Author: J.A.K

Rating: R- for real life feelings and real life situations that aren't always PG-13

Summary: Clark is born a Luthor; but the surprise doesn't end there. It also turns out that his father is the most notorious mobster in the nation. Fighting desperately for a forbidden love, he must also fight against who he is; as he is the son of a godfather.

Disclaimers: I don't intend to make a profit off of this story; I only intend to entertain those of like mind.

Author's Note: I didn't want to say in my prologue what ship this story was going to be. I'll tell you now, though, that it is a Clark/Chloe ship (what else could it really be). The new season along with college, is killing my update schedule. I should be writing a paper right now, but instead I'm uploading a new chapter. This is actually my favorite story going right now 'cause I get to write a Clark as a good guy/bad boy.

An part 2: Oh yeah... I ask that you bare with me as I am basically re- writing Clark's entire history.

An part 3: Thanks to everyone who reviewed.

Enough of my ramblings.on with the story. Enjoy!

Chloe

It was cold and bleak during this time of year in New York. The only color that could be seen for miles around was the varying shades of red and gold that were halfheartedly attached to the Maple Leaf trees. The grounds of Saint Francis academy were filled to the brim with an assortment of just such trees. Whoever made the financial decisions for the school seemed to think that the more foliage there was the more impressive and moneyed the school would appear to prospective students and their rich parents.

Until recently, I never knew that I fell under the esteemed category of rich; but apparently according to the staff, I was wealthy enough to be invited to take a tour of the well established academy.

I sighed looking around and feeling tired with the whole situation. I didn't need to have a personal escort, whom I quickly brushed off, opting instead to roam around the grounds by myself. I didn't need to be wined and dined and swept off my feet as if this were a first date. This was a school for crying out loud- an institution for learning. A simple 'would you like to go here Chloe' was more than enough for me.

I looked down the halls of Saint Francis, dimly appreciating how imposing yet oddly solicitous the lengthy corridors were. I shrugged, thinking to myself that I didn't really care where I went, so long as I was out of the house and away from my dad.

As I began to get more familiar with my surroundings and comfortable with the air that floated about me, I almost didn't see a fast approaching figure that appeared to be in a discontented mood. He was very tall and broad shouldered with dark hair. As he passed by me—nearly taking off my shoulder in the process— I noticed that he wasn't smartly dressed in standard uniform like the other students, but was donning a pair of loose fitting faded jeans and a dark blue sweater with a crisp white collared shirt poking out from the lapels of the heavier of the two materials.

When I let out a surprised gasp he paused in mid step, sighed, then turned around.

He let out a brusque and strained sounding "sorry" then continued on his way.

Feeling particularly irritated by his attitude, I let out what I considered to be a pretty witty reply.

"The least you could do is pick up my arm, which by the way, didn't appreciate being knocked to the floor like that." Sarcasm oozed from the pores of every vowel and consonant that left my mouth.

His eyes widened slightly in a way that suggested that he wasn't use to being spoken to like that. They returned to what was presumably normal size as he took a step forward.

He put a hand to his ear.

"Excuse me, did you say something?" His face was unusually bland for a person straining to hear.

I opened my mouth and began speaking, but was cut off by a crisp "I didn't think so."

For the second time since I'd met him, his back faced me as he turned around, heading off quickly to wherever it was he was going.

From the moment I'd seen him approaching in this direction, I knew there was something very familiar about his features; but it wasn't until he faced me for the second time that I figured out how and where I knew him from.

"Oh my God…

…it's Clark Luthor."

************************************

Clark

From the moment I started approaching the vicinity of the exit, I knew there was something familiar about the girl who stood there. Her wit was even more refreshing than her outlandish clothes, but today wasn't a day for engaging in conversations with anyone. There was only one objective on my mind, and that was getting as far away from this unfit madhouse they tried to pass off as school as I could.

I knew it was years of Luthor training that made the words roll off my tongue as easily as they did, but even I was shocked at the rudeness of it all.

I shrugged inwardly thinking of yet another of the many sayings my father had told me when I was younger. This one was actually in high standings as truest of all, because nice guys always did finish last.

With that in mind, I always tried to be as cutting as I could to anyone who so much as looked at me in a cross way. To say it didn't feel just the slightest bit exhilarating when guys older than me quickly averted their eyes so as not to come at me the wrong way, would be a lie. It didn't feel as good when I gave the same treatment to the female gender, but those encounters happened rarely because I was often trying to get in bed with most of the girls and women I came into contact with.

