Chapter 11 - Crush

Zoey sighs as she walks through the woods to the graveyard. She stops at the headstone with the name Matthew York written on it. She had found the grave of her father a couple of years earlier while researching her father's family for a school project. A cousin she had never met had put up a headstone for her father. Her parents were interred in the Carmichael family crypt just outside of Star City. "Happy birthday, Dad," she softly says, placing a sunflower on the grave. Zoey frowns upon finding an envelope sitting on top of the headstone. She cautiously takes it off and sees her name elegantly scrawled on it. The leaves rustle. She turns to look but doesn't find anyone there. She examines the envelope and finds it sealed with wax. "Hello?"

No one was around her. She opens the envelope and a blush covers her face as she reads the romantic poem.

"I went to my dad's grave last night and found this," Zoey says the next morning as she walks down the hallway with Chloe and Lana. "It was just sitting on the headstone, waiting for me. Do you guys recognize the handwriting?"

"Ah, the sentiment's nice. But the fact that I found this in a graveyard seems a little Amityville," Chloe replies as they walk into the Torch. "And no I don't recognize the handwriting."

"I think it's kind of romantic," Lana counters. "I haven't had a love letter since third grade. It seems like a lost art."

Zoey shifts. "I've never gotten a love letter. Am I missing out on something?"

"Believe me, you're not missing out. This morning in trig, I intercepted a note from a wrestler to a cheerleader. It wasn't exactly poetic, but, um, he defiantly got his point across," Chloe says. "Who do you think wrote it?"

"No idea," Zoey replies, taking the letter back. She frowns as she examines the handwriting. "I mean, if you take away the whole found it in a cemetery, then it is a little romantic."

"Could it be from Bruce," Lana suggests.

Zoey snorts. "I doubt Bruce flew in from Gotham to put a love poem on my dad's headstone. I haven't even told him about the grave."

"Hey, guys," Clark greets, walking into the Torch office with Pete. "What's going on?"

Chloe smirks. "Zoey has a secret admirer."

Zoey rolls her eyes. The last thing she wanted was for Clark to know about it. "It's nothing."

"What do you mean nothing? What happened to romantic," Chloe argues, taking the letter and handing it to Clark.

Clark frowns as he reads over the letter. "It's a little mushy."

Lana laughs. "Clark Kent, the man of steel."

Zoey stands up and grabs the letter. "I have to go," she mutters and quickly makes her way out of the Torch's office. She had zero desire to discuss anything related to her love life with Clark or Pete.

Zoey rolls her eyes when she walks between the counter and sees Lex holding up the poem. News of the letter had quickly spread around town. "It's a little personal," she tells him, then sets about making his usual order. She had restarted her job at the Talon the week before."But you are more than welcome to read it. Just as long as you don't agree with Clark. He thinks it a little sappy."

Lex chuckles. "The, uh, imagery is a little naive, but the meter's actually quite sophisticated. Who wrote this?"

Zoey shrugs. "I have no idea."

Lex shoots her a concerned look. "Everything all right?"

Zoey sighs. "I'm just tired of everyone giving me crap over the poem."

"'Take me to you, imprison me, for I never shall be free, nor ever chaste, except you ravish me,'" Lex recites.

Zoey smiles. "John Donne. One of my favorites."

Lex smirks. "If I didn't know better, I'd say I found your Achille's heel."

Zoey laughs. "I didn't realize you were into poetry."

"Anyone who doesn't appreciate poetry doesn't understand that it's all about seduction." Lex hands the poem back to her. "Could it be from a certain brooding teenager?"

A light blush appears on Zoey's face. "It's not his handwriting. Besides, Bruce isn't the romantic gesture type."

A throat clears and they turn to see Clark. He shifts. "Zoey, I know things aren't so great between us right now, but I want to apologize for ragging on the poem."

Zoey waves a hand. "It's fine, Clark. Poetry's not for everyone."

"Don't you think it's weird," Clark asks. "This guy's sneaking around watching you."

Zoey raises an eyebrow. "First of all, Clark, trying to play the overprotective big brother role will not work because I'm older than you. And it's no worse than paparazzi following me."

A concerned look crosses Clark's face. "Zoey—"

"Hey, why don't we talk about how much Lex hates having his dad as a roommate," Zoey deflects, shooting a smirk at Lex. Another thing she didn't find ideal to share with Clark: photographers in Star City capturing moments that she felt were intimate.

That night, Zoey finds herself back in the cemetery, waiting to see if the mysterious admirer makes an appearance. She sits down at her father's headstone and pulls out a thermos of coca she had made at the Talon earlier during her shift. "I'm insane," she mutters, glancing at her watch. It was nearly one in the morning and there had been no sign. She pulls her peacoat close as she fights off a yawn. Footsteps crunch on leaves. She turns. There in the shadows of the moonlight was a tall man. He wore a white loose shirt. He takes off and she quickly goes after him. "I got your poem," she shouts, hoping that he would stop. "It was...amazing."

