Chapter 6
Clark stomped from the barn all the way to the kitchen, slamming the door as hard as he could without splintering the wood. How could he and Chloe not be together now? Today, when they'd been together, walking around the land and talking it felt incredibly right. The night they'd been together had felt right and the kiss they'd just shared. . . He yanked a chair out from the dining table and plopped down onto it. Flattening out his hands on the smooth surface, he lowered his forehead and rested it against the cool table top.
Emotions simmered within him like stew ingredients threatening to boil over. Anger, confusion, resentment, to name a few, swirled around his belly, making him a little nauseous. Here he was, a thirty year old man, single and alone, living like a guest in his own home and longing, again, for an unavailable woman. He was stuck in the same pattern! And why, if Chloe wrote him off years ago, did she kiss him in the loft? Clark growled low in his throat.
Several hours later, Clark watched as the sun began to rise. Like the night before, he'd tossed and turned on the narrow width of the sofa. Lucky I don't really need sleep, Clark groaned internally as he shuffled into a sitting position and scratched his head. Glancing over at the digital clock on the bottom of the TV screen he saw it was a little after six. If he remembered correctly, morning was about to begin for other three occupants of the house. Clark sharpened his hearing, listening for activity and found he wasn't the only one who was greeting the rising of the sun. The boys were asleep, their breathing deep and unhindered but soft footsteps could be heard pacing along the upper floor. Clark angled his head upward and willed the floorboards to dissolve.
Bare feet padded the length of the room as Chloe chewed on a fingernail. Her hair was down and mussed and Chloe kept pushing it out of her face with the hand she wasn't chewing on. Clark knew he wasn't the only one who'd had a restless night. He'd lain awake until half past two. Chloe had still not come in from the barn and Clark was fighting the urge to go and check on her when he heard the crunch of her footsteps outside. The kitchen door opened a few seconds later.
Clark scuttled back under his blankets, not wanting Chloe to catch him watching and waiting for her like some overprotective father. He felt Chloe watching him silently from the doorway, just standing there and gazing at him. Like a sixth sense, Clark could tell Chloe was arguing with herself over something. Something she wanted to tell him. Since he returned he'd catch glimpses every once in a while when Chloe was looking at him or when he caught her off guard yesterday morning. Part of him had wanted to fly up at her and demand she explain herself. The other part was absolutely content to just lay with his back to her, making her feel as undervalued and cheap as he had when he realized she'd slept with Oliver probably only minutes after he left. But the longer she stood there, the harder it was for Clark to ignore her presence. Chloe had a way about her, he always knew she was near him. Maybe it was that distinct spicy scent he never really knew was her until he hadn't smelt in eight years. Maybe it was the way her heart sped up when he smiled at her. Maybe it was the way he could feel her affection radiating off her and onto him in comforting waves. All those maybes made him want to curl around her like a fire on a dreary winter day. Clark took a deep breath, coiling his muscles to push himself up when he heard Chloe sigh. It was a wistful noise, followed by the snap of the kitchen light, finally leaving the family room illuminated again by the bluish gleam of the flickering TV.
This morning, slight purplish circles shaded the area underneath Chloe's eyes from lack of sleep. Chloe stopped pacing and folded her little form into an elegant maroon fainting chair, tucking her legs up under her in her favored sitting position. She had on the same fluffy yellow robe as yesterday, cuddling it close to her body. The gaining light of the beginning day was filtering in behind her, shining around her. He'd never thought of Chloe as beautiful or angelic. Those terms he'd always reserved for Lana, her beauty so heavenly that it couldn't possibly be human. Chloe had always been attractive, though. Earthy and womanly in a very real way.
The anger from last night came back. He wanted her. Clark wanted Chloe emotionally and mentally and physically. Looking at her now through the floor, he understood he'd had this beautiful creature by his side, totally committed to him for ten years of his young life. Suddenly, it didn't matter how long he'd been gone. It didn't matter that he and Chloe were back where they were a few years ago before he left. What mattered was that he loved her. He'd always loved her. Clark actually didn't feel like being self-righteous this time around. Chloe had stood beside him, keeping her feelings in careful check, trying to never let them interfere with their friendship. That had been so unfair to her, Clark thought. It must have hard on her, watching him with Lana and listening to him about Lana. I deserve this. The point was Clark loved Chloe enough he'd let her go. The phrase struck him as hilariously ironic.
An alarm sounded and Clark watched Chloe stir from her own thoughts. Figuring she might be down in a couple of minutes, Clark got up and started some coffee before bursting into super-mode; showering and re-dressing in his clothes from the day before in seconds. Chloe emerged from her bedroom just as Clark was putting his folded blankets and pillow into the upstairs linen closet.
"Good morning," Clark greeted as he pushed the door closed.
"Morning," Chloe returned, resting a shoulder against the door frame and crossing her arms. Her voice was a little shy and sleepy. She looked all soft and homey, Clark had to strongly restrain himself from cuddling her into his arms. Chloe reached out and patted his arm before starting down the stairs to the kitchen.
"Wow," Clark heard her exclaim, as he, too, descended into the room. "Two mornings in a row with pre-made coffee? I could get used to this." Chloe was stretching up on her tip toes, reaching up to the top shelf of a cupboard and taking down two coffee mugs. She set them down on the counter before opening the refrigerator and withdrawing a carton of hazelnut creamer.
"Want anything special for breakfast?" Chloe asked him as she filled the cups up halfway. She held up the carton of creamer and waved it at him. Clark shook his head, taking the carafe from her and filling his cup to the brim as Chloe poured a good spout of creamer into her own cup and stirred it with a spoon.
"Don't you need to get ready for work?" Clark asked in answer to her earlier question.
"Actually I'm going to work from here today. My assistant is going to send my stuff out by courier later today."
"Do you want me to run in and get it?" He offered.
"Would you mind, Clark? Jillian won't be in until a little before nine, though. When are you going to see your mom?"
"Her aide said she had some downtime around ten, so I can go get your work for you," Clark answered.
"Thank you, Clark! You'll have saved me about three hours of wasted time. I really appreciate it."
