Chapter Text
“Well, gentlemen, the dust has barely settled on another tremendous Super Bowl,” the host said. “But the time has come to look ahead now to the NFL draft in just over two months. Let’s hear your Mock Drafts; Coach, who do you have number one?”
“Thanks, Rich,” the first guest said. “There’s only one choice for the number one pick for me - Clark Kent; All-American Quarterback, he broke every passing record for the Met U Bulldogs, and many think he was robbed of a Heisman Trophy.”
“I hear you, Coach,” the second guest said. “Clark Kent is a great first pick, but he just doesn’t make sense for the Star City Stags; they have veteran Quarterback Brian Drew coming back from injury, and they look very much in win-now mode. I believe the best overall player in this Draft is Gotham City University wide receiver Victor Stone - the player who actually won the Heisman.”
“Stone’s a good player,” the first guest agreed. “But you can’t let a player like Clark Kent get past you. He’s going to the Hall of Fame someday, you mark my words.”
“But he makes a lot more sense for the number two pick; the Metropolis Sharks,” the second guest carried on. “They have a gaping hole at Quarterback, and there’s a lot of noise that the owner’s son, Lex Luthor, is personally involved in negotiations to trade the number one pick - maybe even multiple first rounders as well as players. The Stags could get a king’s ransom and still get the best player in the draft at number two.”
“But they’d be handing the NFL’s next superstar Quarterback to their division rivals,” the host reminded him. “I mean, the Quarterback is still the most valuable position in football. I just can’t see the Stags letting a player of Kent’s calibre go to the Sharks without an insane offer.”
From her desk in the basement of the Daily Planet, young reporter Chloe Sullivan was doing her best to pretend not to be interested in the discussion on the little TV. Several of her male colleagues were gathered around having their own excited conversations about local hero, Clark Kent.
If they only knew , she thought to herself, before finally giving up on her boring-as-all-hell article on a local craft fair. She leant back for a moment and stretched out. Chloe was a 22 year old, pretty blonde and a graduate from Metropolis University herself, finishing top of her class in Journalism. She’d been three times employed by the Daily Planet, including at least one disastrous firing after attempting to blackmail the head of the Luthor family, but this last stint with the newspaper seemed to have stuck. Life was looking pretty good at the moment for Chloe.
Suddenly a coffee cup appeared under her nose; almond mocha with extra whip. She spun her chair around brightly, her face splitting into a beautiful smile she saved only for him.
“Jimmy, you sweetheart,” she admonished him, though only half-heartedly. Her boyfriend, Jimmy Olsen, ace photographer with the Planet, snuck a quick kiss in while their colleagues were still debating the football.
“How’s your morning been?” he asked, popping on the edge of her desk as she took her first swig of the coffee, shuddering slightly in pleasure.
“Oh, the absolute dullest,” Chloe confirmed. “This craft fair story is not writing itself, I can tell you that for free.”
“You could use a break,” Jimmy said. “I just spoke to Lewis; they want to see you on the third floor.”
“On Sports?” she asked, her face frowning. She’d only been on the third floor once, and that had been while lost looking for a bathroom at the office Christmas party where she’d hit the mulled wine a little too hard.
“Yeah, no idea what it’s about,” he added, though not convincingly. Chloe took another sip of coffee, though she made a point to not take her eyes off of him while she did so. Jimmy looked nervous, but Chloe was full of caffeine and, thus, goodwill, so she let him have his secret for the moment.
She made her way up to the third floor, ignoring the “No Girlz Allowed” sign and sweeping into the office. Most floors of the Daily Planet looked the same - a large bullpen in the centre with a desk rammed into every conceivable space, and few offices for editors and senior reporters around the outside. Third was slightly unusual in that women tended not to last very long in the bullpen up here - a few misguided interns had tried their luck up here but were quickly scared back downstairs by office sleazebag Trick Edmonds.
Trick the Prick, as they called him on every other floor, had noticed Chloe’s entrance immediately. His suit was slightly too large for his smaller frame, and his dark hair far too slicked back, but he certainly wasn’t unattractive to look at. Unfortunately he made up for that with his personality.
