Disclaimer: Smallville is not mine.

She is so cold. It used to be that her fingers were the coldest, but she can't feel them anymore. She knows that that means something bad. Her uncle had taken her and Lois sledding once somewhere very cold and that was when they had known that it was time to go inside - when their fingers started tingling. She thinks that she might not be so cold if she got up and moved around, but her legs feel funny when she tries to stand on them. It hurts to breathe - like the air is burning her throat. She doesn't like it, and she just wants to curl up in a ball until it stops. She doesn't understand what is happening. She doesn't understand how it is that she got here. She isn't dressed for outside in the snow, and her parents never let her go out in the cold without being dressed the right way. She doesn't even have shoes on - just the fuzzy socks for wearing around the house that she had gotten for Christmas. She can't remember walking through the snow. She can't remember leaving the house. She just remembers the broken plate on the floor and her mother telling her to get out of the way. She doesn't know where she is, so she doesn't know how to find her way back.

The tunnel made of tires that she has crawled into offers her a little protection from the wind that had felt like it was ripping right through her, but it does nothing for her overall temperature. She used to think that snow was beautiful when she watched it from safely behind the window in her room. It had been beautiful when she was bundled up in layers and boots with water proof mittens covering her fingers. It isn't beautiful now as it follows after her into her tunnel - the only under cover spot that she could find in the middle of the playground she did not recognize when she came to herself a few minutes ago. The flakes are blowing through the openings on either end and seem determined to reach her and make her colder and wetter than she already is. They mix with the tears that are leaving icy trails down her cheeks, and her chest hurts so badly that she finds herself holding her breath just to give herself some relief from the burning that accompanies every inhale. It doesn't work.

She remembers reading once that going to sleep out in the cold like this is bad. It's the kind of thing that people do and then they never wake up again, but she doesn't know how much longer she can help it. She keeps catching her head nodding forward and the lids of her eyes keep closing without her realizing it until it has already happened. If she could just rest for a little bit, then maybe it wouldn't hurt so much to breathe any more.

She is shaken to fully awake (literally) by the thump of something hitting the outside of the tire she is resting against. The vibration shoots through her and is enough to allow her to momentarily put aside the lethargy that is creeping over her. The next thing she hears is a voice. She can't make out the words, but she can hear a trace of panic in the muttering. She notices that the tire against which she has been resting has somehow moved out of alignment with the others. She doesn't know how that has happened, but if there is a voice, then there is another person. Whoever it is should be able to help her. Her legs are still not working correctly, and it is only her sudden anger that she is going to miss out on getting help because she is being too slow that finally pushes her into dragging herself out of the tunnel.

There is a boy with dark hair standing with his hands braced against the side of the tunnel and his head tucked down. She thinks that his shoulders might be shaking, but she is more worried about the fact that she can't manage to get up on her feet because she can't actually feel them than whether or not he is crying. He isn't much better dressed for outside in the snow than she is, but he does, at least, have shoes.

Somewhere in the back of her head she is thinking of scary books that she snuck off the shelf to read pieces of when the librarian and her mother were otherwise occupied and how maybe someone is snatching children and leaving them outside to freeze. She shakes those thoughts off and manages to get out a chattering "hey" in the boy's direction.

He spins toward her startled and blinks at her in confusion. His eyes are red rimmed, and she imagines that the look on his face mirrors her own earlier expression when she had found herself here.

"Are you okay?" He asks her.

"No," she replies bluntly. "I'm cold, and I don't know where we are. Do you know where we are?" She asks even though she is not feeling particularly hopeful.

"No," he shakes his head. He seems to hone in on the fact that she is sitting on the ground without making any move to get up while they speak. "Are your legs hurt?"

"Just too cold, I think," she answers.

"You shouldn't be out here," he says in concern, and Chloe reminds herself not to roll her eyes.

"You either," she tells him.

He looks hesitant for a moment, and Chloe is trying to decide whether or not she should invite him to crawl back into the tunnel with her to at least get them out of the wind when he speaks.

"Could you walk if I help you?" Chloe doesn't have an answer for that. She thinks no, but they won't know unless they try so she gives a small shrug of her shoulders.

He is taking a step in her direction when a voice from behind her has her nearly toppling over trying to whip her head around.

"This is no weather for hanging around the playground."

The man is tall and wearing a police uniform. Despite years of being warned about strangers and not trusting people that she does not know, Chloe has never been so happy to see an unknown adult in her life. If she had been able to get her feet under her, then she might actually have hopped up to hug him. The boy behind her, however, does not seem as happy to see the adult in front of them. Chloe isn't sure how, but she can feel him tense up and that causes her spine to stiffen.

It isn't weather for hanging around a playground. Why is he here? Is he the reason that the two of them ended up here as well? Just as suddenly as the fear comes, it melts away and is replaced with something soothing. The way that it feels reminds her of when her mother brushes her hair back from her face. The man smiles gently at the two of them. His voice is reassuring, and Chloe finds that she can finally focus on something other than the pain involved in breathing.

"How about we get the two of you home?" He frames it as a question, but there is a certainty in the tone that makes Chloe believe that it will actually be happening shortly. She looks at the dark haired boy. He still looks unsure. Chloe is cold and confused. She wants to go home. She doesn't know why he is hesitating. She holds out a hand in his direction. He meets her eyes and seems to fold in on himself as if he is afraid of what he will see when he does. She gives him her best attempt at a reassuring smile and something changes in his expression. His fingers reach out and touch hers. She can see that they do even though she can't feel it. He smiles back, and Chloe feels that sense that everything will be alright washing over her again. He steps up beside her and looks back at the man who has been silent during their interaction.

"Let's go."

That meddling Martian had ruined everything. He knew that he had only been out there to help Clark, but what were the odds? It's like the universe was trying to prevent him from correcting the Chloe Sullivan anomaly. The stress was starting to get to him. There was no way that this splinter universe was working against him. They worked to right themselves; that's how it always worked. That's why the child's continued existence was so dangerous.

It had been so simple to slip in and break that dish to trigger a phrase from Moira that would send Chloe out into the storm. She just would have fallen asleep, and everything would have been fixed. It didn't even make sense for Clark to have a power problem that sent him to the exact spot where the little girl was. That should not have even been possible. He was starting to get angry, and that would do him no favors. He had to continue to remind himself that it was not the child's fault. This was his fault, but it was getting more and more difficult to ensure that he would not be caught. He needed something more drastic. He wished outside interference had not gotten in the way of the gentle passing he had planned for her. He had lists and projections, and gentle was not a word that could be applied to all of them.

That the children had had their memories wiped was the only positive point of the entire operation. There was no telling what sort of damage that early introduction would have caused. He needed Chloe out of the way long before she would ever be acquainted with Clark Kent.