Author's notes:
This is a flashback chapter that takes place at the beginning of 2006. From here we'll move in linear order till 2019, in which the first chapter took place.
1. Thanks again for my beta readers, Last Scorpion and The Die Hard, for cheering, moral support, and lots of grammar/spelling correction.
2. Lois – isn't present in this story, because I think Chloe is Lois, not in the Chlois theory way, but in qualities and merits.
3. Plots – no Stones of Stupidity, in case you wondered. Lana came back from Paris with Jason, but they had broken up, and he went back to wherever he came from. The meteor shower had nothing to do with Lana, and she was never possessed by a French witch, because it was the most annoying, incoherent plot line, ever.
4. The Talk – Clark told Chloe, after finally realizing she probably already knows (took him long enough!), then decided to tell Lana, and actually date her. I promise, gentle readers, to separate them as soon as it's plausible, as I despite Lana as the next viewer. I just want Clark to understand she isn't good for him.
5. Lex – has never been light-switched to evil, never took Chloe to the caves, etc. Basically, he's the same person he was at the beginning of season 4. He knows that Clark is Superman (he's not an idiot) and they both had their rift because of Clark's many lies to him over the years. Regardless of that, he keeps Clark's secret. Also, he went back to Metropolis to run Luthor Corp, but probably won't be present at the story.
6. The Kents, Lionel and Shelby – were tragically killed at the meteor shower (what a wonderful plot device…)
7. Reviews – will motivate me to finish the story.
"Smallville in general, and Clark in particular, had seen death way beyond their fair share. Each death made the town shadier, even though most people refused to discuss the matter, or even walk anywhere near Smallville's ever-growing graveyard. They preferred to think they still lived in the pre-first meteor shower town, but the heavy locks on their doors implied otherwise.
Clark tried to act the same way, but it was harder for him – he was present at most of those deaths. He refused to discuss Alicia Baker, for example, after our talk at the graveyard – and I was the one doing the talking on that occasion.
His attempt to escape Smallville's harsh reality was brought to an abrupt end with the deaths of Mr. and Mrs. Kent at the second meteor shower. He sold what was left of the farm – which wasn't much – and moved to Metropolis to attend Met U. That was the time he first took upon himself the part of the superhero, flying in the sky in his all-black outfit and a mask covering his face.
The press was quick to name him Superman, and nobody but Lana Lang and I knew the celebrated hero was in fact a tortured nineteen year-old boy, trying to save the world and redeem himself at the same time."
Chloe Sullivan, "Smallville – Clark Kent's early years" unpublished notes.
Chloe's new article for the Kansan, titled "Walking Skeletons – why does Met U ignore the growing numbers of anorexic and bulimic students?" was about to be e-mailed to the editor when Clark came flying through the open window and landed near her.
"Hi," She smiled at him. She reached for her closet and found the jeans and plaid shirt she always kept for times like these, and tossed them at him.
"Thanks," said Clark, and for a second he could only be seen as a blur. When he re-appeared he was wearing the clothes she'd given him. The famous costume was thrown at Chloe's bed.
Chloe eyed him. She couldn't remember ever seeing him that tired. She didn't think he could look that tired.
"Clark, what happened?" she asked, getting up from her chair and moving forward to look at his face.
"Earthquake in Bolivia." he said, yawning. He shook his head from side to side, as if trying to stay awake.
"When was the last time you slept?" inquired Chloe.
He wrinkled his forehead. "Six or seven days, I'm not exactly sure. Before the earthquake there was this really big terrorists' act in Iraq, and that flood in China…" His voice trailed off.
Chloe shook her head in disapproval. "Ok, Clark? This has got to stop. You're killing yourself! The world will have no use for a superhero with a breakdown." Physical or mental breakdown? Chloe wondered. Both seemed extremely likely at the moment.
"I can't stop, Chloe," Clark said, sitting on her bed and trying to hide a yawn with a big hand. "I'm needed. You know that."
"Well," said Chloe, putting on her most determined expression, "you're not going to be available for the next few hours. Lie down." she ordered.
"I can't." Clark protested, but eventually obeyed. Putting his head on her pillow, he murmured, "Maybe just a few minutes…" and was asleep before he finished the sentence.
