| 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.
Seeking Solace :
The mirror beheld a tall dark-haired boy who, on almost all occasions, exhibited utmost calmness and confidence with a radiant white smile. Today, Clark Kent didn't feel like smiling as he pulled his sleek black jacket over the rest of his formal ensemble. He had chosen to wear a contemporary tuxedo to the Smallville High prom, scrapped the burdensome cummerbund and dinky bow tie, and switched to looser-fitting pants and a satin black tie.
"Don't you look like a younger James Bond," Jonathan Kent affirmed. He was standing at the door to Clark's disheveled bedroom when his son spun around and managed a smirk. "Well, without the Bond magnetism. I suppose the Kent Charm will have to make up for that."
Clark laughed and fiddled with the knot of his tie in the mirror. "Right. Charm. I'll try to remember that as I tame my two left feet on the dance floor." He sat on the edge of his bed and tucked his feet in the binding shoes his mom had helped him pick out. "Ugh, I'd be much more comfortable in my sneakers. What are these made out of? Metal? They refuse to bend."
"For someone who seems to be made of steel, you sure do whine a lot about discomfort," his father joked. Jonathan took a seat beside his son on the mattress. "You just have to break them in, is all." He placed his hand on Clark's broad shoulder and said, "You have fun tonight. Don't be worrying about the troubles I know you have swimming around in your head."
"That's easier said than done, Dad," Clark declared. He wasn't sure if he could face Chloe that night. Pete had confirmed Chloe's feelings of love for him and he would be lying if he said that he didn't feel anything in return. However, Lana was now in his life, the girl he'd always fantasized about and dreamed would care for him as more than friend—and now she did. When did things become so muddled? When did his simple life veer into a maze-like avenue?
As a child, he'd wanted nothing more than to be normal. Throughout high school he had attempted to appear as such and was quite successful, until three months ago when Chloe had to stick her journalistic nose in the muck of his past. He had every right to hate her, and still there was a part of him that knew he could never, as much as he felt justified in doing so.
Jonathan Kent got up from his seat and headed for the door. "Have a great time with Lana tonight. Make it memorable," he advised his son with a broad smile.
Clark nodded. "Definitely," he agreed.
* * * * * * *
"I don't think I've ever seen you wear a dress before," Jeremy exclaimed as Chloe clumsily crept down her stairs.
Chloe looked over her own body, all too conscious of her bare legs peeking through the slit of her black gown and her cleavage exposed at the front. "There's a reason for that. I don't look good in them," she complained. She grabbed her thin shawl from the living room and looked at herself in the mirror by her front door. Her hair was swept up in a classic French twist securely fastened into place with numerous bobby pins. She slid the translucent red shawl over her naked shoulders where thin spaghetti straps held the A-line gown perfectly over her the curves of her body.
"Well, I think you look beautiful," Jeremy stated as he came from behind her and kissed her cheek. He quickly glanced at his watch. "We have twenty minutes to get to the hotel before your prom starts. Yikes, I feel so ancient and my prom was only three years ago." Jeremy cringed in jest as Chloe playfully poked him in the ribs.
"I'll just grab my purse from upstairs and we'll be set to go," she called to him as she headed to her bedroom. She found her matching red purse at the foot of her bed and she bent down to pick it up. Under it was the blue envelope she had stuffed with her letter to Clark last night. "Should I, or should I not?"
"Chloe, darling," Jeremy called from the bottom of the stairs, "we're going to be late!"
"Coming!" Chloe yelled back as she stuffed the envelope into her purse and bounded down the stairs.
* * * * * * *
Lana applied her pink lipstick in front of the tiny passenger seat mirror as Clark's foot plunged on the gas pedal of Lex Luthor's black Porsche 911 to speed past an amber traffic light. He was glad that Lana had finally agreed not to take a limousine. Clark never liked being ushered around; he liked having control. Lex, being a good and wealthy friend, had offered Clark the use of any of his fancy foreign automobiles. Clark had stood, drooling, in a garage full of BMWs, Mercedes Benzes, and other equally expensive luxury sports cars when Lex had handed him the keys to the Porsche.
"Slow down, Clark," Lana asserted, "there's no need to speed. We'll make it on time. If we had gone with the limo, like we initially planned, we would have no problem."
"Sorry," Clark apologized. He wasn't really sorry. "I want to meet up with some friends before we head inside of the event room. I was supposed to meet Pete in the hotel lobby for pictures and I was kind of hoping to see…er, an old friend."
Lana knew exactly whom Clark wished to see. "Chloe," she stated, purposely not phrasing it as a question. She had been with Clark throughout his fallout with the young Barbara Walters and knew how much he thought about her each day. She had never brought up her name, though, unless Clark first spoke of her, and that was hardly ever. Lana knew that Chloe was perpetually on his mind. She never had any need to feel jealous because she knew since day one that she herself was on Clark's pedestal. She had been the one in Clark's dreams for as long as memory served.
