Chapter Four
"Hey, beautiful. I've missed you."
Chloe giggled, her scare reflex long dormant from years of super-speeders whooshing in and out of Watchtower. Spinning around to greet Oliver, she said, "Missed me? Its only been-"
The words died in her throat as she stared into sea-green eyes. Eyes she never thought she would peer into again with the exception of her dreams. "Oh-my-god-" she exhaled brokenly. Reacting with shock, Chloe pushed out of the steel-like arms holding her waist in a panic, retreating until her back hit the shelves behind her. She thought he was gone, abandoned her, the world. Dead. Told herself over and over he wasn't coming back for her. It was the only way she could move on and have some semblance of a normal life. But now, standing before her. . . Clark. Healthy and strong and alive and. . . Here. Grappling for the light switch to her right, she flicked it on. Light flooded the barn and Chloe stared at the apparition before her.
Clark Kent stood a few feet in front of her, seeming taller and larger than when he left. He had the same thick, wavy black hair with matching heavy brows, the same chiseled features. Chloe had forgotten how handsome he was and all she could do was stare, open mouthed as the love of her life appeared majestically before her. But where had he be been? Why had he not come back sooner? Why hadn't he contacted her? Sent her a damn message or a smoke signal? Chloe pressed a hand over her mouth, afraid the nausea she was experiencing would cause her to vomit all over his boots. The same boots he'd walked out in. In fact, he was still dressed in the blue t-shirt and red jacket.
"Clark?" Chloe whispered hoarsely, still unable to believe what was in front of her.
"Who else were you expecting?" Clark teased, taking a hesitant step toward her. He longed to hold her again in his arms, but she was so pale, as if she'd seen a ghost. Was his return that much of a shock?
He can't be real. I've fallen asleep again. I'll wake up in five minutes and be in bed next to Oliver. This isn't real. Reaching out, Chloe laid a hand on his cheek, the warmth and the sand-papery texture of his flesh sending jolts of awareness shooting through her, proving Clark really stood there. "Oh, Clark," Chloe sobbed mournfully, falling against him in relief and anguish and wrapping her arms around his waist.
"Hey," Clark laughed, hugging her back. "I promised you I would come back."
"I know, I know you did," Chloe murmured stuffily into his jacket.
Clark bent his head down and buried it in her soft hair, the smell of spicy cinnamon filling his nostrils. Some things never change, he thought with comfort. "I've been dreaming of this moment for two years, Chloe," Clark said gruffly into the crook of her neck.
Clinging to his waist, Chloe allowed herself a few more moments of pleasure in Clark's arms before she pulled away. "Clark, I have to tell you something," she began.
"I have something I want to tell you, too," Clark returned. "But before I do that. . ." Clark took her face in his hands, caressing her cheeks.
"Clark-" Chloe muttered as his lips descended. And then she forgot everything. It was eight years ago and she was in Clark's room and they were kissing and she wasn't aware of anything but him. Her fingers threaded through his hair, pulling him closer.
Clark kissed Chloe slowly, savoring the connection between the two of them, never wanting to let her go. And knowing he wouldn't have to. . .
"Mom?" A little voice sounded in the big space of the barn.
Clark opened his eyes as Chloe jerked away from him. Chloe lifted her eye lids, the hazel orbs carefully guarded as she looked at him. "This is what I wanted to tell you," she whispered guiltily. Chloe disentangled herself from him, pushing his arms away and stepping out around him.
"Honey, come here." Chloe motioned the boy over to her. Clark turned and saw a tall, skinny boy with spiky blonde hair and eyes identical to Chloe's. His heart began to pound and he furrowed his brow in confusion.
"I want you to meet somebody," Chloe continued in a whisper, Clark catching every word. "Where's your brother?"
"He's outside with Shelby," the young boy answered. "You want me to get him?"
"Yes, please."
The boy ran to the barn door and yelled loudly into the gathering night. "Kaid!" Clark saw a figure join the other and both turned and walked back to Chloe, whispering the whole way. Shelby, his red lab, loping along behind him. The two halted just short of Chloe, the dog sitting down between the boys, his tail thumping happily as he looked back and forth between the boys. Clark was amazed at how young Shelby looked, but he didn't have room to process what change his dog had undergone as two pairs of identical eyes peered at him beneath thick, sable lashes.
