"Go By"

// 1// 2// 3// 4// 5// 6// 7// 8// 9// 10// 11// 12// 13// 14// 15 // 16 // 17 // 18 // 19 // 20 // 21


** Written secondly to the YCEUWJ, I'm surprised I tried for a multichapter so soon. I guess I didn't realize how long it would run, and looking back, I probably would have never written this if I knew. But it was fun, and I wish I could have finished it within the year span. Oh, how life gets in the way.**

Title: Go By
Season: 1 for now
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: The CW and WB own everything. I own nothing.
Couples: Chlark
Summary: The story picks up right after Vortex/ Tempest, then quickly diverges in AU. But fate has a way of course correcting.



/// chapter one ///



Clark Kent bent to pick up remaining debris that scattered across the family farm. After all that had happened in the last couple of days, he was relieved life was back to normal. Well, as normal as it got for Clark anyway.

Smallville witnessed another unforgiving tornado strike that season. It wasn't as if the community wasn’t unprepared for such a threat, they did live in Kansas after all. But twisters a quarter of a mile wide never failed to shake up a town. Clark himself never felt endangered, but when it came to the people he loved, he would always worry. Clark just couldn’t be everywhere at once. During the storm, he had rushed off to save a girl named Lana Lang, only to have his own father almost taken away from him.

What happens next time if I can’t save everyone? Clark turned towards the yellow farm house in the distance.

He smiled warmly, knowing his parents were safe inside.

Jonathan Kent had endured the worst of the tornado threat, being trapped under ground, almost suffocating to death. Currently, he was retired to the living room couch.

After many stubborn protests from Jonathan and an even more stubborned persistence from Martha, Mr. Kent remained on the couch. But the willful farmer in Jonathan always kept busy. He didn’t know what a “sick day” meant. That morning he kept busy alternating between polishing his wrist watch and fixing the leaky faucet that never quite got repaired the first, second or third time.

But the day was still early. Clark had super-sped through most of his and his father’s chores already, but he slowed to a human pace as he took his time walking over the acres that had belonged to the Kents for generations. He paused along the way to gather stray debris that had blown over during the tornado days ago. Bending down, Clark peered past the short distance that led to the Lang residence.

He didn’t want to admit it, but it felt good coming to Lana’s rescue. But he couldn’t explain to her how he had gotten from the school gym to the bus stop so fast, nor could he explain to himself the strange sensation of flight he experienced when he lifted Lana away from her truck while inside the tornado's spin. He couldn’t rationalize that one to himself either.

Clark shrugged and chalked it up to just another weird occurrence in his life that would probably never be explained. Ever since his parents showed him his “ship” they stashed away in the cellar, he couldn’t stop questioning who and where his birth parents were.

Where is a good question. Anywhere between Kansas and the next universe, pick a spot. He sighed, bending to pick up another piece of a stray roof shingle.

Clark hadn’t seen Lana since that day of the twisters. He was too afraid she would confront him with all the questions he couldn’t share answers to. He would have to lie. Clark was always dodging someone or something. He was perpetually hiding from everyone.

Like now.

Clark’s thick hands strained inside his work gloves, making the seams bulge. He hated wearing them. He never needed gloves since bullets couldn‘t penetrate his skin never the less splinters, but his father insisted that he take precautions and get used to wearing the typical things any human would. Jonathan’s line of thinking was that the more Clark practiced at being “human” the less anyone would suspect otherwise. And human people needed gloves when picking up jagged shards and barbed wire.

He wondered if there would ever be a day that he could stop hiding who he really was. That is if he actually knew who or what he was. There were so many questions that no one had answers for.

But he kept in mind his mother’s words of optimism.

In time.

Clark sighed again, dusting off his work gloves on his knee. He straightened up and continued pushing the wheel barrow along its path. As he did, a glint in the horizon caught his attention.

A familiar car was approaching.

“Chloe.” Clark smiled, a new light reflecting in his clear blues. He set the wheel barrow on its legs and shoved his work gloves in his pockets, striding towards her direction.


*

“Okay, Sullivan. Just drive up, toss him the keys, and get it over with.” Chloe exhaled sharply, and looked at herself in her rear mirror. She wished she would have added just a touch more of mascara this morning. She hadn’t thought it would have been this important to look her best, but halfway driving to the Kent’s she realized this was the last time she’d ever see Clark.

Why did it feel like an anvil dropping in her stomach when she thought about it?
She and Clark were friends. Just like how she and Pete were friends. Except Pete wasn’t Clark.

Chloe glanced at her self once more in the mirror and sighed, frustrated.

Yea, she thought, I totally should have put on more eyeliner.

