Chapter Three
Eight Years Later...
The view from her newly remodeled office on the thirteenth floor of the Isis Foundation was breath-taking. That is if you liked bustling, gritty, cacophonous city street-scrapes, which Chloe Sullivan, the head of the Isis Foundation, did. The whole of downtown Metropolis seemed spread before her and she would only need to open her window to step out into the middle of it. Gazing off to the north, Chloe could see what used to be the Luthercorp Head Offices, now recently renamed Queen Industries Met. Branch, casting shadows over the gleaming, golden spinning globe atop the Daily Planet.
The phone on her desk began to beep incessantly. Reluctantly, Chloe pulled herself from her wall-to-wall windows and sashayed across the spacious room to the back corner where her work area was located.
Hitting the speaker button, Chloe chirped, "Yes?"
"Ms. Sullivan," Jillian, Chloe's personal secretary, spoke briskly. "I have Mrs. Lewis on the line."
Chloe rubbed the back of her neck underneath her hair. She wasn't ready for the inevitable conversation she would have to face soon with her biggest rival for the city grant money. Groaning, Chloe hit the intercom button once more. "Take a message and ask her to call back this afternoon. I'll speak with her then," Chloe told her with a swift decisiveness.
She returned to her view, loosing herself in the observations of traffic on the sidewalks and streets down below her. Mrs. Petunia Lewis was going to be a tough opponent. Married to one of the highest respected philanthropist in Metropolis, Mrs. Lewis had unlimited sway over many city board committees for her planned upgrade for the Boys' and Girls' Club computer lab using the grant money. Chloe didn't think the wife of highly public citizen, Dr. Phillip Lewis, would try to use her clout to influence the decision of the grant committee. However, in a city with a crime rate slightly lower than Gotham, one could never be sure.
Under her skillful hand, the Isis Foundation had grown from a small, privately funded counseling facility into a huge, non-profit public interest company that catered to the needs of the downtrodden of Metropolis and put their needs in the fore-front of the city's agenda. With the grant money, she wanted to open another branch of the Isis Foundation, a special clinic in the Suicide Slums for victims of gang and street violence partnered with a rehabilitative center for paroled criminals who met a certain criteria. In the back of her mind, Chloe was also toying with the idea of a Womens' Clinic, but that pipe dream would need to wait until after her current plot point.
Even though the Isis Foundation had branched out considerably, it still had a specific section for the meteor infected. Gladys Gallo, Chloe's once over-worked receptionist, was now the head of the meteor infected department with a smattering of other counselors beneath her who had been somehow touched by the last meteor shower over ten years ago. Being the head of a growing foundation took Chloe out of the mundane day-to-day activities, but she asked for weekly reports on high risk clients to keep track of their progress along with reports from the other departments as well.
When Lana, six years ago, had officially stepped down and named Chloe Sullivan as her successor, no one was more stunned than Chloe herself. She'd always assumed she was just baby-sitting until Lana Luthor, a surname she chose to keep for the power that went along with it, returned to her throne. But Lana had stepped aside, with no warning or reason. Chloe had been terrified. She didn't know what to do, how to run a fast-spreading foundation or how to be a boss to the thirty plus employees Chloe had somehow hired over the years. Now she had over two hundred employees and hiring more all the time. Chloe's director chair was becoming a little more comfortable every day.
Lost in her reflections, Chloe gasped as nicely formed arms wrapped around her waist to pull her back against a solid chest of muscle.
"Hey, beautiful." A manly whisper tickled Chloe's ear. A bright smile broke across Chloe's face as she turned inside the circle of strong arms.
"And just what are you doing here?" Chloe asked coyly as she crossed her wrists together behind Oliver Queen's neck, standing on tiptoes to meet his greeting kiss.
"I wanted to see if you were free," Oliver began devilishly, dipping his head down again to kiss her longingly.
"I'm always free for you," Chloe simpered seductively, batting her eyelashes as she ran her hands along the length of his tailored suit jacket.
"Yeah, yeah," Oliver retorted, tightening his grip on his little girlfriend. "That's why for the past week I've only see you five minutes before you're fast asleep."
"Well, it's not my fault the Green Arrow's Quiver seems to be in overdrive these days," Chloe countered with a teasing smile, tucking her hands into the back pockets on his designer trousers. "But, I'm not especially busy now. . ."
Chloe rose up again on her tiptoes and kissed Oliver hungrily, hoping to communicate she missed him as well. Oliver returned her kiss for a few moments and then pulled away reluctantly.
