| WHAT WE HAVE LOVED |
This is my first attempt at Smallville fanfiction. I've been a Chloe/Clark shipper since the beginning, so don't expect very much of anyone else. Also note that some parts may not exactly follow where the show has went nearing the end of the first season. Enjoy!
Obligatory Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Smallville characters, but, if I had the choice, I'd make Tom Welling my manservant. All events in this piece are fictional and are from the matrix of my own mind. Please don't steal. It's wrong.
Moving On :
There were still some things about love that Clark didn't understand. Sure, he loved his parents and his friends. But he had never known the love of a woman, feeling her inside of him and himself inside of her. He wondered if true love could ever be achieved and if so, could it be achieved with Lana. Or was friendship the root to all love? Chloe had been his constant throughout his family problems (which were rare but serious once in motion), his high school drama, and his general confusion with life. Was he ready to tackle a possible relationship with her?
"Clark?" a soft voice called to him. "Clark, what are you thinking about?" Lana had just spotted a rather pensive Clark Kent cradling a crate of cabbage in his arm and tapped him on the shoulder.
"Oh," Clark remarked, "Lana, it's you."
The brunette standing before him surveyed his rugged navy jeans and his usual beige corduroy jacket. "Ok, once more with even less verve," she replied sarcastically as she spied Clark's effervescent mother. "Hi, Mrs. Kent."
"Hello, Lana!" Martha greeted. She was climbing out of the driver's side of the truck. "Want to help us unload these crates of vegetables and get them into Mr. Tunney's store?"
"No problem," Lana answered cheerfully. She hoisted a tiny crate of cherry tomatoes with her hands. "I'll leave the enormous ones for Clark." She gave him a wink as she headed through the market into Mr. Tunney's grocer.
Martha glanced at her son whose eyes remained glued to Lana. "I've seen that look before."
Spinning around to his mother, Clark feigned ignorance. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said as he followed her, a giant crate balanced on the palm of his hand.
"Clark!" Martha hissed. "Could you at least pretend to be putting effort into carrying that thing?" She hesitantly glanced around the market and noted that no one had seen Clark's exhibition of unnatural vigour.
"Look, Ma! One finger!" Clark teased as he spun the crate on his index finger like a basketball.
"Please don't make me say it again," Martha scolded her show-off of a son. Clark finally gave in and carried the large crate of watermelons with both hands, slumping over slightly to add a realistic touch. "Some people might be completely enthralled by your powers. Others may regard it quite differently," she admonished.
"Mom, sometimes I wish I could just show people what I can do," Clark told her. "One day, I'm going to have to. What if I get married and my wife still didn't know? Wouldn't the noble thing be to tell her the truth?"
Martha stifled a laugh. "Hmm, marriage. That seems to be an awful big of a concept playing on an eighteen-year-old's mind. What inspired this sudden query?" She spotted Lana handing the tomatoes to Mr. Tunney and shot her son a knowing glance. "Oh, I see."
Clark cocked his eyebrow. "It's not what you think, Mom. Someday, I'm going to want my friends to know who I really am, what I can really do. Plus, I just recently started thinking about the future, since you and dad always seem to be on my back when it comes to life after high school."
"So is the object of your marital affection still Miss Lang?" Martha asked. "I heard from her Aunt Nell that she and Whitney broke up a while ago. Have you made it clear to her about your little crush?"
"First of all, it's not just a little crush. Second, I can't believe you talked to Nell about us. And third—not that it's any of your business—" Clark told her as he ushered his mom away from Lana and back to the truck, "we kissed about a week ago. We're not dating, but it's sort of the unofficial version of such for the time being. It's standard high school code."
Martha didn't know whether to be happy for her son or frightened. He was growing into an adult and she had to try to come to terms with that. After all of the years she and Jonathan had spent trying to keep his secret safe, that he was not from this planet or perhaps even this solar system, her son wanted to expose everything to someone whom he only thought he loved.
A loud crash came from the store and Clark could hear very clearly: "Oh no! It hurts!" It was Lana's voice. In less than a second, Clark ran as quick as a light particle to Mr. Tunney's grocer and saw Lana rubbing her arm in slight discomfort.
She glanced up at him with a puzzled look. "Clark, where'd you come from? I could have sworn I just saw you by the truck," Lana questioned him. She continued to run her fingers over a spot on her arm. A broken crate lay at the floor of the grocer.
"No, I was just standing to the side of the door," he lied. "Are you alright? I thought I heard you scream."
Lana, embarrassed, showed Clark a small cut on her arm. "It was a false alarm. I accidentally backed into Mr. Tunney's very sinister-looking counter over there. I knocked this box off of the counter and cut myself on the corner. I feel like a terrible damsel in distress."