“Sullivan, welcome to the third floor,” Trick said, extending a hand. “Allow me to give you the tour.” He smirked - perhaps the most slappable smirk Chloe had ever seen in her life. She kept her hands at her sides.
“No need, Trick, Lewis has asked to see me,” she said. I’ll see what he wants, and then I’ll never set foot on this floor ever again.
Trick didn’t look too happy about that. She made her way across the bullpen to the Sport Editor’s Office, where the door hung open apparently waiting for her.
“Sullivan, please come in, shut the door,” Lewis beckoned her in. From Chloe’s experience there were two types of sports reporters; those who had failed in their own sporting aspirations and were somewhat embittered by the experience, like Trick, and those who lacked any sort of physical ability and were just nerds for the sport. She couldn’t imagine Lewis ever participating in a sport of any kind unless it was as the ball - he was very short, almost as wide as he was tall, somehow both bald on top but also very hairy all around. He waddled over to this desk like a penguin and dropped into an ancient looking chair. He gestured to Chloe to sit in another chair that looked so old and worn the Daily Planet offices might have been built around it.
“You wanted to see me, sir?” Chloe asked.
“That was some nice work on the Luthor wedding you did, Sullivan,” Lewis said with a grin. “You know, you were the talk of the editor’s meetings for a little bit.”
“Thank you, sir.” She’d lucked out with being the only reporter allowed into the very private wedding of Lex Luthor.
“You’re from Smallville aren’t you, Sullivan?” he asked.
“Actually I’m from Metropolis originally, but-”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Lewis cut her off dismissively. “But you went to Smallville High - that’s why you were in tight with Mrs Luthor, right?”
“We were best friends at school, yes,” Chloe said, wondering where this line of thought was headed.
“So, you would have been in classes with Clark Kent?” he asked. Chloe felt her blood run cold.
“I mean, we weren’t exactly friends,” Chloe said. Lewis waved a hand, though he never took his eyes off her.
“But you know people in Smallville? His teachers, his friends, his family - you know them?”
“You could say that,” Chloe agreed.
“There it is,” Lewis said, leaning back in his chair. “As the Met U star Quarterback we tried to get hold of Kent many times - Trick even camped outside the practice field for a week. He won’t respond to interview requests, and he’s very good at avoiding us - almost like he hears us coming a mile off. We don’t know why, but he isn’t fond of reporters.”
Tell me about it, Chloe thought mournfully.
“But you have an in,” he said enthusiastically. “You can go back to Smallville, sweet talk his friends and family, set up an interview.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I mean, like I said - Clark and I aren’t exactly best friends,” Chloe said.
“Look, Sullivan,” Lewis began, suddenly now looking very serious. “That Luthor Wedding story was great, but exclusives like that don’t fall into your lap every day. You’ve been here, what, three years? And you’ve had one story of note. What have they got you working on at the moment?”
“I’m working on a very important article on the Metropolis Craft Fair,” Chloe said with as much false pride as she could muster.
“A sure-fire Pulitzer, I’ll bet,” Lewis snorted. “You know that Old Willie retired this year.” He gestured behind Chloe to an empty corner office. Old Willie Birmingham had been the Metropolis Sharks reporter for the Daily Planet for as long as there had been Metropolis Sharks, however the toll of being a lifelong Sharks fan finally caught up with him with his fifth heart attack, and now he’d finally retired. “Well, I have a corner office and a need for a good new reporter. Look out there.” He gestured to the pen. “It’s full of old men like me, or young pricks like Trick Edmonds. This whole floor could do with a woman’s touch, and you’re a good reporter.” He held up an old newspaper - Chloe recognised the Luthor Wedding pictures Jimmy had taken immediately. “Too good to be wasting away in the basement.”
“With all due respect, sir, I don’t know anything about sports,” Chloe said.
“Oh,” Lewis said with feigned surprise. “Because a source told me you went to every Met U Bulldogs game the last four years.” Chloe blinked.