"I would love to take you up on that offer," Oliver said throatily. "But you haven't put the blinds up yet."
"Oh, yeah." Chloe remembered with disappointment. Her office was pretty high up, but it did have a few neighbors across the way.
"Anyway," Oliver continued as he cleared his throat. "I wanted to see if you wanted to have lunch with the sexiest bachelor in Metropolis?"
"When did Bruce Wayne get into town?" Chloe teased. Oliver pouted at her.
"I would love to have lunch with you," Chloe amended, earning her a squeeze from Oliver before he released her. "But you're not really a bachelor anymore, are you?"
"Is that jealousy I hear?" Oliver quipped as he popped Chloe playfully on her bottom as she walked away from him to her desk. Chloe squealed and then made a face at him. "They'll call me a bachelor until someone makes an honest man out of me."
"Good thing honesty doesn't rate high on our charts," Chloe muttered. "Just give me a few minutes."
Oliver nodded, glancing around the bigger office Chloe's staff had talked her into. It was rectangular, one of the walls being the windows looking out on the city. The other three were painted a bright, happy red with black and white abstract art hung strategically around the walls. Chloe's desk, with a black lacquer finish, was set in the furthest back corner, angled toward the view. Behind her chair was an arched doorway that led off to another room, housing the old media center she'd moved up from the old workroom when Isis was just one floor in the building. Grouped together, in the middle of her office, was a comfy leather love seat and two black suede recliners with snowy white throw pillows matching the fluffy carpet. Oliver sank into the leather and propped his feet on the glass topped coffee table the furniture was arranged around.
Resting his head on his hand, Oliver alternated looking at the view and watching Chloe finish up some paperwork. When she stood to file some things in the black file cabinets on the other side of the arched doorway, Oliver stood too.
"Ready?" He asked.
"Ready," Chloe parroted as she grabbed the yellow heels matching the filmy blouse on top of chocolate colored dress pants. Oliver walked to the door and took the matching brown jacket off the fancy shelf of hooks mounted right next to the door of her office along with her purse. He held out the jacket as Chloe slid into it, taking her purse with a free hand. Halting Oliver one more time, she rummaged around for her wallet.
"I need to make sure I have my bank card," Chloe explained as she finally dug it out and opened it.
"Don't worry. I'll get it," Oliver snorted, watching a couple of scrapes of paper and an envelope fall from the jumbled contents. He swooped them up before Chloe even saw them fall.
"You don't want to loose these," Oliver observed as he handed the two tickets to the fundraiser
gala they were scheduled to attend later that week back to Chloe, still holding the rumpled envelope in his hand.
"What's this?" He asked, seeing it addressed to Chloe in an unsteady scrawl. It didn't have a stamp or return address or anything else, except her name. Oliver flipped it over an saw a piece of notebook paper inside.
Chloe saw what Oliver held with an unease settling in her chest, constricting her lungs. "Nothing," she told him quickly, attempting to snatch it from him. Oliver pulled the envelope away, still held firmly in his grip.
"Chloe," Oliver intoned seriously. "What is this?"
Chloe looked at Oliver's face, now formed into a pretty mask of stubbornness. "He wrote me again," she answered quietly, knowing Oliver wouldn't be satisfied until she came clean.
"When did you get this?" Oliver questioned, taking the notebook paper out and unfolding it. He read the note slowly. It was written in the same unsteady hand. Nearing the end, he felt his blood start to curdle. Crumbling to paper in his hand, anger stiffened his loose form.
"About a month ago," Chloe told him as she shifted from one foot to another.
"Why didn't you tell me?" He asked softly, taking one of her hands with his.
"You've-I've-We've both been so busy lately. My grant proceedings, your mergers and taking over the Daily Planet along with our JLA activities has been pretty demanding recently. I didn't want to add to your stress," Chloe explained, allowing Oliver to pull her into a protective embrace.
"What about the stress this has caused you, Chloe?"
"Its not like he's done anything in the past when he said he would," Chloe said, ignoring Oliver's remark about her stress levels, which were beginning to reach the desperate stage. "I might as well tell you this is not the last letter I've gotten."
"There have been more?" Oliver fought hard not to shout, Chloe's safety becoming a bigger concern. "Where are the others?"
"I threw them away," Chloe answered in a small voice against Oliver's lapel.