Chloe rescued his black clothes from under his legs – he was going to need them later – and hid them in her closet, in case her roommate would enter.
Then she sat in her chair, article forgotten, and sighed deeply.
Shouldn't Lana be the one taking care of him? Chloe asked herself. She almost picked up her phone to dial Lana's number, but stopped midway. If Clark wanted to talk to Lana, he would have flown straight to Smallville, not to her dorm room. Thirty more seconds of flying weren't much for Clark, even in his current state.
Chloe shrugged. By now she had become smart enough to avoid putting herself in the middle of a Clark-Lana fight. Instead, she remembered she had an article to send and turned to the computer. After it was sent, she quietly grabbed her coat and went out in search of pizza. Clark might be fueled by sunlight, but eating wouldn't hurt him, either.
Chloe opened the door to find a half-awake Clark grinning at her.
"You know I'm able to hear the door, no matter how quietly you open it," he told her.
"Sorry," said Chloe.
"I didn't mean to wake you. Besides, you didn't hear me open the door earlier," she told him.
"I did," Clark stretched, "I was too tired to protest." He looked at the pizza box.
"Please, tell me it's for me," he said, reaching to take the carton from her.
"It is," confirmed Chloe, surrendering it to him "and why do I get a feeling that you're about to eat the pizza and the box as well?"
Clark took off the box's covering, then gave its contents an intense look. The pizza began to steam.
"That's better," he said in self-satisfaction. Chloe was reaching to take a piece, when Clark stopped her hand.
"It's too hot," Clark said. He took a slice, puffed gently over it and handed it to her. It was just the right temperature. Clark sat again on the bed, fully concentrated on the remaining slices.
"You didn't eat, either?" she asked, removing her coat and hanging it on the back of her chair.
"Not really," his voice was half choked because of the piece of pizza in his mouth.
"Now," said Chloe "after you've finished gulping down this pizza, you're going to your room to catch some sleep and work on that term paper for Wednesday," God, she thought, I sound like his mother.
Clark's face fell. "I should probably fly to Smallville and talk to Lana," he murmured.
"And that's bad because…?" Chloe left the rest of the sentence hanging.
Clark leaned backward, the pizza forgotten. "It's not bad…it's just that I know we're going to have another fight, and I hate fighting with Lana. She's going to be mad at me for not calling her last week."
Chloe seated herself next to him and patted his arm.
"She'll understand," Chloe said, although she didn't have much hope on the subject, "you can't control earthquakes, terrorists, or floods."
Clark, if possible, looked even more miserable than before.
"I suppose I could have called," he said, "but when I'm at work I have to be fully concentrated, and talking to Lana would distract me."
"Sounds logical," said Chloe, "but don't tell me that, tell Lana."
Clark straightened up a little bit. "Would you mind talking to her?" He asked eagerly, "you're way better with words than I'll ever be."
Chloe shook her head. "No way, Clark. If I ever want to play peacekeeper, I'll put on a blue beret and join the UN Forces."
Not only did she have to hear about Clark and Lana's problems, but now she was supposed to solve them as well?
Clark sighed. "I had a hunch you'd say that."
Chloe nodded and gave him a little shove, "Now go to your dorm and sleep for a while."
Clark managed to convince the university authorities to supply him with a single room, claiming "emotional distress" resulted from his parents' deaths. Chloe was the one who talked him into telling them that, although he had protested at first.
She didn't think he would have been able to hide his hero-related activities while sharing a room, because even the densest guy on earth was bound to notice Clark's weird habits sooner or later.
"I'm going, I'm going," Clark got up and looked around. "Where did you put my other clothes?" he asked.
"In the closet," answered Chloe, and went to open it. "Next time you drop by, bring some of your regular clothes; I'm kind of out of them," she said, looking around for a bag to hide the costume. At last she found one, dumped out the book she'd bought yesterday, and handed it to Clark.
"Thanks," he said, smiling at her. "You know you're a life saver, right?"
No, thought Chloe, that would be you. All I do is try to make your life a bit easier.
"Anytime," she said. "Now get out of here so I can study."
Two days went by, and Clark landed again in Chloe's room.
"What happened to your roommate?" he asked. "She's never here."
