Every Picture . . .
Disclaimer: Smallville does not belong to me.
There had been a lot of packing and unpacking and rearranging lately, and she kept finding things that she was not expecting to find stuck in unexpected places. There were probably a multitude of things that she could or should have been doing instead, but she had decided not to resist the allure of a quiet few moments sifting through the collection of pictures that seemed to be in no particular order resting in the box that had nearly clobbered her in the head. (People never seemed to take into account that people shorter than them might be the ones reaching for things when they shoved things onto over the head shelves.)
There was nearly a decade and a half of history covered by the frozen moments etched on paper that resided in the box, and there was something soothing about physically holding them in her hands while she tried to mentally place each one in its proper spot on the timeline of her memory. Some of them were easier than others. She, for example, knew exactly when the picture she was currently scrutinizing must have been taken. She just had not known that it existed. She had never seen it before. If a younger her had known that someone had snapped it, she likely would have given it an ignominious burial via funeral pyre. She was a little less inclined toward drastic action now. There had been way too many things thrown at her during the course of her life for her to be so easily embarrassed any longer.
She felt someone move up beside her and peer over her shoulder.
"I must have missed that phase," a voice commented.
"It was a very short phase," Chloe replied turning her head to look at Martha Kent as the older woman settled herself into the open space on the sofa. "One that was induced via Kryptonite laced beverage consumption."
"Oh, one of those sorts of stories," Martha replied with a small chuckle.
"Our lives are so weird," she quipped back with a shake of her head and a smile that implied that she would not have it any other way. "I didn't know that he had this," she said gesturing at the picture of her holding pompoms while wearing a cheerleading uniform. "In fact, I'm not even sure how he could have gotten it. I wonder who took it," she pondered out loud.
"Well, I know exactly who took this one," the other woman stated reaching over and plucking a picture of Clark slipping a corsage on Chloe from the pile. "I think it came out rather nicely if I do say so myself," she smirked a bit. "Teenagers are supposed to whine about all of the parental picture taking, but I don't think either of you even noticed that I was taking them that night."
"What happened to this one?" Chloe wondered out loud as she looked at a picture from the early days of the reformed JL that seemed to have had one third of it cut off of the side. She took a moment to realize that the cut out portion should have been Oliver attached to the arm that rested across her shoulders. She rolled her eyes and bit back a laugh. "I thought the break-up-ees were the ones who were supposed to indulge in photographic evidence destruction," she commented. "I can't believe he did that."
Martha began pulling out other pictures and offering her best recollections (or guesses) as to who had taken what. "Definitely one of Jonathan's," she muttered shaking her head over one of Clark holding a plate of what appeared to be pie over his head and out of a pouting Chloe's reach. "Clark's," she pointed at one of a focused Chloe sitting hunched over a keyboard with her fingers a blurry blob hovering above the keys. "That one was me," she admitted as Chloe held up one of Clark and herself asleep with their heads resting against each other on a sofa. "It was just too cute to pass up, and, well, Clark was so happy that first time that we agreed you could come over to watch movies. It felt like I needed to commemorate the moment somehow. We never wanted to make him feel so distant from other people, but we just didn't know . . .," she trailed off as Chloe rested her hand against her wrist.
"I know," she commented. She smiled and made an attempt at steering the conversation in a less somber direction. "What I didn't know was that he had all of these. There's even a picture of me working a mayoral press conference in here. I don't even have this many pictures of me. I'm pretty sure that my dad didn't even have this many pictures of me when I was a child. I'm not entirely sure whether I should be flattered or worried." She rolled her eyes as she said the words in her best joking tone, but her picture viewing companion studied her for a moment before speaking.
"He's always kept you close, Chloe," Martha told her with a knowing smile, "even when he didn't know that that was what he was doing." She glanced at her watch. "It's about that time. Are you ready?"
"I've been ready for a really long time," Chloe answered her. "For so long that I'm pretty sure that there were times I ended up unready while I was waiting for him to catch up with me. It's a good thing we finally ended up in the same place at the same time."
"He doesn't let go easily," his mother told her with a small sigh. "Which is endearing and infuriating all at the same time. He learned that trait from the best," she mentioned as she gave a slightly sad but mostly fond glance toward one of the framed pictures that rested on one of the bookshelves.
Martha placed the pictures on her lap to the side and pushed herself to her feet. She held out a hand to the blond that was looking at a picture of herself surrounded by wrapping paper sitting beside a Christmas tree. Chloe blinked up at her and looked at the flurry of paper that covered the sofa and coffee table.
"Don't worry about it," Martha told her. "I'll stop by later and take care of it."
"You're going to stop by and clean while we are gone, aren't you?"
Martha just smiled at her and shrugged her shoulders. Chloe accepted the hand up and brushed at her skirt.
"This whole thing is really happening," she said with just the faintest hint of laughter in her tone. She looked at the other woman and reached out to squeeze her hand. "I didn't really think this was ever going to happen. That girl in so many of those pictures didn't think that this was ever going to happen. Sometimes, she even made herself feel guilty for thinking about it. I dreamed, you know, but they were always those this is nice to think about, but I'm never really going to get to have it sort of dreams. There were so many times that I wanted to walk away and tell myself to let it go. There were so many times that I nearly convinced myself that I had. I guess I'm not much better at letting things go than he is."
Martha pulled her into a hug and held her until the first sound of a sniffle came. She pushed back and dabbed her fingers under her own eyes that appeared suspiciously wet. "Okay," she announced in a tone that would brook no argument. "No more reflection. We're both going to cry and then all that work on the makeup that doesn't look like makeup is going to be a gigantic waste. Let's go."
"I just need to grab a couple of things," Chloe said in agreement.
"Chloe?" Martha asked as she walked toward a bag that was waiting on a chair.
"Hmm," she murmured.
"There are a lot of what ifs in life, sweetie. None of them are as important as what is. And what is is the story in that box." She nodded toward the scattered photographs. "The story of a boy and girl who always knew that being each other's best friends was the way that it was supposed to be who eventually grew up enough to take their lives to their logical conclusion."
Chloe just smiled.
They made their way to the car that was waiting for their arrival, and Chloe climbed in being more careful of the dress she was wearing than she thought she had ever been with any piece of clothing in the course of her life. It was very pretty, but she might have reconsidered the convenience of getting ready at her new home if she had thought about the climbing in and out a little more. She supposed that it did not really matter. She was not planning on wearing it for very long. There would be only one more in and out of a vehicle in its future.
It was not crowded. There were a plethora of open seats visible as she stood in the doorway waiting for the music to change. It was small and quiet. There was nothing in the realm of a big production to be found. They had both agreed that it was not the day or the event that mattered - it was what the day stood for that was important.
Her soon to be mother-in-law had been right. The pictures in that box did tell a story, and the flash that she sensed going off behind her and to the side was just the notation for the beginning of the next chapter. He was smiling, and she was smiling. Their eyes were connected, and his hand was reaching out to take hers and gently pull her into place beside him. All the pictures of their lives had led them to this one. It was the perfect picture of how the two of them should be - united, connected, the two of them with the conviction of holding the other's trust. The flash went off again. She was sure that it was going to turn out to be a wonderful shot, and she was glad to know that someone had captured it.
"Hey," he whispered to her letting his smile take over the entirety of his face.
"Hey," she whispered back feeling a reciprocating expression cover her own.
She stood there exchanging smiles and knowing glances as she took in the wonder of the what is of her life. The two of them had a past together with plenty of memories and stories and pictures, but they also had a present and a future. She was looking forward to all the boxes that they were going to be filling in all of the days to come.