"Anything for my best friend!" Clark replied brightly, grinning and punching Chloe gently on the arm. Chloe raised her eyebrows as Clark pulled a face and sat down awkwardly.
"Okay. Clark listen-about last night," Chloe began, joining him at the bar.
"Chloe, it's okay. I don't expect anything. Its understandable. You and I, we've always been on the edge of something more, but you've moved on and I'm happy for you," Clark told her, thinking if he said it out loud enough he'd start to believe it.
Chloe regarded Clark with surprise. Never once, not in their teens or early twenties, had Clark ever alluded to the connection the two of them shared. He would always just shoot her that little grin and squeeze her shoulders in a friendly way. The only time he'd come closer than this was the night before he left. Clark was also never so forthcoming with his approval. Any guy who'd shown interest in Chloe was looked on with suspicion and dislike for the most part. Of course, most of the men Chloe got tangled up with, earned that suspicion and dislike at the very end. All except Jimmy, but even he wasn't immune to Clark's alpha male ego in the beginning.
"That's really great of you, Clark, but-"
"So what am I picking up for you at the office today?"
Chloe took the hint and took another sip of her coffee. For the next hour, until the boys came crashing down the stairs for breakfast, Clark and Chloe spoke intermittently to each other. Clark watched Chloe fry eggs in a skillet, her head cocked to the side, listening for a tussle between her two rambunctious sons. Breakfast was soon over and as Clark helped the boys into their backpacks, Chloe searched frantically for her keys.
"Chlo?" Clark called, getting her attention.
"I can't find my keys," Chloe answered the unasked questions. "Have you seen them?" Chloe did a once over of the family room again.
"They're in your hand," Clark told her sweetly.
Chloe looked at her hand, stunned to find herself gripping the keys. She looked up to smile at him, reminded of all the times he'd jingled the keys above her head while she bounced up, grabbing at them. But Clark wasn't looking at her. He was playing with Connor who was hanging like a monkey on Clark's arm while he pumped it up and down like a lever. Kaid looked on, determined to look uninterested but failing miserably as his twin brother giggled happily.
"Thanks," she said quietly. "Guys, come on. We need to get going." She cleared her throat and tried hard not to watch as Clark caught Connor by the waist and zoomed him out the door, playing the airplane game. Chloe looked down at Kaid who still stood by her side. Holding her hand out, Kaid grinned and slipped his little hand into his mom's. They followed Clark and Connor out to her car.
"Jump on in Kaid!" Clark exclaimed. He'd opened the back door, already seating Connor and buckling him in.
"Go on." Chloe nudged Kaid on. Hesitantly, Kaid stepped over to Clark who swung the little boy high up in the air before putting him in next to his brother. Before Clark shut the door Chloe saw a hint of his father's grin on Kaid's face.
Clark reached around Chloe, opening her door and laying a hand on the roof of the SUV, trapping Chloe between Clark's body and the car interior. "Do you have my list?" He asked casually, unaware of the flush creeping up Chloe's neck at his near proximity and no place for her to turn.
"Yeah, let me get it." Chloe fished out the folded piece of paper she'd slipped into her back jean pocket. She held it up between them. "Give it to Jillian. I've already called her and she'll get everything. Thanks again, Clark. Will I be seeing you later tonight?"
"Are you going somewhere after you drop off the boys?" Clark asked, kind of wanting to see her before he left for the day.
"I'm meeting a friend for coffee after I drop off the boys, so I probably won't see you until you get back. Unless, you're planning on staying with your mother for a little bit," Chloe finished, throwing her purse inside and following it, desperate to move away from Clark and his delightful suffocation.
"No, I'll be home tonight."
"Tell your mom I say hi," Chloe called out the open window as she started her vehicle and shifted into 'D'. With a slight spray of gravel, she hit the gas and moved down the long drive way, leaving Clark waving in her rear view mirror.
Clark returned to the house to make sure all appliances were off before he made the five minute trip to the Isis Foundation. Arriving at the tall building, Clark strode into the lobby. He found the elevators in the back corner. The trip was halting as people got off and on from the second to the eleventh floor. When the car reached the thirteenth floor, Clark was alone and feeling slightly uncomfortable in his jeans and tee shirt.
The doors opened and revealed a highly stylized Metropolitan receiving area. But instead of cool blues and unwelcoming furniture, the room was awash in a soothing moss color with four overstuffed love seats, two on each wall, covered in a floral print. A mousy yet pretty brunette woman sat off in a corner, facing out onto the room behind a Venetian secretary's desk.
"Can I help you?" The woman asked from behind a flat screen monitor the color of moss as well. Thin framed reading glasses sat perched on her nose, reminding Clark of an old woman who'd been knitting.
"I'm Clark Kent. Chloe needed me to pick up some work for her today." Clark held out the half piece of stationary Chloe had given him.
"Yes," Jillian said as she took the paper from him. "I'll be right back with it." He watched the stick thin girl take a key out of a lock box in her bottom drawer and sway over to what must be Chloe's office door and then disappear inside.
Clark waited patiently as he heard the Jillian woman walking across what must be very thick carpet and uttering what an array of good-looking men Ms. Sullivan surrounded herself with. He couldn't help smiling modestly. That is, until a thought hit him. What other 'men' did Chloe surround herself with? A jab of jealousy sliced through him again. Chloe always was a male magnet. Too bad he hadn't realized why that was until too late.
The rest of Clark's thoughts were stopped by one of the double doors opening and Jillian appearing again, a large red leather briefcase with a shoulder strap slapping against her bare calf.
"Here." She shoved the packed-to-the-seams case into his arms. "That should keep her busy for the whole weekend. It was nice meeting you, Clark. Chloe-" Jillian broke off abruptly.
"Chloe what?" Clark led, wondering what Chloe-
Jillian cleared her throat and a soft, knowing smile spread across her face. "Chloe used to speak of you very often."
Chloe spun the almost empty cappuccino mug around on the table surface, staring out the Talon's picture window that looked out onto Smallville's main drag. Her phone read ten-fifteen. He was probably gone by now. She pressed the speed dial button. It rang and rang and rang before the answering machine picked up. She didn't want to see him again. Not today, not by herself with no one to keep her in check.