"Clark," Chloe started with forced cheeriness. "I'd like you to meet my sons. Connor." She laid her hand lovingly on top of the first boy's head, the one with the short, spiky hair and the hazel eyes. The young boy smiled at Clark, his two front teeth missing. "And Kincaid." The second boy was almost identical to his brother. He had the same warm eyes, the same defined features and the same color of wheat blonde hair. The only way Clark could tell the two apart was Kincaid, or Kaid as he was called, had thick, curly hair stuck to his scalp with sweat. And he wasn't smiling. Just looking at Clark sullenly.
"Boys, this is Clark Kent. He and I were really good friend when we were younger," Chloe finished, shooting Clark a shaky smile.
Connor stepped forward, his small hand out-stretched. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Kent."
Clark grasped the small hand in his own and shook it gravely. Again, Kaid stood close to Chloe, one arm wrapped around her waist. Clark watched as she absently combed her fingers through the boy's curls. Sons?
"Nice to meet you, too, Connor," Clark replied with a tight smile. He sought out Chloe's eyes, searching them. What was going on? Who were these kids? Before Clark could voice any of his battering questions, another voice threw itself into the fray.
"What is everyone doing in here?" Oliver called out, as he too, strode into the barn. Spotting Clark, Oliver halted, his face registering the shock of seeing his old friend. One, like Chloe, he thought was lost to them.
"Ollie!" The twins cried simultaneously as they broke into a run and launched themselves at Oliver's legs. Shelby broke into happy yips and bounced around the three, completely ignoring Clark, who continued to swing his bewildered gaze between Chloe and Oliver.
"How are my guys?" Oliver asked playfully, squatting and pulling both boys into a tight hug. With a tiny awkward skip, Chloe joined the group, making them a complete blonde nuclear unit. Clark's chest constricted as he watched Chloe touch Oliver gently on the shoulder and cocked her head in Clark's direction. Catching her meaning, Oliver stood to his feet again. "Come on, boys. Let's go in the house and rustle up some grub. Give your mom the night off," Oliver suggested to the boys who shot off for the farm house, laughing and shouting with Shelby nipping at their heels as they went.
"We'll be inside," Oliver said quietly, leaning down and pecking Chloe on the cheek. Clark's fist twitched.
"We're right behind you," Chloe told him, grazing her hand over upper chest with affection.
"Its good to see you, Clark. Really good," Oliver said in parting, jogging out in the wake of Connor and Kaid. "Hey! Wait for me!"
Chloe faced Clark again, who stood stonily silent, his brain ringing and raging from all the pictures and sounds that had just played out before him. She was a mom. To twins. Who were older. And Chloe and Oliver were too comfortable with one another. Clark felt the temptation to stamp his foot as he's done when he was six. Instead, with a strangled voice he asked, "Chloe, what is going on?"
Chloe looked at Clark with sympathy. How she wished she could have eased him in gently to all that had changed in the time he was gone. How was she going to tell him Oliver and her were an item and sort of lived together sometimes in his house? That she was a mom to twin seven year old boys? She opened her mouth and then closed it, resembling a fish. For the first time since she'd known Clark, he looked genuinely scared.
"How long have I been gone?"
Looking him straight in the eye, Chloe griped his upper arm. "Eight years, three months and twelve days."
Oliver was making a mess of the kitchen when Chloe, trailed by a numb Clark, entered the house. She held the door open for him and Clark shied in, stopping as a rush of memories flowed through him. Chloe changed nothing. Everything in the kitchen, at least, was still the same with its battered wooden island and old-fashion appliances. On the stove sat a big pot and Connor and Kaid were setting the table with sturdy yellow patterned dishes. The setting was so impossibly tranquil and homey, with Oliver unpacking a grocery sack to the two boys laying silverware on folded napkins close to empty glasses.
