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Disclaimer: Smallville and all related elements, characters and indicia © Tollin-Robbins Productions and Warner Bros. Television, 2002. All Rights Reserved. All characters and situations—save those created by the authors for use solely on this website—are copyright Tollin-Robbins Productions and Warner Bros. Television. Superman created by Jerry Siegel and Joe Schuster.

Author's Note: Just a quick little two part POV piece that I threw together during the commercials while watching Smallville this week... although it has nothing to do with the episode. A lot of people wonder if there is a connection between Chloe and Lois Lane... and being a Reporter, of course, I have to make a connection even if there isn't one there, cause that means Clark does end up with Chloe in the end! LOL!

A Good Reporter
by Shannen

Part One

Clark

For a moment, I just stare—awestruck. From my sidewalk vantage point, the huge globe on top of the Daily Planet building looks like a tiny speck. The sun glitters off what appears to be endless miles of windows. I shake my head slowly. "Gotta be a hell of a view from the top," I tell myself.

Someone bumps into me and mutters a half hearted apology. But it's enough to pull me out of my daze. I nervously straighten my tie, and push open the doors, striding into the din and the buzz that is the daily background noise of a metropolitan newspaper.

Ten minutes later, I'm standing in the middle of the main office of the Daily Planet. I look around, feeling totally like a fish out of water... or at the very least a small town boy who has been suddenly dumped in the big city. People go about their work, not paying the slightest bit of attention to me. I attempt to stop what looks like a secretary to ask her for directions, but she breezes right past me. I sigh and look around, scanning the faces in the office, trying to find the person I'm looking for.

"Accounting is on the third floor," says a female voice from behind me. I turn around and find myself standing in front of a very attractive woman with shoulder length dark hair. She raises her eyebrows expectantly, and I realize I've been staring, somewhat slack jawed.

"I'm... I'm not looking for the accounting department," I manage to say. "I'm looking for..." I pull a folded business card from my pocket. "I'm looking for a Mr. White."

"Perry," the woman nods. "You must be the new city desk reporter. Sorry... you just looked like you should be in accounting. The suit, the glasses.... they don't exactly scream journalist."

I subconsciously push my fake glasses back up on my nose, not yet used to their bulky weight. "I'm Clark Kent," I say, extending my hand. I furrow my brow for a moment as I think I see a flicker of recognition cross her face, but when I look closer, it's gone.

"Lois," she says, shaking my hand. "Lois Lane."

"I've read some of your articles," I say politely. "They're... well... interesting. In a bracing kind of way."

She just nods. "Take no prisoners... that's my motto." She stops and looks at me strangely as my eyes widen at her statement. "What?" she asks.

I shake my head. "It's nothing... I just used to have a friend.... well, you reminded me of her just then."

"Reminded? Past tense?" she asks me curiously. "You're not friends anymore?"

"We sort of lost track of each other... she's... well, I haven't heard from her in a while. Years, actually," I say sadly.

"And you never thought to look?" Lois asks pointedly

"I've looked.... I'm still looking. She's why I became a reporter... I figure a reporter's job is to follow a story's trail until you get to the end. I'll find out what happened to her eventually... just like any good reporter," I reply.

"Hmm... she must be a incredible girl, to have someone like you love her so much that you'd keep looking for her for years," Lois muses.

"Oh, no," I say, shaking my head. "Chloe... she's just my friend. I'm not in love with her or anything. It's not like that at all," I add quickly.

"I see..." Lois says almost disappointedly, seemingly lost in thought. She squares her shoulders and meets my eyes. "So tell me, Mr. Kent... how does the trail run through Metropolis?" When I just give her a puzzled look, she laughs. "I mean, how did you come to work for the Planet?"

I return her smile. "I'm from a little town about three hours south of here... Smallville. After I graduated from college, I was a reporter for the Smallville Ledger. Mr. White happened to get stuck in town, struck up a conversation at the diner with my editor, and the next thing I know, my boss calls me and tells me there is a job here for me if I'm interested."

"Smallville.... sounds like a leafy little hamlet," Lois says softly, her eyes taking on something of a faraway look.

"Yeah. It's... interesting, to say the least," I say. There's something odd about this woman, but I can't pin it down. I'm usually fairly guarded with people I don't know, but it feels so easy to open up to her. That's probably what makes her such a good reporter.

"So, what would compel you to leave such an interesting place," Lois asks, her reporter's face back in place. "I'm sure you had reasons to stay... family, friends?"

"My parents... they passed away a couple of years ago," I say, swallowing hard. It was still difficult to talk about. After Dad's heart attack, Mom was so lost... I knew it would only be a matter of time before she passed away as well. I'm not quite ready to open up about that just yet, no matter how easy this woman is to talk to.