She couldn't help it last night. She knew, in an instant, he had felt everything she had felt the eight years he'd been gone. The aching loneliness and the slow passage of time. The missing pieces and the longing for the return. She heard it in his voice, felt it his arms and saw it in his eyes.
She would have to tell him. But not now, not yet.
U. S. Senator Martha Kent stifled a yawn from the cushy chair she sat in. The Senate Agriculture Committee meeting was running a half hour behind schedule, which was not as bad as some but did make her regret keeping her staff late after nine the night before working on the new guidelines for the Pesticide Bill the party was to be pushing in a few weeks. Instead of curling up with a good book or soaking in a hot bubble bath, Martha opted to be productive. Thank goodness she had two hours of down time coming to her after this meeting in which she could just kick back in her office and breathe.
Martha shifted in her seat and found herself glancing out one of the high, clear windows at the overcast sky which was threatening rain. She always loved the rain. She remembered the days it would rain on the farm. Jonathon would stay out as long as he could until finally stomping in, dripping mud and rain water all over her spotless kitchen floor. In later years, she would have two tall men tracking dirt all into her house after Jonathon and Clark would call it quits and go inside to enjoy a slow, lazy day. But when Clark was little, he would stand at the kitchen door impatiently, waiting for his father to come in. Rainy days were Clark's favorite. They were the only days when the boy felt normal. He would sit in Jonathon's lap in front of the fire while Jonathon would read the paper or the two would play cards, Martha close by reading or sewing buttons back on Jonathon's tattered farm shirts. Martha thought back to the day when the three just sat on the couch, counting the seconds between the lightning and the thunder, watching the squiggly lines the rain made as it trickled down the window. Today she wished to think of long ago happy times when she had a strong husband and an exceptional son, not poll charts or funding issues or petitioned bills. Today, Martha wished it would rain.
The droning voice finally ceased, bringing the meeting to a close and Martha high tailed it out of the large conference room before any of her fellow committee members could detain her. The sound of her short heels on the buffed tile floor were drowned out by the dozens of other hurried footsteps. Among the many others making their way along the hallowed halls of the nation's capitol, Martha spotted her Chief of Staff, Henry Mulligan, a man hand picked by Lois Lane before she left to chase a corner office and a hefty salary at the Daily Planet. Out of several applicants Henry Mulligan was selected for his small stature, academic pallor and a history of pleasing domineering female employers. Martha Kent was far from domineering, but Lois knew Mr. Mulligan would never try to undermine the senator due to the presence of ovaries.
"Henry," Martha breathed in a sigh of relief, grateful for the appearance of her dodgy dressed aide, his faithful clipboard clutched to his chest. "I am so ready for a break! Would you be a dear and-"
"Senator Kent," Henry interrupted uncharacteristically. "I didn't get a chance to tell you this morning in the staff meeting, but your ten o'clock has been filled." Henry noted his boss' crestfallen face as they weaved their way toward her suite of offices.
"By who?" Martha asked, fighting to keep the irritation from her voice.
"A gentlemen who wanted to speak with you. He's waiting for you in your office," Henry replied vaguely.
"Henry-"
"It's a surprise, Senator," Henry interrupted again. He'd gotten a call from a Clark Kent late last night claiming to be the Senator's son. Always suspicious of blackmailers and such, Henry Mulligan had went ahead and scheduled the man, knowing that he could always call security if the man showed up and Henry wasn't convinced. But a call from Chloe Sullivan earlier in the morning put all his fears to rest. Henry had met Chloe only a handful of times but knew she was the woman who lived on the farm in Kansas and was a close, family friend of Mrs. Kent's. She confirmed for him Mrs. Kent's son had indeed returned from abroad and be sure to let her know he was coming to see her today. However, Henry decided that his boss needed some cheering up and decided it would be a nice surprise, a visit from her son. His doubts vanished when the tall man showed up in front of him at his desk, identically matching the portrait Martha kept on her desk in her office. He led Clark into the office and after an hour without her appearance, he'd asked Clark to sit tight and quickly flitted off to see what was keeping the Senator.
Martha raised her auburn brows at Henry, who usually she could read like a book. With a small, apprehensive smile, she relinquished her portable desk and shoulder bag to him at the door of her suite and entered first. The waiting room was empty. Off the waiting room branched four medium sized offices, each with at least two staffers inside working. Each waved as Martha passed. Her own office was located down at the end of the short hallway, preceded by an antechamber Henry resided in. The office door was slightly ajar and Martha pushed it silently open.
A tall man with thick dark hair stood in the middle of the room, rotating his head slowly as he looked around the office. His hands were in his jean pockets and his feet were shoulder width apart. He wore a navy blue t-shirt and his feet were encased in worn looking work boots, caked in earth. Martha continued to peer at the back of his head, not daring to believe it was who she thought it was a first glance. But then the man shifted and his profile came into view.
Joy bubbled up and out of her mouth as Martha cried out. Clark turned suddenly, not having heard his mother enter. A wide smile broke out on his face as he met her halfway, catching her in his arms tightly.
"Clark!" Martha exclaimed as tears filled her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. She pulled him close, gathering Clark as much as she could into her arms like she had when he was a little boy.
"Hi Mom," Clark said softly, bending low to receive his mother's hug. He could hear her murmuring 'my little boy, my little boy' over and over against his cotton clad shoulder.
After a few minutes, Martha leaned back. "Let me look at you," she ordered. Clark stepped back as his mother perused him. Her sturdy, comforting hands ran through his hair and down his cheeks. They continued on, checking him over as she'd done when he was a child, able to be hurt and later when he exhibited any new ability. Martha took in his slightly matured face and better posture, but other than that, Clark was the same as the last time he visited her.
"Where have you been?" She whispered, aware they were not in private even if it was her office.
"Lots of places," Clark replied. "I'm sorry I was gone so long."
"Oh, Clark, that doesn't matter. I'm just glad you're not. . ." Tears clogged her throat.
"I know," Clark finished for her, hugging his mother again, wishing she'd never had to think he was dead.
