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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: The title comes from the line in "Hothead" when Clark is commenting on the irony of the Torch getting torched, and tells Chloe he said that because he was "just trying to get you to smile." I don't own Smallville, Clark Kent (as much as owning him would be fun), Chloe... basically any of the characters in this story with the exception of ones not featured on the show, and I'm not really all that attached to them anyway. No offense is meant to anyone who happens to be on a yearbook staff... when I was in school, the yearbook and newspaper staff (which I was a member of) were always in competition over which publication was better, so I sort of drew on that.

Getting You To Smile
by Shannen

Part One

"Ugh!" Chloe Sullivan groaned as she pushed back the hair that was sticking to her forehead and knelt to pick up a blackened mass that was once a stack of Torch back issues. "You know, if crazy coach Walt had set fire to the football stadium, there'd be a multi-million dollar renovation going on. But turn the Torch into Flambe Central and all I get from the janitor is a broom, a bucket and a 'I'm sure you'll have the office cleaned in no time, Miss Sullivan,' " she muttered to herself as she pitched the newspapers into a nearby trash can. "Sure, nobody stops to remember that if it weren't for this paper, no one would would even know the real issues going on with the football team!"

She sighed and ran a hand across her face, leaving a sooty trail running down her cheek. She knew she could have asked Clark or Pete to help her, but they'd just end up making sardonic comments in an attempt to make her smile about how ironic it was that the Torch was torched. She'd already heard it once from Clark... she didn't need to hear it again.

She set the now full trash can next to the door, and turned around to survey the scene once more. She felt the familiar pressure of tears building up behind her eyes as she took in the charred remains of her office, and she fiercely shook her head. 'No,' she thought to herself. 'I am not going to let them see me cry about this. If I cry about it, they win,' she thought, opening the door to set this trash can out with the others for the janitor. As she struggled to do so, she heard footsteps approaching and looked up.

"Well, well, well... if it isn't Chloe Sullivan," Brian McKinney, editor of the school yearbook sneered. "Trying out for the part of a chimney sweep in the winter production of Mary Poppins?" he asked, indicating the soot marks crossing her face and arms.

Chloe rolled her eyes. Under any other circumstances, she and Brian McKinney were probably a lot alike, but considering he was one of those yearbook jerks who thought the yearbook was the beginning and end source for all school information, she really had no love for the guy.

"Brian McKinney," she said as she straightened, attempting to put a matching sneering expression on her face. "Shouldn't you be out getting obviously posed "candid" photos of upperclassman in a lounging fashion in the quad?" she snapped, using air quotes around the word candid.

"Har-har," Brian replied. "Actually, I was just coming over to request a list of the Torch staff, and also to let you know that although for obvious reasons I can't allow you to co-edit the yearbook, I'm graciously allowing you to assist the assistant editor."

"Yeah, right... like I'd join the yearbook staff anytime in this lifetime," Chloe snorted. "Writing captions under photos isn't exactly hard hitting journalism at it's finest." She narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms across her chest. "What do you need a list of my staff for? I thought ambulance chasing was just for lawyers."

"I need to contact them to give them their new assignments for the yearbook," Brian continued matter of factly.

"Umm, they're Torchers for a reason," Chloe stated. "They don't want to spend their days writing articles that consist entirely of lists of names."

"Oh," Brian said, laughing in the totally fake way that Chloe hated. "I thought you knew," he said, his voice giving away the fact that he knew she didn't know.

"Know what?" Chloe asked suspiciously.

"According to the meeting I just had with Principal Kwan, the Torch has been... how shall we say... put on permanent hiatus."

"What!" Chloe exclaimed. "Why!"

"No money left in the budget to repair the office, replace the computer equipment. Seems there's been a string of unexplained fires on school grounds lately... in places a lot higher on the priority chain than the Torch's office. So, I've been instructed to offer your staff positions on the yearbook if they're interested. And why wouldn't they be? We're award winning."

He stopped and cocked his head at Chloe, who was standing there with an expression of shock and grief written on her face. He patted her shoulder condescendingly. "There, there," he said. "I know you need time to adjust, so go ahead and just get me the list by the end of the school day." With that Brian continued down the hallway, whistling the school fight song as he went.

Part Two

"Psst... Pete!" Clark Kent whispered urgently to the student seated two rows ahead of him. Pete Ross continued staring straight ahead, ignoring Clark's whispered pleas for him to turn around. Mr. Snyder had already sent Pete to detention twice this month... he wasn't going to make it three. Besides, Clark just probably wanted an audience for his swooning over Lana Lang, who was standing in front of the class giving an oral report for extra credit.

Clark ripped a piece of paper from his notebook in half, folding it into a small square, which he then launched at the back of Pete's head. The paper bounced off the back of Pete's head and landed on the desk of the student behind him, causing the student to turn and look at Clark with an annoyed expression.

"Sorry," Clark said sheepishly, shifting in his seat and looking worriedly at the empty desk behind him. Normally, Clark's full attention would have been up front, focused on the petite brunette at the head of the class. He loved when Lana gave oral reports. It gave him an excuse to stare at her without looking like he was staring. However, today something else had his attention..namely the empty desk behind him. Chloe's desk. She never missed English—it was her favorite class. The fact that she wasn't here had him worried. He noticed he'd been worried a lot about Chloe lately... ever since the fire, to be more precise. That had been too close for comfort for him. He swallowed hard as he thought about what would have happened if he hadn't been on the football team at the time. If he hadn't been on the team, he wouldn't have been at the pep rally, and Chloe would be....

Clark didn't let himself finish the thought. He never did. At least not when he was awake. But he'd dreamed about it a couple of times over the last few nights. In his dreams, he didn't have his so called gifts. Forget about super speed.... in his dreams, he seemed to be cursed with super slow motion. Running to the Torch's office felt like running in a giant vat of jello. No matter what he did, he couldn't run fast enough to get to the office in time. By the time he'd get to the scene, the firemen were already there and Chloe was nowhere to be found.

The bell rang, jarring Clark from his thoughts. He threw his books into his backpack and squeezed his large frame between two desks, cutting Pete off at the front of the class.

"Yeah?" Pete asked.

"Yeah what?" Clark returned.

"Yeah, what did you want? Look, I can't get sent to detention again..my dad will kill me, therefore, the belated 'Yeah?'," Pete said as the two boys drifted out into the mass of students moving through the halls of Smallville High.

"I was just wondering if you knew where Chloe was... if she said anything to you," Clark asked. "It's just not like her to miss English."

"Check the Torch. She said something about going up there to go through some stuff on her free period. I asked her if she wanted some help, but she said no. Anyway, she probably lost track of time," Pete answered. He stopped in front of a classroom door and looked at Clark. "I'd help you, but... " he indicated toward the door.

"Yeah, I know.... Miss Boyle's handing out pop quizzes today. I'm the one who told you, remember? I have her first period," Clark nodded. "I'll just stop up there... see if Chloe needs any help."

Pete grinned. "Help from you. Somehow, I don't see her turning you down like she did me," he chuckled.

Clark raised his eyebrows at Pete. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Umm," Pete stammered, trying to think of a way out of telling Clark that Chloe wanted him... badly. "I just meant she... "

"Mr. Kent," Miss Boyle said, appearing in the doorway. "Did you enjoy today's quiz so much you wanted to take it again? Or did Mr. Ross convince you he needed you here for moral support in hopes of improving his score?"

"Umm... no ma'am," Clark said, pretending to become very interested in adjusting his backpack on his shoulder.

"Then I suggest you get to class and leave Mr. Ross to deal with the quiz on his own," she said, steering Pete into the classroom and closing the door.

Clark headed toward the steps that lead to the third floor office of the Torch. As he got closer to the stairway, he broke into a light jog. He needed to see Chloe... to assure himself she was okay. Once he'd seen that, he was sure that gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach would clear right up. The same gnawing feeling he got during his dreams.

As he reached the top of the final flight of stairs and turned the corner toward the Torch's office, he could see several trash cans filled with debris outside the door of the office. 'Good old Chloe,' he thought to himself. 'Miss Efficient.' Clark would not have been surprised to find the office clear of debris and Chloe already hard at work on the next issue of the Torch.

He was surprised, however, when he approached the door of the office and heard the soft, yet distinct sound of sniffling and small hiccupy sobs coming from inside the room. He poked his head inside the door and looked around worriedly. What he saw was an disheveled office, and an equally disheveled Chloe sitting on the floor in front of her desk, knees drawn to her chest and her hands covering her face.... crying.

Clark's worry meters instantly went on alert. Chloe never cried. Not even when she sometimes helped the Kents at the Farmer's Market and inevitably ended up dropping a full crate of apples on her foot. He quietly entered the office, setting his backpack on her desk and kneeling down next to her.

"Hey," he said softly.

"Hey," she said back, her voice wavering slightly. She sniffled and swiped the back of her hand across her nose.

"Here," Clark said, reaching up and grabbing his backpack off her desk. He unzipped the front and pulled out a small packet of Kleenex. He handed her the pack and smiled as she looked at him questioningly. "Hey, one of my best friends is a girl," he smiled. "I come prepared. And you never know when Pete is going to burst into tears over something."

She chuckled softly, which then turned into a choked sob. Clark reached out and pulled a Kleenex from the pack. "Come on Chloe," he pleaded as he wiped at the tears that were running down toward her chin. "Tell me what's wrong, and we'll fix it. Together. Like we always do."

She shook her head, causing her blond hair to whip around her face and stick to her still wet cheeks. "We can't fix this one, Clark," she said sadly.

"Well, what is it? Tell me, we'll get Pete... or not get Pete if you don't want to... and whatever it is, we'll take care of it. But we can't take care of it until you tell me what's wrong."

Chloe let out a shaky sigh. "Kwan killed the paper," she said sadly, turning away from Clark.

"What do you mean, killed the paper?" Clark asked. "Why? How? Can he do that?"

"I don't know!" she cried. "But apparently he can!" She gestured with her arms around the office. "There's no money to fix all this, so bye bye Torch! And you know the worst part?" she said, turning to face him, chin trembling. "I had to hear it from that jerk Brian McKinney! I had to hear it from him and have him say he'd let me be on the yearbook if they forced him!" With that she flung herself against Clark's chest, balling her fists up in his shirt and crying in earnest.

Clark's mouth quirked into a worried expression as he brought his arms up and pulled Chloe into a tight hug. "Shh... " he whispered, smoothing her hair down. "We'll fix it. We'll just think of a way to raise the money and fix it."

"We can't just fix it, Clark!" Chloe spat. "Do you have any idea how much it would cost to replace all of this? A lot! And it would take months if not years! Do you really think the students would contribute money to save the paper? They hate me, because I tell it like it is and they don't want to hear it!"

"Chloe, nobody hates you. No one could ever hate you," Clark said soothingly. "As for the getting the paper started back up, there's got to be a way. We just have to.... "

"There isn't a way!" Chloe yelled as she pushed herself away from Clark. "I've lost the only thing in this damn town that mattered to me, and nothing you say is going to fix that!" She pushed Clark's legs out of her way and shoved herself to her feet .

"Chloe... " Clark said, reaching for her hand to stop her.

"No! Save the platitudes, Clark! I don't need to hear them!" With that, Chloe grabbed her messenger bag off a nearby chair and bolted from the room.

Clark hastily climbed to his feet to go after her, but by the time he got to the door, all he saw was the tips of Chloe's hair as she bolted around the corner and down the steps. He knew he could catch her with no problem, but he let her go. She needed time to cool off. When she'd done that, he'd try to talk to her again.

Clark looked around the charred office and sighed. He didn't have a power to fix this one. What good was it to have gifts if he couldn't use them to help the people he cared about? He shook his head and grabbed his backpack. He never cut class, but cutting last period today sounded like a great idea. School was the last place he wanted to be right now.

Part Three:

"Dessert, anyone?" Martha Kent asked as she picked up her dinner plate from the table. "It's deep dish apple die... your favorite, Clark," Martha continued as she ruffled her son's hair with her free hand.

"I'll take a piece," Jonathan Kent replied, offering his empty plate to his wife. "But you usually only get dessert after you've finished dinner... not sure Clark's plate qualifies," Jonathan said jokingly, indicating Clark's largely untouched dinner.

"I'm sorry, Mom," Clark apologized. "Dinner was great... I just wasn't very hungry, I guess." He rose from his chair and started to take the plates from his mother's hands. "Here, let me help you with that."

"Tsk, tsk," his mother said, pushing her son back down into his chair. "I've got it. You stay here and keep your father company." With that, Martha stacked Clark's plate on top of the other two and headed into the kitchen.

The two Kent men sat quietly at the table. Jonathan watched as Clark nervously ripped his paper napkin into tiny pieces, but he didn't question his son. He knew Clark would tell him what was bothering him when he was ready.

A few more moments of silence passed, before Clark finally spoke. "Something happened at school today."

Jonathan raised his eyebrows at his son, but didn't press any further, waiting for Clark to relate the story on his own terms. Clark looked up as his mother entered, carrying three pieces of pie. She set one piece in front of him, dropping a quick motherly kiss on top of his head as she did so, before passing a plate to his father and retaking her seat.

"Remember the fire in the school newspaper office I told you about?" Clark asked, toying with his fork.

"Yes," Martha replied. "It's a good thing you were there. I know your father and I have warned you about using your gifts in public, but I'm glad you did. If anything had happened to Chloe, I..well, I just can't imagine how awful that would be," she concluded, reaching out to give Clark's arm a comforting squeeze.

"Yeah," Clark nodded. "Anyway, I guess Chloe found out today that they're shutting the Torch down, at least for the rest of this year. They don't have the money to make the repairs to the office, and without the office... no Torch."