"Chloe!" Oliver exclaimed, not able to hold back his shock and anger any longer. He grasped her shoulders tightly and looked intently down at her. "How could you have done that? We needed those for the evidence. I can't believe I'm saying this, but we need to go to the police."
"Oliver," Chloe started, pushing away from him and meeting his eyes with a stubborn set to her own jaw. "I attended high school at the Meteor Infected Psycho Ward. I worked at the Daily Planet under the most vile man. I have been the side-kick to over six heroes and am currently dating my cousin's ex-boyfriend, which is the most dangerous of the things I've mentioned. Trust me when I say I can handle myself."
The two stared each other down for a moment, each feeling the other's stubbornness ebb and flow. Finally, Oliver stepped forward. "I still don't like someone threatening you," he told her in a hard voice, not touching her.
"I don't like it either," Chloe admitted, relaxing against Oliver. "But being the plus one to the CEO of Queen Industries does come with some hate mail at times," she told him sardonically, referring to a few rabid letters she received every once and awhile from Oliver's feminine fans.
"Thank you for putting up with my stalkers. And ex-girlfriends," Oliver husked as he bent his head to kiss her.
"Hey," Chloe let out before their lips met. "That last one is family."
A shrill whistle halted them an inch from each other. Oliver groaned as Chloe exhaled. "That always happens, doesn't it?"
"Comes with the territory," Chloe replied good-naturedly. She watched Oliver retrieve the phone from his back pocket and activate the screen. His expression told Chloe something needed his attention more than her. "I guess lunch is out," she assumed, shaking the blonde hair out of her eyes.
"I'm sorry," Oliver apologized, looking at her over the phone. "It's Bart. It seems he's having trouble procuring the information from the prison in Russia where Lex was held."
"Do you need my help?" Chloe offered immediately, sauntering over to the doorway to the media center.
"Sure. Can you hack into a locked vault of a prison where they still don't have running water?" Oliver asked sarcastically.
"You're very funny," Chloe quipped with annoyance.
"Not everything is as high tech as you or I would prefer," Oliver said with a frown. "I have to call him back. Looks like the team will heading to Russia in a couple of weeks."
"Lovely," Chloe sighed. "I always enjoy treks out in the middle of nowhere with thirty feet of snow in a minus twenty temperature."
"Fine, maybe you won't be invited," Oliver stated.
"You could not find your way out of a paper bag without me," Chloe said playfully.
Oliver jogged the few feet between them. "Will I see you at dinner tonight?" He hinted hopefully.
"Depends. Is the Green Arrow making any pit stops on the way?"
"I think he's taking the night off," Oliver informed her, his face garnished with a happy, contagious grin.
"Then I'll see you at home," Chloe replied, taking his face in her hands and pulling her pretty blonde hero down for a kiss before sending him out the door.
Clark's feet touched down on the solid ground of his Fortress. Getting his land legs under him again, he strode forward, the crystal structures around him beginning to glow faintly.
"Welcome home, my son," Jor-El's voice echoed around him. "Were you successful?"
"Yes, Father. Catyhpa's rings have been shifted back in place and peace has been restored to the planet. They are no longer in danger of spiraling themselves out of their galaxy and into another one," Clark updated. Over the past few months, after he'd completed his practical training, Jor-El had been sending him on the little errands to the other galaxies. He'd resolved a food shortage on one planet, learned about alternative fuel methods on another and just observed many other strange species and cultures. For the Kansas farm boy he still was at heart, it was almost too fantastical for Clark to comprehend. Lowering himself down to sit on an ice ledge, Clark hung his head down and breathed in deeply. He was so tired. Catyhpa's light source was an eerie blue star that shone in the north. He'd barely had enough energy to return to Earth, using most of his powers back on the unfamiliar planet.
"You need rest, Kal-El. We can debrief later," Jor-El relented.
"Thank you," Clark replied heavily. He raised himself and made his back into the bowels of the Fortress, to a chamber with crystal so thin the sun's healing rays shone through almost unhindered. A structure stood in the room, a white fluffiness atop it resembling a cloud. Clark allowed his weight to fall onto it and he slept for the first time in what felt like an eternity.
Clark awoke some hours later, fully restored. He rolled over and gazed up at the thin crystal ceiling. The sun had moved lower in the sky, telling him it was becoming evening. As always, when he had precious down time, he thought of Chloe. With no promises spoken between them, Clark wondered if she waited for him. Some time ago, Clark realized that was what he wanted her to do. He wanted her to wait for him. Because when he returned, he could give what he couldn't when they were younger. If she still wants it, a nagging thought flashed.
