thefew times... pt 7

the few times you ever asked me    /      part 7





It should be noted that among Clark Kent's earliest childhood memories was when he was seven, looking out his open bedroom window at the golden fields that enveloped a yellow farm house at the end of a very long Kansas road.


Cornfields bowed to the boy with black hair, wind blown and unruly against young blue eyes.  They followed a young girl with hair as dark as his, dancing in sunlight and the waves that shook stalks of corn over and over. He could hear her laughter and imagine her smile. But he couldn't imagine anything beyond it, anything beyond the faint silhouette that he could see from far away. There was so much he could neither place nor remember.




She is beautiful. Clark remembered whispering to the dark haired girl outside, remembering the tinge of mourning when he felt the boundaries of something fleeting, and out of his reach. A beauty so clear that everyone saw. So clear that perhaps it became invisible and sheer.

Clark remembered sitting on his quilt top bed, sunlight escaping fingers of delicate lace curtains and touching his skin.

The girl's laughter sounded like a mystical bird from far away, and Clark risked satisfaction in only admiring its beauty without the understanding of its song.

Yet insignificant to his even earlier memories of Krypton, memories which Clark would only retrieve in adulthood, this remembrance was nevertheless special. It signified the end of a era, of a boyhood paradigm. The short time when Clark believed he was just an average boy, a Kansas boy, a farmer's son. A time when the seven year old boy believed he would lead a normal life; experiencing the world through ordinary eyes and knowing only unspectacular language to record everything he saw until the day that he died.

And so it should be noted, that this last memory was one of the few preserved by the heart, Clark only later discovering his nearly perfect photographic memory and the other side affects of being born with supernatural abilities in a predestined life; experiencing the world through extraordinary eyes and inheriting the most inspiring languages to later recite everything he had experienced in his long journey that led to his final days where he would rest, and remember.

And in those days, Clark sifted through every instance he had lived, searching for the buried moments of exceptional beauty between  years of indistinctive days. 


Beauty, Clark would later learn, possessed nothing ordinary, or unspectacular. There were no encompassing words that described it more accurately than the moment that transpired, and then gone. Beauty had no guarantee nor permanance and could  neither be captured by the hand, nor by the heart, and  not even in memory would it be remembered exactly as it was.


Years back, Clark remembered spending the remainder of that afternoon, and the many after it, watching the waves of amber bow to him, waiting patiently for his answers as to what it all meant. His mind drifted off, allured by the delicate beauty of the girl who he would chase for years. But after the recounts and the dreams, he wouldn't  remember her song, nor her grace. He could barely remember her young face.

What beauty remained was preserved in something more lasting and meaningful.
 

It was in that plain of gold.


Those fields and the feeling of being home.To be surrounded by it all, to capture what it was and preserve it, to keep it golden.


Because in memory, it was all golden.

Fields of sunshine in his eyes.

Golden air and golden noise.




..

It took twelve years for Clark to find it again.

The young naive boy grown to be a young naive man.

But he had found it again, something much more permanent than before.

A girl.

Her life surrounding his, grown around him like those fields. A fountain of eternal beauty, of golden memories he would always have.

A friendship that felt like home.

He could tell her this, but no. He knew the moments left  to admire could be few, and to interrupt them with unsatisfying words would ruin the illusion that perhaps, maybe, this too would go on forever.

He watched her pass by him countless times, her hair golden and bright. It felt much like before, watching a girl from afar, a silent awe claiming his voice.

She is beautiful. Clark thought again, listening to her words as she spoke them. But this time, it was different. Her voice wasn't lost in the wind and far away. She was right there laughing, and speaking to him.


"What's she like?" Chloe teased, the sounds of a working newspaper office around them.

Clark grinned lazily, watching as his golden haired reporter paced from file cabinet to file cabinet. "Who?"

Chloe rolled her eyes. "This girl who has you love struck. I've seen this Clark Kent grin before. You're the only guy I know who can stand up against an avalanche and yet fall head over heels for a pretty face."

Clark smirked, "You may be right, Chlo."

"Hah!" She pointed, "I knew it! So cupid has hit you with his arrow." Chloe smiled, satisfied with herself. "And I thought  nothing could penetrate the skin of a man made of steel."

Clark eyed her playfully as he walked to a chair. He sat down, but in his mind, he pictured himself next to her. Him leaning down, brushing his lips across her neck.

"So," Chloe sighed, carrying a load of folders back, Clark's imagined movements following hers, "I guess I don't have to guess too long on this one. You and Lana are back together."