"Couldn't the students just work on the paper at home?" Jonathan asked. "These are special circumstances. The kids could work on it at home and then take it to the Ledger to be printed."

"Yeah, I asked around about that. Apparently, for the paper to get the school funds to operate, it has to be done at the school—it's not a self funded thing, so the school wants some sort of control over what they are spending their money on. And since Chloe's printed some articles that haven't made the school board members her biggest fans, they're not willing to consider special circumstances," Clark finished, pushing his pie around on his plate.

"Oh, poor Chloe," Martha sympathized. "She loves the paper..she's worked so hard on it."

"Yeah," Clark nodded. "She and I kind of had an argument about it today.... " Clark's voice trailed off...

"An argument? You and Chloe?" Martha asked, the surprise evident in her voice.

Clark shrugged. "I was trying to help her.... tell her we'd fix things. But she wasn't really in to hearing that. She kinda got mad at me and took off. I stopped by her house, but no one was home, or if she was, she wouldn't answer the door. I tried calling, but she won't take my calls, either."

"Oh, sweetie... I'm sure she's not mad. She probably just needs some time to deal with everything. First she was almost killed in a fire, and now this whole thing with the paper—she knows you were only trying to help." Martha said encouragingly.

"I know," Clark answered, lifting a forkful of pie to his mouth and chewing slowly as he thought. "I just.."

"Clark, don't talk with your mouth full," Martha admonished him gently.

Clark swallowed and continued, "..feel so bad. I mean, it's Chloe. She's always been there for me... I need to do something to be there for her."

"Well," Jonathan said, "You and I can go over this weekend to the school and take a look at the damage.... see if there's any way to at least fix the place to be usable again. We're both fairly handy with a hammer and nails, so maybe we can do something."

Clark smiled, "Thanks Dad."

Jonathan returned his son's smile, but kept his voice serious. "No promises, of course... and you probably shouldn't say anything to Chloe in case there's nothing we can do."

" I won't, assuming she ever speaks to me again," Clark murmured.

"Honey, of course she will," his mother insisted.

"May I be excused?" Clark asked. "I've got a ton of history homework." He actually didn't, but he wanted to try to call Chloe again. At his parents affirmative nods, Clark stood up and picked up his plate. He leaned over and kissed Martha on the cheek. "Thanks for dinner... and listening." He then carried his plate into the kitchen before climbing the steps up to his room.

The Kents watched their son ascend the steps. Once he was safely out of earshot, Martha shook her head and said, "Just like his father."

"Just like me what?" Jonathan asked, sipping his coffee.

"Too afraid to admit his real feelings for a girl, so he hides them by throwing himself into helpful projects for said girl," Martha replied, her eyes twinkling with mirth.

"Your father paid me good money—which I needed—to repair that muffler on your car," Jonathan replied, stirring more sugar into his coffee.

"Ah... but what about the tires, the brakes, the engine, the carburetor, the paint job.... I was the only girl in school driving a 10 year old car that looked like it just rolled off the showroom floor," Martha reminded him with a smile.

"That was a simple matter of... " Jonathan started, but stopped when he saw Martha's raised eyebrow. He sighed, then lifted his coffee cup to his lips. "You're right... the sooner he stops fighting it the better."

"Speaking from experience, of course," Martha laughed, leaning over and kissing her husband on the cheek as he shook his head and joined in her laughter.

(later that evening)

Clark sighed and punched the "Talk" button on his cordless phone, before tossing it down on his bed. 10 calls to Chloe's private line... 10 times her machine picked up. He knew she was screening her calls... it was way past her curfew and that was one of the few rules her parents strictly enforced. He'd even called Pete to see if he had been able to reach her, but Pete relayed the same story—lots of calls, none of which resulted in a conversation with Chloe.

Clark climbed out of bed and stared out the open window in the general direction of Chloe's house. He thought for a moment about sneaking out and heading over to Chloe's. She had a big oak tree right outside her window that he could climb up and at least see if she was okay. As soon as that thought entered his head, Clark squashed it. First, he'd never be able to get past his dad, who had radars for ears, and even if he was able to, he didn't think Chloe would appreciate him making a foray into voyeurism.

Clark sighed again and flopped back down on his bed. He closed his eyes and forced himself to try to get some sleep. For the first time in a long time, Clark's thoughts as he drifted off to sleep weren't of a small brunette with a sweet smile, but rather of a spunky blonde with a biting wit and infectious laugh.

Part Four

"Hmmm... " Jonathan murmured as he ran his hand over the sooty wall in the Torch's office.

"Well?" Clark asked? "Fixable?"

"It doesn't look structurally damaged," Jonathan said. "Maybe some new drywall and some paint would do the trick. And new flooring," he said, looking down at the scorched tile beneath his feet. "It shouldn't be too hard to fix, but it will cost a pretty penny." Jonathan shook his head. "Clark, you know I love Chloe, and I'm willing to do the labor for free... with your help," he added, not wanting Clark to think his father would be doing all the work, "but money wise... I can't help, as much as I want to."

Clark shrugged. "Leave that to me to worry about."

Jonathan turned to look his son square in the eye. "You're not going to ask Lex Luthor for the money, are you?"

"Dad," Clark sighed. "I thought you were going to stop riding me about the Lex thing."

"I know, I know," Jonathan said, crossing the room to stand in front of his son. "It's just the Luthors are the type of people that can get someone like you hurt if you trust them too much." He stopped, and put his hand on Clark's shoulder. "I'm your father, and it's my job to see that you don't get hurt."

"Dad," Clark said, sounding exasperated. He took in the concerned look in his father's eyes, and let out a sigh of defeat. "I know. I'll be careful. And no, I wasn't planning on asking Lex for the money. I just wish you'd trust me once in a while."

"I do, son," Jonathan said, pulling his truck keys out of his pocket. "It's just going to take some getting used to that maybe you don't need me to protect you, to look out for you anymore."

Clark smiled, and reached out to impulsively pull his father into a hug. "I'll always need you to look out for me, Dad."

Jonathan returned his son's smile, and clapped Clark on the back. "Well... let's say we head home and see what your mother's whipped up for lunch. I don't know about you, but I'm starving."

"Umm... I kind of needed to stay behind. I have a couple of errands to run," Clark said, not meeting his father's eyes.

"Errands?" Jonathan queried.

"Yeah... you know... I thought I'd stop by the coffee shop... and," Clark lowered his voice so Jonathan had to strain to hear him, "see Lana," Clark mumbled.

"You wanted to what?" Jonathan asked. "I couldn't make out that last part."

"See Lana," Clark repeated, clearly embarrassed. "Just kind of hang out and talk to her and stuff... if she's there."

Jonathan grinned at his son's embarrassment. "Okay, Clark... just make sure you're home for dinner," he said.

"Sure, okay," Clark said. "See you later," he called to his father, as the two men went their separate ways.

Ten minutes later, Clark stood impatiently in line. He glanced at his watch. Only a few minutes left until closing time. He stared at the person in front of him at the counter, willing the person to hurry up. "Come on, come on," Clark muttered under his breath.

After what seemed like forever, the person in front of him left the counter. Clark stepped up and extended a slip of paper to the smiling woman behind the counter.

"Hello," he started. "I'd like to close out this account."

Part Five

Clark sat in one of the many overstuffed chairs that littered The Beanery, stirring his coffee absently as he stared at the light blue piece of paper in his hand. $4732.28. Birthday money, Christmas money, rewards for good grades— for years under his dad's watchful eye, Clark had been squirreling away bits and pieces of money he'd received from grandparents, aunts and uncles, and great cousins twice removed, as well as savings from his allowance and various paper route and lawn mowing jobs. When he'd turned 14, he'd managed to convince his dad that he was able to handle the responsibility of banking alone, so Jonathan had taken his name off of Clark's account. 'Good thing,' Clark mused as he set the paper on the table. He didn't think his dad would understand why he closed his account.

The teller hadn't wanted to hand him a wad of bills totaling almost $5,000, so she convinced him to let the bank cut him a check, and when he was ready to spend it, he could come back in and cash it. She thought he was going to buy a car.

Clark took a sip of his coffee, which was already getting cold. He shook his head. He didn't really care... he was just making an appearance here, in case his dad checked up on him. He knew Lana wouldn't be here—she rarely hung out here after getting fired—and he hadn't come to see her anyway. He just needed an excuse to not go home with his dad, and Lana and the coffeehouse were the first things that popped into his mind. He reached over and stirred more sugar into his mug—a bad habit he'd picked up from his dad. As he did so, a few drops of coffee splashed onto the edge of the check. He used his shirt sleeve and carefully wiped up the drops.

"Whatcha got... some hot babe's number?" a voice asked, startling him out of his reverie. He looked up into the twinkling blue eyes of Chloe, and swallowed hard. She plopped down into the chair across from him, trying not to slosh her latte out of it's oversized mug.

"Oh... no... it's nothing," he said, casually sliding the check into his pocket. "Just some stuff Mom wanted me to get at the grocery if I got the chance." He fiddled with the stir stick in his coffee, not sure what to say, while Chloe did the same with a loose button on her jacket. He couldn't remember the last time there was this uncomfortable silence between the two of them.

"Chloe," he started, at the same time as she said his name. He smiled. "No, go ahead. You first."

She returned his smile. "I hear you've been calling me," she said, attempting to sound coy.

"Yeah, only about 20 times a day," Clark replied. "At this point, I think I'm officially in a relationship with your answering machine," he continued, looking at her pointedly. "I was going to ask you where you thought I should take it out to dinner, but you weren't in school on Friday," he said.

"I know," she said, sighing. "I'm sorry... sorry I've been kind of Avoid-O Gal. It's just, I needed a little down time to blow off steam, ya know. And then, a little time turned into a couple of days, and blowing off steam turned into utter embarrassment."

"Embarrassment? About what?" Clark asked.

"About freaking out that day in the Torch's office. About using you as a human Kleenex... and about yelling at you." She reached out and took his hand. "I'm really sorry about that."

Clark just shrugged. "No problem. Me big strong man. Me can take when women yell," he said thumping his chest with his free hand. "Come on," he added. "You thought that was funny."

Chloe grinned. "Yeah, okay, so I'm a sucker for your Tarzan imitation every time. But really," she said, her voice becoming serious, "you were there for me. I appreciate that. And you were just trying to help me and let me know you were in this with me, for which I am grateful, even if my way of showing it involved yelling."

Clark squeezed Chloe's hand, which was still intertwined with his own. "Like I said, no problem. You've been there for me plenty of times when I needed you."

"I also didn't mean the other thing I said," Chloe added. "The part about losing the only thing in this town that mattered to me."

"Chloe, you love the paper... it does matter to you," Clark protested.

"Yeah, I know, and I do... but it's not the only thing that matters to me. Pete, my friends, my family, you... you matter to me. You matter to me more than some silly little high school paper." She watched as Clark's eyes widened. "All of you... I meant all of you mean more to me," she said hurriedly as she pulled her hand from his grasp, worried that she'd tipped her hand in regards to her feelings for Clark.

"Oh my God! It's alive!" a voice cried out, before Chloe felt a hand ruffling her hair roughly.

"Yes Pete, I am alive, " Chloe answered, pulling away and re-fixing her hair. "Sorry I've been AWOL... just haven't felt like hanging."

"Well, you're back now," Pete said, taking a seat on the arm of Chloe's chair. "Hey, man," he said, nodding to Clark "Did you and your dad.."

"Get those errands run? Yes we did," Clark said, cutting Pete off, trying to indicate with his eyes that Pete shouldn't say anything about bringing Jonathan by to assess the damage at the Torch.

"O... K... " Pete said, getting the message as Clark pinned him with a stare. "So I guess that means both of you are free tonight. And guess what's showing, one night only at the Revival Theater... "

"Oh God," Chloe groaned.

"That's right! 'The Night of the Living Dead' and 'Dawn of the Dead' ! It's a hold over from Halloween," Pete said excitedly.

"Pete, come on... you're like obsessed with old horror flicks," Clark said, shaking his head. "You've seen both of those... we've seen both of those with you after you dragged us to it last Halloween. If you want to go to a movie, let's go to the regular theater. Didn't you say you wanted to see 'Serendipity' Chloe?"

"No!" Chloe and Pete said at the same time. Clark looked at them quizzically.

"If we go see that, then we have to listen all the rest of the night about how cute John Cusack is, and how he's the thinking woman's sex symbol and all that. Remember how she was after 'High Fidelity'? " Pete complained.

"Yeah, that's it," Chloe agreed, not wanting Clark to know that the real reason was because 'Serendipity' was a romantic date movie... and she didn't know if she'd be able to sit through a romantic movie about two people finding true love against all odds and not spill out her feelings for him.

"So, that settles it!" Pete said, clapping his hands together excitedly. "We're all about brain eating zombies tonight!"

"I dunno," Clark said. "My dad kind of wanted me home for dinner."

"So? Just tell him we're going to the movies. Look, there's a pay phone right over there... call him." Pete insisted.

"Yeah," Chloe chimed in. "Besides, if you don't go, whose arm am I going to clutch during the scary parts? I can't sit through that without a man's arm to clutch."

"Hello? I'm right here!" Pete said, messing up Chloe's hair again. She reached out and clutched his arm... hard. "On second thought," Pete squeaked, "Clark does seem to withstand your arm grabbing better than I do."

"All right, all right," Clark said, digging a quarter out his pocket. "I'll be right back."

Once Clark was out of earshot, Pete looked down at Chloe. "You're welcome," he said, grinning.

"For what?" she asked.

Pete shook his head. " 'Oh, you know how Chloe gets... John Cusack is so great.' We both know the real reason you didn't want to see that movie with Clark. So you're welcome."

"You know, some days you are really annoying," Chloe said.