Clark cleared his throat. "I was hoping to talk to you about that," he told her. "I know I've been occupied with thoughts about Chloe and my friendship with her and how it ended—"
"What ever happened between you two, Clark?" Lana asked him inquisitively. "One minute you two are inseparable and the next you act as if you don't know each other."
He couldn't tell her what really went down between him and Chloe. For years he had yearned for the day when he could finally expose to Chloe all of the secrets he had been hiding. He wished that it had ended better, that it hadn't ended at all. But he would change that tonight. "It was over nothing, really," he lied.
Lana looked at her boyfriend's set jaw as he concentrated on the road. "You're lying," she said knowingly. "I know what happened, Clark. Even more, I know why you're lying to me. I'd be uncomfortable with the facts, too, if I were in Chloe's position."
Clark turned to her in surprise. "You…you know?" Maybe Chloe did tell someone about his secret. He would never forgive her.
Lana nodded and said, "It's hard to face the truth, Clark. Which is why—I am sure—Chloe backed away from you. She couldn't handle the fact that you don't love her the way she loves you, and that you love me." She gave him a warm smile and cupped his cheek in her hand. "I've always known it, and now Chloe knows it for certain."
"You're right," Clark said as he fell into a puzzle of his own thoughts. He parked the Porsche and watched as Lana stepped out with her long, pink gown dragging on the cement parking lot. I love Lana. I am in love with Lana, he repeated in his mind as they neared the entrance to the hotel. He was lying to himself. Lana, pretty in pink, was his fantasy turned reality. Now, when he finally had it within his grasp, he could only think of one person. He had to find Chloe.
He followed Lana into the lobby. "Clark, I just saw some people I want to say hi to. I'll be back in a minute," Lana informed him with a quick kiss as she jogged over to her cheerleading friends stationed by the punch bowl. Right then Clark spotted Pete heading towards him.
"Hey, man," Pete said as he fixed his bow tie, "how do I look?"
"Like the Mack Daddy himself," Clark joked.
Pete grimaced. "Farm-boy saying 'Mack Daddy?' Promise me never to use that term in a sentence again. It just doesn't mesh well."
"Ha ha," Clark replied sarcastically. "Have you seen Chloe yet?"
"I shared a limousine with her and Jeremy. She's around somewhere. Do you need to talk to her?"
Clark gave Pete a worried look, as if Pete knew exactly what he needed to tell Chloe. Pete didn't say another word as the two of them saw Chloe walking through the hotel entrance. Her black dress complimented her figure perfectly and her choice of a red shawl accented the sensuality of her body. Clark had never seen Chloe so gorgeous. Why had he not seen Chloe as the ravishing beauty she was until it was too late? A knot formed in his stomach as he saw Jeremy slip his arm comfortably around Chloe's waist.
"So, are you going to talk to her or what?" Pete gave his speechless friend a dubious look.
"Maybe later," Clark responded uneasily as he escaped into the empty main event room where the music had just started to play.
* * * * * * *
Chloe saw Clark hurriedly head into the main event room by himself and took it as her chance to give him the letter. "Jeremy, I'll be back. Why don't you talk to Pete over there? He looks lonely."
"What a caring friend you are," Jeremy chuckled. "Alright, I'll catch you later."
As soon as Jeremy left her side, Chloe followed Clark's path into the room with resplendent lights beaming in every direction and a filthy rap song pumping through the loud speakers. She didn't see him anywhere on the dance floor, and no one else was in the room for that matter. She noticed an open door to the balcony and quickly walked over to it.
"Clark?" Chloe called into the dark of night. "Are you out here?" Her sight fixed on the remarkable view of downtown Metropolis from the altitudinous balcony. Soon, she'd be living among those lights, streets, and buildings as the reporter she'd always aspired to be.
"I'm right here," Clark's voice called from her left side. She spun around to find him standing close to her. "God, Clark! You scared me," she cried as she punched him in the arm.
Clark laughed. "That's because you're so easy to scare. Just be thankful I didn't equip myself with the Jason mask you've grown to love."
The word "love" stuck in Chloe's head as she battled with the decision to give Clark the letter or not. "That mask is so passé. You need new tricks, Farm-boy."
The two of them laughed as though they were back in the ninth grade when things were less complicated and she could stand so closely to Clark and not feel the urge to run her hands through his messy hair and brush her lips against his in pure ecstasy. Chloe abruptly turned her attention to the view again.
"Chloe," Clark uttered, "I want to talk to you about that day in my storm cellar." He tugged on Chloe's arm as she reluctantly faced him. "I've wanted to tell you everything for so long. I was scared, Chloe, of the truth, of how others would regard me. I know Lana would freak if she knew the truth."
"Right," Chloe whispered, mostly to herself, "Lana." As much as she wanted Clark to know just how much she had loved him throughout all their years of platonic friendship and how much she still loved him now, she couldn't ignore the fact that Clark would never be hers to have.
