Title: The Dance

Author: GEFM

Genre: Romance

Fandom: Smallville

Pairing: Clark/Chloe

Disclaimer: I don't own. All characters are property of the CW network and DC comics.

A/N: One Shot; Chlois future Fic

Enjoy!

He held my hand as we walked out of the gymnasium. Another mystery solved. Another chapter in the winding story of our lives closed. Funny, here we are at the same place it all began still very much an inquisitive pair.

Sometimes I wonder if we'll always be caught up in that night when we were at our best, when we were at our happiest. The song never ends, and we're stuck in a waltz. Can we ever stop?

It's a vicious cycle, always coming down to the same things, the same conflicts under the guise of new pretenses. In a way, everything about that night still defines us.

The risk, the heartbreak, the departure, and the choice to bring us back to familiarity.

I would always be right there--here for him--while he was off saving some damsel in distress, undoing the world's wrongs. I would be left behind waiting for the forsaken boy to fly back to me.

For a long time I thought he didn't come for me, that when I left that night alone he had let me down. I believed that my foolish grab at happiness had been quite the mistake. But I was wrong.

He did come back. He always would.

It wasn't that hour or that day, or even that year. He went off to take on the world's burdens with his broad shoulders. Devoted as he was it soon became very clear that he would have no time for much else. He would not return with an open heart for a decade.

He stood next to me during that time of what I call our intermission.

We betrayed each other, we forgave each other. I died, he saved me. I found out his secret, he found out I knew. I protected him, he protected me. I researched, he watched ;). I kissed him, he kissed me back. The world ended, the world was rebuilt. I got a boyfriend, he got a broken heart. I wore my heart on my sleeve, he wore his beneath a lead armor. I lost him to the Fortress, he found me with a new name. I got a job beneath the tiffany lamps, he got a job beneath the clouds.

Now, here we are after all that had happened going back to our meteor roots with a new mutant to fend off. I'd tagged along mostly out of guilt. I hadn't been to Smallville the last year and had wanted to check out the area while he did more of his "volunteer work"(as he'd been calling it lately).

The showdown led to and ended at the old high school, which from the looks of it had been very well remade since the last meteor shower. There was even a new field out back for our "four time state champion crows." I always loved the way the field looked when it was totally deserted. Shining open and free, it reminded me of the conversely complicated innocence of my youth and the transgressions I committed as I walked those not so quite halls.

Then I saw him descend from the west onto the bleachers before me. I thought to admonish him for not being in his hero fatigues but for some reason it seemed right this way.

Superman was worldly, he did not belong here or to this place. This place, this place was where I fell in love with a small town boy with eyes for one raven-haired girl. Here was the place where I forged a relationship with him mostly by force and solidified myself as being apart of his life. On this very soil I saw him become greater than himself--catch a car in midair--and knew from that moment on that there were bigger things on their way.

Smallville was Clark Kent. It was all I'd ever really take from my time here.

He smelled of hay and tasted of apple of pie- he was America, he was humanity. This was his home--grass and sunshine--and Superman, the alien savior of this world—of ice and steel--could never have that.

The dual identities were so intolerably different at times that it was hard to believe they were the same entity. It was hard to believe many things.

"Oh no, there she goes composing in her head again."

I smiled in response and kidded him about his flannel attire.

He levitated in front of me then and asked why it was I was out here, wondering why I didn't just wait for him back at the farm. I only rolled my eyes at him and jumped off the raised bench on to the next lower level.

"When have you ever known me to sit around for a story? I'm a do-er Clark." Which of course rewarded me with a strangled cough from him, whom always reacted that way whenever a dirty joke was presented to him.

"Idiot." I laughed happily.

"Glad to entertain you." He added regretfully and managed a half-grin to assure me.

We walked off the field in silence. Nostalgia was a silly thing I thought I would never experience especially when it came to high school. My experiences weren't dreadful or anything, but it did surprise me to know how sorely I had missed it.

He suddenly turned to me, causing me to almost walk straight into his chest.

"I have an idea. Come with me." Without a word to question him I allowed myself to be hoisted up in his arms, my brown tresses falling helplessly at my shoulders as he did so.

We sailed over to the north gate and set down in the adjacent parking lot with a rather good landing. He'd only been doing the flying bit for a few months now out in public and he'd finally gotten over the fear of falling. Even I don't have words to describe the sensation.

Amazing, exhilarating, miraculous. Not even close.

"So, what're we doing?" He shook his head and laughed while walking ahead of me towards the building. I ran after him and grabbed at his shoulders, but he didn't turn.