"Just tell him already," Pete said. "He won't laugh. Maybe he'd like it. Maybe he likes you."

Chloe reached over and whapped Pete in the back of his head. "Are you crazy!" she hissed. "This is Clark "I'm so in love with Lana Lang I turn into a total spaz around her" Kent. He doesn't like me... he doesn't even notice me other than as a friend."

"I dunno," Pete replied. "He's been less spazzy around Lana lately, like that night she started working here. Maybe he's over her."

"Yeah, and maybe I'll sprout wings and fly over the moon," Chloe retorted. "Now quiet... here he comes."

"Dad said it was okay. Ready?" Clark asked, tossing a few bills down on the table to tip the waitress.

"Sure thing," Pete said, hopping off the chair. "Are you guys hungry? Cause I was thinking we could stop and get pizza before the movie. We've got a little while before it starts."

"Sounds good," Clark answered. He offered his arm to Chloe. "M'Lady," he said, bowing like a reject from a Shakespeare play, " my arm awaits your clutching."

Chloe laughed. "Why thank you, kind sir," she replied, slipping her arm through Clark's, as the three friends left the coffee shop, laughing loudly.

Part Six

Clark shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He hated the seats at the Revival. It never seemed like they were big enough to fit his tall frame. Chloe sat to his left, peering into a box of Milk Duds, while Pete sat on his right, munching popcorn and chuckling at some especially cheesy special effects. He sighed and shifted again.

"Here. Hold these," Chloe said, handing him her soda and box of candy. She then shifted in her seat, leaning forward a bit and running her hands over the front of the armrest that separated them. "Ah-ha," she murmured under her breath as she found what she was looking for. She pressed a small button and raised the armrest between her and Clark. "Better?" she asked, taking her refreshments back from him.

Clark shifted around a little more. "Yeah, thanks. How'd you know those did that?"

"Apparently, this theater used to be the big old smooch spot back in the day. That's why you can raise the armrests, to snuggle closer. Or so I'm told," Chloe replied. She put her feet up on the seat in front of her, and Clark followed suit. "Yeah, this is better," she said. She turned her attention back to the screen.

Clark, on the other hand, was stuck wondering what he should do with his arms. He glanced over at the back of Chloe's chair, then his left arm. He shifted again. He started to raise his arm toward the back of Chloe's seat, then lowered it again. 'What's the big deal?' Clark thought to himself. He needed a place to rest his arm—it wasn't like a whole "putting your arm around your date" kind of thing. He raised his arm again, then lowered it quickly, as a nagging voice in the back of his head asked him, 'Would it be so bad if it were?'

Clark's brow furrowed. 'Where the hell did that come from?' he wondered. Chloe... well, she was Chloe. It wasn't like she was Lana or anything. She was Chloe... good old reliable Chloe, whose history notes he copied and who was always willing to share half her lunch with him when he forgot to brown bag it on mystery meat day in the cafeteria. Just because he was putting his arm around her in some theater that used to be a smooch spot didn't mean he was wondering if her lips, which happened to be the exact shade of red as the raspberries his mother grew behind the barn, tasted as good as his mom's homemade raspberry jam or anything.

Clark shook his head slightly, as if to clear it. Now where the hell had that thought come from? Chloe was his best friend, which meant she wasn't the type of girl whose lips he thought about all that much... except for the fact that he just had. Clark shook his head again. 'I can do this... no big thing. I'm Clark, she's Chloe, we're friends, and friends can do stuff like this without having it mean more than that' he thought to himself as he raised his arm once more. 'But I'm thinking about her lips, and friends don't do stuff like think about each other's lips,' he thought. Down came the arm.

Chloe let out a sigh. If she had one pet peeve, it was indecision. "Oh, for God's sake," she muttered, reaching over to grab Clark's arm and draping it over her shoulders. Indecision eliminated.

Clark sat stiffly in his seat for a moment, before he noticed Chloe's attention was back on the screen. She didn't seem to be freaking out about it, so he wasn't going to either. He relaxed a bit, and turned his attention back to the screen as well.

Chloe, meanwhile, thought she was doing a pretty good job of outwardly appearing as if sitting here, in the dark, with Clark's arm around her was in no way, shape, or form a big deal. Because it wasn't. Sure, her heart was pounding so fast she thought it might come flying out of her chest cavity at any moment, but that could have meant lots of things... like an increased sensitivity to the caffeine in her soda. 'Yeah, right,' Chloe thought. She drank the equivalent of a 12 cup pot of coffee a day via cappuccino. No way was this a caffeine intake related thing. This was definitely a Kent charm intake related thing.

Still, Chloe thought, Clark didn't appear to be freaking out about it at this point, so she wasn't going to either. In fact, she—in what she hoped was a casual manner—snuggled up a little closer to Clark, so that her head was almost at his shoulder. 'See,' she told herself. 'You can be this close to Clark and he still wouldn't think of you as anything other than Chloe, the bestest of all his buds. He's probably thinking about Lana anyway, so it's no big deal.' She glanced at Clark out of the corner of her eye. Noticing he was staring straight ahead at the screen, she too continued to stare straight ahead.

Clark swallowed as he felt Chloe snuggle closer. 'This is... nice,' he thought unconsciously. He noticed the way Chloe just kind of fit into his side, like they were two pieces of a puzzle. His mind drifted back to when he and Chloe had been talking in the coffee shop, back to when she had been telling him he meant more to her than the Torch. The more he thought about it, the more he wondered if it had been disappointment he'd felt when she had tacked on the "I mean all of you" comment. For a moment, he could have sworn she meant him and him alone. And the more he thought about it, the more that thought didn't bother him.

'But that's just silly,' Clark thought to himself. 'I mean, this is Chloe. The only way I'd be disappointed if I weren't the most important person to her is if I were in love with her and.... '

Clark suddenly shot out of his seat as if he'd been fired out of a gun. He needed air... now. "Umm... bathroom... I'll be right back. Excuse me," he said, climbing over Pete and rushing up the aisle toward the lobby.

Pete just turned in his seat and watched his friend racing up the aisle, before turning back to Chloe. "I told him that just because the extra large Coke was only a quarter more, that didn't make it a good idea," he whispered.

Part 7

Clark turned the sink's faucet on full blast, and splashed the cold water on his face. He reached over and grabbed a handful of paper towels from the dispenser, scrubbing them over his face until the towels fell apart.

'Ok,' he thought to himself. 'This has to be some weird, overreacting hormone thing. Because there is no way that I'm in lo..' he stopped, unable to even utter the word again in his thoughts, '... in that with Chloe. She's my friend. That's all. I'm in love with Lana.I've always been in love with Lana.'

Clark closed his eyes and tried to picture Lana. 'See... that's it,' he thought as he pictured Lana's sleek dark hair and huge hazel eyes. But suddenly, without warning, Lana's hair became shorter and blonder. Her eyes switched from hazel to blue. Suddenly, Clark was picturing Chloe in his mind, instead of Lana.

"ARGGHH!" Clark yelled in frustration. He splashed more cold water on his face, then glared at his dripping reflection in the mirror. "Stop that!" he said, pointing a finger at the mirror. "You are not in love with Chloe, so stop thinking it."

"Stop thinking what?" a voice behind him asked. Clark whirled around to find Pete standing in the doorway of the men's room. "Are you okay, man?" he asked. "Chloe sent me after you to see if you were okay. I tried to tell her it was because of the extra large Coke, but she said something was wrong."

"N... Nothing. Nothing's wrong. Everything's okay," Clark stammered, wiping his face with his sleeve. He loved Pete like a brother, but the guy had a history of cracking under pressure when Chloe put on her interrogator hat. Last thing Clark needed was Pete to start blabbing that Clark thought for one brief, insane moment that he was in love with Chloe.

"It's a headache thing," he said, rubbing his temples. It wasn't a lie... he was starting to get a headache from all this."I think I'm gonna bail," he finished lamely. No way could he go back into that theater and sit next to Chloe right now.

"But Clark... the movie's only half over," Pete protested.

"I know, but I should probably get home," Clark replied, not meeting Pete's eyes. "I'll talk to you tomorrow." He stepped around Pete and pulled open the door to the bathroom. He hesitated for a second, then turned back to Pete. "You'll make sure Chloe gets home okay, right?"

"Yeah," Pete asked, still confused about Clark's sudden departure. He shook his head as Clark let the door swing shut. First Chloe pulled her little disappearing act, now Clark. "Something's definitely in the water," Pete said, as he went back to find Chloe.

(Later that night)

Clark stirred more chocolate into his milk, before turning his attention to the photo albums spread out on the kitchen table in front of him. He reached over and grabbed a cookie off the plate next to his milk, shoving the whole cookie into his mouth as he flipped through one of the photo albums' pages. His gaze fell on one picture in particular, and he chuckled to himself as he remembered that day. His mom had taken it several years ago, during one of Chloe's first visits to the farm. Chloe was from Metropolis and hadn't ever seen many farm animals, so she was curious about and a little fearful of the various animals running around the Kent farm. Clark had decided to start her off small, with a baby chicken that she could help take care of when she came out to visit. She didn't want to go into the chicken coop to pick one out, so Clark had scooped up an armful of chicks and carried them outside. Chloe insisted he set them down on the front porch so she could see them walk around, because she didn't want to adopt one that was just going to stand there. Clark didn't have the heart to tell her that's basically what chickens do, so he carried the chicks to the porch and set them down.

Unfortunately, none of them were interested in just standing around that day, and he and Chloe—or rather just he—spent the better part of the afternoon trying to catch all the wayward chicks running around the front yard before Jonathan got home. His mother thought the sight of Chloe standing in the front yard cradling a little chick and yelling what she thought were helpful directions to Clark while he ran around the yard picking up little chicks and putting them into an egg basket was quite hilarious, and had grabbed her camera to put the moment to film.

He scanned over the other pictures on the page—Chloe was featured in a lot of them. She'd almost immediately bonded with his parents, and spent a lot of time at his house back in those days, ever since she'd first come over to work on a school project. His mind recalled the first time he'd ever met Chloe, back in 7th grade....

Clark sat in the Smallville Middle School cafeteria, chewing on the end of his pencil as he tried to concentrate on finishing his history homework. He had history right after lunch, and he hadn't finished his homework the night before.

"See ya," Clark said, nodding back before turning and heading toward math.

"Can't sleep?" a voice asked, breaking Clark out of his trip down memory lane. Clark looked up to see his mother standing beside him.

"How'd you know?" he asked.

"Well, aside from the fact that it's 1:30 in the morning and you're sitting at the table... " she paused as she pointed to his glass of milk and plate of cookies, "... the chocolate milk and chocolate chip walnut cookies are a dead giveaway when it comes to Kent men and insomnia." She sat down next to Clark and pulled one of the photo albums onto her lap. "This, however, is new."

"Mom... can I ask you something?" Clark asked.

"Sure, honey," Martha answered, reaching out to squeeze his hand. "You can ask me anything."

"Did you and Dad always know you were... you know, gonna be together?" Clark asked, trying to keep the total embarrassment off his face.

Martha laughed. "Well, yes and no. I mean, once we got to know each other, sure... but there were lots of unsure moments for both of us. It wasn't love at first sight, if that's what you're asking."

"It wasn't?" Clark asked. He'd always figured as soon as his parents met, that was it.

"Oh, no. It took a while, that's for sure," Martha replied. "Mostly on my part... not to say your father couldn't be bull-headed himself. But it took me a while to figure it out."

"How'd you know..that you'd figured it out?" Clark asked.

"Well, your father was the most handsome boy in school... that didn't hurt," she said, grinning as Clark rolled his eyes. "But, it was mostly a feeling that he understood me. That I could tell him anything and he'd understand. We wanted the same things from life. And I knew him, and he knew me... in a way that's totally different from the way you just casually know someone... not in a way where you just know someone's name, and maybe some of the stuff they like and dislike. It was a way where we just connected—it just felt right." She glanced at the photo album in front of Clark, seeing that the pages were scattered with photos of Clark and Chloe, and smiled. "Plus, we had a really solid friendship to build that on. That's where it all starts, you know. With friendship."

"With friendship," Clark repeated.

"Uh-huh. If you have that solid friendship—the kind where you feel like you can tell the other person anything and they'd still care about you and accept you—well, that's the basis of any great love story," Martha finished. "Why all the questions?" she asked, even though she already had an idea.

"Oh, you know... just thinking about some things," Clark answered. "I... I thought I knew where I stood, but I've been thinking about some things, and it's just... it's like some of the things I thought I knew and felt for sure... well, maybe I'm not as sure as I thought."

"Well, the best thing to do in that situation is follow your heart. If you do that, you'll always end up taking the right path," Martha said as she rose from the table. She leaned over and kissed the top of Clark's head as she gave him a hug. "Goodnight, honey... don't stay up too late. Your father needs you to help him with the chores in the morning."

"I won't," Clark said, returning her hug. As his mother climbed the stairs and headed back to bed, he turned once more to the pictures in front of him. "Follow my heart," he said. "Why does that seem like such a tricky thing to do?"

Part Eight

(Monday evening)

"Hey Mom," Clark said as he entered the kitchen, taking off his work gloves and setting them on the counter. "I finished fixing that section of fence in the paddock—no more escaping calves. At least until they kick the fence over again." He opened the refrigerator and pulled out the bottle of milk. He started to raise it to his lips, but before he could, Martha held up a clean drinking glass in front of him.

"Glass, Clark. Use a glass," Martha reminded him with a grin. "When you get done with that, go wash up and set the table for me, will you? Dinner's almost ready," she said, as she opened the oven to check on her pot roast.

