chloe, of course, took the bait happily.
"Oh yeah?" she chided, her sadness from before having drained a little from her eyes as she turned back to him. "Something more disturbing than drinking a glass full of egg yokes every morning?"
Clark smiled at her sarcasm. "No, nothing like that." He squeezed her hand gently; felt her soft palm pressed softly against his own. Thoughts of late nights, kissing her hands, her soft skin filtered into his mind like a treasured, long lost memory. Some of his best moments with Chloe had come then, hours before dawn while they rested leisurely in each other's arms. They had ventured into borrowed time, of course, because they never were supposed to have crossed the line to have sex at any time in their friendship. Yet he knew even Chloe would find it difficult denying how extraordinary the afterglow had been.
With a note of seriousness, Chloe suggested, "You don't have to leave again, do you?"
He shook his head. "No."
"Good," she said, sighing with relief. "I'd hate to have to chain you to your bed with kryptonite laced handcuffs."
"Is that an invitation?"
Chloe scoffed playfully, surprised at his tenacity, and then poked him in the ribs with her elbow. "Did Jor-El teach you how to find sexual innuendos, Mr. Kent?"
Clark laughed. "I'm sorry," he said, smiling. "I couldn't resist."
"Okay, well, aside from testing your limits with me, and suggesting your tendency for soft porno kink, you still haven't told me what you wanted to say."
He shrugged a little timidly, paused and glared out into the night. The amusement in their conversation had faded a bit, giving face to something more important, more serious. Chloe was worried for a moment when he didn't say anything, as if he still contemplated even telling her at all. Apparently, Clark's training had given him more than he had ever anticipated.
Then he said it.
"I have a new power."
It took Chloe another few seconds to comprehend the full meaning of his words. But after she sensed he was being completely serious, she smiled pleasantly; aware she wasn't at all surprised. With Clark Kent, nothing unusual surprised her anymore.
"Are you carrying a light saber now?" she mused, squeezing his hand.
Clark smirked, and then finally turned to face her. Gratefully, in her eyes he saw only understanding, grace, forgiveness and support. She loved him for who he was, no matter the changing definition. And it was why he found no difficulty in telling her the truth.
"I can fly."
Her smile grew. "Of course you can," she said lightly. "Because if you didn't, I would want a refund on my investment in my super hero."
Clark shook his head, smiled wide, and glanced to their clasped hands. "You always took my changes well," he whispered. He looked back up into her eyes. "I never had to worry about how you would handle me. I should have known my new power wouldn't scare you away."
"Clark, trust me, your out of this world heritage trumps your unique changes every time," she reassured bluntly.
He shifted forward in the swing and turned around far enough to face her. He recoiled his arm from behind her head, only to place both of his hands over hers. Already he could feel her curiosity to his sudden movement, but he wanted to do this right. Since their last moment together, he had thought of what he might do if he ever saw her again. The ability to fly was only an added delight to his plans, and gave him the resource to make this night, this chance even more wondrous.
Taking a long breath, Clark finally revealed softly, "Now that you know ... I was wondering if you wanted to go for a ride?"
Chloe stilled. She had every reason in the world to say no to him. He had left her for another woman; her nemesis as it was when it concerned the battle for his deepest affections. He had walked away from her, left her alone and confused under an oak tree after a fateful, deep, love driven kiss that wasn't enough to keep him in her life. And he had stayed away for five full years, giving her no measurable hope for his return.
Yet she wanted nothing more than to give in.
Clark stood when she failed to acknowledge him. He let her hand drop from his grasp and walked over to the top of the porch steps. Looking up into the sky above, he saw gray storm clouds beginning to form. By his estimate, they had less than a half hour of flight time if they decided to do this before the weather grounded them. And from the promise of his dreams, the half hour was all he needed.
Turning back to her, he stood tall, confident, and handsome in the light streaming through the backdoor from the kitchen. With a warm smile, he extended an open hand to her.
"I promise, I won't drop you."
And it was all she needed to hear.
Chloe stood, walked over to him, and took his hand. Without another word, with eyes caught in a loving stare, Clark picked her up in his arms, as a groom would carry his bride over the threshold. She circled her arms around his neck. He tightened his hold on her and pulled her close against him.
With a gentle push, suddenly the porch below their feet was gone.
All that encircled them now was the fading signs of a beautiful, summer night sky.
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