Clark's attention snapped, "No." And said over and over in his head, that idea grown so detached that it became sheer, and broken. Something else had mended over it, a stronger bond.

"No?" Chloe paused before dumping the pile on top of the mountain of other folders and research.

Clark shook his head, a mysterious smile dragging Chloe on its lure.

"Okay, I'll bite." Chloe rested her hands on her hips, "Who is she?"


Clark teased her with his silence, looking about the room. It was much to crowded in the bullpen to say anything incriminating. He had kept this secret for far too long to only reveal it complete strangers. He took his time, "I can't say just yet."

Chloe narrowed her eyes, "You're going to make me guess?"

Clark always enjoyed her sharper looks, and desperately said anything to agree. "If you really want to know."

He saw the flame flicker, her expressions always so open. But they were also here and then gone, the next moment her eyes speaking something else. Clark lived inside the instances, the beauty, when she looked at him in candor, and then... The complexities of her.

The mischievious boy inside of him begged for more.

"Actually, I really don't have time for games." Chloe said rather bluntly, brisking away to dig through the file cabinets once again.

But it was too late, the hook set deep within Clark, and his smile even sillier than ever. "But you brought it up, Chlo. Besides, I know that investigative head of yours is dying to know."

"Believe it or not, I have better stories to dig up than Clark Kent's love life."

Clark followed her footsteps, coming up behind her small frame as he leaned down and said,  "She's smart. Funny. Beautiful." Clark accentuated, and then added in thought, "Well, she's more than beautiful."

Chloe paused in between files, turning over her shoulder, " 'More than beautiful?' " Her body tensed, the closeness between them like electricity. Clark watched her fight it, the wall building up. Her eyes rolled to the ceiling once she turned back, her voice icy. "Wouldn't 'gorgeous' be a more accurate adjective?"

"I don't think there's a word that captures it. But yeah, she's gorgeous. Definitely more than just beautiful." Clark answered confidently, leaning an elbow against a cabinet, observing the little blonde work around his large frame like a chipmunk scurrying around a large tree."You would like her." Clark insisted.

Chloe shut one of the drawers, hiding her clipped laughter. "Really?"

She struggled to keep smiling without it looking painful.

Chloe paced back towards her small desk among the crowded basement bull pen, Clark on her heels. But Clark just took larger steps, tied to her side like a loyal puppy, grinning ear to ear. "Yeah, really Chlo."

Her fingers gained interest in her paperwork, barely looking up.

For a moment, Clark wondered if he had taken the teasing a little too far. Her movements were robotic and distant. She was no longer speaking, and no longer laughing.

To save himself, Clark leaned toward her and smiled.

It was then that she finally looked up, the next smile Chloe giving him, strange. "How long have you known her?"

Clark desperately held on. "A while."

"A while," she mumbled under her breath, her eyes casting down. "You haven't said anything about her before?"

Clark stilled, and then shrugged haplessly.

She looked looked at him uneasily, "And you're sure it's not Lana?"

Clark shook his head.

She looked at him nervously, "It's Lois."

"No." Clark laughed, and then seriously reiterated. "It's not Lois."

Relief practically washed over her face.

Chloe sighed, tossing the remaining files in her hands and then resting them on her hips, "Well, I'm all out of guesses on the mystery girl."

Clark looked between them, and then to the crowd of people inside the basement of the Daily Planet. He looked like a little kid about to deliver a secret. "Well, let's say she looks a lot like you."

"Like me?"

"Like you." Clark nodded, still holding on.

Her lashes fluttered several times, then stopped, her eyes becoming pointy and skeptical, "What is that supposed to mean?"

Clark shrugged, feeling his cheek redden. He stammered a bit, scratching his head as he paced around her like a nervous animal.  "Let's say someone like me, and someone like you found each other and fell in love. What would you say?"

Chloe tilted her golden head, the mosaic glass shining brilliantly behind her like a halo. "I don't understand."

Clark paused, soaking in the image of her there.

He lived inside it, preserving it for years after.

 "What do you think of love?"

Chloe looked at him strangely, her arms tumbling back to catch the corner of her desk for balance. "Love?"

Clark nodded, watching her as patiently as he could.

"I..." Chloe licked her lips, scanning the papers of her desk for clues, "I don't know."

"C'mon, Chlo." Clark's voice was a whisper, this conversation changed within a few looks and exchanged blushing, "I thought you had an opinion about everything?"

She smiled then, her eyes daring and dark. "I do have an opinion on everything."

Her eyes remained dark, a green forest that somewhere, Clark knew, hid buried feelings for him underneath overgrown excuses.