"Sure," Clark said, pouring the milk into a glass and putting the bottle back in the refrigerator. "Where's Dad?" he asked. "I haven't seen him since right after I got home from school," Clark said, before taking a long drink from his glass.

"Oh, he went into town. Mr. Harvey called and said the part he ordered for the tractor was in," Martha answered, checking the pots cooking on the stove.

At the mention of Mr. Harvey's name, Clark coughed, spewing milk down the front of his shirt. "Mr. Harvey?" he croaked. "From the hardware store?"

"Yes, from the hardware store. Honey, are you all right?" Martha asked with concern as Clark coughed some more.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Clark said, grabbing a dishtowel and blotting his shirt. He took a deep breath. "Mom, I gotta tell you something. I think I'm going to need your help making Dad understand."

"Understand what?" Martha asked.

"See, I... " Clark began. He was interrupted by the slamming of the kitchen screen door.

"I'm back," Jonathan said as he took off his jacket and hung it on the coat rack next to the door. He sniffed the air. "Mmmmm... pot roast. My favorite." He walked over to where Martha was taking dinner plates down from the cabinet and kissed her on the cheek. He then turned, leaning back against the counter, and fixed his gaze on Clark.

"Had an interesting conversation with Mr. Harvey at the hardware store," he said pointedly.

"Oh... umm... yeah?" Clark said, shuffling his feet as he twisted the dishtowel in his hands. "Umm... what about?"

"Well, it seems that a young man came in today about 2:30 and purchased a pretty big quantity of drywall sheets and tile flooring to be delivered this weekend to the high school. Didn't seem very interesting to me until he told me the young man bore a striking resemblance to my son." He raised his eyebrow at Clark. "I thought it was interesting that what he ordered exactly matched the list I made of what would be needed to repair the Torch's office. Of course, that wasn't nearly as interesting as when Mr. Harvey told me this young man paid cash for everything."

"Oh?" was all Clark could say as he studied the tips of his shoes.

"So, I thought to myself, 'Where in the world could a young man lay his hands on that much cash, especially since he specifically told me he wasn't going to ask Lex Luthor for the money'," Jonathan continued, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I didn't ask Lex!" Clark cried out. "I... "

"Closed your savings account at Smallville Savings and Loan. I know. I talked to Mr. Stephens at the bank." Jonathan finished for him.

"Clark!" his mother exclaimed. "You took your money out of the bank?"

Clark sighed. "It wasn't like that... "

"Clark, that money was for your college education," Jonathan said sternly. "Now, I know you want to help Chloe, but not like that. Now, you're going to give me the rest of the money, and tomorrow after school, we're going back to the bank and we're going to set up a new account for you... with both of our names on it."

"We can't," Clark said, bracing himself for the yelling. "There isn't any more."

"Clark, I know how much you had in the bank—close to $5000. I also know what you bought at the hardware store was only about $1200. That leaves almost $3800 left." Jonathan said.

"Well... " Clark started.

"Well, what?" Jonathan asked, pinning his son with his stare.

"The hardware store wasn't my only stop," Clark said quietly.

Jonathan crossed the kitchen to stand in front of his son. "What do you mean, it wasn't your only stop?"

Clark tossed the dishtowel onto the counter and reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out two sheets of paper. He extended them to Jonathan, who shook his head when he read them.

"What is it?" Martha asked, trying to read over Jonathan's shoulder.

"It's an invoice. For a computer. Clark... " Jonathan sighed.

"Well, Chloe's computer blew up in the fire, and she'd been saying she wished the school would upgrade the Torch's computers from i-Macs to the Power Mac G-4.." Clark began.

"So you got her started by buying one of them?" Martha asked.

"Well... " Clark trailed off.

"Okay, this is $1800. Where's the rest of the money?" Jonathan asked. When Clark just hung his head in response, Jonathan repeated his question more sternly.

"I had to buy the monitor, and then, Chloe's digital camera and her printer got burned up in the fire, so I replaced those, and then I had to buy the software she uses to put together the paper," he said, motioning to the second invoice in Jonathan's hands. "So... "

"You spent all the money," Martha finished.

Clark just nodded. "Are you mad?"

"No," Martha replied as Jonathan said "Yes." Martha gave Jonathan a "you're not helping the situation" look before turning back to Clark. "Just... honey, that money was for school. You've been saving it for years, and I thought you agreed with us that school was what you'd be using it for. So I guess I just don't understand why you'd do this."

Clark shrugged. "Two reasons," he said. "It was Chloe and... " he looked up, catching his mother's eyes, "... and I decided to follow my heart."

Martha's face softened as she heard her words from the other night repeated back to her. She gave Clark a small smile, and gave him a gentle push toward the hallway off the kitchen. "Go on," she said softly. "Go get cleaned up for dinner." As Clark returned his mother's smile with a small one of his own and left the kitchen, she set about trying to soothe Jonathan. "Well," she said, rubbing her hand across Jonathan's back, "it is Clark's money. He earned a good part of it, so I guess if this what he wants to do with it, we don't really have a say in the matter."

Jonathan sighed. "I know. And if this were a couple hundred bucks, I'd agree with you. But Martha... we're talking almost $5000 here. That's almost a year's tuition at Kansas State."

"I know," Martha replied. " But, as I said, it's his money. What's done is done. And besides," she said, turning Jonathan around so he was facing her, "I seem to recall you doing some pretty crazy things in the name of love."

"Nothing that jeopardized my future like this," Jonathan responded. "Besides, who said anything about love factoring in here?"

"Clark's in love with Chloe... he's just been too blind to see it until now. But something's happened... he sees it now, and when you get bitten by the love bug, things you wouldn't normally do seem totally rational. Like, for instance... sending a girl a dozen red tulips every day for a month until she agreed to go to the prom with you," Martha said, leaning forward to kiss Jonathan on the lips. "Besides... we've raised Clark to have a good head on his shoulders. I don't believe he decided this without thinking about it first. We've had this talk before, Jonathan... we can't second guess every decision Clark makes. It's like saying we don't trust him."

"Okay, okay... I get it," Jonathan replied. "I'll... I'll trust that Clark thought this through and that this wasn't some spur of the moment decision—that he thought the consequences through and decided he was willing to live with them. Doesn't mean I have to agree with the decision, though," Jonathan said.

"I think Clark can accept that, and I think he'll appreciate hearing you tell him that," Martha replied. "Now, why don't you go get cleaned up for dinner. Tell Clark to come down and set the table for me," she added, turning back to the oven and removing the pot roast.

Jonathan nodded, and headed upstairs toward the bathroom. He thought of something and smiled, turning quickly on his heel and heading back down the stairs.

"By the way," Jonathan said, poking his head into the kitchen doorway. "It was a dozen red tulips every day for two months, not one." He broke into laughter as he quickly ducked back into the hallway to avoid the dishtowel that came flying at his head.

Part Nine

(Tuesday afternoon)
"Okay, so just meet me and Dad here Saturday morning around 8," Clark said as he and Pete grabbed seats at their usual table in the Smallville High cafeteria. "Dad's got all the tools, so you don't need to bring anything."

Pete nodded. "Okay, Clark... but I hope you and Chloe appreciate it, because I'm giving up valuable sleeping in time," he said, laughing when Clark rolled his eyes.

"Hey guys," Chloe said, coming to sit next to Clark. "What are you guys whispering about? You looked as thick as thieves."

"Umm... I dunno. Guy stuff," Clark said lamely.

"Guy stuff. Clark, you're not trying out for another sports team, are you? Because last time, that got... well... heated," Chloe said.

Clark laughed. "No, nothing like that. I'm done with organized sports for a while."

"Good, "Chloe said, nodding her head emphatically. She looked over at Clark's lunch tray, wrinkling her nose at the coagulated brown blob in the center of it, posing as salisbury steak. "Trying to win a bet?" she asked.

"No. Why?" Clark asked

"Clark—it's Tuesday," Chloe answered, indicating his tray. "You know... the day we get the mystery meat before they ship the leftovers off to the junior high for Wednesday's lunch. Why on earth did you buy your lunch?"

"Oh," Clark said, looking down at his tray. "I was running late and I forgot to pack... "

"Here," Chloe interrupted, thrusting a sandwich and a banana in his face. "I put extra mayo on it, the way you like it," she said, pulling another sandwich and an apple out of her bag for herself.

Clark grinned at Chloe. "Thanks. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You'd probably be seeing a series of gastrointestinal specialists," Chloe said, twisting the cap off her bottled water.

"Hey, what are you doing tonight? I was wondering if you maybe wanted to come over... you know, study for that bio test on Thursday," Clark asked as he bit into his sandwich.

Pete shook his head. "Dead frogs... this is why I take chemistry."

"And a fear of an explosion that would level the school is why Mr. Braden won't let you use the bunsen burner in class," Clark joked. "So, what do you say, Chloe... you can come over for dinner, then we can study." 'And then we can go up to the loft and have a long talk about how I've been blind to lots of things right in front of me, starting with you,' Clark added silently.

"Oh," Chloe said uncomfortably. "I... I can't. I kind of have other plans," she added.

"Huh—what's going on in the wild and wacky life of Chloe Sullivan tonight? Wait—don't tell me... you're tracking footprints left by a guy who grew a third foot immediately after the meteor shower," Pete laughed.

"No... I.." Chloe started, avoiding Clark's eyes. "I have a date."

"A date?" Clark and Pete intoned at the same time. "With who?" Pete demanded.

"Doug Houston. He sits next to me in trig... we've been talking, and he asked me if I wanted to go see a movie tonight. It's no big thing," Chloe said, becoming intensely interested in peeling the label off her water bottle.

"Doug Houston... he plays basketball, right?" Clark asked, trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice.

"Yeah, what's up with that? I thought you hated jocks." Pete asked.

"Well, I guess he plays basketball. But he also helped start that petition to try and get the administration to start a literary magazine, so he does have some functioning brain cells, unlike most jocks," Chloe said. "Present company excluded, of course," she said to Pete. "Besides, it's not a big thing," Chloe added.

"Yeah. You said that already," Clark said, pushing his sandwich away and standing up. "I'm gonna go get a Coke... anybody want anything?"

"No, I'm good," Pete said as Chloe shook her head.

As Clark walked toward the vending machines, Pete gave Chloe a kick underneath the table.

"Ow!" Chloe cried. "What was that for?"

"Are you trying to make Clark jealous?" Pete asked. "Because he didn't look too happy about 'Chloe's Dream Date.' "

Chloe rolled her eyes. "It's not a Dream Date. And no, I'm not trying to make Clark jealous. For that to happen, there would have to be something for Clark to be jealous about. Now, if I told him I was going on a date with Lana Lang, then we might see some jealousy, but none of it directed at Lana, of course."

"You so sure about that?" Pete asked.

"YES! For the millionth time, yes!" Chloe snapped. She sighed. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to snip. It's just... I can't sit around forever and wait for Clark to notice me, you know. So I'll take what he's willing to give me, which is friendship, and move on. I can't use you as my date for every social function because I don't want to accept anyone else's invitation on the off chance that Clark might open his eyes. And anyway, Doug's a nice guy, jock status not withstanding."

"He might open his eyes if you spoke up," Pete reminded her.

"Look, I keep quiet, everybody wins. I get to have Clark in my life on some level. He gets to have a awkward free friendship. Speaking up ruins all that, so why even go there?" Chloe said. "Anyway," she said, glancing over her shoulder and seeing Lana approaching Clark, " there's no point in even discussing it. As long as Lana is around, the subject of Clark and I as a couple is Mootsville anyway."

Clark angrily pushed the Coke button on the soda machine. "Come on, come on," he said as the machine refused to give up the soda. He pushed the button again, harder. When nothing happened, he started pushing all the buttons at once in frustration. "You stupid machine," he grumbled under his breath.

"I think you're confusing it," a soft voice said behind him. "Pushing all the buttons like that, I mean."

Clark turned around and saw Lana standing behind him with a bemused smile on her face. "Oh... hey, Lana," Clark said, embarrassed at being caught about two seconds shy of beating up a vending machine.

"Sometimes it just needs a woman's touch," Lana said, reaching over and pressing the Coke button. "Like that," she said as a can came rolling out of the machine. She grabbed the can and held it out to Clark, but as he reached for it, she pulled it back. "Somehow, I don't think that upset look on your face is about soda machines. So I have to hold this can hostage until you tell me," she said, smiling.

Clark returned her smile with a sad one of his own. "Just a little frustrated, I guess," he replied, sitting down at the empty table next to the vending machine.

"Let's see... what about?" Lana asked, taking a seat next to Clark. "You said you didn't want to play football anymore, you seem to have a great relationship with your mom and dad, you've got friends who adore you, and last time I checked, you were pretty close to pulling straight A's in all your classes. So... I think we can rule out sports, parents, friends or grades as the source of frustration."

"Yeah, I guess," Clark shrugged.

"That just leaves girls. Is it girls?" Lana asked. As Clark's face turned a deep shade of red, she giggled. "It is girls. I knew it!"

"I can't have this conversation with you," Clark said, starting to rise from his chair.

Lana reached out and grabbed his elbow. "Oh, come on, Clark. I'm sorry. Really. So sit down and tell me what's going on. If not for yourself, then do it for the sake of the vending machines all across campus," she said, winking at him. "Look, I'll even release the soda as a gesture of good will," she said, handing him the can of Coke.

Clark sighed and sank back down into the chair. "Okay... there's this girl that I've come to realize I really care about.... in a way different than I used to."

"Who is it?" Lana asked, leaning forward.

"Nuh-uh," Clark said, shaking his head. "No names." He drew patterns in the trails of condensation of the soda can before continuing. "And, I uh... well, right when I was getting ready to set a plan in motion for telling her how I feel about her, I find out she's dating someone else."