"Clark," Chloe said his name, shaking his shoulder gently. "Do you want to go somewhere and talk?" She offered again. Back in the barn, Clark brushed it off as he normally did everything else concerning his emotions. He was more curious right now about how Chloe lived than hearing the loves' lane Oliver Queen had led Chloe down.
"No, Chloe. We can talk later, its fine," Clark answered with a dry swallow.
"Okay, then come on in. Looks like we're having Bart's Famous Chili!" Chloe said excitedly as she pushed the door closed when Clark finally came in.
"Yep, picked up the ingredients on the way home. You're staying for dinner, Clark," Oliver called as he stuffed the paper grocery sack into the trash below the sink, stating it as a fact rather than asking.
"Yes, he is," Chloe answered for him, leaving his side to shoo Oliver out of the kitchen. "I'll do this. Go on."
Oliver snatched two beers out of the fridge and joined Clark, handing one to him.
"I know it doesn't affect you, but you look like you could use one," Oliver said cracking his open with the bottle open he'd grabbed out of a drawer.
"Thanks," Clark replied, waving away the bottle opener and doing it himself and stuffing the cap into the pocket of his jeans. He chugged half the amber liquid down as he watched Chloe start chopping onions and tomatoes between browning the beef Oliver picked up at the Smallville Grocery. Connor and Kincaid finished setting the table and danced around Chloe in the kitchen, rambling on about their day while Shelby (was it his Shelby?) lay curled under one of the kitchen table chairs. Clark shook his head at the familial scene, hoping it was a mirage.
"Lets go sit down," Oliver suggested, still worried about the odd light in Clark's eyes.
"Sure," Clark said absently, watching Chloe sneak a slice of onion. He was careful not to grip the bottle too tightly.
"We'll be in the living room," Oliver nodded to Chloe.
"Sounds good," Chloe responded brightly, looking quickly up from listening intently to a story Connor was squawking at her. "I'll call you when dinner is ready."
Clark raised his eyebrows. He never would have believed it had he not seen it with his own eyes. Chloe, with her longish hair pulled back, an apron on that read Kiss the Cook in fancy, red piping standing in front of the stove with a cooking utensil in her hand and two young boys jabbering on at her while she nodded and gasped in all the right places. He followed Oliver gratefully into the family room, leaving this foreign and confusing Chloe.
This room had also not changed except for the big screen television mounted above the fire place and some pictures that now stood in place of his family portrait with his parents. Clark sat down beside Oliver, the old leather couch crinkling with familiarity. Clark took another swig of his Budweiser, wishing he could feel the lulling sense of an alcoholic buzz.
"How are you, man?" Oliver asked, hoping to draw Clark out. He couldn't imagine what was going through Clark's head at this moment. Oliver kept expecting to go flying across the room courtesy of a powerful punch from Clark for moving in on his territory.
"Not as good as I expected to be," Clark answered truthfully.
"Its a lot to take in, I bet," Oliver said, sipping from his own beer. He stretched out his legs and crossed his ankles.
"You could say that again," Clark muttered as finished off his beer in one swig.
Several attempts at conversation later, Oliver conceded defeat. Clark only answered in monosyllables and refused to be drawn into any discussion. The two men sat silently, Oliver still nursing his brewsky while Clark twirled his empty bottle in his hands. Finally, Oliver turned on the television and tuned it to a local news station. Clark saw the date on the bottom of his screen and it felt like a piece of Kryptonite dropped into the pit of his stomach.
September 27th, 2017. Eight years, three months and twelve days. He'd lost eight years of his life. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Chloe putting Connor and Kaid to work by lining up different spices she would add later. Clark didn't need to activate his super-hearing, he could the listen to to happy squabbling of Chloe and her two sons perfectly. A good-looking male anchor was prefacing a story about the escalating violence in inner-city schools of Metropolis when a gleeful shout echoed through the house. Oliver and Clark jerked their heads to the side to see Connor and Kaid rolling on the floor with Shelby while Chloe tickled them in turns. Clark had given up the illusion he would one day be a father when he realized there was no telling what would happen to the woman carrying his child, but watching the obvious joy on Chloe's face as she played with her kids Clark couldn't help feeling eight years weren't the only things he had lost to the his heritage.