“How could you know that?”
Lewis held up his hands. “First rule of journalism, kid - always protect your source.”
Jimmy , Chloe thought.
“Look, I get it, Sullivan, you want to be a real reporter, and maybe you don’t see Sports as real news, am I right?” he asked. He didn’t wait for an answer. “But I promise you other people see it differently. This would be a regular column, free Sharks tickets, you’ll travel wherever they travel - they’re adding more games in London now. And this could be a big stepping stone to something else.”
Chloe still wasn’t convinced.
“Also, if it does make a difference, Trick will be furious,” Lewis added. He gestured to where Trick was currently standing in the bullpen, unabashedly leering into the office with his arms folded.
“Can I bring Jimmy with me?” she asked.
“Olsen?” Lewis asked. “If you get that interview with Kent then yeah, we can spare him.”
Chloe smiled. Looks like a trip back to Smallville was in order after all.
#
It had been a bittersweet morning walking around Smallville. On the one hand she had met plenty of familiar faces, including around the Talon (“Of course you’re on first name terms with everyone in the coffee shop,” Jimmy had said dryly). The whole town was still decked out in Smallville Crows banners, however the smiling face of Clark Kent was everywhere. Every shop had a Clark Kent poster or banner and every person couldn’t wait to tell this big city reporter everything they knew about Clark Kent (not that much of it was news to Chloe).
There was one thing they were unanimous on though - Clark Kent would definitely be a Metropolis Shark. Either the Star City Stags would pass on a Quarterback, or Lex Luthor would work out a deal to bring his friend to the Sharks.
In Chloe’s head, the first twist of her story was already written - somehow, no national news outlet had managed to pick up on the friendship Lex and Clark once enjoyed. Or, more intriguingly, how they definitely were not friends anymore. It made Lex’s pursuit of Clark feel somewhat odd.
She’d hoped to speak to Clark’s mother, Martha, first, however she was enjoying a rare day off from the Talon. After a quick stop at the graveyard to pay her respects (terrible idea, she had to reapply her makeup after this) she hopped back in her faithful VW beetle and headed for the Kent Farm.
“Do you want me to come in with you?” Jimmy asked. Chloe cast a look over at the barn.
“No, there’s an order you have to do things in with Clark,” she said knowingly. If he was there then he’d already have heard her coming.
Jimmy waited faithfully in the car while she went up and knocked on the front door of the house. Martha Kent answered fairly quickly, and she couldn’t have been happier to see Chloe, sweeping her up into a hug.
“Chloe, it has been too long,” she said. “How have you been?”
“I’m doing great, Mrs Kent,” she beamed. “I’m a reporter with the Daily Planet now. That’s my boyfriend, Jimmy.” She waved at Jimmy, who dutifully waved back.
“You must be here for Clark,” Martha said, unable to contain her excitement. “He’s in the barn, as always - I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you.”
Unsurprising , Chloe thought. The barn had very much been Clark’s fortress growing up; his own place of solitude to be alone with his thoughts. Chloe tried to keep her breathing and her steps steady as she made her way over to the barn, trying not to stumble in front of Jimmy who was probably wondering what was going on. He’d hadn’t met Clark yet - she was slightly worried how he would take to meeting the previous object of her affections.
Come on, Chloe, you’ve walked into this barn a thousand times , she said to herself. Memories came flooding back as she crossed the threshold - this is where she’d kissed Clark for the first time; where he’d asked her to the Spring Formal as freshmen…
And where they’d last spoken, after Jonathan Kent’s funeral.
Chloe stepped fully into the barn, and looked up - he was waiting for her, at the top of the stairs. She felt her breath catch in her throat as she realised what she’d dreaded - no matter what had come before, or how well things were going with Jimmy, this was the man she’d always loved, and she probably always would. She had to focus a bit to see him - the sun was at his back, blinding her. His hair was the same - beautiful, tousled locks of black falling over his eyes - his blue t-shirt was still far too tight, and even from this distance his green eyes seemed to pierce right through her. She felt naked in front of him.