"I always knew you were alive. A mother knows. But I was always so afraid you were in danger or hurt and that was the hardest-" Martha broke off, allowing her tears to fall. She cried quietly, the fear for her son over the years mixing with the joy of his return.
"I wasn't. I wasn't ever. I was always safe," Clark responded. For the most part, he added in his mind.
"Are you hungry?" Martha questioned, after squeezing him once more. She wiped the tears from her red eyes. "Let's go. You can't have had lunch yet, right?" Martha blinked away the remaining clouds in her eyes as she lifted her wrist to look at the dainty gold watch Jonathon had given her on their twenty-third wedding anniversary.
"Mom, you don't need to worry about it. I didn't come for your famous Green Bean Casserole. I came to see you," Clark told her, although the thought of one of her freshly baked apple pies made his mouth water.
"Well, I'm taking the rest of the day off and spending it with you. Oh, Clark," Martha started again, swallowing the emotion that surfaced once more. She called out for Henry. "Plus, we can't really talk here," she finished in a whisper.
The slight man appeared, pushing up his glasses on his nose. "Yes, Senator?"
"I want you to meet my son," Martha beckoned with a hand. Henry hurried forward, his hand before him to be quickly engulfed in Clark's. "Clark, this is my Chief of Staff, Henry Mulligan."
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Mulligan," Clark said with a nod.
"Likewise, Mr. Kent. The staff has heard much about you from your mother. It's great to finally meet you," Henry replied dutifully.
"Thank you," Clark returned before falling uncomfortably silent in the presence of the shrewd, little man.
"Cancel all my appointments today, Henry. Clark and I are spending the day together. I'll have my cell phone in case you absolutely need me."
Henry nodded quickly before dancing out the door. Martha crossed to her desk and began straightening some papers, stuffing some in a battered notebook to carry home with her.
"Mom, I know you're busy," Clark began. "I just wanted to see you and tell you I was okay."
"Clark," Martha said sternly, pinning him with her familiar 'no argument' stare.
"Yes ma'am," Clark answered, giving in to his mother's unspoken will. For the next few minutes, he watched his mother bustle in and out of her roomy office, speaking briskly to others who were also in a flurry at the Senator's impromptu day off.
"Oh, Michelle, wait!" Martha called, scampering in her pumps across the plush carpet and out the door. At her quick clip, Clark thought if she was blonde, he would swear she was Chloe. The similarities between his mother and his best friend became very apparent to him. Both were driven and loyal and practical. Both kept his world turning. Both would do anything for him, he was sure.
Clark gazed around her office. It reminded him of the family room at home. He spied most of the framed pictures that used to litter the surfaces of the living room and old piano at the farm. Along the credenza Clark saw the favorite picture of his family; his mother standing between him and his father. Next to that he saw a framed head shot from his father's own senatorial campaign and off to the side was a small snap shot of him and Lana outside of Nell's flower shop when they were either eight or nine.
"You ready to go?" Martha asked from her doorway.
"Yeah," Clark answered as he turned and followed his mom out of her office and outside, along a sidewalk that led to a little side street. A black Tahoe sat idling with diplomatic plates. Martha climbed in first, followed by Clark.
"Hello again, David," Martha greeted the serious looking man sitting behind the wheel who nodded stoically in return. Clark and Martha fastened their seat belts while Martha continued chatting pleasantly with the man. "This is my son Clark."
"Nice to meet you Clark," David said. He and Clark shook hands between the seats awkwardly.
"David is the head of my security team," Martha told Clark as she took his hand on the bench seat between them.
Clark looked out the window of the sleek vehicle as it pulled away from the curbside parking spot and turned onto a busier main street, heading away from the snowy white capitol building. A little over ten minutes later, David parked the car across the street from a red brick three story town house with wide white sashed windows, six total Clark could see facing the street. There was a good sized front stoop bordered with black wrought iron rails on either side with fat, potted geraniums the color of vibrant pumpkins that sat on the bottom step.
Exiting the SUV, Clark slung his mom's work paraphernalia over both shoulders while Martha hopped down from the high profile vehicle with her clutch purse tucked under her arm.
"When did you move from the condo?" Clark asked, following her across the street to the pleasant looking house. Family cars lined the block in assigned parking spaces and while it was only a few streets over from one of the busiest fairways in D.C., it was blissfully quiet.
"A couple of years ago. I wanted somewhere more permanent while I was here. Come on in," Martha answered as she turned the key in the lock and pushed open the door, revealing a large living room with a matching brick fire place in the corner closest to the entrance. It was an open floor plan with a equally large kitchen and dining room set farther back behind the living room before leading out into what looked like a very cultivated green backyard through the French back doors. A three tiered staircase wrapped around behind the dining room, the third section of the stairs disappearing into the second floor. All three rooms had a running theme of a transplanted country woman with old fashion knick-knacks and pastoral paintings. The walls were a peaceful cream with soft brown colored accents and Clark almost felt he was sitting in a frothy cup of coffee.
"It's great, mom," Clark told her, looking admiringly around her home.
"Thanks. Chloe helped with a lot of it. I was so busy when I first bought it," Martha responded.
"She did a good job. Hey, where do you want these?" Clark asked, motioning to his loaded arms.
"Oh, just drop them there, sweetie. I'll put them up later. What do you want for lunch?" Martha asked, dropping her keys and purse onto a dark victorian spindle table with three legs right inside the door. Clark entered all the way in and shut the door tightly behind him, placing the portable desk, shoulder bag and laptop case just beside the table. He then headed to the kitchen, where his mother was already peering into her refrigerator. "How about some honey glazed barbecue chicken with some baked potatoes and green beans? That sound good to you?"
"Anything you cook sounds good to me," Clark answered.
"Good. You can help me and tell me all about what you did while you were gone," Martha suggested excitedly. They set about making lunch, each taking turns telling the other what had been keeping them occupied over the years. Clark kept looking at his mother, as if he was trying to memorize her face. Her hair was still thick and a pretty red color with a few silver strands running within, her eyes the soft, homey blue. She had a few other wrinkles he didn't remember but otherwise she was the same Martha Kent she'd always been.
