| 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.
Revelation :
"Hi, Mrs. Kent," Chloe greeted Clark's mother, "is Clark in?" She was peering through the screen door and Martha ignored her cooking for a moment to open it for her son's friend.
"Hello, Chloe," she replied as Chloe wiped her feet on the mat and strolled into the kitchen. "Clark's actually out with Lana right now. Is it important?"
Obviously not as important as Lana, Chloe thought to herself. She plastered on a grin for Martha who was pretty much her second mother. "No, not really," she lied. "I needed to get his baby picture for the annual 'Guess Who?' section in the Torch. It's stupid, really. We just try to dig up some old pictures of Smallville High's graduates and make a big deal about how much they've changed over the years. I need it by tomorrow and our absent-minded Clark forgot." It was half-true. She did need to collect random graduates' baby pictures for the Torch; however, she didn't need them until the end of the month.
"No problem. I can do that for you," Martha told her, "if you don't mind sitting here by yourself while I turn my attic upside down looking for them—I can't remember exactly where I put them. Or you could watch television if you'd like." She pointed to the dusty black box in the family room.
As soon as Mrs. Kent left, Chloe darted out the side door and sprinted towards the Kents' huge field. She didn't like being so underhanded, but this was an impromptu investigation. She had to find out what Clark was hiding, and his storm cellar was just the place to start.
Chloe slowly stepped out from behind the barn, looking around to make sure no one was in sight. She tiptoed to where she remembered the door to the storm cellar had been. She wasn't surprised to see it concealed beneath scraps of hay and old grass. Her heart was thumping inside of her chest as she carefully pried open the rotting wooden door and lowered herself into the cavernous room.
She slowly walked around. The sun hit her face in faint streaks from the loose floorboards above her head. The pungent odour of gasoline mixed with decomposing wood filled her nostrils, forcing Chloe to bring a loose sweater sleeve to her nose as she walked deeper into the cellar. Old pitchforks were hanging on the walls along with intimidating scythes and sickles. For a moment she wondered if Clark was a murderer and he had been trying to hide his weapons from her all those years ago. That idea was simply ludicrous.
Finally, she found what she was looking for. At the rear of the room, Chloe spotted a monstrous shape cloaked by an old, moth-eaten blanket. She walked up to it and heaved a sigh. The friend in her wanted to turn around and head back into the house where Mrs. Kent would just be returning with Clark's old photos and they'd both have a jolly good laugh. But the reporter within her surged forward, tossing the tattered blanket from the huge structure.
Chloe stared silently for a minute as she saw through the dim light a machine. It was more than a simple machine, though. It looked like a diminutive rocket with its narrowed nose and a sort of tail at the rear to act as a rudder. This must have been what Clark was hiding, Chloe thought to herself. Her mouth gaped open as she found her fingers running over the metallic surface which looked as though it had never rusted from the dampness of the cellar or even aged at all. Her index finger found a small octagon-shaped button on the side of the machine and her mind reeled whether or not to press it. Finally, her curiosity gave in and the button sunk beneath the glossy surface. A tiny hum vibrated through the machine as a small door opened at the top of the vessel. She leaned in to look inside and what she saw amazed her.
Hundreds of tiny blinking lights. Levers and buttons. A small, fragile seat in the middle of the technologically advanced apparatus. This machine had carried something—she observed the seat, which was more of a cradle—or someone small.
"Chloe?" an angry voice whispered from behind her. Chloe spun around to see Clark standing not more than five feet away from her and the ship. "What are you doing?"
Not knowing what to say, Chloe stammered, "Clark, I didn't even hear you come in."
"What are you doing?" he repeated. His eyes narrowed. He knew exactly what she was doing.
"What is this, Clark?" she asked, ignoring his question. She gestured towards the metallic vessel before her. "Is this yours?"
The look in Clark's eyes went from hurt to genuine anger, a look Chloe had never seen on Clark's habitually calm visage. "You are the one snooping around things you will never understand; I don't think you're in the position to be asking me questions." His hands tightened into fists and for a moment Chloe was scared he might hurt her.
"I hate to disagree," she answered with strict resolve, "but you've been harbouring a secret for as long as I've known you. Did you really think you could keep it from me? Sooner or later, it was bound to come out." She planted her feet firmly in place.
Clark laughed but not in merriment. "You don't know anything, Chloe. I've told you not to dig around my past. I've asked you as a friend, and now you've just gone and betrayed that trust. What were you planning on doing? Submitting this for first page on the Torch? I know you, Chloe. You're painfully inquisitive and now you've just gone and backstabbed me. How can I trust you, Chloe?" His eyes were like daggers slicing into her conscience.
"Trust me?" Chloe cried out. She was enraged by Clark's insensitivity. He had never cared about how she felt throughout their years of friendship. He'd always been too busy daydreaming about Lana to even realize how far they were drifting apart. She wasn't even sure she could call Clark her friend anymore. "You're going to give me a lecture on friendship now? Why don't you start by telling me what this thing is? Because I'm thinking of something along the lines of intergalactic spaceship."
Clark took two strides and he was looming above her. "That's none of your business." He glared at her and she remained speechless for a minute.
"Oh my God," she breathed. She wasn't even looking at Clark now. Her sight was directed to the blinking lights of the ship. "It's true," she continued, "you're not from here." Suddenly, it all clicked. His superhuman strength, Jeremy's comments, the out-of-this-world spaceship before her…. Clark wasn't from here at all—he was an alien.
Clark shook his head. "I have no idea what you're talking about." He turned away from her and tried to head out of the storm cellar.
Chloe grabbed onto his jacket. "You lied to me, Clark!" she screamed at him. "All these years have been years of lies. You never even trusted me enough to tell me anything." The fact that Clark wasn't from Earth didn't phase her as much as she thought it would. In fact, it made more sense of the enigmatic Clark Kent than ever before. She had been around enough strange events in Smallville to know that there were forces in this universe far beyond her knowledge or control. Now, the only mystery running through her mind was Clark's deceitful role throughout their years of friendship.
Clark spun around and saw tears streaming down Chloe's face. Still, he persisted and offered her only a look made of stone.
"All these years, you were never what you seemed. That day in eighth grade when I fell, and no one heard me…only you did. It was impossible—I never realized it until now. No one else was around after school and you were still inside when I left our History class. You heard me from all the way in there and you helped me." Her expression softened a bit as she raised her hand to Clark's flushed cheek.
"I remember that day," Clark responded with a hoarse voice. "I did hear you cry. At the time, I didn't even know why I could hear you so clearly from inside of the building, and I was even more confused when I was instantly at your side. All I knew at that point was that you were the most helpless and loveliest creature I had ever seen." He pushed Chloe's bangs from her moist face with a cautious finger and moved closer to her.
Temporarily, she forgot why she was infuriated with Clark. She forgot the pain she had been through every time he mentioned Lana Lang. She forgot his lies to her time and time again and the secret he had never been willing to share with her. "Clark," Chloe whispered as she noticed Clark's head bending towards her and his lips parting ever so slightly. "I lo—"
A loud clatter came from above them as the two jumped apart and peered through the floorboards. Jonathan Kent had driven the tractor right past the wooden doors of the storm cellar. Chloe looked at Clark and suddenly she could only feel his lies and all of the pain she had experienced as a result of loving him too much that it hurt. "I…I can't do this. We can't be friends anymore, Clark," she sobbed as she fled from the storm cellar.
All Clark could do was watch her run, as he battled with his own pain. He would never trust Chloe Sullivan again, not with any secret of his or his aching heart, as he watched her leave.