Which, in fairness, she may as well have been , she thought.
“Clark, your mom said you’d be in here,” Chloe said, trying to sound like their familiar, nonchalant greeting from better days.
“What are you doing here, Chloe?” he asked sternly. His face was unreadable - if he actually was happy to see her he was hiding it well.
“I came to see you, Clark,” she said, smiling. “How have you been?”
“I’m fine, Chloe.”
She stared expectantly at him.
That’s it? She bit her tongue, determined not to tell him off. Something was wrong in this conversation. It felt like she had something to apologise for, like it hadn’t been him that broke her heart all those years ago when he ditched his job at the school newspaper to chase after his football dreams.
“This is ridiculous, Clark, I’m coming up,” Chloe said, stomping up the stairs. “You can act like you’re not happy to see me if you want, but I’m happy to see you .”
She threw her arms around him like nothing had ever happened. Clark tensed up for a moment, but he did pat her gently on the back.
“There, was that so hard?” Chloe asked, stepping back to leer at him. Clark suddenly looked embarrassed, like his carefully raised guards had been brought crashing down.
“Why are you here, Chloe?” he asked.
“I told you - I came to see you,” she said. “I’m working for the Daily Planet now. I hear you don’t like talking to reporters, and they asked me to come and talk to you.”
“Oh, I see,” Clark turned away. “Chloe Sullivan, ace reporter, chasing the story. As always.” He practically spat the last two words.
“Well, given the warm welcome I’ve received, are you surprised I haven’t been here earlier?” she asked. She walked around the loft to be back in his eyeline. “Clark, I’m here to make you a deal.”
“A deal?” He looked puzzled.
“A deal,” she repeated. “You’re big news now, Clark Kent. You’re going to be the number one draft pick. Over the next few months people are going to be looking into your story. You may have avoided Trick Edmonds and Willie Birmingham of the Daily Planet, but national news outlets are going to start looking into Clark Kent and his story.” Clark shook his head.
“And they’ll start digging,” she carried on. “They’ll know everything - who are your friends? Who are your enemies ?” She gave him a knowing look. “Who are your parents? Your adoption .”
“My adoption?” He suddenly looked very startled.
“Yes, and if a fourteen year old girl with a computer can find out your adoption papers were forged by Lionel Luthor, then a journalist with the resources of a national news outlet can definitely find it.”
“So what’s the deal?” he asked.
“Get in front of the story,” she said. “They don’t have any reason to dig into your past if you give them something up front. It doesn’t have to be the whole truth,” she said, reading the look on his face. “You present a version of your story that’s plausible, and no one has any reason to go looking for anything otherwise.”
Clark sat on the edge of the couch, deep in thought for a moment.
“And what do you get out of this?” he asked.
“I mean, I’d obviously be the interviewer. I won’t lie to you, Clark - the Planet have offered me a big promotion if I can get this interview. They’re desperate.”
Clark nodded. “That’s very honest of you, Chloe,” he praised her. Chloe grimaced.
“Cards all on the table, Clark,” she agreed. “I’ve also… Missed you.”
“Oh?” he asked. Chloe scrutinised his face. He’d quickly reformed his unreadable expression, but for a moment his guard looked like it might have dropped and he looked almost pleased.
“We were best friends once,” she said. “And we’ve both been through a lot without each other. It might also be a chance for us to clear the air.”
“How does this work then?” he asked.
“Well,” she paused. “You’d sleep on it, talk it over with your agent and your mom. And then tomorrow we’d meet somewhere, maybe here?” She looked at him for confirmation but he wasn’t giving anything away now. “Yeah, here would be nice. We’ll have a photographer take some photos, and then you and me would do the interview and we’ll work out what you want to say.” She looked expectantly at him. He was deep in thought for a moment. She bit her lip.