"Kal-El," a disembodied voice rang out. Clark groaned. His father knew he was awake. He zoomed to the main cavern of the Fortress and stood before the crystal console, ready to give his report.
The sun sank lower as Clark and Jor-El spoke. Finally, Jor-El said haltingly, "Kal-El, I have something to tell you."
Clark nodded, "What is it?"
"You've completed your training. It is now time for you to return to your earthly home."
Clark's head shot up. He was done? He gazed at the crystal console a few feet from him. "I can go home?"
"Yes. It is time. I have taught you everything I can. Its time for you to discover what other mysteries are in store for you on your own."
"Thank you, Father. For teaching me and for your patience. I can go now?" Clark asked again, still not daring to believe he was finished.
"Yes, Kal-El, you may go now. But remember, I am always here, my son. For whatever you may need." And with that parting comment, the Fortress became gray and cold, as if his father's spirit had left it. Clark looked around him. It was time to go home. Home. Back to Kansas. Back to Smallville. Back to his farm.
"Back to Chloe," he whispered. He saw her, clear as day, laying in his bed, all pretty and soft in the mid-morning sun.
"I love you," she'd whispered.
She would hear him this time, he'd make sure of it. In a fury of excitement, Clark thrust his body in the air and soared through the sky, heading toward his childhood home and his sweetheart. Clark Kent the boy, still loved Lana. She was his first love. He would love her until the day he died. But Clark Kent the man, knew Chloe was the one. Until this moment, Clark knew he'd never been ready to love Chloe. He'd never appreciated her until she had been stripped from his life. He'd never known what it was like to miss her, yearn for her. He'd never known how much he loved her until he was separated from her for the very first time since he was thirteen. He didn't regret loving Lana. In fact, he was glad that he had loved Lana. As Chloe had told him some months before her wedding, when she asked him to give her away at the altar, her feelings for him when they were teenagers helped prepare her to share her love with the perfect person when she was ready.
"So you blew it bud," she teased with a twinkle in her eye as she plucked the letter from his fingers. How odd life's timing was. He was so grateful he hadn't blown it, that he was able to be with Chloe after so many years. He was sorry for the pain both of them had been forced to endure over these past few years, with Jimmy and Lana, but if the purpose was to be ready for the true love the two had for one another when the time was right, how could he regret any of their past decisions?
Evening began to fall around him as he found himself passing over the Kansas state line. The colors of the leaves were a vibrant red and orange, telling him Autumn was settling in. As if willing himself there, he saw his land begin to appear. And then the barn. And finally, his home, it's yellow paint job still looking fresh and the surroundings unchanged. The windows were lit warmly from within and he could make out the flickering of flames in the fireplace in the vacant living room.
Clark circled the house once more before landing gracefully on the drive between the house and barn. He listened closely. A soft humming was coming from the barn, the tune slightly familiar to him. With crunching footsteps, Clark walked to the barn. Inside, again, most things were unchanged. The tractor sat where he left it though he could tell it was still used by the tire marks and ruts around it. He looked up and saw his loft, noting that it looked a little different but not sure why. Then he saw her.
She was down at the far end, in a horse-stall with a grand looking blonde animal. Chloe was rubbing the horse down, something Clark wasn't aware she knew how to do. She must have learned. She bent her head close to the horse's body and was speaking with a very calm, confident tone. Leaning against a beam, Clark allowed his eyes to drink her in. Her hair was still golden hued, only a little darker than before. It was slightly longer and pulled back in a no-nonsense ponytail. Turning, Clark gazed at her profile. She had her long bangs pulled back from her face, leaving it clean and un-obscured. She looked slightly older, but seeing as two years had passed, Clark had expected it.
"Good boy," Chloe whispered, nuzzling the horse's neck. She patted it once more on the rump before exiting the stall. A low laugh rumbled in Clark's chest as he took in her form-fitting blue jeans tucked into a pair of worn cowboy boots. She wore what looked like Jonathon's old brown jacket on top. With her back still to him, she walked to the nearest wall and put the horse brush in its assigned place on a shelf. Taking her unaware, Clark sped quietly behind her, sneaking his arms around her waist and pulling her back against him, her body feeling warm and solid. He dreamed of this moment for two long, lonely years.
"Hey, beautiful," he whispered huskily above her ear. "I've missed you."