"Naomi is organizing tomorrow's feminist gathering, I think, and she said something about meeting her boyfriend later," answered Chloe. "We're about to protest about the lack of lighting in campus. Metropolis might be mutant-free, but being molested by a 'regular' pervert is bad enough."
Clark nodded. "I'd love to be there…"
"But you have the world to save," finished Chloe.
He chuckled, "More or less."
Chloe sat on her bed, and Clark came to sit next to her.
"So," she said, "I understand the world is pretty quiet today."
"For the moment," he said.
"What about your term paper? And all the other things we talked about?" Like Lana?
"Handed in the term paper," said Clark with a proud smile, "caught some sleep, and talked to Lana."
"How did it go?" asked Chloe.
"Talking to Lana?"
"Well, yes," said Chloe "I wasn't going to ask you about your nap."
"As usual," said Clark, "sometimes I think we're stuck in a loop: having the same conversation over and over again. Once it was about why I can't be honest with her, now we took that out of the way, and we keep repeating the "spending time together" issue." He sighed.
Recycling, thought Chloe: good for the environment, bad for a relationship.
"Is there a reason you don't try other subjects?" asked Chloe.
Clark got up and started pacing the room. "To tell the truth, we don't have that much to talk about. In high school we knew the same people, had the same classes, and had the same mutant problems..." He turned his back to Chloe "But now we don't have much to talk about. Other than the past."
A long distance relationship, thought Chloe, in more than one way. She was hardly surprised with Clark and Lana's problems, but she was surprised Clark didn't ignore them, or just blame himself. Maybe he was growing up.
Clark turned back to face Chloe "I dreamed about this for so long," he said miserably "to be able to talk to Lana about everything, to tell her my secret. But now that I have…" he gestured his hands helplessly, "we still don't really talk."
"Maybe that's what you should talk to her about," said Chloe. "Maybe she feels the same way. You keep talking to me about things you should talk to her about."
"Well, you're easier to talk to," said Clark defensively.
That's because you're not in love with me, thought Chloe. You want Lana to love you and adore you, so you don't tell her anything that might not be appropriate for her to hear. To me, on the other hand, you can tell whatever you want, because I'm only your best friend.
"But you're right," continued Clark, and Chloe thanked God he couldn't hear her inner dialogue "I should make the effort."
He stepped closer to her. "Thanks," he said. Chloe got up from the bad.
"Are you heading for Smallville right now?" she asked.
He shook his head "Right now I'm heading to the shower. Later I'll fly and talk to her."
"Well, that's definitely the right order of things," Chloe grinned at him. He grinned back.
"So, what are you going to do tonight?" He asked Chloe.
"I've got a date," announced Chloe.
"A date?" repeated Clark, "With whom?"
"Don't sound so surprised, Clark."
"I wasn't!" said Clark "Well, a little" he admitted "but that's because your dates in high school didn't normally end up well."
"They tried to murder me, you mean?" said Chloe.
"Well, yes"
"Don't worry," She assured him "I ran a background check. He's a junior, majors in History, and grew up in Kansas City. I doubt he's a homicidal mutant."
"Be careful" said Clark, his eyebrows closer than before.
You're jealous, thought Chloe. I gave you all the opportunities in the world and you never took any of them – well, except for that infamous prom – and you're still jealous. Once I would have thought it was because you had feelings for me, too. Now I know it's your possessiveness; you hate having another male invading your territory.
"I will," she promised him.
He got even closer, lowered his head and kissed her cheek. "See you," he said, then turned and flew out of the window.
"Chloe, wait up!" Chloe heard Clark yell. She stopped and turned to see him run towards her. She guessed he actually found the time to attend one of his classes. Clark had the worst attendance record – and the best grades – in their year. His secret was a perfect memory and the ability to read a page in about a nano-second. He read all his text books at the beginning of the semester and never looked at them again.
He got closer, and she was happy to see he wore the green V sweater she bought him for his birthday under his light-brown coat.
"So?" he said when he reached her, she could see his warm breath in the cold air.
"So?" she repeated.
"How was your date?" asked Clark. It's good he wears green, thought Chloe; it matches the color of his face right now. Well, he'd be relived to hear the story of this date.