"Oh... I'm so sorry," Lois says, reaching out and lightly touching my arm. Her voice has a slight catch to it... more than you'd hear in regular sympathy to a stranger. Maybe she's experienced a similar loss. I'm about to ask her about it when I feel a hand clap down on my shoulder.

"You must be Mr. Kent!" exclaims a boisterous older man with salt and pepper hair. "Perry White. Did you find us OK?" he asks sticking his cigar in his mouth and holding out his hand.

"Um, yes sir," I say, shaking his hand. "No problem at all... everyone knows where the Daily Planet is."

"Good, good," he nods. "And I see you've met Miss Lane, our star reporter." I simply nod in reply.

"Well, I have work to do. It was nice to meet you, Mr. Kent," Lois says.

"It's Clark," I say. "Call me Clark."

"OK... Clark. Mr. White," she replies, excusing herself and heading towards a desk in the back of the room.

"Come on, Kent," Mr. White says, steering me towards his office. "We've got some things to discuss about the position."

I throw one last glance over my shoulder toward Lois's retreating figure, before following Mr. White towards his office.

Lois

I sigh and lean back in my chair, rubbing my eyes. I switch off my computer, watching as the monitor's illuminating glow flickers off, and the hard drive stops humming.

"Burning the midnight oil again, Miss Lane?" asks the janitor as he pushes his mop bucket past me.

I smile. "Yes, Harold. I shouldn't be too much longer," I reply.

"Okay, then," Harold says, pushing his mop bucket into the elevator. "I'll be down on the 4th floor... just come get me when you're ready to leave and I'll make sure security is out front to walk you to your car."

"Will do," I smile as the elevator slides shut.

I reach over and switch on my small desk lamp, before pulling my keys out of my purse. I glance over my shoulder quickly, making sure nobody else is around. It's a force of habit really... sort of silly. Everyone else has been gone for hours.... they all left promptly at 5PM. They left to go home to their families, their lives. Not a luxury I've allowed myself to be awarded.

I fumble with my keys for a second, separating one key on the ring. I lean over in my chair and slide the key into lock on the bottom drawer of my desk. As it slides open, I reach in and pull out a small framed picture. I look at the picture fondly for a moment. It seems like a lifetime ago.

"It was," I say quietly to myself. I rub my fingers over the glass, around the handsome face of the boy in the picture. He's standing with his arms around a much shorter girl, both of them dressed in scarlet graduation caps and gowns, both wearing wide grins.

I tap my finger over the girl's face. "That hair," I sigh. "The flippy hairdo... what was I thinking?" I ask softly, running a hand through my straight, shoulder length dark tresses. Without this picture, I'm not sure I'd even remember what I'd look like with blonde hair.

I remembered what he looked like, though. Clark Kent didn't exactly have a face that was easily forgotten. I knew it was him the second I saw him, standing there in the middle of the office looking around in a confused fashion. He'd tried to hide behind the glasses I knew he didn't need, but I knew it was him. My first instinct had been to take off running, but I was drawn to him. Some things never change.

It wasn't supposed to be this way. I know that for a fact. It wasn't the way I had planned it, in any case. Not the way I pictured it when this picture was taken.

It didn't start out this way. Sure, people grow apart after high school graduation. It happens to everyone in every graduating class in the country. I wish it were that simple.... a simple matter of going off to different schools, leading different lives. Not entirely changing a life.

It started during my freshman year. I was at Kansas State and Clark was attending classes at Metropolis University so he could be closer to home to help his family during the harvesting seasons. I started getting strange packages in the mail.... stories about the meteor shower in Smallville, stories about strange occurrences... the type of stories I used to tack up on my old Wall of Weird. They came anonymously, and I wasn't able to track down the sender. I followed my first instinct, which was to throw them away. I left those stories behind when I left Smallville.

But the strange thing was, every time I threw one of the packages away, it would come again. Same stories... almost as if whoever was sending them was watching me, knowing what I was throwing out, knowing what to replace. So I started saving them. Then I started actually reading them. Then stories started changing—less about weird occurrences like three headed calves, and more about strange occurrences like people living when they should have died. Then I started seeing the connections between them. All these people, mysteriously pulled from harm's way... mysteriously saved from some freaky meteor related occurrence.

Finally, right in the midst of winter quarter finals, the newest package came attached with a face. It wasn't the face I expected to see at the time, but looking back, I can't say I was surprised. Lex Luthor.

He came bearing gifts, he said. His gifts were the fruits of a 3 year investigation of Clark Kent. Photographs, theories, even suspicious records revolving around Clark's adoption. I will say one thing... Lex was nothing if not thorough. He left no stone unturned.