"No." He said definitively.

"No?" I tried to walk in step with him but he was too fast.

"No, I'm not telling you. Stop asking now."

"Please?" I begged again and he only sighed heavily.

"Suddenly, I'm reminded why I have such a hard time surprising you."

"Me? You're the one with scoping capacity." He immediately took insult and stopped to confront me.

"I would never…" He looked deeply into my eyes and I only laughed at his seriousness.

"Really? Is that why your mom laces all your presents with lead?" His face quickly took guilt and turned back defeated. "It'll be worth it, okay? Just come on."

Clark went up the stairs and I followed close behind. Damn, the place hadn't changed. Small details did but superficially all the regular aspects of what I could remember were preserved. After all this time too.

As I was admiring the spot where both of our lockers had been I noticed Clark suddenly slip away down one of the hallways. When I finally decided to follow him a door unexpectedly slammed in my face. Almost took off my nose, you stupid big dumb alien.

The door opened literally a second later and I opened my mouth to shout, scream, snark, or say something.

Nothing came out.

The room was as familiar to me as when I'd left it 8 years ago and yet it looked oddly like it'd been lived in and aged. When I had packed up my boxes and moved out my senior year I figured it would equate with the demise of the paper as well. I'd been wrong.

The room itself had been expanded to include the main janitorial closet the kids used to sneak into during class breaks. At least they used to anyway. God knows what kids do these days.

There were freshly updated computers, now 10 of them along with a separate desk for each. There were 10 reporters in the school? Wow. Each desk had a quirky nameplate donning title, name, and class year. The sports writers sat towards the back, the social column to the right, and the art and science teams were seated at the front.

In the center there was the desk that appeared to own the most particularly messy aspiring-journalist-to-be of them all. It was my old one. The plate belonged to, "Kali Small, 2016 Editor".

'Isn't that Lana's step sister?' It's funny how things turn out.

Amongst the pile of articles and various clippings was a gold accolade of some sort. I had to part the seas of paper to get to it, but when I fished it out—

"A journalism award?" I looked around with marked shock, and found Clark staring at me curiously. I had almost forgotten that I was not alone. "When did the school start caring about the paper?" I knew Principal Reynolds was a very open minded guy who had quite the adulation for me but 'this?' This I couldn't believe.

"Apparently when we left, the school got a huge anonymous grant to up the resources and rebuild the area under the condition that 40 of it was given to this department." He moved around the room as he spoke, surveying it for the first time. "With all the billionaires we had to deal with, at least someone reaped its benefits."

He finally came to a stop at his old desk to no doubt reminisce about the old days. Clark and the past; the two had once been inseparable.

"Some benefit." I looked back to the award for a moment and noticed the other words on its plaque. I tried in vain to read the coffee spilled obscured words.

I couldn't make out one word. Maybe if I rubbed at it.

"No way. It can't be." But I was sure. Positive actually.

"What?" he asked incredulously.

I simply threw the object at him, aware of his inhuman reflexes.

One look and he immediately succumbed to laughter.

"Hey it's not funny." I shot him a deadly look as he doubled over. "It's really flattering actually."

"No, No, it is. I just…" he finally managed to compose himself. "I wonder if they have a Clark Kent worst lunch menu writer ever award laying around somewhere."

"You weren't meant for mystery meat, Kent. Thank god for that."

"Everyday." He gave the award another look through and turned it over. "The Sullivan-Lane Award is given by the Lowell County Commission of Higher Education to the student who exhibits an extraordinary talent in the field of Journalism. This recipient has shown evident aptitude in the articles reviewed by the Commission. Available to the 10th-12th grade levels."

Kali Small, 2016, Editor. So I'm not the only freshman to ever get that spot.

Clark put the award down then and continued his earlier inspection.

"Why Sullivan-Lane though?" I just couldn't let it go. I ruffled through the array of papers strewn haphazardly across the desk in desperate search of a past issue. I absolutely had to read some of this girl's stuff. "They couldn't pick a name? I'm not both. One or the other, get it right people." I finally found one wedged under a considerably large binder and pulled it out triumphantly.

"Well, a lot of people know Daily Planet's Lois but if you pick up a yearbook you're going to find a pimply Chloe in her place." He paused before adding with an amused smile, "You know how that gets slightly confusing for some people." I had the sudden urge to stick my tongue out at him, but restrained myself. Must be the environment.

"Ha Ha. You may perpetually have inhumanly perfect skin, Clark Kent, but I'd have you know that I was rarely if ever afflicted with teen-grade acne." He chuckled.