"You have pie," Clark commented reverently when he spotted it in the back of the fridge while taking out a pitcher of tea.
"Yes, its a new recipe I tried out the other day. Its Maple Pecan with sliced apples. My subconscious must have known you were coming home," Martha told Clark with affection as she rubbed his back. Clark threw her his signature grin. Half an hour later, Martha plated their meal while Clark refilled both their tea glasses.
"Looks so good, Mom," Clark said as he slid into the head chair at the dining table, Martha taking the one to his left. Waiting until Martha was finally seated and said grace, Clark dug his fork into the perfectly baked potato, popping the piping hot morsel into his mouth, skin and all. It almost melted on his tongue in a sea of butter and salt and sour cream. "I think your cooking has gotten better."
"Well, I doubt Jor-El fed you properly while you were away," Martha responded in her 'mother' tone.
The two ate slowly, taking the time to talk between each bite of food. Clark peppered his mom with questions on her work at the capitol, finding the system by which Martha operated fascinating. He mentally walloped himself for not paying more attention in the government course he took his senior year of high school. Finally exhausted from speaking in depth about her many projects and bills, Martha took a sip of her tea and waved away another question Clark directed at her.
"Later, later. Did you just get back today?" She asked, cutting the second half of her chicken into tidy cubes.
"No, I actually got back day before yesterday," Clark answered.
"Where have you been for the past two days?"
"I went to the farm first," Clark told her quietly.
"Oh, to see Chloe."
"And to find out how to get in touch with you," Clark hurried to explain.
"Clark," Martha laid a hand on top of her son's, reading his trail of thought. "It's okay if you wanted to see Chloe before me. And it was perfectly natural to go to the farm first. That's your home. How is she? I haven't spoken to her in about a month."
"She's good. She says hi."
"Did you meet Connor and Kaid?" Martha asked excitedly. She continued on before Clark could answer. "Aren't they just precious? They must be so big now! I haven't seen them in a few years. Every time I go for a few days visit they're either out with Oliver or at a friend's house. I would love to see them again."
"Yeah, they're great boys," Clark mused, almost to himself.
Martha noticed the subtle change in Clark's demeanor when she mentioned the boys. She knew something was weighing on Clark's mind, could tell the moment after she looked into his eyes. But, being a patient woman, she would wait for Clark to make his way around to it, as he always did, in his own time. When plates were empty and wiped clean, Martha suggested, "How about I give you the tour while the pie is warming in the oven?"
She led Clark around the lower level, showing him her office that was to the side of the back doors and then peeking their heads out to see her lush backyard and small vegetable garden. Making small conversation, she took him upstairs where three bedrooms resided. One was hers, with most of the bedroom furniture from the farmhouse, including the antique dressing table that belonged to Jonathon's grandmother. The other was a catch-all room although Clark thought he saw some boyish toys sticking out of one of the boxes. And the last, at the end of the hall, was his.
"She kept it?" Clark muttered softly as he walked into the room that held all of his belongings from his old life. It was set up just like it had been at the house in Smallville. His Daily Planet attire was hung in the closet, his work clothes and other things in the chest of drawers, pictures and other mementos surrounded the room just like they did. On the windowsill, sat the picture of him and Chloe on her wedding day. Picking it up, he fingered it as he sat down on his bed.
"What did you expect, Clark?" Martha asked softly as she joined her son on the bed. Laying a hand on his back, she continued. "That we would get rid of all your things just because you were gone?" Martha observed the way Clark's blunt fingers almost caressed the glass over Chloe's face. Something stirred inside her, giving her an inkling about what was troubling him.
"I just thought. . . I don't know what to think," Clark said, setting the picture back in its place.
"Is something wrong, Clark? I can imagine what a shock it was to come home and find out you've been gone for eight years instead of the expected two."
"What happened while I was gone, Mom?" He questioned, bringing a leg up on the bed and facing his mother. "What happened with Chloe and Oliver? When did they-" Clark broke off, not able to finish his sentence.
"You just spent the last two days with Chloe. Did the two of you not catch up?" Martha returned, wondering what the two friends had spent time discussing if not all the changes that had occurred over time.
"We did, but not about that. Mostly about what happened with me and then we had dinner with Oliver and Lois and you know how hard it is to talk with Lois around. I do know about Lex, though. Chloe filled me in on that," Clark explained, omitting the truth of not wanting to know what happened between Chloe and Oliver and especially having to hear it from Chloe or Oliver.
"Why don't we go back downstairs? I'll fill you in over dessert." Martha and Clark made their way back to the kitchen that was filled with the scrumptious smell of one of Martha Kent's original pies. After cutting two nice chunks and garnishing them both with hefty dollops of whipped and ice cream, Martha took her chair across from Clark again, making herself comfortable.
It was a clear, sunny day as Martha drove along the county road and then turned onto Hickory Lane, her cozy farmhouse coming into view. Clark had been gone for almost five months now and Martha was sorry she hadn't been out to see Chloe sooner. She'd been hoping they could both hold out until Thanksgiving but the times she'd spoken to Chloe on the phone were short and hurried, as both women were throwing themselves into work to fill the void left by Clark and the young woman sounded so tired and despondent most of the time that Martha knew she needed to go out and visit her. So when the Senator found out she would have some vacation time between sessions available, she made plans to head to Kansas.
It was a Saturday and Martha spied Chloe's small, compact yellow car parked neatly in front of the white picket fence that rounded the yard. She also spotted a very expensive automobile parked haphazardly next to Chloe's, reminding Martha strongly of all the flashy cars Lex used to drive as a reckless young man. Joining the two, Martha pulled her own sedate late model sedan up beside the barn and stepped out. She could see the front door was open and could just hear slightly raised voices coming from inside. Quickly, Martha made her way to the front door and pulled open the screen, stepping inside.
"You need to take it easy!" A male voice shouted. "You don't know how this could affect you, so until we get you checked out, I want you to rest!"
"I don't need rest, Oliver. I need to work. You said it yourself, it will help the time go by quicker," Chloe, her voice clearly agitated, replied.