"Dating." Lana said, her brow furrowed. "Like serious dating?"

"I don't think so... she's only gone on one date with him. Or well, after tonight it will only have been once." Clark replied.

Lana smiled. "Then there's nothing to worry about. She's not dating him... they're just going on one date. I think you have up until date three to make your move."

"Date three?" Clark said, raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah. It's kind of a girl thing. See, you go out with a guy the first time, and everything goes okay, so you go out with him again, just to make sure the first date wasn't a fluke. If that date goes well, letting you know the first date wasn't a fluke, and you decide to go out on date three... well, by then, you could be classified as dating. Not serious dating, but more serious than just going out once."

"But what if she decides after the first date that she really likes this guy?" Clark asked.

Lana shook her head. "Nope... you've got until date three. Anything before that can be swayed... especially with a big gesture."

"A big gesture... " Clark trailed off.

"Sure. Something that would mean a lot to her. Like, Whitney—when we first started dating, I got hit with the flu bug. Couldn't get out of bed for a week. He couldn't really come up and see me... didn't want to get sick during football season and all... but he came by every day to make sure my horse was fed, and when he'd walk her around for exercise, he'd bring her around back so I could see her from the window next to my bed. It wasn't a huge thing... but it showed the things I cared about were important to him because I cared about them. Thus... big gesture."

Lana glanced at her watch. "Oh... I've got to go. Lunch is almost over, and I have to tutor David Simpson for his English test during my free period." She reached out and squeezed Clark's arm. "Are you going to be okay?"

"Yeah, sure," Clark nodded. "Thanks for the advice... I'm going to take it."

Lana raised her eyebrows. "You've got a big gesture in mind?" she asked.

Clark glanced across the cafeteria, where Doug Houston was chatting with Chloe while she threw away the remains of her lunch. "Yeah," he said, swallowing the lump in his throat as he watched Chloe laugh animatedly at something Doug leaned over to whisper in her ear. "I think this gesture qualifies as fairly good sized on the big scale."

Part Ten

(Thursday Morning)
The doors on the school bus at the end of the Kent driveway slammed shut just as Clark came hurtling out of the house. "Wait, wait!" Clark yelled to the bus driver, waving his arms frantically. The bus driver just sighed and swung the doors open again. Clark climbed on the bus, breathing a little heavily to make it look like it took some effort to make the sprint for the bus. "Thanks," he wheezed to the bus driver.

The bus driver just shook her head. "Kent... the day you are out at the end of the driveway waiting on me is the day I retire from driving this bus," she said as she closed the doors.

Clark moved down the aisle and plopped down in the seat Pete was saving for him. Pete just laughed. "You know how funny you look chasing the bus? I'm thinking of filming it for America's Funniest Home Videos. I can use a cool ten grand."

"Ha ha Pete, very funny," Clark said as he dropped his backpack on the floor between his feet. "Too bad that show isn't on anymore."

"It's not?" Pete asked. "Damn... guess I'll have to find another way to make ten grand."

Clark looked around the bus with a puzzled expression. "Where's Chloe?" he asked.

Pete shrugged. "I dunno... her stop is before mine. When I got on, she wasn't here. Maybe she missed the bus."

"Yeah, maybe," Clark said, unconvinced. "Did she seem like she was acting... I don't know..funny yesterday?"

"Funny how?" Pete asked.

"Well, you know... I asked her about her date with Doug, and she just kind of brushed me off, like she didn't want to talk about it."

Pete rolled his eyes. "Wonder why?" he muttered.

"What's that?" Clark asked.

"Nothing," Pete said. "I didn't notice anything. She told me it went fine... they had a lot of fun." Pete studied Clark's face closely as he relayed this info. Pete wouldn't stake his life on it or anything, but he could have sworn he saw a look of jealousy flash through Clark's eyes.

"Well, they had a good time. That's great. I'm happy for them. It's fantastic, really," Clark said, the bitterness creeping through his voice.

"Whoa," Pete said. "You sound like my uncle Ron, whose been divorced three times. What's with the bitter trip?"

Clark sighed. For a moment, he thought about telling Pete the truth, but he knew that information would end up getting straight back into Chloe's hands, and Clark wasn't prepared for her to find out that way, especially if she didn't feel the same way. He just shook his head, and used his usual excuse. "Oh, just seeing people coupling off and I'm still falling all over like an idiot when I'm around Lana... it got to me for a second."

"Right," Pete said, not buying it for a minute. He knew something was up with Clark, and now he had a pretty good idea what it was. He was about to say something when the bus rolled to a stop in front of the school.

"Hey, here we are, school. How about that," Clark said, jumping out of his seat. He knew Pete wasn't stupid, that he suspected something, so Clark tried to change the subject as the two headed down the bus's aisle. "Did you study for that trig test today?" he asked.

"We have a trig test? Why didn't anyone tell me?" Pete asked as they exited the bus.

"Miss Chase did. Yesterday? In class? Remember?" Clark said. Pete just shook his head. "She was wearing that really short skirt?" Clark reminded him. "You spent the next period talking about her legs?"

"Oh!" Pete said, a look of realization crossing his face. "Now I remember. See... I pay attention in math."

Clark suddenly stopped cold in his tracks, causing the student behind him to run smack into the back of him. The student muttered something about Clark watching where he was going, but Clark paid him no mind. "I don't believe it," he muttered incredulously.

Pete looked at Clark strangely. "What's wrong?" he asked, following Clark's gaze across the school parking lot.

Clark felt like someone had punched him in the gut. He watched as Doug Houston pulled Chloe's messenger bag out of the back seat of his car. Doug handed it to her, and they linked arms as they walked across the parking lot toward the school.

"Hey, man... maybe she really did just miss the bus," Pete said sympathetically.

"I... I have to go. I just remembered, I have to... I'll talk to you later," Clark said, breaking into a jog as he headed for the school. It took all his willpower not to use his super speed to just zip away... away from Pete, away from school, and more importantly, away from the sight of Chloe and Doug walking together across the parking lot, laughing and looking all couple-ish.

He hoped he'd be able to get inside before the two of them got to the school building, but he had no such luck.

"Clark! Hey Clark, wait up," Chloe called as she caught sight of Clark trying to zig-zag through the mass of students trying to enter the building. He got stuck behind a line of slow moving sophomores, and she was able to catch him. "Hey, where's the fire... although maybe that isn't the question to be asking in a punning way around here," she said as she reached out and caught his elbow.

Clark stopped and steeled himself to turn and face her. He pasted a nonchalant look on his face and turned around. "Oh, hey Chloe," he said casually. "Doug," he said, nodding to the older boy.

"Kent," Doug said in way of greeting. "Hey, listen," he said to Chloe, "I gotta run. Coach wants to meet with me this morning. Something about college options. But I'll see you later... we'll firm up our plans for tonight," he said, leaning down to kiss her on the cheek. Clark winced and looked away before continuing up the steps into the building.

"Yeah, sure, okay. I'll see you later," Chloe smiled as Doug walked away. She turned to find Clark already moving away from her. "Clark!" she called, taking the steps two at a time to catch up with him. "What's wrong?" she asked as they entered the school building.

Clark just shrugged. "Nothing. So... you guys are going out again tonight?" he asked.

"Well, yeah. I mean, we had an okay time the other night, and neither one of us was doing anything tonight, so, we just decided to go grab some pizza or something. It's no big thing," she said.

"Yeah. You keep saying that. I'm starting to find it a little hard to believe," Clark said, his words coming out a little more harshly than he intended. "Listen... I have to go. I have to turn in some history extra credit before homeroom." With that, he turned and walked briskly down the hallway, leaving a dumbfounded Chloe standing there staring after him.

Lana shut the door to her locker, and was surprised to see Clark standing behind it. "Hey Clark," she smiled. "Good morning."

"No, it's not," Clark answered grimly.

"What's wrong? Is it about... " she lowered her voice... "the no name girl?"

"Date two! They're having date two! Tonight!" Clark said, his voice rising a little in panic. "Plus, he's giving her rides to school, he's kissing her in front of the school... "

"On the lips?" Lana asked as they began walking toward their homeroom class.

"No, on the cheek... but still, it's a kiss," Clark said.

"Hmm... date two, rides, PDA's... " Lana mused.

"It's bad, isn't it?" Clark asked.

"It's getting there," Lana answered. "But you're not out of the running just yet. And you're sure just coming out and telling her isn't an option?"

"No, it's not an option," Clark replied firmly.

"Okay, okay... just checking," Lana said as they settled into two side by side desks in their homeroom. The bell rang and the teacher began roll call.

When the teacher called out their names, they both answered "Here" before leaning towards each other to finish their conversation in hushed tones.

"What about the gesture? I thought you had something planned?" Lana asked.

"I do, but it's... it's not ready yet. Not until the weekend. At this rate, they could be on date 10 by then," Clark said darkly.

"Well, what are they doing on these dates?" Lana asked.

When Clark just looked at her as if she had sprouted a second head, her eyes widened. "I don't mean that!" she insisted. "I mean, is it a date/date thing, or a hanging out thing? Are they splitting the bill, is he paying, are they holding hands... you know, is it a real date? Or is it a non-date date?"

"I don't know. She won't tell me." Clark answered. "And I kind of snapped at her this morning, so I don't think she's going to be inclined to fill in the blanks for me."

"You yelled at her? Clark, that's not exactly the way to get girls to fall all over you," Lana replied.

Clark nodded. "I know, I know. It was an accident." When Lana raised her brow at him, he added, "Hey, the guy just kissed her in front of me. I was shocked, okay?"

"Well, I think you need to find out somehow," Lana said.

"And how do I do that? Short of following her... " he trailed off as Lana gave him a 'that's not a bad idea' look. He shook his head. "I dunno... I don't know if I can do that."

"I'm not suggesting you stalk the girl, Clark. Just peek in. See what you're up against," Lana answered.

"And if I see something I don't want to?" Clark asked.

"At least then you'll know," Lana replied.

The bell rang then, signaling the end of homeroom. Students began gathering their things and exiting. Lana spied Whitney waiting for her outside the classroom, and signaled to him that she would be right there. "There's Whitney... I have to go," she said to Clark.

"Yeah, sure," Clark nodded. As Lana started to walk away, Clark called out to her. "Hey, Lana... I just..I just wanted to say thanks. I mean, I know we've never really talked much before, so I don't know why you're so willing to help me, but I just wanted you to know I appreciate it."

Lana smiled. "Clark, I've known you my whole life. We may not have talked much before, but I know you're a sweet guy that any girl would be lucky to have. And let's just say... I want to see the nice guy get the girl... for once. It doesn't happen often enough. Except to me," she said, flashing a smile at Whitney as she walked out to greet him.

Clark smiled. He never thought he'd see the day when he actually liked seeing Lana happy with Whitney, but realizing how he really felt for her made that possible. He'd realized that Lana was just a crush, and that was it. He knew her, but he didn't really know her... not the way he knew Chloe. He couldn't finish her sentences, or know what candy she liked at the movies, or how she sometimes felt her parent's divorce was her fault. And she couldn't finish his sentences, or know that he liked extra mayo on his roast beef sandwiches, or that he sometimes thought people felt he was a freak because he was adopted. But he knew all those things and more about Chloe, and she knew all those things and more about him. He finally realized what his mother had been talking about that night in the kitchen—about friendship being the basis of any great love story. And once he figured out that was what he had with Chloe—the beginning of a really great love story—the idea of Lana as the ultimate girl just faded away.

"Mr. Kent. Don't you have a class to get to?" the homeroom teacher asked.

Clark looked around and realized he was still sitting at his desk. He smiled sheepishly and headed out into the hall. As he did, he remembered Lana's suggestion about finding out more about Chloe's date. He knew outside of Doug Houston and Chloe herself, there was only one person who could give him that info. He knew he'd have to come clean and tell the truth, but if that's what it took, then that's what he'd do. Chloe was worth the potential humilation.

He broke into a light jog, darting around people as he sighted his intended target, pulling books out of a locker. He slowed as he approached the locker, coming up to stand directly next to the locker door. He took a deep breath and started to speak as his informant turned toward him.

"Pete. We need to talk. Now."

Part Eleven

"Not that I don't always appreciate the chance to miss health class," Pete began as he threw his bookbag down on one of the stadium bleachers, "but what's with the secrecy?"

"I just didn't want anyone to interrupt us," Clark said, taking a seat.

"I'm not going to comment on how serial killer that sounds," Pete joked, pulling a can of soda out of his bag. "So, what's so important that no one can hear?"

"Okay... I'm only going to say this once, but before I do, you have to swear to me that this stays right here, between us," Clark said.

"Yeah, sure, I won't tell anyone," Pete promised.

"I mean it Pete. This can't be like all the other stuff I've told you that you accidentally blurt out. You've got to vault this one. I mean it," Clark said seriously.

"Okay, okay," Pete said. "You're not dying or something, are you?" he asked worriedly.

Clark shook his head. "Nothing like that." He took a deep breath. "Okay, here goes. Lately, I've been thinking a lot about how I feel about a certain person, and my feelings have been changing. I've realized that this thing with Lana... it's just a crush. Nothing more, nothing I want to pursue. And the reason I've realized that is because... "

"You're in love with Chloe," Pete said, digging into his bag for a bag of chips.

"... I'm in love with Chloe." He stopped when he realized he had just repeated what Pete had said. "Wait a minute. What did you say?" he asked.

"I said you're in love with Chloe. Duh. I knew this days ago, ever since you wigged out at the movies," Pete said, ripping open the bag of chips and offering it to Clark.

"What... is it tattooed on my forehead or something?" Clark asked shaking his head at the offer of chips.

Pete laughed. "No, man. I mean, I sort of suspected it when you freaked out at the movies... "

"I did not freak out," Clark insisted.