Half an hour later, Chloe appeared in the doorway. "You boys about ready?" She asked, her signature grin spreading as her gaze landed first on Clark and then moved to Oliver.
"Let's eat!" Oliver exclaimed, shooting to his feet. "I'm starved." He cuffed Clark on the shoulder as he passed. Squaring his jaw, Clark followed the couple. The boys were already seated on one side, their backs to the bank of windows. Oliver guided Chloe into a chair at one end of the table before he took the one at the opposite end.
"Sit down, Clark," Chloe invited, patting the chair next to her. Clark slid into it, a bowl of steaming chili bubbling in front of him.
Clark picked a spoon and looked dubiously at the appetizing meal in front of him. It had been two-eight- years since he last had a home-cooked meal, since he'd had any of the delicious earth food he'd grown accustomed while he grew up here. And even though the yummy looking stew that sat in front of him tantalized his nostrils, it was made by his best friend, who when he left was allergic to anything that couldn't be cooked by microwave radiation.
"You cook now?" He questioned incredulously before he could stop himself.
Everyone else was shoveling the chili into their mouths and Chloe stopped her first spoonful midway to her own. "For a couple of years now. I've actually gotten quite good at it," Chloe answered with her normal self-deprecating laugh. Taking her lead, Clark dipped his spoon into the mess and took a bite. It was hot and spicy and heavy on his tongue. And it was surprisingly good.
Connor and Kaid made up most of the talk that went around the table. Chloe and Oliver took turns again trying to draw Clark into the conversation but neither one made much headway. Instead, Clark sat quietly in his chair, careful not to let their elbows touch. He listened as an outsider to the voices racketing around the table. It was an easy bond they all shared. He finished before everyone else and sat like a five year old with his arms crossed, wishing he could leave to the table without being rude, but felt it would be silly to asked to be excused.
"Do you want some more?" Chloe offered when she noticed Clark's empty bowl.
"No, thanks," Clark replied, setting his spoon inside his bowl, which was scraped clean.
"You didn't like it," Chloe said down-trodden. Clark met Chloe's eyes and saw a bald need for approval. For the chili? No, she wanted approval for her own life. The life she'd built with Oliver and around their kids. He wanted to deny her that. It would be Clark's ultimate revenge. How could he approve of the happiness she'd made herself with a man who wasn't him? He'd spent what he thought was two years re-playing in his head their night together. He'd practiced the speech he would make when he saw her, dreamed of the welcome he would receive. He'd discovered, instead, Oliver and Chloe playing a very convincing game of house. In his house!
"It was fine," Clark told her. "Just fine."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah. Its fine."
"Thanks," Chloe said with a grateful smile. "Boys? Are you done?"
"Hey, Ollie. Bring Your Dad to School Day is next month and they sent us home a paper to sign if you want to come. You want to come, right?" Kaid, the sullen twin as Clark had come to think of him, asked excitedly ignoring Chloe's question. Clark cocked his ears at the sound of Oliver's son calling him 'Ollie' but dismissed it. Oliver must be one of those parents who preferred a nickname to 'Dad' or 'Daddy'.
Oliver glanced across at Chloe nervously. "Uh, why don't you leave the paper on the counter and I'll see if it fits into my schedule."
"Great. Connor has one, too, but his class is having it on a different day," Kaid replied.
"Me and Kaid are in the second grade," Connor directed at Clark, bobbing his head like a doggie on a dashboard.
Clark smiled vaguely at Connor whose mouth was circled in chili. "Thats. . . Cool. You like school?"
"I do. Kaid doesn't. But he's always getting in trouble. Like yesterday-ow!" Connor stopped abruptly on a yelp. He looked over at his brother. Kaid glowered at Connor. All three adults didn't miss the exchange.
"Kincaid," Chloe said severely. "What do you not want your brother to tell us?"
"Nothing," Kaid muttered quietly, bowing his head down and staring at the bottom of his bowl.
"Kaid, your mother asked you a question. I suggest you answer her," Oliver joined sternly.
"Igotinafight," Kaid whispered, almost inaudibly.
"You did what?" Chloe asked her son sadly and with slight panic.