Hurrying down the hallway, wanting to make her presence known and not be thought an eavesdropper, Martha's quiet loafers carried her to the back of the house toward the voices, in the laundry room she'd guess.
"Chloe?" She called out as she stepped into the kitchen.
Chloe's head popped around the corner, indeed from the laundry room. "Mrs. Kent!" She cried out happily, her face at first almost uneasy was quickly covered by a cheerful smile. A second head popped out over hers, the head of Metropolis' newest most eligible bachelor, Oliver Queen. Martha registered surprise at finding Mr. Queen in her home and having a very heated discussion with her son's best friend.
"Mr. Queen," Martha greeted politely.
Oliver stepped out from around Chloe, meeting Martha in the middle of the kitchen, hand outstretched. "It's good to see you again, Senator Kent. It's been a while."
"It has been a while. I hope business has been profitable?"
"Never better. Well," Oliver grinned at Martha and then swung around and eyed Chloe who eyed him right back. "I'll let you ladies. . . Do whatever it is that ladies do and I will talk to you later," he sternly directed at Chloe who visibly winced. Oliver headed to the kitchen door and before exiting turned one last time to Martha. "It was nice to see again, Senator."
Both Chloe and Martha watched him leave, listening to the powerful engine turn and spurt to life. Martha looked back to Chloe, who still was hiding behind the wall. Eyes that were a little too bright, turned to Martha.
"Well, aren't you gonna give me a hug?" Martha teased. Usually Chloe bowled her over, but today, she was hesitant. "Chloe, is there something wrong?"
Chloe pressed her lips together and with a deep breath, stepped out from behind the wall.
"Oh," Martha gasped, catching sight of Chloe's heavy rounded belly. "Chloe." She rushed forward and hugged the girl, who began crying silently on her shoulder.
"Let's go sit down." Martha led Chloe to the sofa in the family room and sat her down, seating herself next to her, close enough so she could wrap a motherly arm around her shaking shoulders. "How far along are you?"
"Five months," Chloe answered softly.
"Is- Is this what the two of you were fighting over?" Martha asked tentatively. She assumed Chloe had come to know Oliver through Lois, who had dated the billionaire for a short period. She was surprised to think the two of them had had an affair. Martha was aware of how the world worked these days but she just didn't think Chloe was that kind of girl.
"Yes ma'am."
"Is he going to take responsibility?"
"He's trying to," Chloe commented dryly, wiping her eyes. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I didn't know what to say."
"Oh, Chloe," Martha said again, squeezing her shoulders with reassurance. "I want you to come to me for anything. You've always done so much for my son and there is never any way to repay you, but I am here for you, no matter what."
"Thank you, Mrs. Kent."
"They never got married?" Clark asked. He'd wondered fleetingly if Chloe and Oliver had ever made that final step. Chloe still went by Sullivan but that was expected. She'd always been so independent.
"No. They weren't even publicly a couple until about two years ago. For the most part they've kept everything very hush-hush, but then the paparazzi snapped a shot of the Chloe and Oliver getting coffee with the boys in tow and the cat was out of the bag. I believe Oliver splits his time between the house and his loft. It works for them. Chloe wanted to raise the boys in Smallville so I asked her to stay on at the farm until her and Oliver wanted to find something more permanent. Its nice, too. When I go home for a visit or just to unwind for a few days, I have someone there. The house was always so lonely without you or Jonathon there," Martha explained. She looked closely at her son. As she recounted the way she'd learned of Chloe's pregnancy and asking her stay at the farm, Clark had retreated more and more inside his head. She got the tiniest feeling there was more to his unease than he was letting on. "Clark, are you upset that I let them stay in the house? I'm sure Oliver would be more than happy to move them into the city with him. He's told me many times he would like to have them closer."
Clark rose from his chair, empty plate and glass in hand. Placing them gently in the sink, he turned back to his mother. Martha trembled at the anguish she saw on her son's face. "Clark," said Martha as she went to him. "What is wrong?"
"I was such an idiot to believe him. Jor-El told me two Kryptonian years. I should have known there was a difference! Now, she's gone and everything has changed and I don't know what to do."
"Clark, who is gone?"
Clark looked at his mother. "Chloe."
"Chloe?" Understanding dawned on her. "You. . . Were going to be with Chloe when you came back?" Then why. . .
"I thought we were," Clark muttered.
"Did the two of you talk about it?"
"No." Clark's voice was getting smaller.
"Then why did you expect, if you were going to be gone for two years, that she would wait for you until you returned? Isn't that a little unfair, Clark? I mean, you've never really showed any romantic interest in her before."
"Because we. . ." Clark's voice trailed off. He'd never told him mom about his, well, sex life, albeit a meager one. The only reason she knew he'd done it at least once was because her and his father had caught him sneaking Lana out of the house early one morning.
"You. . . What?" Martha led. Clark turned his head and gazed at her knowingly, pleading with her not have him finish his declaration. "Oh." Martha crinkled her brow. "How?"
"Mom!" Clark exclaimed, quickly scurrying out of the kitchen and into an easy chair in her living room.
Martha laughed out loud. She couldn't help it. Joining Clark in the living room, she folded herself onto the couch opposite of the chair. Clark refused to look at her. "Clark, I don't want a reenactment. Your father and I just always assumed with your powers that you wouldn't be able to experience that. . . kind of connection with another human being," she explained gently.
"It was Blue Kryptonite," Clark said.
"Blue Kryptonite?" Martha parroted. "There's more than just green, red, black and silver? How much of Krypton did they send with you?"
"Enough if we really wanted to recreate the whole damn planet," Clark griped.
"Clark, language."
"Sorry," he apologized.
"What does it do? How did you get it?"
"Do you remember when I destroyed Bizarro? The other Kryptonian man who gave me the Blue K the first time sent the same kind of bracelet he wore so he could live a normal, human life with his wife to me before he was killed by Brainiac. It strips me of my powers when I'm wearing it," Clark quickly explained.
"Well, did the two of you talk after this happened?"
Clark eyed his mother. His next remark was going to make her a little upset with him. "No. I kind of left the next morning to go to training."