His only problem, he explained to me, was an inability to make the pieces fit together... in other words, an inability to connect Clark to the weird and unusual occurrences in Smallville. He knew Clark was hiding something, he just didn't know what. That was supposed to be my job, he said. The story of a lifetime, and he was handing it to me. I would be compensated, if having such a story wasn't compensation enough.

I shoved all the packages I'd received at him and told him to get lost... that there wasn't anything that could be considered enough compensation for investigating my friends.

A week later, an acceptance letter from Columbia came. I had applied for a transfer there on a lark, knowing that I wouldn't get in during the middle of the school year. I had, in fact, received a rejection letter a month ago. But suddenly, there was a computer error. I was accepted after all. The day after I got that, the box I'd shoved back into Lex Luthor's hands appeared outside of my dorm room door.

I dragged it into my room. I didn't want to touch it, but I couldn't risk that someone might steal it and read it's contents. It sat— untouched, unopened—in my room for three weeks. I called it Pandora's Box... meant to be looked at, but never opened.

Three weeks to the day that the box appeared outside my room, I got a call from my dad. He'd been laid off by LuthorCorp. They'd said something about a downturning economy affecting business, even though from what I could find in the paper, LuthorCorp's fertilizer division profits were soaring.

Three weeks to the day that the box appeared outside my room, I opened it.

For two days, I didn't leave my room. I spread everything out and combed over it. I wasn't looking for a way to connect Clark to it... I was looking for a way to connect Lex to it. I needed something to hold over his head... something to protect my friends and family. Some of the things contained in the box reeked of setups... but Lex covered his tracks well.

During those two days, I realized.... Lex did need me, but for all the wrong reasons. He was a smart guy... it wasn't that he was unable to piece this story together on his own. He already had.

I'd heard that he and Clark had a falling out... supposedly involving the family farm, but I knew there had to be more to it. Clark wouldn't talk about it, other than to say he was no longer a friend to Lex Luthor. And that's when I realized Lex's reasons for bringing me into all this. He didn't want to reveal whatever truth he felt was contained in this box. He wanted to hurt Clark, in the worst way possible. He wanted me to do it for him.

Four weeks to the day that the box appeared outside my room, I started seeing Lex everywhere. Fleeting glances... in my classes, in the library, at the store, hanging around my dorm. Always watching me... always wearing that knowing smirk. That was when I realized.... to protect the people I loved, I had to leave them.

The irony of it was, it was through attempting to follow the trail of Lex's dirty dealings that I learned how to make myself disappear. There are people out there who can help you disappear... you just have to know where to find them. Thanks to Lex, I did.

I fashioned a new identity for myself.... a new background. Lois Lane. Okay, so, yeah.... maybe my subconscious was at work, making myself into someone with raven hair and the initials L.L. So what... I'm still allowed to be sardonic.

The only thing I couldn't bring myself to do was file the fake death certificate for Chloe Sullivan. Sure, it would wink out my existence, but I knew it would upset the people close to me. I knew it would kill Clark.... he'd let the guilt of not being there to save me eat him alive. I just couldn't do that. What could I say.... I was still in love with the doof.

Years later, I end up back in Metropolis. Guess it's that old saying... keep your friends close, and your enemies closer. I pass Lex Luthor on my way to work every single day. He doesn't give me a sideways glance. Funny how the years blur the selective memory... or maybe it's funny how a good makeover, a box of hair dye, and colored contacts make me unrecognizable. In any case, I'm always there... watching. I'll find the truth... the trail will lead to the dirt on Lex Luthor someday. Like Clark said, I'll find out the truth eventually... like any good reporter.

It's the world's biggest circular game of cat and mouse. Lex chases after Clark. Clark chases after me... well, the old me... the Chloe me. I chase after Lex. And around and around we go, never realizing we're each right under the other one's nose.

I flip the picture frame over and pull off the cardboard backing. I remove the picture from inside, and dig around in my purse until I find a small packet of matches. I push myself back from my desk and head to the ladies bathroom.

I toss the picture into the sink and strike a match, holding it to the edge of the picture and watching as the flames distort my 18 year old face. Even holding on to this one piece of my past was too risky, what with Clark so close. I wanted to tell him... I really did. I wanted to fling myself into his arms and tell him the whole story. But even though Clark was close, Lex was closer. And I knew, revealing myself to Clark would cause me to come home to yet another Pandora's Box sitting outside my apartment door. I can't do that... not again. I can't risk Clark like that... not again.

I turn on the faucet and rinse the ashen remains of my last piece of memorabilia from the life of Chloe Sullivan down the drain. As I dry my hands, I glance at myself in the mirror. I realize... this is the last time I'll be allowed to look at myself and see even just a hint of Chloe Sullivan in there.

I stare at my reflection for a long moment, before I walk out the door, leaving Chloe Sullivan behind for the last time.