"I mean," Clark continued, "Lana is my fantasy girl. If she looked at me any differently than she does now, I don't know what I'd do. I've spent so many years just wondering what it would be like to have her with me, and now I know." He did know, and he knew other things now, too. He knew his true feelings for Chloe were anything but platonic. He juggled the words to tell Chloe what he had only now realized about their friendship…their love.
Chloe had had enough. Every other word out of Clark's mouth, for as long as she had known him, was Lana this or Lana that. She'd been a fool to think that it was different now. Nothing would change. She would always be stupid, ignorant Chloe who clings on to a love that will forever be out of her reach.
"The thing is, Chloe, that Lana and I—"
"Enough!" Chloe shouted. "Enough! Please, Clark. I don't want to hear another word." She lowered her head and felt tears welling up in her eyes. "I was such a fool to believe…" she cried softly under her breath.
Clark took a step closer to her. "What are you talking about?" he asked her, his eyes widening in anticipation.
"I was a fool to think I ever loved you, Clark Kent," she cried. "Here you are spouting words of love about Lana Lang and it's no different than three months ago or even five years ago. I've had enough. I want something more than this—I deserved that much." She refused to let her tears fall. Appearing weak in Clark's eyes was the last thing she wanted out of this monologue.
"I've tried to suppress these feelings. I've honestly tried, Clark. You've been talking about fantasies for as long as I've known you. All the while, I've had one of my own. But the difference is you were my fantasy, my dream, or whatever you'd like to call it. Just remembering the times when I thought you might feel something in return for me… God, how could I have been so naïve."
Clark tried to speak but found it difficult to put his thoughts into words without saying the wrong thing. "For the most part, Chloe, you're right. Lana Lang has been my fantasy as far back as I can remember. But that's a fantasy Chloe, it goes away. It fades and all you're left with is something real and more than just a dream." He wanted to tell her everything he had learned about himself in the past three months. "You've been there for me during times that were trying and difficult. You stuck. When everything else faded, you stuck. I don't take that for granted."
Chloe laughed maniacally. "I beg to differ. The only thing you have done is take me for granted. You treated me like your Plan B, your last resort when Lana wouldn't give you the time of day. You didn't even trust me enough as a friend to tell me the truth about who and what you are. So, I'm neither a romantic interest nor a friend to you, and now you expect me to be the one you 'settle for' when things with Lana take a turn for the worst? No way, I won't play the sacrificial lamb anymore because all you're doing is using me until something better comes along. Better, as in Lana. I won't stand for it, not for anyone and especially not for you." She turned on her heel and headed for the lobby to find Jeremy.
"Chloe, wait!" Clark shouted as he tried to grab her arm, missed and accidentally tore a gaping hole in the side of her dress. His superfluous strength had for once failed him; he couldn't believe how bad this was turning out. He had only wanted to talk to Chloe honestly and let her know how he truly felt about her, and that he might, in fact, love her more than any fantasy conjured in his head.
"Leave me alone!" Chloe snapped back at him, clutching her thin shawl around her newly torn gown. "I don't need you anymore."
Clark watched as she ran into the lobby and out of sight. He slumped against the wall with the loud speakers doing nothing to soothe the torturous ache in his chest.
* * * * * * *
"Jeremy!" Chloe called as she saw him standing by the punchbowl. "Can we go somewhere alone? I really don't want to be around these people." She noticed Lana standing at the other end of the table, giving her a quizzical look.
"Are you alright? You don't look well," Jeremy told her as he lifted her chin. He noted the mascara that had run down her cheeks. "Let's go upstairs and get your make-up cleaned up." He brought her to the front desk and asked for a room and Chloe followed him docilely.
As soon as they entered the room, Jeremy helped Chloe to the bed and dampened a hand towel. "What happened, Chloe?" Jeremy asked her as he sat beside her on the bed and wiped the wet cloth under her eyes.
"I just talked with Clark on the balcony." She tried to expunge the images of Clark's face from her mind. "It didn't go as I planned," she murmured as she remembered that the letter was still in her bag.
"Shh," Jeremy soothed her. He gently rubbed her bare arms with his hands. "You don't have to talk about it."
She looked up at Jeremy's caring face and, even though it wasn't Clark's, she knew she loved him, too. It was a different kind of love, one of mutual understanding and comfort; she could turn to Jeremy and he would always care for her. She needed him now to care for her.
Chloe looked into Jeremy's eyes and his head bent down to kiss her lips. As usual, Jeremy pressed his body to hers and this time Chloe didn't resist. She needed him and although she knew the blind rage from her previous altercation with Clark fueled her desire for Jeremy, she did not want to stop him.
After moments of touching and moaning, she had slipped out of her dress and Jeremy was fiddling with his zipper. She climbed under the covers of the hotel blanket as he moved in between her legs. A part of her wanted to tell him to stop, but her mouth couldn't form words of protest. She didn't know if this was right. She only knew that she needed someone to love her, if not Clark Kent.