"Whatever," Pete replied. "Then the other day at lunch and this morning, when you went all "Green Eyed Monster" I pretty much figured it out. So... now I know why you're fixing up the Torch's office, at least."

"That's not why I'm doing that... not at all. I mean, sure... if Chloe takes it as the big gesture, then I won't fight it, but I'm doing it because Chloe is my friend and the Torch means a lot to her. I'd do that for her no matter what," Clark said.

"What the hell is a big gesture?" Pete asked.

"Oh, it's this thing... Lana told me about it. Girls like it when you make a big gesture," Clark answered.

"Hmm... big gesture. Gonna have to write that one down. okay, so what's the problem? You march up, you tell Chloe, you ride off into the sunset together, end of story," Pete said.

"And you know this because?" Clark asked.

"Ummm.... " Pete stalled. He flashed back to the Homecoming dance, when he and Chloe were dancing to a slow song...

"Come on, admit it. You'd rather be here with Clark," Pete said, dipping Chloe, causing her to laugh. "I'm not letting you up until you admit it."

"Remember... I'm editor in chief of the paper. You're one of my very best friends, but if you breathe one word of this to Clark, I will print that story you told me about how you wet the bed until the 6th grade! Except I'll replace 6th grade with currently," Chloe said.

"Ummm... no reason," Pete said, avoiding Clark's eyes. "I just figured if you're all truly, madly, deeply with Chloe, you'd want her to know."

"Not if she's starting this thing with Doug," Clark stated. "So, what's the deal... what's going on there?"

Pete shrugged. "I dunno. She likes him. She says he makes her laugh, they have a lot of fun, he pays attention to what she says... stuff like that. He's not intimidated that she's smart. He can talk about stuff other than how great it is to be in Smallville. And she says girl stuff. You know, he treats her like a girl, he's a nice kisser... sorry man," Pete said upon seeing Clark wince at that last bit of information.

"So, it's like a real dating thing?" Clark asked.

"I guess so. She said he hinted around about going to the Winter Dance next month and stuff." Pete replied.

Clark sighed. "Okay... " he said sadly.

"Okay, what?" Pete said. "You're not giving up, are you? I mean, Doug's not really her type."

"No, I'm not giving up. Lana said I should follow them on their date, but after hearing this, I don't think I really need to." He stood up and grabbed his bag. "Thanks, Pete. You're a good friend," he said, clapping Pete on the back before climbing down the bleachers and heading back toward the school, his head hanging dejectedly.

Pete shook his head. His two best friends, perfect for each other, and neither one of them could get it together enough to admit it to each other. He watched as a boy's PE class, clad in sweat pants, took to the track surrounding the football field and began jogging. He noticed one of the boys was Doug Houston. Pete narrowed his eyes as he studied the boy. Pete wondered if Chloe was as taken with Doug as she claimed to be. After all, she knew Pete knew she was in love with Clark, and she knew that Pete had a hard time keeping secrets. Maybe she thought Pete had spilled the beans about her feelings toward Clark, and since Clark hadn't done anything to indicate he felt the same way, she decided to feed him all this info, knowing it would get back into Clark's hands eventually... sort of a "Ha-ha, I was just kidding..I was never in love with you" defense mechanism.

Pete jumped up and grabbed his bag. There was only one way to find out. Clark had given him an idea, and he intended to follow through on it. He ran into the school, skidding to a stop as he happened upon the person he was looking for.

"Hey Lana," he said, trying to catch his breath. "What are you doing tonight?"

"Nothing. Why?" Lana said with a surprised look on her face.

Pete gave her his most charming grin. "Think you're up for a little spy mission tonight?"

Part Twelve

Lana slid into the booth at the back of the Smallville Pizzeria. "Sorry I'm late," she apologized to Pete. "I had to do some fast talking to Aunt Nell. So... are they here yet? Doug and his date?"

Pete shook his head. "Not yet... wait, here they come!" He picked up a menu and buried his face in it, encouraging Lana to follow suit. Chloe and Doug, engrossed in their conversation, didn't even notice Pete and Lana. The couple walked right past them, toward a table for two at the front near a window, where Doug pulled out the chair for Chloe.

"Chloe!" Lana exclaimed in a stage whisper. "Chloe is Clark's no-name girl?? That's so cute!"

"Yeah. So that's why we've got to figure out if this thing with Doug is the real deal, or just Chloe trying to pull a fast one on me," Pete explained.

"And if she's not?" Lana asked. "What do we tell Clark?"

"Then... then I don't know," Pete admitted. "I guess I didn't think that far ahead."

Pete peered over the top of his menu. "Hmm.." he said.

"What?" Lana asked. Her back was to the couple, so she couldn't see anything. "I want to see too!" she exclaimed, hopping up from her seat and sliding into the seat next to Pete. She too held a menu up and peered over it. "So they're sitting. Big deal."

"Chloe's giggling. She doesn't giggle. She's not a giggler," Pete said, motioning to the table where Chloe was indeed in the midst of a fit of giggling in response to something Doug had said. "I'm thinking that's bad."

Lana shrugged. "Maybe. I mean, maybe she's giggling because he said something so stupid that she doesn't want to acknowledge it with a real reply, so she does the fake giggle. You know, like this... heee-heeee-heeee," Lana said, giving Pete a demonstration.

"Hey, wait a minute! I've had lots of girls do that when they're talking to me," Pete said.

"Well... " Lana said, her voice drifting off.

"Great. All this time I thought I was being witty... wait! What's he doing?" Pete frowned.

"He's bringing his chair over to her side of the table so he can sit next to her. That's a real date sign right there," Lana said disappointedly.

"Are you kids going to study the menu all night, or order?" the waitress said as she approached their table.

"Umm... we're still deciding. I'll have a Coke," Pete said.

"Me too," Lana added.

The waitress left, grumbling about cheap kids, while Pete and Lana returned their attention to the table near the front.

"Hmm... he's putting his arm around her," Lana said.

"Yeah, but they've only got one menu—they're both looking at it. That's not necessarily a real date thing," Pete answered.

The waitress returned with their drinks, and Pete looked up to thank her when he felt Lana grabbing his arm in a death grip.

"That is definitely a real date thing," Lana said sadly.

Pete looked away from the waitress to see Doug and Chloe locking lips fairly heatedly. He sighed, then reached into his wallet to pull out a few dollars for their drinks. "Come on," he said, tossing the bills on the table and steering Lana out of the booth. "We've seen all we need to. I've got my dad's car... I'll drop you off at home."

The two teens slipped out the back and headed toward Pete's car. The ride home was silent, each of them lost in their own thoughts, until Pete pulled up in front of Lana's house.

"Oh, you can just pull up by the curb," Lana instructed. As Pete did so, she turned to him and asked, "What are we going to tell Clark?"

Pete shrugged. "Nothing, I guess. I don't want to be the one to break his heart... and besides, a little pining never hurt anyone, I guess."

"Yeah, maybe," Lana said. "But it's sad... Clark's a nice guy, and he and Chloe... they just... whenever I see them together, I get a little envious."

"Envious?" Pete asked curiously.

"Yeah. I mean, the two of them always seemed really close... they really care about each other. Not in that fickle way that a lot of people do... I guess I was just envious of the idea of someone always having my back, you know?" Lana replied.

"What about Whitney?" Pete asked.

"Oh, Whitney's great and all.... but he's a boyfriend. It's just different, I guess." Lana answered.

"Well, for what it's worth... I'll watch your back for you," Pete replied with a smile.

Lana returned his smile in kind. "Thanks. I'd really like that."

She leaned over and gave Pete a very chaste kiss on the cheek. "That was a strictly 'I'm watching your back, non date, friendship' kiss," she informed him with a smile.

"Of course!" Pete exclaimed exaggeratedly. "I do have a reputation with the ladies to maintain... can't have them thinking I accept real date kisses from everyone!" He waggled his eyebrows, causing Lana to burst out laughing.

"You're a nut, Pete Ross," she said as she climbed out of the car and waved good night.

"Clark, honey... are you still up?" Martha asked as she passed her son's bedroom door and noticed a sliver of light creeping out from beneath it. She knocked softly, before pushing the door open slightly. "It's kind of late." She peeked into the room and saw Clark sitting at his computer desk, headphones on, typing furiously. She padded softly across the room and caused Clark to jump slightly as she reached out and touched his shoulder.

"Oh, hey Mom," he said, pulling the headphones down around his neck. He quickly minimized the computer window he was typing in before his mother had a chance to see what he was working on, leaving another window behind it open. "You scared me," he said, swiveling his chair all the way around to face her. "What's up?"

"You," Martha said, attempting to give Clark a stern look, but failing miserably. "It's a school night... no wonder you can never get to school on time."

"I know... I'm almost done, then I'm going right to bed. I promise," Clark said earnestly.

"What are you working on?" Martha asked, squinting at the computer screen.

"Oh, I just thought it might be easier to figure out some of the stuff that's happening with my... gifts... if I kept a journal," Clark stated. "You know, a record of what happened, any symptoms I had before it happened, how often it happened... things like that. That way, I can track it and figure out if there's some common link or anything."

Martha nodded. "That's a good idea, Clark. But don't stay up all night working on it... you may have super strength and speed, but you still need your rest," she said, kissing his forehead. "Because I'm your mother... that's how I know," she said as she pulled back, answering Clark's question before he asked it. "Remember Clark... not too late," she said as she headed out of his bedroom, pulling the door shut behind her.

"I won't. Night Mom," Clark called out, before turning back to his computer screen and maximizing the window he was working on earlier. He hadn't lied to his mother, he told himself. He had been working on a journal of his powers.... before he was sidetracked by other thoughts running through his head. And as usual, he found the best way to deal with thoughts that wouldn't get out of his head was to write them down... or in this case, type them out. He peered at the screen, reading over his words.

November 3, 2001: So Chloe is out on her date with Doug. I should be happy that she's found someone who can make her happy... but I'm not. Why? Because I think I could make her happier.

But.... the heart wants what it wants.... .
Clark sighed. There it was, out on paper. He loved Chloe, probably always had, and most definitely always would. But that didn't mean it was the right thing to feel. His heart said it was, probably his soul too, but his head was trying to overrule them both. Clark rubbed his temples... right now, his head was threatening a massive headache. He saved his work to the hard drive, before switching the computer off.

He padded across the hall to the bathroom, getting two Tylenol out of the medicine cabinet and downing them with water he drank straight from the faucet. He could almost hear his mother in the back of his mind yelling at him to use a glass. Good thing she wasn't up to witness that.

Clark went back to his room and shut the door, turning off the light and stripping down to his boxers and T-shirt before climbing into bed. He rolled over on his side and studied the silvery moon as it threw patches of light across his bedroom floor. He wondered what Chloe was doing right then. Was she lying in bed watching the moon, same as he was? Or was she just getting home from her date... standing on her front porch whispering about the beautiful moon in Doug's ear... or maybe not even noticing the moon because she was kissing him?

Clark sighed heavily as he felt his heart start to ache. Too bad Tylenol didn't make a pill for that too.

Part Thirteen

(Monday Morning)

"Hey Dad," Clark said as he came clattering down the stairs. "Can you give me a ride to school today?" he asked.

Jonathan looked up from his morning paper, then at his watch. "Clark, it's 6:30 in the morning."

"So?" Clark asked as he got out two Pop Tarts and stuck them in the toaster.

"Well, it's just usually at this time, you're still sound asleep even though your mother has been calling you for 10 minutes." Jonathan replied. "You better tell her you're up and dressed, otherwise if she looks in your room, she might think you were kidnapped," he joked.

"I just want to get to school early, before the school bus, so I can show Chloe the office first thing," Clark answered, getting out a plate and putting his Pop Tarts on it. "Besides, I have to take something with me and I can't carry it on the bus. Come on Dad... please?" Clark asked.

"Well, I do have to stop in town anyway and pick up some medicine for that sick calf," Jonathan said. "I guess I can drop you off at school on the way," he said.

"Clark!" his mother exclaimed as she came down the stairs. "You're up, and you're dressed? What's wrong? Are you sick?" she asked, reaching over to check his forehead.

"You two are a couple of comedians," Clark said as he poured himself a glass of juice. "Dad's giving me a ride to school... I want to get there early so I can show Chloe the office."

"How does it look?" Martha asked as she poured herself a cup of coffee and refilled Jonathan's cup.

"It looks good as new, especially after I painted the walls yesterday," Clark said, shoving half a Pop Tart in his mouth.

"You sure it's dry by now?" Jonathan asked.

"Yeah... it only took me about 10 minutes... you know, super speed and all. So it's had all day and night Sunday to dry," Clark answered. He looked at the clock on the wall. "Oh, I'd better get my stuff together, so I can leave when you're ready," he said, pushing his chair back and grabbing his plate.

"Clark... your juice... " his mother called after him.

"Oh, right... thanks," Clark said, grabbing the juice and drinking it down in one gulp, swiping his shirtsleeve across his mouth.

"Well, he certainly eats like a normal, growing teen boy," Martha remarked dryly.

Clark came back down the stairs a few minutes later, carrying the monitor to his computer. He carried it outside, then came in and went back upstairs. A few moments later, he returned again, this time carrying his computer tower. He started for the door when Jonathan stopped him with a look.

"I thought show and tell stopped in the third grade," Jonathan commented, indicating the computer tower in Clark's hands.

"Oh... this is for Chloe, for the office," Clark said as he went outside and set the tower next to the monitor in the back of the pickup truck, bracing them with a spare bag of cattle feed that was also in the back of the truck.

Jonathan waited by the door for Clark to return. When he did, Jonathan handed him his backpack, and jacket. He didn't say anything, just fixed Clark with a questioning look.