"Clark Joseph Kent," Martha almost shouted. Clark winced. He hadn't heard that tone since his was eight and had accidentally turned his mom's very new, very expensive coffee table into kindling. "Are you telling me, that you left Chloe without speaking to her after you slept with her?!"
Martha couldn't believe her fury! She'd always had a soft spot for the girls Clark had ever brought home. Lana, Lois and Chloe were like the daughters she'd always wanted but never had. But then, one, fine, sunny day, her powerful son came storming into their kitchen and began throwing horrible accusations around along with his father like Jonathon was a paper doll. Martha watched helplessly as she was sure one of the two men she loved so dearly would kill the other until Clark began to falter and behind him, a small, shaking girl with green meteor rock clutched in her hand was revealed. That day, Martha and Jonathon found a strong friend and ally in Chloe Sullivan, one that would be tested time and time again and always come out shining. In the days after Jonathon's death, it was Chloe that got her through. Her and Clark, both. And now, over the past years, she had come to view Chloe as one of her own. She loved Chloe like her own child, loved Chloe's children like her own grandchildren. The thought that Clark could do something so male astounded her. Especially with the way he was raised. And especially since the woman had been Chloe.
"Well, no wonder she didn't wait for you, Clark! I am so ashamed! How dare you treat that girl like that? And with all she's ever done for you? For us? For our family?"
Clark interrupted his mother's tirade. "I know what I did was wrong. It was not the way to handle it."
"You can say that again, young man," Martha concurred from the couch.
"I wish I could go back and redo it. If I could, I wouldn't leave things like I did. But, Mom, she went and slept with Oliver right after I left! So obviously, it didn't mean as much to her as it did to me."
Martha took in what Clark had said. Her son did have a point. And while she was still seething over Clark's earlier revelation, she knew that Clark must be have been and probably still was, feeling some pain. "You're right. But people do senseless things when they are hurt. Chloe might have used Oliver. She might have thought it would ease her own pain. Either way, you were both wrong in what you did. It doesn't matter now."
"I love her, Mom," Clark said quietly.
"You what?" Martha replied, not sure she'd heard him correctly.
"I love her," Clark said again, stronger this time. "I realized it when I was away. I missed everything. I missed you, I missed Shelby. Hell, I even missed Lois. But the one who kept coming back to me, the one I actually felt torn from, was Chloe. It took weeks before I could get through one day without wondering what she was doing or if she missed me as much as I missed her." Clark stood again and began pacing back and forth in front of the fire place. "I can't describe it, but it was like a piece of me was gone. When Lana left finally, I felt the same. But it got better. Slowly, but better. This time, it didn't get better. I felt incomplete. I've never been away from her that long before and I know now I don't want to be. And I don't know what to do," Clark finished, punctuating the end of his halting speech by collapsing back into the chair.
"Clark, there's nothing you can do. I know you've always dreaded the idea of being alone, but the harsh truth is you may be. I can say this truthfully now, there is no one I would rather see you with than Chloe. She understands you better than you understand yourself. But she's with Oliver now and she's a mom. The most important thing is that you two continue to be there for each other like you have since you were kids. And you try and move on with your life. I know how much Chloe means to you, which clues me in to how much you must love her. But the best thing is for you to let go," Martha replied gently. She reached across the space and took Clark's hand.
The rest of the day passed quickly for the two. Martha helped Clark pack up his clothes to take back to the farm. "Would you like me to speak to Chloe about moving?" Martha asked tentatively. It would be awkward, considering the life Chloe had made for herself in Smallville, but it could be done.
"No, no. It's a nice place to grow up on. The twins will enjoy it. I'll probably just move out into the loft in the barn or the one above the Talon. Is it still vacant?"
"Ever since Lois moved into Metropolis. Are you sure you're okay with that, though?"
"Yeah. Lana deeded it over to Chloe along with the Isis Foundation so I'm sure I can negotiate a fair rent. Hey Mom, do you know what time it is? I promised Chloe I would be back for dinner."
Martha looked at her son's back reproachfully. He would never learn. "Speaking of time, I'll be right back." Martha sailed down the hallway to her room. Opening a small drawer, she removed a pretty blue box she'd received in the mail almost two years ago, only a few weeks after Chloe and Martha had moved Clark's stuff into this house. Opening the box, she caressed the worn leather band.
Once back in the room, she held the box out to Clark. "I know you'd like to have this back."
"Dad's watch," Clark murmured, opening the box himself and putting the watch on. "Thanks, mom."
"Are you sure you don't want to stay on for a few more days?" Martha suggested again as she and Clark stood at her front door. A part of her was still afraid he'd leave and she'd never see him again.
"I'll call you when I get home, okay? I promise." Clark enveloped his mother in his arms and Martha held on for a long time. Finally, as evening started to darken around them, she withdrew.
"I love you, Clark," Martha told him, laying a hand on his cheek.
"I love you too, mom." He bent his head and kissed her cheek. "I'll talk to you in five minutes."
Martha watched him disappear from her stoop. She shut the door and listened to her quiet house. She almost envied Clark for going back to the farmhouse, even if he was surrounded with what he felt was betrayal by the woman he loved and her new life. If only to be around her. It was nights like these when Martha wished to give up politicking and return to Smallville. At least then she would be surrounded by friends. She had friends here in D.C. as well, but they were all from the political realm and it would be nice every once in while to be with someone who didn't know the ends and outs of her job. One of these days she would go back. When her eyes were weak and her mind wasn't as sharp, she would go back to her farmhouse and wait to join Jonathon.
"But that is not today, Martha," she told herself and with the renewed vigor of knowing her son was safe and home she went and answered her phone that was ringing in her office. Martha could hear the boys in the background as her and Clark spoke. Chloe's strong command of "Be quiet!" could be heard as well and Martha smiled at the family life that was creating itself there.
"Gotta go, mom. I think a fight is fixing to break out. Hey!" The line went dead. Clark was already throwing himself into the lives of the twins. Martha could tell, after she spoke with him today, he was quickly developing a soft spot for Chloe's sons. And who wouldn't, Martha thought.
