Title: The Heart of a Hero
Pairing: Clark/Chloe
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None, really.
Category: Romance, FutureFic, Drama
Author's Note: Just the beginning … read and enjoy.
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Chapter 1: Scene 1
July, 2055
Clark leaned over the bathroom sink dressed only in the jeans he forgot to wash the night before. His hands were flat on the counter top while his strong, outstretched arms held some of his weight and kept his balance steady. Water dripped from the faucet to the sink in a rather rhythmic melody, the silence in the room taken by it's song. Rays from the early morning sun slipped through the small, blue curtained window just above the tub, and painted a yellow square on the tile floor next to his feet. His eyes stared down into the deep sink below him, drawn there by the patterns the droplets of water created against the porcelain canvas.
Seconds passed, and Clark was a bit hesitant to move. An apprehension brought on only when he anticipated the heartache the forthcoming day might bring. But with a solemn sigh, he finally let his eyes drift to the mirror just above the sink. The light on the mirror was bright and accentuated his distinct features in a gentle glow. He turned his head side to side, noting the lack of age in his face. At least, not the age expected in the face of a sixty-eight year old man. He recently acquired a few wrinkles just below his eyes, and a few around the corners of his mouth. Yesterday, he finally noticed a new glint of gray buried in the otherwise black, wavy locks of his hair. However, at a glance, he still looked thirty-something rather than the sixty-something that he actually was. The clear by-product of living a Kryptonian life on earth.
Yet in that youthful reflection before him, Clark suddenly saw the man he grew into. The sum of his life could be seen in the depths of his eyes, the few lines in his features a reminder of the many choices he has made. His heart surged with wonderment as he pondered upon the path he has traveled, and upon the life he has lived in servitude and heroism for the race he cares for so deeply. And he thought further about those he has loved, and the many who have loved him in return. He thought of the family he raised in the very house he still stood in now, and the wife and mother of his children he spent forty years loving more each day.
As each memory passed through his mind, one after the next, the importance of this day quickly submerged Clark's apprehension in a bath of certainty. Because with those memories came the never forgotten, lingering promise in his heart. The very promise that gave him strength, that gave him life. And he knew everything he has done, the life he has lived, only led up to this point, to this moment, to this day. To the end that waited for him all along.
So with another deep breath, Clark shut the light off in the bathroom and walked into the hallway. He fell into the routine of a normal morning as he moved into the kitchen and made a quick breakfast. After filling up with eggs and toast, Clark walked to his bedroom a few doors down from the bathroom to dress. It took only a few seconds to settle on a red T-shirt, a washed pair of jeans, and his new sneakers. The casual dress was only a temporary fixture to help him travel in comfort rather than under the frustrating distress of formal attire. The formal attire would come later, when he arrived safely at his destination.
With that done, Clark walked to his half packed suitcase that still sat leisurely on the oak trunk at the end of the king sized bed. He furrowed his brow in concentration as he studied the items he packed last night, noting the many personal belongings that were still missing. Over the next few minutes, he sped around the room to gather everything else he would need for his trip, which included mostly extra clothes and last minute toiletries. Once he was satisfied with everything inside, Clark smiled and closed the suitcase, then zipped it tight around the front.
Clark walked to the nightstand to pick up his glasses and put them on to protect his identity, sensing he finally had everything he needed to leave.
Everything ...
Everything … except for one.
The breath in his lungs tensed when he thought of the object that sat alone on the dresser across the room. Clark set it there the night before to ensure he wouldn't leave without it. But truly, would he ever forget that it existed? Never. It's power was much too strong, it's meaning much too significant to let escape from his soul so carelessly. It led him with love this long, and he knew it would guide him to the imminent end.
Carefully, Clark crossed the room to the dresser and grabbed the object in his hand, drawn to it, enraptured by it once again. Overcome by it like never before. And with a small sigh, he turned, grabbed his suitcase, and walked out into the small hallway.
The hallway led to the kitchen, which led to the living room, which led to the door to the outside, to his destiny. It was here he would begin, and it was here he would depart. Distantly, Clark remembered the local weatherman forecasting rain in the late morning, which urged him to grab his coat and slip it across his shoulders. Immediately, he dropped the small object in his hand in the right, front pocket of his jacket, certain it would be safe until the end. Certain he would need it close as he traveled.
Then with one long, lasting breath, Clark picked up his suitcase and gripped the knob, opened the front door, and stepped out into the sunlight. His steps quietly clipped on the sidewalk as he walked to his car, his skin brushed with warmth from the mid summer heat with each second, and his heart dipped completely in the thick fog of the past he never let go.
Finally, it was time.
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more to come ...