"I got in a fight," Kaid repeated clearly.
"Why?" Chloe asked.
"Because Mickey Cosgrove was making fun of him for liking the Green Arrow," Connor answered for his brother. "We were playing Superheroes at recess and Mickey said the Green Arrow wasn't a real superhero, just some idiot in green pantyhose like the ones his mom wears."
"Kaid," Oliver began quietly. Clark wondered if the boys knew about their father's secret identity. "You know the Green Arrow wouldn't like you fighting his battles for him. I'm sure he doesn't care what a little, snot-nosed-" Chloe cleared her throat. "I mean, I'm sure he doesn't care what Mickey thinks and neither should you."
"I know," Kaid replied in a small voice. "I'm sorry."
"Fighting is never the solution. I thought we taught you that," Chloe said, reaching out and grasping Kaid's little hand in hers. "You're going to do extra chores this week and no TV. Now," Chloe looked at the watch on her wrist. "I want the both of you to take your dishes to the sink and then upstairs for bed. I want to see your homework. Both of yours. I'll be up in a little bit."
"Yes ma'am." Both boys stood and carried their bowls to the sink and began to climb the stairs as a pair.
"And for the record," Oliver called out. Connor and Kaid turned to look at him. "The Green Arrow wears leather. Not pantyhose." With matching smiles, the boys proceeded upstairs, leaving the kitchen uncomfortably quiet after the laughter died. Chloe, Clark and Oliver could hear the boys above them, the stomp of their footsteps and the murmur of little voices. The three adults glanced sporadically at each other, not sure what to say to the others.
"You don't have a place to stay yet, do you?" Oliver asked Clark.
"No. I only got back a few hours ago. But I'll find someplace," Clark answered, taking the hint and pushing out of his chair.
"Are you kidding, Clark?" Chloe mimicked Clark's gesture of standing. "You'll stay here. I would send you to your old room, but the boys are in there. You can take my room, your mom's old room."
"No, really, thats okay, guys. I'll just let myself out." Clark placed his bowl in the sink, along with the others and made his way to the back door, preparing to end back out into the darkness.
"Clark, this is your house!" Chloe sprinted across the kitchen, placing herself between Clark and the door. "You have the right to stay wherever you want," Chloe told him snappishly, perching her hands on her hips. The sight of the familiar pose sent a sharp, jagged pierce of pain to his heart.
"Hey, look, you can come back with me to my loft in the city. None of the crew is going to there tonight. Bart might drop in to raid the fridge, but thats it. I"m sure he's gotten low on his food allowance for the week by now," Oliver interjected as he, too, stood and dug around in his pocket, coming up with a few platinum keys jingling on a matching key ring.
"Thanks, Oliver. I appreciate it," Clark said sincerely as he held out his hand for the keys to get a head start.
"Hold on a minute," Chloe jumped in. Looking over Clark's shoulder as Oliver, she spoke to him first. "Could you give us a moment?"
"Of course," Oliver agreed readily, stuffing his keys back in his pocket. "I'll go up and check on the boys." Oliver, too, disappeared up the stairs. Chloe looked back to Clark, an expression of barely leashed frustration, one Clark knew very well.
"I want you to stay here tonight," Chloe told him simply. "You'll take my room, Oliver will go to his loft and I'll take the couch. No." Chloe shook her head violently when Clark started to argue, little wisps of hair escaping her ponytail to feather around her face. "I want you here."
"Why, Chloe? I'll just go to Oliver's loft." I don't want to be here with you and and him.
"Because the last time you left me, you disappeared for eight years. Call me clingy, but I really don't want to let you out of my sight," Chloe explained honestly.
Breathing in and out deeply through his nose, Clark knew if he left tonight he would never return. There was nothing left for him again, just like when he left the first time. He could tell Chloe knew that, too, and was doing all she could to keep him from walking out that door a second time. But Clark didn't want to leave this time. He wanted to stay here with her, for the rest of his life.
"You're my BFF, Clark," she'd told him once. All Clark could hope was that their one night could last him for a lifetime, when he'd been the only one she wanted.