She shrugged, "He turned out to be one of those who believe in "Intelligent Design".
Clark's mouth twitched "Ouch," he said. "Sorry."
So why do you look considerably happier than you were when we started this conversation? Chloe wanted to ask him. Instead she shrugged again.
"When he started lecturing me about why Darwin couldn't have possibly been right, and wanted me to write an article about the subject – from his point of view, of course – I got up and left the restaurant," said Chloe.
"Look on the bright side;" suggested Clark, "at least he didn't try to kill you."
Chloe began to walk faster "I want more than someone who won't try to kill me." She said past her shoulder.
Clark widened his steps a little to match her new pace. "I didn't mean to upset you," he began.
"I know you didn't." She tried to smile at him. "It's just that I want someone who will not only not try to kill me, but like me. And I'll like him. And one day we can honestly say we love each other."
"And live happily ever after," said Clark, his eyes wide, "I didn't think you were much for romance, Chlo."
"As much as I'd love to say that I'm perfectly happy on my own, Clark – that's not exactly true. I'm fine on my own, but I want more. I think that somewhere deep down I still believe in true love and happy ending."
Then she stopped abruptly and looked into his eyes.
"And if you ever tell anyone I said that, I'll come after you with a kryptonite bat"
Clark laughed and patted her shoulder. "Your secret is safe with me," he said.
"Oh, and I just remembered," he continued. "Grandfather Clark invited us both for lunch on Saturday. Are you free?"
Chloe had met William Clark twice so far. At the second time, while Clark was at one of his "bathroom breaks" (car accident nearby) Mr. Clark took her hand and told her that when Clark is done with the "Small-town brunette" he'd be happy to pay for Chloe and Clark's wedding.
"Sure," smiled Chloe.
"Good," said Clark, "and I think that's your building."
"It is," said Chloe, and Clark opened the door for her. She smiled at him and ran to class.
"I wish I could say I saw it coming. In a book, I would have definitely thought "foreshadowing". In a book, on the other hand, I would have had the back cover to guide me through the plot – and I never would have managed to avoid reading it before actually reading the book.
Yet everything looked perfectly innocent and beautiful at the time when Clark, as Superman, first meddled with society's affairs. I was covering Naomi's feminist gathering on a cold day in February; Only thirty people or so bothered coming, and we all stood there, well wrapped in our coats, and listened.
Clark appeared about five minutes after she began her speech. He hovered above the crowd and listened as well. Poor Naomi choked on her words, and I gestured at her frantically to go on. When she finally came to her senses, she continued speaking, and I took a few good photos of Clark above everything.
The news spread faster than Clark could fly, and since I was the only reporter around (none of the other newspapers would bother with a feminist gathering) my pictures got a handsome price. The real pay-off was at the day after, when Met U's president pompously announced the installation of new lampposts all over campus, and reinforcement of the campus police after dark, as a tribute for "Metropolis' special protector."
So everyone was happy, besides Clark, who finally realized how much an impact he had on the adoring public, but couldn't bring himself to feel worthy enough to accept it."
Chloe Sullivan, "Destiny shock – The farm boy turns superhero", unpublished notes
Chloe moved one of the shopping bags to her other hand so that she'd be able to knock on Clark's door.
He opened it with his hair still wet and smelling from his shampoo. Chloe inhaled deeply.
"You," she announced, grinning, "have made lots of women on this campus very happy." She stepped inside the room. It was clean, if Spartan.
Clark smiled in embarrassment, "I didn't actually "do" anything," he said. "I mean, I hadn't saved anyone or something, I just showed my support."
"Well," said Chloe, "your support, unlike mine, actually makes thing happen around here. And it made us a little money as well," she handed him the bags.
"I bought you some clothes, and ordered us both next year's text books with the money I got from selling those pictures to Reuters."
Clark opened one of the bags. "New costumes?" he asked, "what's wrong with my old blacks?"
"First," said Chloe, "last time I checked, you were down to two sets of your blacks -earthquakes and floods aren't good for clothing, you know. Second, those blacks are completely different," she assured him with a grin. She took one of the shirts and showed him the label.
"Superman's line?" Clark asked.
