Chapter 15

PT. 1

I entered through the front door slowly, taking care to make as little noise as possible. Trying that was stupid, since Clark had bionic ears that could hear you coming from a mile away.

I must've lucked out because I made it to the living room without being noticed. Seriously, I need to quit politics and join the CIA. Behind my shoulder I heard the softest whimper, I whipped my head back to find the source of the sound. There, Chloe was in the dining room, head rested in her hands sobbing ever so slightly.

Her cell phone sat on the table next to her elbow and it gave me an idea.

It began to buzz and dance across the table, as some ridiculous country song came on that she no doubt chose to mock my taste in music. She whipped her face and scrutinized the cover of her cell, then hurriedly picked up the phone.

Chloe pushed it up to her ear. "Pete?" She sounded so desperate; it made my heart ache. I'm such a magnificent jerk.

"Did you really think—" Her eyes moved to me, shock settling there. "I'd leave you—" She ran to me. "—alone with Clark?" Colliding into my arms. God, I could hold her forever. Her barely blonde hair caressed my face and enveloped me with a vanilla fragrance. It was the same shampoo she'd used for years almost religiously. Through every wacky hair cut you could hug her and consistently know this would be there. It was like coming home for the first time in years. I missed it back in Metropolis with the photo-nerd spying over my back, but now I could indulge.

"Are you back for good?" She pulled away to dig for answers. The amount of Pulitzers…really. "No more out of the blue escape routines?"

I smiled at her and brushed a hand through her beautiful glory of hair. Much like the fading of time so did its once platinum color. It no longer needed to be cut to the side to look sporty or drawn up to give that bouncy feel. It had the character in each wave, in each imperfection it held.

"Good." She punched my arm hard.

"Ow! What the—?" I winced and clutched my injured bicep.

"Don't you ever scream at me that way again, or you'll get a lot worse than a fist." The funniest thing about Chloe or possibly the scariest is that even if she's small and pretty much incapable of taking anyone in a real fight she was feisty as hell and if she threatened you, you'd better listen because she'll keep her promise. "Understand?" The only person more submissive to her than me was Clark.

"Loud in clear, Mom." I surveyed the room, listening for noise, or in this case, lack there of. "Where's Clark?"

"Martha—" Martha? She noticed my bemusement. "I mean, Mrs. Kent came back early, Clark's doing some overtime explaining. She caught us—"

"Tongue dancing?"

"What? No!" Okay, I totally misread her words. "I was twirling my fork in the air, hands free when she walked in."

"What is it with you and kitchen cutlery lately?"

"Now who's missing the point?" Her accusation didn't bother me. " You'd think after raising ET she'd be a little less surprised."

"Not really. It's like finding out your daughter's been hiding this huge life-altering secret from you." I went to the refrigerator hoping that maybe Mrs. Kent might have left some food behind to eat. Negative.

Chloe's eyebrows drew up in thought, contemplating my asseveration about her adoptive mother, Mrs. Kent. Moira Sullivan, Chloe's biological mother, had suffered ceaselessly for years through her psychotic break, constant meteor-induced comas, and the direct focus of protecting her only daughter. In the end, it would lead to her tragic death.

The mom area had always been a tender spot for Chloe and it couldn't have gotten any easier after she had realized that she too had a future, a destiny engraved like her sickly mother's.

And though it was sad to say, Martha Kent had been more of a maternal guide to Chloe than her own kin ever were. It was the only part of Clark she envied so reverently. While many would praise his strength or undying fortitude, Chloe found solace in the one thing Clark had that she didn't. A fair and loving family, one that didn't share a blood relation or even the lineage of the same species.

Her father had been largely an absentee one not of his own fault but of a mixture of long hours at an unremarkable job and the stark need for independence Chloe exerted upon everyone. The girl never begged for a hand, she'd dust herself off and call it day. Except if you knew the real girl, saw the real vulnerability she carried with her everyday— the effusive quixotic behind the sharp intellectual –you'd know that one of her greatest fears is that one day, she would have scared off anyone who ever happened to offer the help. That she would in fact be alone.

"You remember when you found out about Clark." I set a glass and the milk jug on the table that I had retrieved from the fridge. "Times it by 2 and you get her reaction. It's not like anyone saw this coming with you."

"Because I'm so normal." She rolled her eyes as she took a seat on the stool beside me.

"Oh no. You are very very not normal." Encouragingly, I rubbed her upper arm. "A step up from quirky actually."

"And I'm damn proud of it." She sighed and bowed her head, apparently I'm not the only having trouble with all the stress.

Just then Mrs. Kent clamored into the kitchen, reviewing us both with worrisome eyes. Without even a second's hesitation she embraced Chloe in a sort of side ways manner because she had been sitting face forward.

PT. 2

"Are you mad?"

Chloe took a seat next to Martha on the couch, while Clark and I loitered on the opposite side of the living room. "Not at all. Surprised, yes but being the guard of that boy and his spaceship has softened me to these things." Mrs. Kent watched as Chloe drank a few more gulps of coffee. "I still remember when Jonathan and I thought all the stories were tall tales dreamed up by an over imaginative metropolitan girl. Sometimes it's still hard to believe."

"The truth often is." Chloe sent a sideways glance to Clark, who, ignorant as always to her frequent gestures, was looking out the living room window at the field.

"Clark told me what you guys were doing here." He caught my glare.

He whispered in response. "How else was I going to explain two huge holes in the floor?"

Somehow his mom had heard him. "It's not his fault Pete, you know he can't lie to me." Well, that was true. It still made this more complicated and after all the progress this was no time for complication. "I'm happy you're doing this." She placed a hand on Chloe's shoulder. "I really am proud of you. All of you."

"Things are going considerably well. I haven't had any urges to kill someone yet." She offered that morbid thought with a smile. I really hated when she did that.

"Oh Chloe, don't think like that. You're not going to hurt anybody." They stared at each other for a moment, exchanging looks I couldn't interpret.

"Boys, I'd really like you to leave us for a while. I think Chloe and I deserve a long talk."

Clark eyebrows shot up in that 'We need to run now' way. I stopped myself before I laughed because I didn't want to give Clark away. We walked past the girls, mother and daughter, with alacrity.

Without thinking, he bent down and kissed Chloe on the cheek. He paused on his way back, confused about what he'd done. I noticed the way Mrs. Kent eyed Clark, like she had suspected him of what I already knew he was guilty of. She may not have had the facts I did, but she knew her son and all of his misguided romance antics.

A mother's intuition. That was what we needed now. I never thought about it before. Mrs. Kent was the one to teach Clark, along her husband of course. Mrs. Kent was there for every training session and growth spurt young Clark had to survive. She was there for every platitude and moral conflict.

There was no question in my mind that she could do it again for Chloe.