Clark smirked and almost laughed aloud at Lana's adorable pout. "That's ok." He inspected the tiny cut on her arm and said tenderly, "It's just a knick; you'll live."
"Clark Kent," Lana breathed in wonderment. She ran her hand over his chest and took Clark's hand in hers. "My knight in plaid armour."
* * * * * * *
Chloe didn't feel at all uneasy about entering the S.P.D.'s precinct. Over the three years she had run Smallville High's newspaper, she had visited this place over a dozen times and knew a couple of the officers on a first-name basis. She recognized almost all of the uniformed cops' faces. One face in particular always lightened the burden of her investigation of crime in Smallville.
"Chloe Sullivan," cooed a familiar British voice from behind her.
Turning around, Chloe could already picture Jeremy Kensington's spirited expression that was his trademark to the rest of the town. "Hey, Jeremy," she replied. "I need to know something about a recent case that was brought to you a few weeks ago. Maybe you'll remember a Miss Rosemary Baker."
"Chloe, Chloe, Chloe…" Jeremy groaned. "You know I'm not really allowed to give out information about any reports here."
Chloe held her notepad full of notes up to Jeremy's bewildered face. "No need for information about Miss Baker. I've already talked to her—she's sort of a neighbour." Chloe grinned, noting the amused look on Jeremy's face. "What I really need from you is confirmation about something, or shall I say someone. Clark Kent, to be exact."
"Ah, the junior Kent. Yes, we're forged somewhat of a relationship," the raven-haired officer stated. Chloe raised an eyebrow at his comment, to which the British officer replied, "Oh! Not that kind of relationship." He fiddled with the knot of his navy tie awkwardly. This adorable act made the heart of the female before him flutter.
"No, I didn't think so," Chloe giggled. "Back to my objective. I just need you to confirm Miss Baker's account that Clark exhibited a kind of super-power in order to take out the attempted rapist, by means of shoving him through a metre-thick brick wall." Her pen was poised for action.
"Off the record?" Jeremy inquired.
"Whatever you wish."
"Well, I guess it's safe to say that Clark Kent does seem to be a boy of excellent strength, sometimes rather shocking and incredulous."
Chloe scribbled down Jeremy's statement as a possible quote for her front-page article. "From your description I believe I'm correct in assuming that this isn't the first time Clark has helped Smallville's finest."
"How did you know? To be perfectly honest, Clark has been an integral factor in well over twenty cases just last year alone. I was told to check up on his role in these cases, but from what I can tell he's just a normal teenage boy who happens to be at the wrong place at the wrong time yet somehow turns the situation into his advantage. I have never found any evidence of foul play on his part so I have never felt the need to take Clark in as a suspect for anything. In fact, he almost always brings the criminal in with him, unconscious to boot, so the case is thusly closed."
"Interesting," Chloe murmured as she almost ripped a hole through her paper with her ballpoint pen. "Thanks, Jeremy. You've been a great help."
"It's always a pleasure, Chloe," Jeremy said. "One day I sincerely hope to talk with you about anything but police reports and Clark Kent."
Chloe's eyes widened in bemusement as she looked up from her messy notes. "Talk to me? About what?"
Jeremy blushed and raked a hand through his thick black hair. "Er, that was a date offer gone horribly wrong."
"Oh, a date?" Chloe said eagerly. "Oh, I mean a date. Cool." Since her failed attempt at a romantic evening with Pete back in seventh grade, she had given up on dating altogether. Not to mention her unrequited infatuation with Clark. But she had made a resolution that morning to move on—Clark would never be hers to date, or love.
"Right, those meetings where two people who perhaps have a slight interest in one another make complete asses out of themselves whilst attempting to maintain the semblance of confidence," Jeremy explained with a chortle.
Chloe nodded in agreement. "Yes, I've heard of those. Perhaps a television special will come out titled 'Dates Gone Awry', right after 'When Animals Attack'."
"Well, I hope ours, if ever imminent, deviates from that premise." Jeremy gave Chloe a warm smile and she knew that if she was ever going to get over Clark, this was the one man who could help her do so.
As Chloe gave her phone number to the delightfully European Jeremy and bid him farewell, she couldn't help but remember his comments about Clark's strength and opportune location at the time of all the crimes. She wondered how much of Clark's life had been a secret to her all these years. He would always frown at her when she brought up his adoption and even got mad at her for snooping about his storm cellar a few years back. What had he been hiding all these years? Chloe made the resolution to find out just that and knew where to start looking for her answers.