#
Martha Kent had initially tried to insist they stay the night, though Chloe pleaded that the Daily Planet had set her and Jimmy up in a nice B&B and you had to make the most of things while the company was paying. It also avoided the slightly awkward conversation of where Jimmy would sleep - she remembered Lois recalling a particularly awkward discussion Jonathan Kent had had with her once about rules around having company visiting, and decided that he certainly would not have approved of a young friend of his son’s sharing a bed with her boyfriend under his roof. Best not to push it.
The other reason was to give herself some space. Speaking with Clark again after all these years had taken a toll on her. She needed another latte immediately (“Honestly, I’m worried, Chloe; I’ve seen crack addicts with less dependency than you,” Jimmy said), even then it took probably a good hour before she stopped shaking slightly.
That night in bed she lay awake long after Jimmy’s breathing had turned to snores. She thought back to four years ago, on the Smallville Crow’s football field.
“As much as I’d like to blame the pom-pom juice for this, I obviously have those feelings still in me somewhere,” she’d said to Clark, looking up at him with eyes full of hope.
“I’m sorry, Chloe,” Clark replied. “I don’t think it’s a good idea if I come back to the Torch. I think it would be best if I focused on football. For both of us.”
Chloe had nodded and said she understood. Lois had told him off for her, but Lois was soon gone back to college too. The first few days had been fine really. Yes, she was the last remaining person on the school newspaper (the younger students didn’t seem to have any taste for journalism), and initially she missed not only Clark, but Pete and Lois as well. However, days turned to weeks - she’d pass him in the corridors and joke “Hey, you haven’t forgotten about me, have you?” or “What about an interview for the Torch with the Superstar Quarterback?”
But Clark didn’t have the time for her anymore. There were another few weeks where she’d keep trying. She’d see him coming in the hallway and prepare her biggest smile for him, but his face was hard, unreadable. She wondered if he knew the smile was fake and inside she was dying.
His team began running interference.
“Look Sullivan,” a lineman cornered her one day after Chemistry. “You need to leave Kent alone. He doesn’t need you bothering him.” She’d tried to laugh it off, but for the first time in her career there was no Torch issue that week. She locked the office door and sat on the floor, her only safe space where she could be alone with her emotions.
Then Alicia had shown her Clark catching a car like a beach ball.
That night Chloe had torn down the Wall of Weird. Was this why Clark had cut her off? If he was meteor infected himself, was he worried about one day finding his own way onto this wall?
She didn’t pry. She didn’t snoop. She’d made promises before and intended to keep them. But at Alicia’s grave she had tried to comfort him - if he ever needed her, she’d be there.
The day came sooner than she thought when she found him wandering around outside the Talon apparently with no memory. She brought him home, and gently helped him come to terms with his powers and his secret.
“We must be pretty good friends if I trusted you with all this,” he’d said to her. She shifted nervously, avoiding his gaze.
“Actually we aren’t really friends anymore,” she said mournfully. “We sort of fell out.”
“Why?” he asked.
Because you don’t trust me , Chloe thought. You don’t trust me to not snoop. You don’t trust me not to reveal your secret. You don’t trust me and my feelings to be around you. Chloe felt her eyes welling up with tears. She quickly sniffed them back as best she could.
“You wanted to play football; I stayed with the newspaper,” she said. He didn’t look convinced. But for those few days she had her best friend back. They investigated together, he listened to her advice. It was as close to perfect as life had been for a long time.
He got his memory back at Belle Reve, finally, though he never came to see her after that. At the Prom she tried one last time to reconcile.
“Clark, I know you’re here with Lana, but would you like to dance?” she’d asked hopefully.
“I’m sorry, Chloe. I don’t think that’s a good idea.” he replied. Then went back to his date with Lana.
Lois eventually found her in the Torch again, crying and holding her Prom Queen’s crown.
“What’s the use in being Prom Queen if you have no one to dance with?” she’d sobbed as Lois held her.
“Listen, kiddo, don’t think about Clark Kent for another minute,” Lois said, hugging her. “You are going to grow so far beyond his one horse town. You are going to be an ace big city reporter like you always dreamed, and you’ll never have to hear the name Clark Kent ever again.”