Chance

by Chase Binder

Disclaimer: Smallville and Superman are not mine. My choice to alliterate their eventful lives is because Joe, Jerry, Alfred and Miles created something that inspired me.

Note: Hey um, I know I wrote this before and this has been up for a while now. It's just that I had an idea on how to go further with my story so I tweaked it a little bit. This is my take on the famous death of Superman, with Smallville in context. I broke a few rules of the comic storyline. Oh well, that the reason for fanfiction anyways. Pete and Lana are together here already.

Chapter 2

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I wish I had friend like Lex Luthor. An obscure companion whose willingness to put aside his own endeavors for the better of others filches the worthy part of my judgment. He told me once that a friend of Clark is a friend of his. If for nothing, I guess I could start off there. Acquaintance first. Then friend.

Lex was the last one to be with Clark. He deserves at least some kind of gratitude for being there for him.

-pete

***

Pete swung open the Talon's door and the amber sky outside peeked in to the shop's near-empty inhabitants. He knew it was expected to be closed today, still he couldn't help but try.

Inside he found Lana, alone, sitting calm while she held a warm glass of milk, staring blankly at a disused piano. She didn't even seem to be breathing – it became apparent to Pete that Lana was too preoccupied in her thoughts to be doing anything else. He wondered what raced in her head at that moment.

"Lana."

…

…

would you tell me...

"Lana!" Pete uttered again.

...

how could it be...

"Hey Lana, are you there?"

any better than this.

"Huh?" Lana finally replied. "Oh, Pete it's you."

"Yes it's me. What were you doing?" Pete grilled.

"Just playing a song in my head."

"I'm sorry," he added, feeling that any gesture from him isn't what Lana would be expecting right now. "Am I disturbing you in some way?"

"Oh no, sweetie" she reasoned. "Don't worry, you're very welcome here. do you want something?"

"Milk with caffeine would be good. And throw in coffee there, somewhere." Pete said jokingly. It was best if he was funny, there would be no awkward strings attached and no sad expositions to be addressed. Even though, they had been together for a great span of time, he knew Lana needed her time, and he knew also knew he needed his.

For a few minutes, Pete sat alone inside the Talon. Oddly likewise, he too found himself staring into space. Perhaps there was something about the emptiness of a place so huge that somehow moved him to other things.

Acquaintance first. Then friend.

"So, the funny vibe caught you too huh?" Lana said, appearing out-of-nowhere and giving Pete his coffee.

"Having remembered that Clark was a large part of this place feels, it feels homish I guess," he replied, "I couldn't get to stay inside my house – and then I thought about the Talon as a nice refuge."

"I don't know about that," she debated, "before you came in, I felt my lungs collapsing. It's a good thing you showed up though, you know.. just someone to talk to."

"At least some people are willing to talk about it."

"Why?" Lana questioned.

"Chloe." Pete answered, but only to that extent. At first he wanted to tell her about how Chloe was engulfed in a quest to unbury the reason of Clark's committal. She's actually out on the streets of Smallville right now, heaving out every resource she has, just so she can have that one night where the sheets are warm and the pillows are snugly and finally, Chloe can boast a sleep where nothing crossed her head. But then he felt Chloe had her reasons, and her motives have more a lot more substance than just a resentful petty grudge.

Unfortunately, Pete's response had caused Lana to unavoidably further ask: "What about Chloe?"

"Oh you know," he remarked, trying hard to make sure Chloe isn't put in a bad colour because of this.

"Even when Clark.. um.. you know," prolonging with caution, "Chloe is still being Chloe."

"I can understand her," Lana responded while she quaffed another shot of her drink, "That's how she deals any sense of grief inside and I guess at this moment all we can respond to her is 'nice idea'. It would be best I guess"

"Well I wish it were that simple."

"Why?" she enquired.

A heavy breath reached Pete, lips pursed briefly. He rested his hands on the table while he used the other to pick up his coffee, shaking it, and then sipping its contents. Obviously he was delaying until finally,

"Chloe thinks Clark didn't exactly die."

"Oh..." reacted Lana in a very awkward tenor.

"She thinks Lex has something to do with it. She's now on her way to his place with a very hefty bone to pick." Heaving another sigh, "Please come with me to the Luthor's and help me control this bad idea."

A silent beat tagged Pete's words. Lana flinched her eyes and remained pensive. Their drinks were untouched for while, and as it stood there, its warmth puffed clouds upwards.