"I considered informing them that Superman spends half his time in plaid, but was afraid I might turn those tent-shirts of yours fashionable" Chloe sat herself on Clark's spinning chair and laid her elbows on the back of the chair.
"For your information, those shirts are very practical when living on a farm," said Clark, his voice slightly hurt.
"That must be why you keep wearing them in Metropolis," replied Chloe
Clark ignored her last comment.
"I still don't get it," he said, staring at the label. "All I ever wear as Superman is black."
Chloe spread her hands to both directions "That's why the entire line is in black. By the way, the salesgirl asked me if I were buying all that black for Superman."
"What did you say?" asked Clark.
"The truth, of course," said Chloe with all the innocence she could master.
"She laughed and told me that her boyfriend, too, started wearing an awful lot of black since Superman appeared," she grinned. "A farm boy from Smallville as a fashion leader. Now I have seen everything."
Clark blushed. He lowered his head, careful not to look at Chloe's face.
"Chloe," he said, and she was surprised to hear the desperation in his voice, "why do people insist on making something out of me that I'm not? They insist on calling me a hero…" he said, moving to sit on his bed. He still clutched the black shirt in his hands.
Ok, thought Chloe. What the hell am I suppose to say now? Somebody, please give me a script!
"What makes you think you're not a hero?" She asked carefully.
"The fact that I'm not!" he almost shouted, "I'm not more of a hero than any cop or fireman. Less, actually. I'm trying to redeem myself. They aren't"
Next year I'm taking Morality 101, thought Chloe.
"I suppose you're talking about your summer in Metropolis," Chloe said, wishing again for some kind of guidelines for the conversation. When did he become so self-conscious?
He scraped the shirt with his hands.
"I robbed ATMs, Chloe, a bank; I set a police car on fire; I spent 240,000 dollars on a stupid sports car; I left my parents when they needed me the most; and I told my best friend to get out of my life."
"Well, I wasn't much of a good friend back then," sighed Chloe "more like the world's worst friend." She felt her cheeks flush with shame.
"You never betrayed me, Chloe," said Clark in earnest." You could have told Lionel Luthor exactly where I was, kept your column and your father's job, and you chose keeping my secret over all those things. Didn't we already agree all of that was more than enough to make up for your mistake?"
Chloe nodded, reluctant.
"You redeemed yourself, Chloe" said Clark, "and now I have to do the same. But I have a lot more to make up for than you had.
"Clark, if there was anything I learned from my mistakes – other than that messing with Lionel Luthor is a bad idea – it's that redemption isn't a light switch. It's like a journey, and that's one road you can't fly. But personally, I think you've already done a long way."
"That's the point, Chloe," replied Clark, "I haven't. I'm being rewarded in every step of the way. Whenever I rescue someone, people cheer. I get flowers from little girls, and I've been on the cover of every magazine on the planet, and now my mere presence gets things moving in a way that nobody else could move them. That's not redemption. That's being a celebrity."
"It's also inevitable," said Chloe. She got up from her chair, sat next to him on the bed and took the poor shirt from his hands before it would be torn apart.
"You're more than a hero, Clark. You're a savior, a symbol. You give people hope, and I think it's amazing. The crime in Metropolis is down to its lowest level ever...I even saw a survey the other day that the level of contentment among the city's residents is up by thirty percent since you showed up. And it's not like you're making any profit out of this."
"Except for clothes and text books," Clark gestured to the shirt Chloe was holding.
"Well, the way things are, you need new costumes almost every week, and there's no way around it. You also don't have too much cash to spare. Besides, I was the one selling the pictures, so blame me," replied Chloe. She patted his knee."Feel any better?"
Clark gave her one of his long, lingering looks he had mastered to perfection over the years. Chloe felt her heart beginning to melt. Stop it, Chloe, she reminded herself sharply. He's not yours. Never was, never will be. Lana owns him, God knows why.
"You see me as better than I am, Chloe," he said, "and I do feel better. How come you never hit me with that metaphorical kryptonite bat of yours for being an idiot?"
"I knew that one day you'll pull your head out of your metaphorical butt," answered Chloe cheerfully. And fly back to me, she thought. Because you are worth the wait.
That's it for now, I hope you enjoyed it. Ideas and comments will be very welcomed.