The clock on her desk read seven-thirty. Martha gathered up the work she'd brought home with her and retreated upstairs to her bedroom. Turning on the TV she tuned it to a comedy channel that was currently showing a marathon of I Love Lucy episodes. Spreading her work out on her bed, she got comfy and began the busy work of a Senator. But she couldn't keep her mind on her work. It kept floating back to Chloe and Clark and what the two of them had done. She wished, too, so badly Clark had come back after two years, although their lives would still be the same even if he had. Or would they have been? Martha sat up. There was that prickling feeling again. The one she got when her mind was trying to put something together. It hadn't happened in quite some time and she was at a loss if she knew what was triggering it now.
Martha went back over her and Clark's conversation. Something was there. But what was it? She focused her thoughts on Chloe. Now that she knew that Chloe and Clark had shared something so intimate, Martha found it even harder to believe that Chloe jumped into bed with another man only days after she and Clark had been together. And her cousin's ex-boyfriend, for that matter. Martha sat back against her headboard and watched the black and white forms of Lucy and Ethel try and sneak their way into Ricky's nightclub in some new, zany way. It was one of her favorites, but it wasn't holding her attention.
Chloe's pregnancy had been very scary. For Chloe and for Martha. For days, Chloe was sicker than a dog, so weak she wasn't able to get out of bed. Martha begged Chloe to find another doctor after the one she was seeing told her to ride it out, but Chloe refused. She would suffer from dizzy spells, belly cramps, dehydration as the twins seemed to suck all the strength out of their mother. Other times Chloe had the energy of ten teenage boys, but this would only last a few days and then she'd be back in bed. Toward the end, it got worse. A month from her due date, the pains started. Pains so intense Chloe would let out a glass shattering scream that had Martha's heart beating like a snare drum in her chest. A special doctor, Dr. Emil, would be choppered out by Oliver every day to exam Chloe and every day he had the same response.
"She's healthy, the babies are healthy. We just have to be patient," he would tell Martha before he would hike himself back into the helicopter.
Chloe's due date came and went and still no boys. Two weeks, then three and then a month went by. She began to suffer from toxemia, preeclampsia and gestational diabetes. As days dragged by, Martha became more and more concerned for Chloe's health and her children. Chloe refused to take any medication, afraid of what it would do to her unborn sons. She was put on strict bed-rest. Dr. Emil still refused to take the babies, though. He and Oliver Queen were now sleeping on the couch or in the recliner in the living room, waiting. Martha fought every feminine and motherly instinct she had. This man, this doctor, was a highly respected one and she forced herself to trust him. And then one day, standing in the kitchen with Martha, bare foot and clutching her back, Chloe fell to the floor. She quickly became disoriented and she began to writhe on the kitchen floor. She called out for. . . Clark.
Martha remembered Oliver racing in and picking Chloe up, carrying her quickly to her bedroom on the second floor. As she went, she kept muttering against Oliver's shoulders. Clark, Clark, Clark.
"We need to get her to the hospital!" Martha cried as she followed Oliver and Chloe.
"No hospitals, please. The babies," Chloe whined into Oliver's neck as he lowered her gently to the mattress. Another spasm griped Chloe and she clung to Oliver fiercely.
"She needs medication!" Martha shrieked.
"Dr. Emil has all that. We can do this here," Oliver responded with authority.
Chloe screamed again and arched off the bed in what seemed to be excruciating pain, as if something was trying to tear itself out of her. Everything went into a blur after and all Martha could remember was being so terribly frightened as Dr. Emil yelled from the room for different things. It went on for hours. Through the night and into the morning, Chloe lay sweaty and almost unconscious in the sheets of her bed, Martha on one side and Oliver on the other, until finally, a miracle joined them in the room. Martha abandoned Chloe's side to take Connor, the oldest twin and gently clean him up under the careful instructions of a nurse that had magically appeared hours earlier. When she returned back to the room, a clean, healthy and sweet smelling Connor tucked into a blue blanket in her arms, Dr. Emil was patting a screaming Kaid. Martha quickly looked to Chloe. The girl was a pale gray and lay against Oliver's chest, her eyes open but unseeing.
"Chloe?" Martha asked anxiously.
"The labor was very intense, but she's going to be fine. She just needs a lot of rest," Dr. Emil reassured Martha, as he handed off Kaid to be cleaned by the nurse.
"Where is he? I want him. Where is he?" Chloe kept muttering against Oliver's collar.
"He's not here, sweetheart. He couldn't be here," Oliver answered every time into her hair.
"Who is she asking for?" Martha questioned softly. She remembered the sadness in Oliver's brown eyes as he looked to her.
"Clark."
"Clark," Martha whispered vehemently.
Martha shot off her bed and ran downstairs to her office. Snapping on the light she snatched the picture off her desk and ran back upstairs. Back in her bedroom, she tore through her closet for a box of old family photos. Dumping the contents on the floor, she flipped through all the photos until she found the one she was looking for. Leaving the mess where it was, she crawled back to her bed and felt blindly around for the framed picture, never removing her eyes from the snapshot she held. Finally, with a deep breath, she held the two pictures side by side.
"Oh my god," Martha gasped around the thick lump in her throat.
They were identical.
In her right hand, she held a picture of Clark, on the very first day he came to them. He was three with a head of thick brown hair and cute little button features. In her left, she held the last picture she had received from Chloe of Connor and Kaid, taken on their third birthday. They were blonde, but the spitting image of the boy with the brown hair in the other picture. Clark's a father. All this time, she'd never known, she'd never seen. And the way Chloe kept them conveniently hidden each time Martha went out to the farm. Why?
Clark didn't know.
Thoughts were all coming too fast. Martha held her head in hands, forcing her mind to slow down. She had to talk to Chloe. But not over the phone. And she didn't have the time to take off just now. Maybe she was going to tell Clark. Maybe Chloe just hadn't had enough time or found the right moment. Either way, she needed to talk to Chloe.
I have grandchildren. The thought brought a smile to Martha's tear stained face. "I'll give her two weeks. She has two weeks."