He stops. She could see that he had long dark hair. And he wore a checkered scarf. He looks at her, shyly. "You really think so?"

"Yes." Zoey walks towards him. She notices another envelope on the ground and picks it up. Her name is elegantly written on it. "What's your name?"

"Byron."

Zoey smiles, moving closer to him. "Like the poet."

"Like my great uncle. But there's nothing poetic about him."

Zoey glances down at the envelope in her hands. "Why do you leave these poems for me?"

"Because you inspire me," Byron softly answers. She could see his dark brown eyes. Zoey pulls a flashlight from her pocket and turns it on. She starts to search through her pockets, but he hits the flashlight out of her hand. "No. Don't."

"Get away from her!"

Zoey turns to see Clark running towards her. "What the fuck are you doing here," she snaps. Byron takes off running, but trips over a headstone and falls to the ground. "Byron, are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine," Byron answers. Byron touches the back of his head. He pulls his hand away to reveal blood. Then he passes out.

"We should get him somewhere safe," Zoey says, standing up. "Let's take him to the Talon. It's at least more comfortable there."

"I can't believe I passed out," Byron says, finishing a bite of chocolate cake. Once they had made it back to the Talon, Byron had woken up. Zoey had made up an ice pack and gotten him a piece of cake while Clark just silently watched.

"I'm sorry I scared you," Clark says.

"It's okay, Clark. You were protecting a beautiful young lady. It was chivalrous. You're lucky to have a boyfriend who cares so much about you."

"No, no, no, no, no," Zoey laughs, shaking her head. "No. No. Clark is like my annoying younger brother. He tries to be the overprotective brother type. But no. He's not my boyfriend."

"Zoey's boyfriend lives in Gotham," Clark adds.

Byron shifts. "If I could write the beauty of your eyes and number all your graces the age to come would say this poet lies. Such heavenly touches ne'er touched earthy faces."

Zoey smiles. "That was beautiful." Byron shoots her a shy, thankful smile.

Clark, who had resisted rolling his eyes, looks at Byron. "Which poet wrote that?"

Byron glances at him. "Shakespeare."

"So, you're homeschooled," Zoey says, shooting him another smile. "That's something that I can't imagine doing. Or the fact that you don't get to hang out with anyone."

Byron shrugs. "You don't miss what you never had."

Clark notices the scars around Byron's wrists. "Sounds like you don't get out much. Uh, are your parents pretty strict?"

"They only want what's best for me."

Zoey frowns when she hears a vehicle outside. "Shit. That's the milk delivery. It always gets here super early."

A startled look appears on Byron's face. "What time is it?"

"Quarter to five," Clark answers, glancing at his watch.

"If my parents wake up…" Byron trails off as he runs out of the Talon.

"Wait, Byron, we'll give you a ride," Zoey tells him, running after him. Byron looks between her and Clark, who nods in agreement. "You'll get home a lot faster." Byron nods and the three of them climb into the Kent's red pickup truck.

The drive is silent with Byron giving directions every once in a while. They pull up to a house and Zoey raises an eyebrow. It appeared to be in decent shape, but the 'no trespassing' and 'keep out' signs caused Zoey and Clark to exchange a concerned look. "Do you want us to come in and tell your parents what happened," Clark asks.

"No, I'll be fine," Byron says and runs out of the truck. They watch as he runs up to the house. His mother was wearing a bathrobe, ushering him inside. Byron's dad walks out, carrying a shotgun.

Zoey climbs out of the truck and runs up to the house, knowing that Clark was right behind her. "Byron," she calls out. They reach the porch as Byron's mother ushers him into the house.

Byron's father aims the shotgun at them. "I'd better not catch you around my son again," he warns. "Now, get out before I shoot you for trespassing." Clark grabs Zoey's arm and leads her back to the truck.

"Clark, we have to do something," Zoey tells him, climbing into the truck.

Clark puts the truck into reverse and backs out of the driveway. "We'll talk to Dad. He'll know what to do."

Jonathan's idea was to call the sheriff and pay a visit to the Moore house. The visit hadn't gone well. Byron's parents had claimed that he was dead and had accused Zoey and Clark of playing a cruel practical joke on them. Ethan, the sheriff and a long-time friend of Jonathan's had been convinced to get a search warrant. Zoey and Clark had gone to Chloe to see if she could help dig up information on Byron. "It looks like your tortured artist is an unfortunate member of the dead poet's society," Chloe says, grabbing the death certificate she had printed out. "The certificate of death was signed by Dr. Emil Jenkins."