"Fine. But I'll stay on the couch until I find something more permanent," Clark gave in. When it came down to it, what had he really ever been able to deny her?
"Good," she replied with relief, a genuine smile gracing her face. "I'll go get you some pillows and blankets."
Several hours later, the farm house was dark and silent. But the minds of the occupants were far from peaceful.
Clark lay on the sofa in the family room, the TV on and muted, bathing the room in a bright, mechanical glow. He tossed and turned until finding himself on his back, staring up at the ceiling. In the room above, Chloe and Oliver resided. For the first time since returning, he screwed up his face in a mask of anger. That, this was all Jor-El's fault! He said two years! Why had Clark thought he could finally trust his biological father? Why? Beating his head against his pillow, just to lash out a something, Clark clenched his fists and stilled. This was useless. His anger, his resentment, all of it. Useless. What Clark really wanted to do was march up those stairs, drag Oliver out of that bed and throw him to the east coast. He would have done so, now. He'd come to grips with the reason why he'd lost out on so many good things in his life was his inability to take action. But two things stopped him. Connor and Kaid. He could change nothing. He could only move on. Chloe obviously had the moment he'd left.
Up in Clark's old room, Connor and Kaid whispered loudly in the dark about their house guest.
"Did you see how big his hands were?" Connor whispered in awe from his bottom bunk.
"So? Ollie's big, too. If they fought, Ollie would win," Kaid spat back at his brother, defending his second hero.
"Mom was happy to see him," Connor responded, still confused over what he saw in the barn. "Do you think he knows Uncle Bart and Uncle Victor?"
"Why do you care? I don't like him. I think he's a bad guy," Kaid told Connor confidently, leaning out over the rail of his top bunk, his blonde hair swishing from his head.
"He doesn't look like a bad guy," Connor countered. "I think I've seen him before somewhere."
"Neither does that bald guy Mom and Ollie talk about. You know the guy who is always in the Planet? Ollie said he was bad."
"Yeah, but even Ollie was glad to see Mr. Kent, so how bad can he be?"
"I don't know, but I think he is," Kaid state firmly.
"I think you're wrong. Mom and Ollie wouldn't have had him stay for dinner if he was," Connor defended, still mad at Kaid for kicking him under the table earlier.
"You're just a stupid baby," Kaid muttered as he flopped back onto his mattress, peeved at his twin for not blindly agreeing with him.
"I am not!" Connor shouted back.
"Shut up, Connor! You're gonna wake Mom and Ollie!"
"You're being really mean tonight," Connor whined before pulling his Metropolis Sharks bedspread up beneath his chin.
Listening intently from one room over, Chloe and Oliver lay side by side, stifling laughs at the two boys argument before falling asleep.
"He sure is paranoid," Oliver commented.
"Its our fault. We made him that way. Its getting harder to hide things from them. It will only get harder as they get older, Chloe said, turning over on her side to face a shirtless Oliver.
"Yeah," Oliver replied quietly. He lay face up with his hands behind his head. Something had been nagging at him since Clark had miraculously appeared in the barn. He felt Chloe's warmth pressing his side and took a deep breath. The two of them needed to address this new development. "Listen, Chloe. We never really discussed what would if Clark came back. If you want to-"
"I'm glad you decided to stay the night, Oliver. I hate the thought of you driving back to the city this late at night," Chloe interrupted, wanting to post-pone whatever discussion Oliver had in mind.
"Hear me out, Chloe," Oliver began. Chloe sat up so she could gaze down at his face. The moonlight slithered in through the sheer white curtains, outlining her from behind so all Oliver could see were her slim shoulders. "We've always been honest with each other. I understand if you and Clark want to pick up where you left off. I know how much you love him and I think its fair to say most of Clark's shock came form seeing us together than the amount of time he's been gone."
"He needs to find his place in the world again. He needs to come to terms with how long he's been gone. Clark doesn't need a ready-made family. Plus, we have the boys. They adore you and it wouldn't be healthy for any major changes right now," Chloe responded, running a hand along Oliver's lean bicep.
"Wait," Oliver pushed himself up on his elbows to face Chloe. "Are you not going to tell him?"