"The computer I bought is on back order. It won't be here until next week. So I'm letting Chloe borrow my computer until it comes in," Clark explained as he and Jonathan climbed into the pickup.

"I see," Jonathan said, biting back any further comments. He'd promised Martha he wasn't going to give Clark any more grief about this decision, and he intended to keep his word.

The ride into town was silent—Jonathan mentally going over the list of things he needed from the feed store, while Clark mentally rehearsed the speech he planned to give Chloe. He had decided he was going to take her up, show her the office, and just go for it—tell her exactly how he felt about her. After all, two dates wasn't a marriage, wasn't some long term thing. He'd tried to squeeze some more info from Pete while they were working on the office about Chloe and Doug, but every time he did, Pete quickly changed the subject. Clark thought that meant one of two things—either things were going great between Chloe and Doug, or things had fallen apart in an epic way.

Clark decided to bank on the second option, and because of that, he was going to tell her. If she didn't feel the same way... well, like Lana had said, at least then he'd know.

The truck pulled up to the nearly deserted Smallville High campus. Only a few students, mostly those involved in activities that met before school were loitering around. Clark climbed from the truck and removed the computer from the back of the truck, carefully balancing a component on each shoulder, then turned and smiled at his dad.

"Need some help?" Jonathan asked.

"No... I've got it. Thanks, Dad.... for the ride... for everything. See you later." With that, Clark zipped away, nothing more than a blur to anyone who might happen to be quick enough to see.

Jonathan just shook his head and laughed to himself as he put the truck in gear and headed toward the feed store.

Clark stood, shifting nervously from foot to foot, outside the main doors to the high school. Students poured in around him as he scanned the crowd for Chloe, hoping she'd be alone or at least without Doug in tow. He spotted the top of her blonde head and sighed in relief. She was alone.

He grabbed her elbow as she made her way through the door. "Morning Chloe," he said brightly.

Chloe just looked at him suspiciously. "What... we're on speaking terms now?" she asked.

"What do you mean? Why do you think we're not on speaking terms?" Clark asked, puzzled.

"Well, considering the last time we actually had words was several days ago, at which time you took my head off in this very spot, then proceeded to spent the rest of the week and the weekend avoiding me, since every time I called you, your mom said you were too busy to come to the phone which by the way is the phoniest excuse in the book... " Chloe paused to take a breath "... one would assume we were no longer on speaking terms."

Clark gave Chloe his most reassuring grin. "No... we're on speaking terms. I'm really sorry about the biting off of the head—I don't know what got into me. And I really was busy this weekend."

"Well... " Chloe began. "Okay... but only because you do still have that Kent charm working for you."

"Good," Clark said, "because I've got something to show you."

"If it's the fact that Lana is wearing that blue sweater you like, too late. I've already seen it. She and Pete seemed awfully chatty this morning, by the way," she mused.

Clark rolled his eyes. "This has nothing to do with Lana. Come on... I really want you to see this," he said excitedly.

Chloe looked at Clark, who looked every bit like an excited kid on Christmas morning, and shook her head. "Okay, okay... let's go."

"Wait," Clark said, pulling a bandanna out of his jacket pocket. "First, you have to put this on," he said, as he started to blindfold her.

"What, did they add some sort of S&M club the the list of approved school activities? I don't need a blindfold," Chloe protested.

"Chloe, come on... it's a surprise and you can't be surprised if you figure out where we're going before we get there," Clark pleaded.

"Okay, okay, fine... but if this involves you sticking my hand in a bowl of peeled grapes and telling me it's eyeballs, like you did at the haunted house last year, I'm going to have to revoke the speaking terms agreement," Chloe warned.

Clark carefully lead Chloe through the school hallways and up to the Torch's office. He opened the door and guided her through it, standing her in the center of the office.

"Where are we? Smells like a paint store," Chloe commented.

Clark laughed, and slowly began to remove the blindfold. "I think you'll be pleasantly surprised to see it's not a paint store," he said. He pulled the blindfold the rest of the way off, and stepped back.

Chloe looked around, her eyes widening in shock. "My office... " she breathed.

"Yeah... it's not totally the way it was, but with the money the school didn't have to spend to fix it, they can replace the rest of the computers next semester. At least that's what Principal Kwan told me. He said as long as you're doing the editorial stuff here, the rest of the staff can do their work at home until the new computers get here."

Chloe blinked back a few tears as she looked around, then turned to Clark. "You did this?" she asked softly.

"Well... well, Pete and my dad helped," Clark stammered, his face flushing. "It wasn't just me."

"Why?" Chloe asked, still staring at Clark. "And... how?"

"Well, you know... I know how much the Torch means to you, and that day you found out there maybe wasn't going to be a Torch, you were just so upset and... and I just wanted to do something to get you to smile again," Clark said, as he studied the tips of his shoes. "I had a little money saved up, so I figured, why not?"

"You didn't have to do this.." Chloe said. She walked over and wrapped her arms around Clark, hugging him tightly. "Thank you... thank you so so much," she said, kissing him on the cheek. She stepped back and wiped at a few stray tears that had slipped down her face. "I don't know what to say other than that," she said, looking around the office once more.

"You don't have to say anything," Clark said. "I did it because I wanted to," he added.

Chloe sat down at her old desk. "Clark... this looks like your computer," she said.

"Yeah, it is," Clark said, coming over to sit on the edge of the desk. "I bought you a new one... a G-4, like you wanted, but it's on back order, so it won't be here until next week. So, I figured you could use mine until then. I borrowed a copy of the version of the software you use that would work on my computer, and loaded it onto mine... it seems to work." He held up a mock sheet that he had printed out, with the headline "Editor thrilled to be back" emblazoned across the top of it. "Well, I was hoping, anyway.." he said as Chloe laughed at the headline.

"Well, it's very true," she said, smiling. "But all this... a new computer... Clark, you really didn't have... "

"Oh, before I forget," Clark interrupted, digging into his pocket. "Your office keys," he said, presenting the two gold keys with a flourish. "We had to replace the doorknobs and change the locks... you have to give one of those to Principal Kwan before the end of the day, though."

"I will make sure to," Chloe said, taking the keys from him. As she did so, their fingers brushed, and Clark swallowed hard. This was it—now or never.

"Chloe," he started. "There's something else I've been wanting to talk to you about... "

"Hey, Chloe. I've been looking all over for you," Doug Houston said from the doorway. "I thought I heard your voice when I was walking by." He crossed the room to stand behind Chloe's chair, placing his hands on each of her shoulders. "What's going on?"

"Umm... nothing," Clark said. "Nothing at all."

"Hardly!" Chloe exclaimed. "Clark fixed up my office, so the Torch wouldn't have to fold. I hardly call that 'nothing'!" she said, keeping her eyes trained on Clark's face.

"Well... that was decent of you, Clark," Doug said evenly, noting Clark's uncomfortableness.

"It wasn't just me... my dad and Pete.." Clark began.

"It was Clark," Chloe said. "Clark, I can't tell you how much this means to me."

Clark just gave Chloe a tight smile. "Don't mention it."

"Look, I've got to get to class, but I just wanted to find out and make sure we were still on for dinner tonight with my parents," Doug said as he began rubbing Chloe's shoulders.

"No, I didn't forget—wrote it in my day planner and everything," Chloe said, tilting her head back and smiling. Doug leaned down and brushed his lips against hers.

Clark jumped down from the desk as Doug started to kiss Chloe. "Well, I have to go... class," he said with forced brightness. "I'll see you guys later," he said as he began slowly walking out of the office.

"Clark, wait!" Chloe called. When he turned around, she said, "What was it you wanted to talk about?"

Clark just shook his head. "Nothing. Nothing important... now. I'll see you later." With that, he turned and headed down the hall, trying to block out the thought of Chloe and Doug not only having date number three, but a date that included meeting his parents. That was a pretty serious sign. One he took as a sign that Chloe was happy with Doug, and he wouldn't mess that up for her by blurting out his feelings.

Clark wasn't really watching where he was going, as he hurried through the halls trying to put as much distance between himself and the Torch's office as possible. He rounded a corner and ran smack into Pete, sending the books in Pete's hands flying everywhere.

"Oh, I'm sorry... I didn't see you," Clark said, gathering Pete's books and handing them to him.

"Don't worry about it," Pete said. "Hey, I've been looking for you. So, how'd it go? Was she surprised? Did she like it?"

Clark nodded. "Yeah, she's really... happy," he said sadly. "Listen... take notes for me in English, okay? I'm gonna... I just have to go," he said, walking away from Pete, his head hanging dejectedly.

"Hey," Lana said cheerfully as she passed him, but Clark didn't respond. "What's wrong with Clark?" Lana asked as she walked up to Pete, who wore a worried expression as he watched his friend.

"I'm thinking the 'big gesture' didn't quite work out the way Clark hoped," Pete said quietly. The bell rang, causing the two of them to jump.

"Is he going to be okay?" Lana asked, looking toward the exit doors that Clark had just passed through. "Should we go after him?"

Pete shook his head. "No—I think he just needs some time alone. He'll be okay. Come on," he said, nodding his head toward the end of the hallway. "We'd better get to class."

(Monday after school)

"This is so exciting... getting to use my new keys to unlock my office," Chloe said excitedly as she slid the key into the lock and turned it. "Ta-da!" she exclaimed as the door swung open.

"That's great, Chloe," Doug said. "I'm happy for you. I know how much you said you missed this place."

"Yeah... I can't believe Clark did all this," Chloe said, switching on the lights.

"Sounds like he had an ulterior motive, if you ask me," Doug said, leaning against the doorjamb.

Chloe laughed. "Clark? Oh please. Clark's so hung up on Lana Lang that he hasn't even noticed I'm a girl. Trust me, there are no ulterior motives. He's just a good friend," Chloe said, trying not to focus on what a blatant lie that last statement actually was, at least from her point of view.

"So I've got nothing to worry about, is that what you're telling me?" Doug asked, coming up behind Chloe and encircling her waist with his arms.

"Not a thing," Chloe answered. "And now, to start cranking out the next issue," she continued, tossing her messenger bag down on a nearby empty chair and reaching over to switch on Clark's computer.

"Now? But what about dinner?" Doug complained.

"I just want to get some ideas and stuff down—I won't be here too long. I will just meet you at your house—it's not that far from here." Chloe answered, pulling some notebooks out of her bag.

"Okay... but dinner is at 6, so don't be late. My mom has a thing with tardiness," Doug reminded her, reaching down to kiss her. "I'll see you tonight."

"See you," Chloe said, as Doug left the room. She looked around... it was hard to believe a short while ago, she thought she'd never be sitting in this office again. "I will never complain about late deadlines ever again," she said to herself as the computer booted up and she got to work.

She looked over the desktop, but didn't see any icon for the PageMaker program she used. "Hmm... guess Clark forgot to make a shortcut. I'll have to search for it," she said, moving the mouse over the "Start" button. She clicked on it, and the menu popped up. She started to click on the "Search Files" button, but something higher up caught her eye. She frowned as she looked at the computer screen. Underneath the "Recently Used Documents" folder was a document titled "Chloe.doc".

"Why would Clark title something with my name?" she wondered. She thought about clicking on it, but stopped. "No," she said to herself. "Those are Clark's files. I'm not that nosy." She moved the mouse back down and highlighted the "Search" button, continuing her search for the PageMaker program.

Chloe worked in silence for the next two hours, planning out the next issue's layout so that she could come up with accurate word counts for the story assignments. She glanced up at the clock and realized it was nearly 5PM. Doug's house was close, but not that close, she told herself. She'd better get a move on if she didn't want to be late.

She saved her work to a disc, and clicked over the "Start" key again to shut down the computer. Again, her eyes were drawn to the document titled "Chloe.doc". She stared at it for several moments, moving the mouse over it to highlight it.

"This is crazy," she said aloud, her voice echoing in the silent room. "It's not some deepest, darkest secrets of Clark Kent. Look... here's a file next to it called 'gifts'. Clark's a list maker. You're always making fun of him for it, so that file is probably a list of stuff he wants for Christmas. And this one with my name is probably just a list of the stuff he had to do to get this office back up and running. Nothing big," she said, pressing down on the mouse key. "So there's no harm in just taking a peek," she said. "As long as I'm aware that this logic is just a huge rationalization to myself," she muttered, lifting her finger from the mouse key and waiting for the file to open. "Besides, he's probably got it all encrypted and.... "

Her voice died in her throat as she squinted at the screen, watching as the words unfurled across the screen...

November 3, 2001: So Chloe is out on her date with Doug. I should be happy that she's found someone who can make her happy... but I'm not. Why? Because I think I could make her happier.

Part Fourteen

Martha sliced off a piece of meat loaf and added it to the dinner plate before handing it to Jonathan along with a glass of milk. "At least see if you can get him to eat something," she said.

"I will," Jonathan assured her as he headed out the back door.

Martha followed him to the door and watched through the screen as he made his way across the yard to the barn. Clark had come home early this morning, when he should have been sitting in his first class of the day. At first Martha had thought he was sick, but he assured her he felt fine. He then went up to his loft in the barn and hadn't come down since.

She had brought him some lunch, which Jonathan had brought back later in the afternoon... untouched. She had gone up to try to find out what was wrong several times, but Clark had remained silent, refusing to tell her anything other than that he was fine. She was hoping Jonathan would have better luck.

"Clark," Jonathan called as he headed up the steps to the loft. "Are you still up here, son?" he asked. He came to the top of the steps and saw Clark sitting on the floor, staring out the window of the loft.

"Kinda early to be stargazing, isn't it?" Jonathan asked as he crouched down next to his son. Clark just shrugged.