As she drove closer to the Kent’s she could see the yellow farm house beaming brightly against the reds of the barn’s walls. She didn’t spot Clark until she was almost in the drive. He was wearing his usual work clothes: blue t-shirt, jeans, old red jacket. She smiled, idly guessing that twenty years from now, Clark Kent would probably still wear primary colors.

Chloe parked, and stepped out from her clunky, vintage car and joined Clark who stood near the wooden fence. She tried really hard not to notice how adorable he was with his hair tousled amongst his forehead. Or the way his shirt stretched against his broad, solid chest in the most pleasing way. Chloe also noticed the bright, cheery expression her best friend wore as she strode up to him. She thought best to focus on that.

“What do I owe the honor of this surprise visit?” Clark said, smiling, “Have you come to help the ‘post-disaster clean-up crew’ at the Kent farm?” He teased, still grinning happily.

“Ha-ha,“ she smiled wryly, eying the wheelbarrow behind him and the gloves tucked into his pocket, “Don’t you know my tolerance for manual labor?”

“Tolerance? I thought it was zero tolerance.” Clark laughed.

She chuckled, joining him, “So you do know!”

Clark grinned wide. Laughing with Chloe was so automatic. It always was.

“So, how’s your dad?” She shifted gears, her face of genuine concern.

“He’s fine. Mom’s got him on couch arrest for now. Just so he can rest and not over do it. But he hates it. You know my dad.”

Chloe nodded. A few moments passed as she stood there looking up at her best friend, debating how she should go about this.

She held out a small, dangling key ring in her fingers, with several keys swaying to and fro. Clark recognized them instantly.

“The keys to the Torch?” Clark’s brows rose as he tentatively shifted his blue eyes away from the key ring to meet her hazel ones.

“Catch.”

Chloe pitched them underhand, sailing in air until Clark reached out single handedly.

A perfect catch.

Chloe smiled to herself. It was just like Clark to make everything look so easy.

He held the set of keys in his palm, quietly feeling the residual warmth left by hers.

He stood there waiting for an explanation.

“Congratulations, Mr. Kent. You’re the new editor of the Torch.”

Clark squinted, “What?”

Chloe leaned against her car door, and surveyed the Kent Farm. “Well I had to choose someone to take over. You know someone to ’hold down the fort’ so to speak. It was either you or Pete. Don’t get me wrong, it was a tough decision to make,” she teased with simulated gravity.

“But, I just have this hunch that Clark Kent has this major responsibility complex and would never let me down.” Chloe finished, smiling affectionately.

Clark looked at her a moment longer and then extended his hand, offering the keys back to her. “Chloe, what are you talking about?”

“I’m moving back to Metropolis.” Chloe spoke, shrugging shyly. “My dad was offered a great job there a few weeks ago. He wasn’t sure about taking it before, but after the damage the tornados wreaked at the plant it won’t be running for months; which means he wouldn’t be working for months here in Smallville, which means we’re moving back to Metropolis.” She caught her breath and shifted her eyes to Clark’s mixed expression.

“Permanently?” Clark’s shoulders dropped. He knew the Sullivan’s had moved to here ever since the fertilizer plant had been built, but he never really considered the possibility that the move was temporary. He’d grown accustomed to Gabe Sullivan’s daughter. He was really... attached.

“Well, yea.” Chloe shrugged again. She carefully avoided Clark’s eyes as she continued, “Metropolis has a lot more opportunities, you know? My dad only moved us down here for the Luthorcorp gig. But now that’s gone, there really isn’t anything here for us.”

Clark thought about that for a moment.

“But you love the Torch. You can’t just leave it.”

Chloe flipped her short bangs away from her eyes and smiled sadly. “I love a lot of things Clark.”

She paused. Whoa, where am I going with this?

She’d said too much, and at her own words, her composure slipped. Recovering, she pasted on a smile that might have been a tad too bright.

“I mean, I love journalism, not just the Torch.” Good recovery.

“Besides, there’s bigger fish to fry in the city. I do have my internship this summer at the Planet. Maybe something else will cook up after that.” She crossed her arms in front, praying that she didn’t break down right there in the middle of the Kent farm, with the boy she pinned for with witnessing it.

When Clark stayed quiet a little longer than expected, Chloe’s smile faded uneasily and shifted to a desperate attempt to stay cool. She would reign in her repressed emotions, dammit. Even if it meant looking stoic.

Clark, say something, Chloe begged inwardly.


*


Clark sighed and pocketed the keys. It was obvious Chloe had already made up her mind. You didn’t have to remind Clark how stubborn Chloe could be once she made up her mind. He saw how serious her face was. She seemed to be making a lot of decisions lately. He thought about what she had said earlier in the week, about them just being friends. The way Chloe talked about it made it seem like it was no big deal. And it wasn’t, as Clark was concerned. He always knew they would be friends, and he certainly didn’t want to screw that up. Except now Chloe was leaving. And now it was a big deal.