Zoey takes the paper. "This has to be fake. If Byron is dead, then we're all dead."

"Not that I don't trust your judgment, Zoey, but could it be possible that goth boy maybe is—"

"A fucking ghost couldn't finish three pieces of chocolate cake and two cappuccinos," she interrupts.

Chloe smiles. "I like this new Zoey. She needs to say around and help me annoy Clark by swearing too much. Anyway, I was just checking. I mean, this is Smallville. Well, I ran Dr. Jenkins' name through the computer and found out something very interesting." Chloe stands up and walks over to a different to grab her bag. "Eight years ago, he supervised a medical trail over at Metron Pharmaceuticals."

"Let me guess, Byron was a participant," Clark asks.

"Yeah, they were all kids who had exhibited antisocial behavior."

Zoey frowns as they walk out of the Torch's office. "Byron is way too sweet."

"Could it be that our new Shakespeare has stirred the heart of our young Juliet?"

"It is nice to meet someone here," Zoey replies. "Anyway, I think we should go look for Byron."

Clark shakes his head. "No, we should wait to see what the sheriff finds."

Clark, of course, didn't listen to the advice he had given Zoey. He and Pete had gone over to the Moore house to search for Byron. Clark, in wanting to help Byron, had learned Byron's secret. The experiments that were conducted on him as a kid caused him to grow strong when sunlight hit him. His face would change and scars would appear down his back. Pete received a broken arm after Byron had thrown him into a car windshield. Zoey had learned all of this after visiting Pete in the hospital.

Clark walks into the Talon to find Zoey behind the counter, organizing the pastry display. "Zoey—"

"You know, I visited Pete earlier," Zoey snaps. "Thanks for telling me. Byron's my friend and you didn't even tell me what you were doing. I wanted to help."

"I didn't want you to get hurt," Clark argues.

"Oh, so, Pete can hurt, but not me," Zoey counters. "I am not a porcelain doll that needs to be protected."

"You haven't seen Bryon, have you?"

"No."

"Okay, so I think I figured out why our would-be Shakespeare went all pro wrestler on you," Chloe says, walking up to them with a file in her hand.

"What did you find," Zoey asks while Clark takes the file.

"Um, well, the drug that Byron was given during the medical trials targeted his adrenal system."

"It says here they were looking for a cure," Clark summarizes. "We need to track down the company."

"It's too late, Metron Pharmaceuticals was shut down before they even finished their research."

"I know where I've heard that name before," Zoey suddenly says. "It's owned by LuthorCorp." She grabs her peacoat and Clark's arm. "Let's go."

"Zoey—" Clark begins.

"I know where you sleep and have access to a ton of cow shit," Zoey snaps. "Do you really want to test me right now?"

Clark sighs. "Don't get too close to him. If you find him, call someone."

The first and only place that Zoey looked was the cemetery. She figured that if Byron had a death certificate, then he probably had a grave. Her intuition is right when she finds him in front of the headstones. "Bryon," Zoey softly says, walking over to him. She holds out her hands. "It's just me. Zoey. I want to help you."

Byron turns to her. He wore a long, black trench coat and black pants. His face is different. Zoey is reminded of the vampires on Buffy the Vampire Slayer. "I was down there for eight years," Byron says, standing up and walking over to her. "I'm not going back."

Zoey stares at him. "You could hurt people. And the Byron that I met, the Byron that I've gotten to know, wouldn't want that. LuthorCorp did this to you. And Clark is talking to Lex. I'm going to talk to Lex too. They can find a cure."

"There is no cure," Byron argues, grabbing her arms.

"Byron, let go of me."

"I want you." Zoey pulls out of his grasp. "They made me into someone no one can love. Not even you."

"That's not true," Zoey tells him. But Byron doesn't hear her. He shoves back. Zoey stumbles and falls, hitting her head on a tombstone.

Zoey sighs as she sits down at her desk and holds the ice pack to the back of her had been okay, just a bump on the head. Byron was in the hospital getting treatment and Martha had convinced Lionel to fund the research into Byron's condition. She opens her email to find a message from Bruce.

Looking forward to seeing you in a couple of weeks. - B

Zoey stares at the screen. She was looking forward to going to Gotham for Bruce's birthday party. Jonathan and Martha had been hesitant but had reluctantly agreed to let Zoey. She was unsure of whether or not to tell him about Byron.

Me too. This guy from school left some romantic poems in my locker.

Zoey sends the message and closes her laptop.

In a bedroom situated outside of Gotham, Bruce stares at the message that he has just received from Zoey. And for some unexplainable reason, he feels the jealousy stirring within him. He hated the idea that someone else had noticed Zoey.

Ooh, I got a crush on you
I hope you feel the way that I do
I get a rush
When I'm with you
Ooh, I've got a crush on you
A crush on you