"Tell him what, Oliver?" Chloe asked innocently. She decided a long time ago, when she'd had no sign of Clark after three years that if he did in fact come back into her life, he wouldn't know about the boys. Oliver hopped off the bed and flicked on the lamp set on the night-stand, its warm yellow light warring with the pale blue moonlight. He stared down at Chloe. She sat on the bed, her blonde hair free and wavy with her legs tucked up under her. She was wearing on of his pajama tops an an unseen pair of boxers underneath. Her features were settled into a haughty indifference, the expression she wore when she was determined she'd made the right decision that no one else understood. Oliver trusted Chloe's judgment above anyone else's, but he had his doubts tonight.
Oliver joined her back on the bed, scooting close to her and taking her hands. "I don't want you keeping something this important from Clark out of some loyalty to me. He needs to know. You could all be a family. Finally."
"I don't want that," Chloe said simply.
"Yes, you do," Oliver replied. He couldn't believe Chloe was willing to keep something this big from Clark. "He has the right to know. Connor and Kincaid have the right to a real father. One who can help them as they grow and change. One who can share in the problems they are going to face as they mature. You and I both know their abilities are only going to get stronger and more difficult to handle. Clark is going to want to help with that. I lost my father way too young, Chloe. Do not inflict that on those innocent children just because-"
"He can not be weighed down by the thought of a family!" Chloe whispered heatedly. She yanked her hands away from Oliver, wanting to yell and slap. She hadn't had time herself to process Clark's return and the repercussions that would ensue. "His destiny is too great for that. Clark would never be able to be the hero the world needs if he was constantly worried about his family!"
"Chloe, you have to tell him those boys are his sons! As their father, he has the right to know!" Oliver exclaimed, jumping off the bed and reaching for his shirt that was thrown across the back of Chloe's vanity stool.
"Where are you going?" Chloe questioned as she clambered off the bed. She could just see Oliver marching down those stairs to oust her to Clark. "What do you think you're doing?"
Oliver's head popped out of the shirt collar. Seeing the fear in her eyes, he told her sharply, "I'm not going to tell him. You are. You can't lie to the guy, Chloe. He's your best friend."
"I can't," Chloe countered stubbornly.
"Why? He has a right to know!"
"I don't want him to want me only because of the boys!" Chloe cried. The tears she'd been fighting at odd times through the night flooded into her eyes. She crumpled to the floor and sobbed into the sleeve of her pajama top, desperately trying to cover the noises and not wake the rest of the house. Oliver abandoned getting dressed and knelt on the floor next to his girlfriend. Gently, as he had done so many years ago, he cupped her shoulder.
"Clark and I slept together before he left because we were both hurt and depressed and scared. If I hadn't gotten pregnant. . ." Chloe trailed off, gathering her thoughts. "When he came back, maybe we could have talked about being together. But now, with Connor and Kaid, I know he would do the 'right thing'. He would insist we get married and then he would be trapped in a marriage to a woman he really doesn't love. I couldn't bear that, Oliver. Clark deserves to be happy. I deserve to be happy."
"But Clark does love you," Oliver told her, gathering her into his arms and rocking her comfortingly.
"Not the way I want to be loved," Chloe resigned. "You knew the boys were his when we began dating. How does Clark coming back change anything now?"
"It changes everything. When I first met the two of you, I thought," Oliver halted. He had shared a lot with Chloe. She'd seen him at his absolute worst, she'd nursed him when he'd been wounded, she'd shared her family with him and allowed him to make one, although temporary, with her. "I thought, man, Clark is lucky. He's found that one person who he can be himself with completely. Who cares about him not because of what he can do for her, but simply because she does. I'm not going to stand between Clark and his destiny. No matter what you say, Chloe, that destiny includes you."
"I'm sorry, Oliver. This is never the conversation a man ever wants to have with the woman he's involved with romantically," Chloe muttered sardonically
"Chloe," Oliver breathed slowly, realizing she'd ignored every phrase he'd just uttered about her and Clark. He was going to get nowhere with her tonight. "They're your sons. This is your secret. If you don't want to tell Clark, then I will respect it. But I think you owe it to him."