Right now, it just so happened that I'd just come from a rather frustrating face-off of sorts, and I really wasn't in the mood to indulge anyone, even if they were pretty and blond.

So disregarding the notion that I knew her from some time in the past, I let loose my silver tongue on her unsuspecting form.

Shrugging internally after I said my piece, I turned my back on her again, prepared to go riding in my newest S class series Mercedes. The rush of doing 95 in a 65 mile per hour zone combined with the satisfying feel of the wind on my face was incentive enough to put an extra spring in my step.

I was almost in the home stretch; almost close to my passage to freedom which currently had a subdued looking 'exit' sign glowing directly above it. That was until the stranger whom apparently wasn't a stranger screeched out my name in shocked tones.

Stopping straight in my tracks, I swung my body around, remembering dimly not to use my enhanced powers of speed.

I could feel my eyes widen ever so slightly as I stared at her bewildered face.

Slowly placing my hands in my pockets and looking at her with what I hoped appeared like only faint interest, I spoke to her.

"Now that you've joined the masses in accurately confirming the fact that- yes- I am indeed Clark Luthor," I swept her body slowly with my eyes, understanding wholeheartedly why she squirmed from discomfort beneath my gaze, "Who are you?"

She didn't seem fazed by my retort. In fact, that just appeared to fuel the words that were already teetering on the insides of her mouth.

A loud snort came from her nose as she looked heavenward. Seconds later she cast her sight downwards to meet mine, all the while glaring at me as she folded her arms tightly.

"Of course you don't remember me; you've only seen me a hundred times at your father's meetings."

Confusion then recognition coursed through my veins. Was this really pretty blond girl with the pink dress? Or at least that was the name I'd given her after noticing her petite form on more than one occasion.

Remembering who I was, I instantly tightened my loose jaw, and proceeded to treat her as I had been taught to treat anyone who had the upper hand.

I folded my own arms stepping closer to her flagrantly angered pose.

"I saw you a few times, but I obviously wasn't too compelled to find out your name."

I felt the corners of my lips turn up ever so slightly. I knew she would be incited enough to tell me her name without my asking.

"Why you…my name is Chloe Sullivan." She put her hands on her hips, which I couldn't help but notice had a very appealing shape to them. "And if it wasn't for the fact that you are who you are, then I wouldn't be too compelled to know your name either."

With that, she crossed the remaining distance that separated us, and rose her hand in what could only bean an attempt to slap me.

Shocked and amazed that anyone would somehow get it in their mind to raise their hand at me, I didn't even pretend not to use my super speed.

Catching her hand I stared menacingly down at her.

"What in God's good name do you think you're doing?"

She seemed surprised that I invoked the name God, and quickly glanced around my neck which was plainly adorned with a small silver cross.

Yea I was religious. Sometimes only when it was convenient to me, but…who cared? Everyone had their sins.

I focused, once again, at the situation at hand. When no response was forthcoming, I gripped her wrist a bit harder.

"Well?"

Again I would be lying if I said I wasn't surprised when some of the fire that previously scorched her green irises lessened from her eyes, as she quickly looked down at her feet.

This time, she spoke so softly, that if it wasn't for my finer hearing abilities, I was sure that I would have missed what she said.

Hearing the words as I did still didn't diminish the meaning that was emitted from the depths of each utterance.

How could she ask me 'why exactly I didn't tell her what those meetings were about'?

If she didn't know what those meetings were about, then she didn't know….

I stared at her for a few moments disbelieving what my mind was trying to tell me.

Is that why the Sullivans suddenly vanished? To runaway from a truth that was virtually inescapable. If that was the case, then why would Gabe Sullivan even let his daughter come to the school that I was attending?

Before the tiniest vestige of sympathy had a chance to be felt for the person that was directly in front of me, a loud but clear "Clark, please do kindly unhand Ms. Sullivan," came ringing down the hall.

There, standing like the impossibility that he was, was my father, staring at Chloe with an all too familiar calculating gaze.

Instantly dropping my hand, I gaped in open shock. Did we step into the twilight zone? Was this still saint Francis Academy? Was my father really standing there?

Lionel stepped closer to the confines of our proximity.

Clasping his hands loosely in front of him, he retained the classic Luthor pose.

"Now that we've finally found each other Miss Sullivan, would you be so willing as to relay to me where your dear dad is."

I knew then that both Chloe and her father were in shit loads of trouble.