“When do you leave?” Clark questioned timidly.

“Tonight.” Chloe said quickly, “My dad starts the job this week, so…” she tilted her head to the side, still avoiding eye contact, “we leave tonight as soon as the last box is packed.”

Wow. That wasn’t what Clark expected her to say at all. He thought she might leave at the end of the summer, or maybe the end of this month. Tonight was just so sudden.

Several beats passed before Clark actually said anything. “Wow, tonight. That’s..” Clark frowned, “that’s really soon, Chlo.”

She returned her own disappointed expression, but kept a chipper, upbeat voice. “Yea, well you know I was always destined to go back. Maybe the sooner the better.” She trailed off, smiling sheepishly.

Destiny. If you had asked a younger, pre-move to Smallville Chloe Sullivan what her destiny was, she would have told you it was Metropolis, reporting for the greatest newspaper in the world.

But now, she couldn’t really say. Chloe still had her dreams of being a Pulitzer writer working underneath that golden, beautiful globe, but there was something about this small, ‘Norman Rockwell’ town.

Chloe had become attached. For a town that had fewer attractions than a dental museum, a fondness still existed. Of course Smallville did have its highlights. Clark being one of them.

Smallville was only picture perfect on the surface. It only took two short years for Chloe to uncover the strange and weirdness that was Smallville, Kansas, population 45,001. Beneath the quiet and mundane facade, an unprecedented meteor shower made Smallville a haven of meteor infected anomalies and continually unexplained events. Yes, living in Smallville had been interesting, to say the least. And yes, this little town was a budding cub reporter’s dream. She’d really have to thank this town and all of its residences for the articles that comprised her entire portfolio from the Torch.

After avoiding it for so long, she risked it and glanced up. Clark looked genuinely heartbroken. It almost surprised her. After yesterday, she didn’t think he would really care.

She rehearsed these lines on the way over, wanting to make a clean break, final goodbyes before she left. She didn’t want anything weighing her down. If she had any remaining feelings for Clark she needed to get rid of them now before she left Smallville forever. There was no use being in love with a boy you’d never see again. Especially when that boy was in love with Lana Lang. Not you.

But then she saw the disappointment in Clarks beautiful, puppy eyes, and all her rehearsed lines evaporated. She started over,

“You know Metropolis is like four hours away. Maybe you can visit sometime? Pete too of course.”

Clark looked at her. Everything in his life was balanced for once, and now, well now he was losing one of his best friends. He forced a smile and tried to sound encouraging, “Yea of course. Pete and I will always visit. You know that.”

A stunted smile formed and faded as Chloe blinked away developing tears. “Great, perfect.” Realizing the words sounded familiar, she winced, hoping Clark wouldn’t notice.

“The Torch won’t be the same without you, Chloe. We’ll miss you for sure.”

His words settled in her chest, and she held her breath before she spoke, “Don’t worry. I think Smallville can do without little old me, just like it did before the Sullivans stormed in.” she finished with a chuckle that faded into a muted sigh.

Clark drew his brow together. Was she really denying that he would miss her?

“Just promise me one thing, Clark.” She turned her head to stare down the road. Her eyes seem to focus on nothing for a moment, then traveled back.

“Don’t give up the Torch. I know you have other priorities besides pursuing journalism, but I don’t think you really know how perfect you are for it. You’re compassionate, idealistic and brave… the journalistic world needs people like you.”

Clark cracked a smile, “Funny, I could say the same about you, Chloe.”

She grinned. “Well, I guess that’s why we made a good team.”

“A great team.” Clark added, and grinned along with her. Her smiles always were infectious.

A long moment passed before anything else was said. The cows were grazing off in the distance, and a cool, late spring breeze whipped by them as they stood silent in the dirt driveway.

Clark’s eyes rested on Chloe’s lovely form. He felt like these were his last moments with her.

Clark made use of his photographic memory, recording everything about her at that still moment. He ran his eyes across her golden hair that wildly sprung out around her cheek, her bright, hazel eyes and flush pink lips. Chloe was there, peering up at him like she always did. Poor thing, she was a good foot shorter than he was, even in her tallest shoes. She was wearing her favorite green blouse, the one she always wore when they toured Metropolis on weekends. Typically, Chloe dressed rebelliously, wearing mashed-up, funky ensembles, refusing to be conformed to the typical ‘girl’ fashions. But this blouse was soft and delicately ornate. And maybe a tad lower cut than her other shirts. Chloe always looked grown up when she wore it. She looked,

Like a girl, Clark thought. But that was silly; of course she looked like a girl. Chloe was a girl. It was just that most of the time when Clark hung out with Chloe, she seemed like one of the guys. Like Pete.