Jonathan held out the plate. "Your mother wants you to eat something, and I've got strict instructions not to leave until you do." He handed the plate and glass to Clark, who took it unenthusiastically, and settled down on the ground next to Clark.

Jonathan watched as Clark just pushed the food around on the plate with his fork. He sighed, and reached out to touch his son on the shoulder. "Clark... you can talk to me about whatever is bothering you. I won't judge, and if I can help you, I will. If I can't, I'll just listen. I thought you knew that by now."

Clark frowned. "I do... I mean, I know, Dad. It's just... I have to work this out on my own first," he said, turning to look at his father. "I'm not ready to talk about it... but when I am, I know I can come to you."

Jonathan nodded. "Well, that's all I can ask of you. Just know that your mother and I are here... and that we love you very much."

"I know," Clark said.

"Now, you better eat, because if your mom starts to think you don't like her meat loaf, she'll go changing the recipe and I happen to like the recipe," Jonathan said, smiling at his son. He was rewarded with a tiny smile from Clark, who took a few bites of the food and chewed slowly. "Atta boy," Jonathan said, standing up and dusting off his jeans. He started back down the steps, calling out, "If it gets cold, come on in the house."

Jonathan went back to the farmhouse, where Martha opened the back door for him with an anxious expression on her face. "Well... did he say anything?"

"He took a few bites of food, told me he had to work out this stuff on his own, and that when he was ready, he'd talk," Jonathan said, pouring himself a cup of coffee. "If I had to wager a guess, I'd say Clark is doing a little broken heart nursing."

"Chloe... " Martha murmured.

"I guess maybe Clark had some expectations going in to this morning that maybe he shouldn't have had," Jonathan mused.

"Well, what are we going to do?" Martha asked, glancing out the kitchen window toward the barn.

Jonathan shook his head. "Do as he asks. Let him be. When he's ready, he'll come around. This was bound to happen sooner or later, and the first time is always the roughest. Much as you want to mother him, I think you have to just let him work this out on his own. It's part of growing up."

Martha smiled. "And when did you get so wise on broken hearts?"

"I've had a few in my day... luckily the breaker of my heart came to her senses," Jonathan said, giving his wife a roguish grin.

"Well, maybe Chloe will too," Martha said hopefully. 'It could happen,' she thought to herself. After all, she'd spent plenty of time denying she was in love with Jonathan before finally admitting it was the truth... somehow she had a feeling Chloe was the same way.

Chloe took a deep breath, then reached out and pushed the doorbell. It's chimes rang loudly, and a few moments later, Doug came to the door.

"Chloe! Where have you been?" Doug asked. "You're late... come in. Mom's holding dinner," he said, opening the door for her.

Chloe remained standing on the porch, and shook her head. "Doug... I can't."

"Can't what?" Doug asked, confused.

"Come in. See you anymore," Chloe said, wrapping her arms around herself. "I... I didn't mean... it's not that I don't like you. I do."

"So you'd have to stop seeing me because you like me?" Doug asked, growing more confused by the minute. He stepped out on the porch and reached for Chloe, who took a step away from him. "Chloe, what's going on? I thought we were having a good time together?"

"We were... we did," Chloe sighed. "It's just... it's not fair to either one of us."

"Because.... " Doug stated.

"Because I'm in love with someone else," Chloe blurted out. "I'm really sorry.... "

"Let me get this straight. You fell in love with someone else between the time I left you after school, and now? Chloe, don't be ridiculous." Doug said. "Come in, we'll talk."

"No," Chloe said. "I didn't fall in love with someone in a few hours. I've always been in love with this person. I never stopped. And it's not fair to you for me to be with you, wishing I was with someone else."

"So you're dumping me?" Doug asked incredulously.

Chloe nodded. "Yeah, I guess I am. It's just... this guy. There's a chance he feels the same way, and if I don't take that chance, I may never know, and... I can't go on not knowing. I've spent too much time not knowing already." A few tears spilled over her cheeks, and she brushed them away angrily. "I'm sorry.... I didn't meant to hurt you. You're a great guy... somewhere there is a girl out there who is right for you. She's just not me. I'm sorry," Chloe whispered again.

Doug just shook his head. "You women... you never know what you want. A guy treats you right, and you want the one who breaks your heart. Fine... whatever. Just go." With that, Doug turned and stomped angrily back inside the house, slamming the door and turning off the porch light, leaving Chloe standing there in the twilight.

She started down the steps, and began walking toward her house. It took a while, because she didn't exactly live close, and by the time she reached her driveway, night had fallen in force. She stood at the end of the driveway, just staring at her house for a few minutes. She started up the driveway, then stopped at the small dirt path running away from her house... the one she'd always walked along as a kid... the one that lead to Clark's house.

Chloe glanced back at her house once more, before taking off down the path at a dead run. It was dark, despite the limited light cast by the moon, and the path was overgrown in parts. She tripped and stumbled over a rock, falling and twisting her ankle. She shook it off, and continued running down the path toward Clark's.

She wasn't much of a runner, and her chunky heeled shoes weren't helping. It was at least a mile and a half to Clark's house, and by the time she saw the lights of the farmhouse, her lungs felt like they were on fire. Still, she picked up her pace, spurned on by the sight of the lights.

She ran up the driveway, and around to the back door, where she pounded on it as if her life depended on it. 'My life with Clark kind of does depend on it,' she thought as she pounded again.

"Chloe!" Martha exclaimed, taking in the sight of Chloe standing at the back door. She was breathing heavily, her shoes and pants were spattered with mud from the path, and one of her sleeves was torn. "What's wrong?" she asked, holding open the door.

"Clark... where's Clark?" Chloe managed to get out between breaths.

"He's up in the loft... " Martha began. She didn't get the rest of the words out of her mouth before Chloe had turned and started running for the barn.

Chloe climbed up the ladder to the loft, then took the steps to Clark's "Fortress of Solitude" two at a time. She stopped at the top of the stairs, watching him for a moment. He had his back to her and was looking out his telescope at something.

"Clark," she said softly.

He turned to look at her, shocked. "What are you doing here?" he asked. "I thought you were having dinner... I thought you had other plans," he finished, unable to bring himself to mention her date with Doug.

"I did," Chloe said, sitting on a bale of hay to catch her breath.

Clark just looked at her, taking in her ragged appearance. "Did he try something... try to hurt you?" he asked worriedly. 'If he laid a finger on her, I'll kill him,' Clark thought to himself.

"No... no... nothing like that," Chloe said. She glanced down at herself. "Oh... I ran here... the old path. It was dark, and I fell a couple of times."

"Are you okay... are you hurt?" Clark asked. Chloe smiled at the concern in his voice.

"I'm fine," she said. "I just had to get here in a hurry. I needed to talk to you."

"What about?" Clark asked.

"About this." She stood up, reached into her pocket, and pulled out a piece of paper. She held it out to him, and he noticed the paper was trembling a bit.

Clark reached out for the paper, and had a sudden intake of breath when he realized what was on it. "You went into my files?" he said with disbelief.

"It was an accident... sort of," Chloe said. "But... the thing is... "

"I can't believe you!" Clark yelled, waving the paper. "I mean, yes, I let you use my computer, but that was because I trusted you to not go snooping through my personal files! Guess you have what it takes to be a reporter after all!"

He stomped past her, and Chloe reached out and grabbed his arm, "Clark, wait... "

He shook out of her grasp angrily. "I trusted you," he said flatly. He started down the steps to the loft, but Chloe's next words stopped him in his tracks.

"I'm in love with you, Clark," she said quietly. He turned and looked at her, so she continued. "I didn't mean to look at that file..it was just there, and it had my name on it, and I was curious. I didn't mean to violate your trust... but I'm not sorry that I read that, because I feel the same way." She climbed down the steps of the loft, coming to stand in front of him.

Neither of them said anything for several moments, simply standing there staring at each other. Finally, Clark broke the silence. "You love me?" he asked, amazed.

"For some reason, yes," Chloe smiled. "For a while now... since I moved here and met you."

"Why didn't you say anything?" Clark asked.

"Why didn't you?" she countered.

"I wanted to... I mean, after I woke up and realized it... but you were with Doug and I thought that you were happy with him. I just wanted you to be happy... I didn't want to mess that up if you'd already found it," Clark replied.

"See... open lines of communication... we need to keep those," Chloe said, stepping closer to him. "Clark?" she asked.

"Yeah?" he answered.

"If you wanted to kiss me now, you could," she said, smiling.

"O... okay... " Clark stammered, starting to lower his lips to hers. They were a fraction of an inch apart when Clark pulled back. "I can't."

"You can't kiss me?" Chloe asked, stunned.

Clark shook his head no, and Chloe stepped back, swallowing hard. 'I'm such a fool,' she thought. 'He loves me, but not like that.' She started to walk around him, but he reached out and pulled her back in front of him.

"Whatever you're thinking, that's not why," Clark said. "It's just.... I want us to be honest, and if we start this now... I'm not being honest. I don't want that." He walked away, and climbed down the ladder to the barn floor. He waited by the ladder, looking up at her. "Come on," he said, holding his hand out to her. "I need you to come with me."

She looked at him quizzically, but did as he asked and climbed down the ladder.

Chloe stood in the Kent's storm cellar, staring at the mysterious grey object lying on the floor. "So you're telling me that when the meteor shower hit Smallville, this thing was in it, and you were inside of it, and your parents didn't really adopt you from an orphanage in Metropolis, but they found you in the middle of a field." Her mouth was saying the words, but she wasn't sure her brain could believe it.

Clark nodded. "Yep."

"So where are you from?" Chloe asked, kneeling to touch the pod.

Clark shook his head. "I don't know. I don't know anything about that. I didn't even know this until my dad told me a couple of months ago."

"So this is what you meant... when you wrote, " Chloe said, standing up and pulling the paper she'd shown Clark earlier from her pocket, " 'But now, knowing what I know about myself... knowing how I came into this world, knowing—or actually not knowing—who I really am... that changes everything.' I thought you were just talking about not knowing where you came from because you were adopted, not that you... really didn't know where you came from," Chloe said, continuing to stare at the pod.

"I always knew I was different... I had super strength and super speed, but I didn't know anything about all this. Then, the day I saved Lex... he hit me at 60 miles per hour. I should have been dead, but I didn't have a scratch. Dad figured at that point, he couldn't hide it anymore from me." He crossed the storm cellar and stood in front of her. "Chloe, I know it's a lot to take in... believe me, I wanted to tell you as soon as I found out... but I couldn't."

"So why tell me now?" she asked curiously.

"Because... because I never thought that you felt the way about me that you do. And I couldn't start anything with you without telling you this. That wouldn't be fair to you, and it wouldn't be honest of me... and I want to be honest with you. And I couldn't let you make a decision about being with me without knowing the whole story. If this changes things... the way you feel... I completely understand." He reached down and covered the pod up again with the tarp.

"Well, it is a lot to take in... " Chloe said quietly.

Clark opened the storm cellar doors and helped her out. "Chloe... I know what I said before... when I kind of blew my top... but I didn't mean it. I know I can trust you... I've always been able to trust you," he said. She just nodded, and the two walked slowly across the yard toward the house. "What are you thinking?" Clark asked, after a few moments of silence.

"I'm thinking out of all the possible things I thought you were going to tell me, telling me you arrived in a meteor shower was fairly low on the list," she replied as they climbed the steps to the front porch.

"Are you gonna put me on your Wall of Weird?" he asked.

Chloe laughed. "Of course not. The Wall of Weird is for things that are weird. You're not weird."

"I'm not?" Clark asked. He hopped off the porch and before Chloe could blink, he zipped around the outside of the house twice. "What about now?" he said, skidding to a stop in front of Chloe and taking a seat next to her on the porch swing.

She smiled. "No... you're not weird. You're... unique."

"Unique, huh?" Clark said.

"Yep... unique, and all mine." She smiled as Clark turned to her with a shocked expression. She reached out and cupped his cheek. "Clark... you're still the same person I fell in love with. You've never pretended to be anything you're not... at least not here," she said, taking her hand from his cheek and placing it over his heart. "Not where it counts." She tilted her head and looked at him curiously. "What are you thinking?" she asked.

"I'm thinking... wow," Clark answered.

"Wanna know what I'm thinking?" she asked.

"Sure... I never know what's going on inside that head of yours," Clark replied.

"I'm thinking I would kind of like that kiss right about now... " she smiled.

"Oh," Clark said, sliding closer to her on the swing. "I think I might be able to fulfill that request." He reached over and tucked her hair behind her ears, looking straight into her eyes as he did so. "I do love you, Chloe," he whispered. "I'm sorry it took me so long to figure it out, but I'm glad I did." With that, he lowered his lips to hers and kissed her gently.

Neither of them noticed Martha and Jonathan, peeking through the living room curtains with smiles on their faces. "Come on," Martha said, turning and pulling Jonathan away from the window. "Let them be."

"In a minute," Jonathan replied. He grabbed a piece of paper from next to the phone and scribbled a quick note to Clark on it. He laid it down next to the phone, along with the keys to his truck. "Just leaving him a note, telling him he can take the truck to take Chloe home," he said. "If he comes up for air and stops in to see it," he said, peeking out the curtains once more.

"Jonathan!" Martha exclaimed. "Leave those kids alone and come to bed."

"All right, all right," he said. He smiled at his wife and put his arm around her as they walked away from the window. "You know... we had our first kiss on that same porch swing," he said.

"I know," Martha said. "Maybe it'll bring them some of our good luck. They deserve it."

"Clark found us. He found Chloe. I think he's blessed with enough luck for all of us," Jonathan said, as he hit the switch next to the front door and turned out the porch light, plunging the front porch into darkness.

Outside, Clark and Chloe, still wrapped up in each other, didn't even notice.