But Chloe's smile faded, her fingers and eyes again attuned to the mess of papers on her desk. "Love is complicated."

Clark watched as the defenses shot up around her. "It doesn't have to be."

"And yet it is." Chloe sighed, her hands resting on her hips once again, "Listen, Clark. I have to be somewhere in about fifteen minutes. Can we talk about your love life later?"

Clark nodded, feeling that he had lost his moment. "Sure. Want me to give you a ride?" He offered, desperately wanting an excuse to hold her.

"No, not today.  No offense, but the Clark Express always leave me looking a little wind blown."

They both smiled.

Clark stepped aside as she picked up her purse and swung it over her shoulder. "Where you going?"

"Lunch."

"I could take you to lunch."

"Lunch with Jimmy, Clark."

"Oh." Clark followed her up the stair well.

Chloe took a side glance, her heels clacking against the tile steps, "Where's this mystery girl of yours? I bet she'd appreciate a lunch date with Clark Kent."

"I asked her." Clark said stiffly, "She had plans."

"Oh." Chloe nodded, pushing through the revolving doors to the outside. Clark followed her outside too, and when she had made it to the corner, he was still there. Except his giddy grin was wiped off his face, replaced by the usual expression that Chloe had accepted as Clark being Clark.

"Is love with Jimmy very complicated?" He asked from far away.

Chloe sighed, wanting to move along, but her body refusing to cooperate, "Clark, now isn't a very good time."

"It's yes or no." Clark replied stubbornly.

He took a step towards her, prompting her to move back. Uneasily, she started walking, always knowing he'd be right beside her.

And he was. She taking three steps to his every one. His legs were so much longer.

"Why is this so important all of a sudden? What's gotten into you?"

"Yes or no, Chloe?" Clark insisted again, "I need to know. This girl I like..."


Chloe looked away, hiding the bitter expression she knew she couldn't keep from him.

"This girl," Clark continued, "well she thinks like you do. I'm just looking for some insight from a similar mind."

"Ah," Chloe smiled, "querying the peers before you make the informative decision. Very smart."

Clark tried to smile.

The crowd grew thick on the Metropolis sidewalks, Clark breaking through them with his large frame,  holding the pathway back so she could move through. 

"No." Chloe said next, and very simply.

"No?" Clark frowned, leading the way.

"No, Jimmy and I aren't complicated." Chloe said with a shrug, moving with a fast gait.

Clark stared at her, "You said love was complicated. Your answers aren't aligning."

"Yeah well, your cross examining could use some work too." Chloe sighed, stopping once they arrived at a cross walk.

The light was red.

Clark waited beside her, using his body to block the strong gusts that plagued downtown from hitting her.

"Jimmy loves me." Chloe said to him, and to herself. "He tells me everyday."

"Those are just words." Clark defended, turning ever so slightly to catch her eyes. "Do words really make that much of a difference?"

"No." Chloe said, "It's not the words that matter, Clark." She thought a moment, strands of hair shading her eyes until she said to him, "Love was something I used to not believe in. Something temporary and here and then gone with the next guy." She smiled sadly and shrugged, "But then of course I fell into it. " She laughed wistfully, "And it made all the difference."

There was a moment where everything in Clark stopped, waiting for Chloe to say anything after that.

She didn't.

"You tell him everyday?" Clark asked, still holding on to five minutes ago. Back when they were inside a place they shared so much of their lives together. Back where he had many chances but let them all go. The place where she had kissed him that one night, and both of them had let go.

"I try to." Chloe said, her body sighing once the light turned green, releasing her from Clark's side. She made the first step across the street, and then the next. but she didn't hear Clark's boots behind her, so she turned, making sure he had finally let her off the hook.

He stood at the corner, the only one not moving across. Singled out and marked by the red jacket in the field of dark suits, he wasn't going her way. Clark always did have a way of being the last person to know.

"You could spend a lifetime showing someone that you loved them," Chloe said quietly even over the city noise. She knew he could hear her, "and you can also spend an eternity waiting."

Clark's face was again expressionless, something Chloe would eventually find less mysterious and more disappointing.

 "Or you could just tell them." Chloe said resolutely, the cross walk becoming empty with only her standing in he middle of white dotted lines.


They stood across from eachother, on two separate ends.  A crowd of people moving between them, and the world colorless except for her glowing, golden hair.


This time Clark would remember this girl, the image of her face, her eyes, her absent smile.

He would remember that he said nothing after that, no words able to save him from the inevitable loss that came with life's ephemeral glory.


Golden hair, and golden noise.

Clark retreated to the next part that he knew. 


*