When Chloe first moved here, she fit in quickly among him and Pete. The whole process was seamless, really. There were only a few times Clark slipped up, peaking beyond the invisible platonic wall that guarded their friendship. Like the other day, when they met in the very same spot of his driveway they stood now. Clark was in his tux holding a corsage that was meant for a girl in a pink dress. That girl was Chloe. Her hair was pulled back, revealing her long, delicate neck that led up to her gorgeous, lovely smile.

She was breathtaking.

She had looked up at him after she pinned his white boutonniere. He’d always remember that look.

Yes, Clark’s noticed Chloe before.

Nonetheless, he felt he needed to remember this moment. Just in case this was the last time he was in the presence of “the” Chloe Sullivan. He was sure she’d be a famous writer one day. She reminded him daily of it.

He wanted to remember exactly how pretty she looked, standing next to him. But he realized he was always aware of her. Chloe was pretty wonderful everyday.

**
The way Clark was staring at her made her cheeks flush a few shades darker than usual. She inwardly kicked herself for feeling all too susceptible at every prolonged look Clark made her way. She knew how ridiculous she was acting. Clark didn’t see her like that.

Get a grip, Sullivan. Chloe bit down her tongue and broke eye contact, gazing towards the road behind them and throwing on an awkward smile.

“I should go.”

Clark saw her opening her car door, but he caught her, gently wrapping his large arms around her, holding her against his chest.

Her body tensed underneath his arms, but he kept hugging her anyway.
It felt wrong somehow. He couldn’t help but think Chloe was rushing out of town for some reason. Did she have to leave so soon?

“I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again.” Her voice was muffled against his jacket.

“Don’t be silly. Of course you will.” He drew back to look at her.

Chloe’s grin was replaced a low spirited, obligatory smile that looked very forced. He noticed that her golden-green eyes were moist, and it was obvious she was trying really hard not to cry in front of him.

He lifted a hand to her cheek and studied her face. Every so often, she let herself become completely exposed to him. It was something that both scared and marveled Clark.

Here he was, Clark Kent, super strength and all, hiding who he really was from everyone he knew just because he was terrified they would reject him. And here Chloe was, her head topping just short of his collar, so tiny and fragile in comparison to him, but possessed more fervor, and bravery than anyone. It fascinated him.

It was odd, but Clark had an overwhelming inclination to bend down and kiss her right then.

But he didn’t. If he kissed her that would be a beginning to something else. This was goodbye.

He withdrew his hand and brushed her shoulder encouragingly, “Like you said. Metropolis isn’t that far. Plus, I’ll be there when they award you your first Pulitzer. I’ll give a speech, say something like how you hounded me for every article our freshman year at the Torch.” He said, smiling.

Chloe chuckled, wiping away a stray tear, silently cursing herself. She promised herself she wouldn’t cry in front of him. That was what the long ride home was for.
She reluctantly opened her car door, slid into the driver’s seat and reached for her seat belt.

Clark gently closed her door, and tapped on the window. She rolled it down.

He thought if he were to delay her a few moments more, he’d find something inspiring and provoking to say. Maybe it would somehow change Chloe’s mind and she’d stay at least for the rest of the weekend. But then he remembered Chloe and how absolutely stubborn she was. When her mind was set, consider it concrete.

“Good luck, Chloe.” He settled on saying instead, feeling his throat tighten at the words.

“Luck? “ She looked at him sincerely for a long moment, “You more than anyone else should know better than that.”

Clark frowned. “What does that mean?”

She smiled. “It’s all written in the stars. I figured that’s why you sit in your loft with your telescope gazing at the skies every night.”

Clark smirked, knowing that she was half right. His telescope had a habit of resting in the direction the Lang house once or twice, but lately Clark’s mind had been elsewhere. Certain questions about his place in the world wouldn’t be answered if he kept day dreaming about seemingly irrelevant fantasies.

“So, you believe in fate?” Clark asked seriously, only to some extent thinking of a certain raven haired beauty that lived down the road.

Chloe started the car and shifted to reverse, “Destiny, Clark. It always finds you.”

Destiny. Wasn’t that the word Clark had been dithering with this entire year?

Her words sparked a funny, airy feeling inside Clark. He postulated that it was only serendipitous; since she had no idea her good buddy Clark Kent was actually an alien who too was searching for his own life path.

Clark looked into her eyes more closely, speculating if Chloe had hidden some sort of secret wisdom behind them all this time. Another funny feeling passed, and with it, all these questions rose to the surface, creating a giddy yearning to ask them all, without Clark knowing why.

But it was too late now.

Her car rolled out of reach before Clark could say anything else and he watched as she pulled further away down the dirt road. He continued to watch as the red spot fell away from the horizon line and disappear completely.

Clark stood pensively, feet fixed at the same spot minutes before. He seemed to be watching after her, as if he could still hear her voice no matter what distance came between them.


*



chapter two