I turned my back on him again and took in the setup of the office. The layout on the screen, the coffee in the garbage cans. I opened the paper I was gripping and gave it a cursory read through. No fuller pieces, not even one. The lunch menus were not 60 pt type. Current events, politics, fashion and impressive essays. So many things I never even thought to put into our issues. Real ambitious articles, all of them.

"I can't believe it. It's a real paper."

"The torch always was… at least more than the Ledger anyway."

"And certainly more interesting." I added with a little too much excitement.

I finally tore my gaze away from the publication and walked around the rest of the room. On the wall where my Wall of Weird once was, was now a memorial display of my as well as Clark's journalistic career starting from the Torch, then the Met U Kansan, Early D.P pre-pseudonym, D.P post-pseudonym, and finally Current Kent/Lane bylines.

It never really occurred to me, but we really were celebrities. Not just in the small town sense, but in a nationwide scope as well. Its always been about truth and justice for both of us but I guess there's an aspect of that attached to it too. Just last week we were called in to take pictures together for the new poster of the Daily Planet.

I looked around the room again. I could feel the tears creeping at my eyes. This was everything I could ever have wanted for this paper. More than that all of it came to be because of me, because of my efforts. All those long ours contemplating the fate of the Torch now seemed so silly. It was in good hands.

And I was remembered here.

"Thank you, Clark. I needed to see this."

He nodded but didn't say a word, just walked to the door. When I didn't follow he turned back holding the door ajar.

"You coming?" he asked with a hand outstretched.

"Always." I took his hand as I did all those years ago and let him escort me back out into the unknown, away from familiarity.

We'd only been together for 6 months, but already it was far more serious than either of us would have ever expected. It would last. We were still dancing, but no longer skirting around what we both wanted. We knew it. We had each other. He flew back to me, just for me.

It was then that I realized that I didn't want the song to be over, not ever. It was the perfect memory I've always wanted all wrapped up in the story of our lives. Each second, each waking moment of this has been worth it and it makes it all perfect.

As we were walking out of the Torch into the hallway we heard someone approaching.

"It's a Saturday. Who would be here now?" He whispered in a way that sent shivers down my spine.

I had a feeling I already knew when I saw the light brown haired girl coming up the stairs, Trio in hand shouting, "I don't care Erick, you need to be more assertive. No serious journalist ever gets anything done taking the back seat. You call Senator Kent's house again and get an interview."

"Sounds like something someone told me once." I hit him on the shoulder and went back to close the door.

"Well, why don't you try going over to her house then…Okay, okay fine. I'll come over at 6."

Her voice dropped suddenly, indicating that she saw us. Sharp girl.

"Excuse me. Can I help-?" She walked up to us and all the color from her face vanished in an instant. "help-help-help."

"No, I don't think so. We were just taking a look around." Clark cut her off, saving the girl from further embarrassment.

The pair of us side stepped her and moved to leave. But whatever possessed her a moment before had suddenly lost hold.

"Wait, wait. Are you the--?" I fully intended on ignoring her and walking on, but of course my partner, ever the polite one, could not bare such a thing. He spun us around by force then, thus marking the indefinite death of my plan to sneak out without a witness.

But then I remembered what it had been like for me all those uncertain years and figured I might as well do my civic duty to those who were following in my awkward footsteps. I smiled for a moment at her, slightly flattered by her shocked recognition and nodded in response to her unanswered question.

"Kali, right?" She made no move to object so I continued on. "I read your stuff. There's definitely potential there." I fished in my back pocket and pulled out a business card to hand to her. I ignored Clark's raised eyebrow, knowing full well that I rarely if ever indulged in our status long enough to have a conversation with anyone about it.

She took the card in her limp hand and managed not to say anything else.

"If you ever find yourself at the Planet, call me up. I'd be more than happy to see you."

The meeting reminded me of the first time I ever met Perry White and Pauline Kahn. I'd been so green then I had realized how much farther I needed to go to get what I wanted. But it didn't discourage me. It inspired me. It was weird to think that that was what I was doing right now.

I told her it was nice to finally meet her and shook her hand for good measure. Then Clark and I walked away hand in hand again.

"Ms. Lane? Mr. Kent?" We turned slightly back to her.

"Thank you so much. You have no idea what this means to me."

"Yes, we do actually." I nudged Clark in the ribs.

"Work hard, Ms. Small. I expect to get that call someday."

"You will. I promise, you will."

Before we left the building we could hear the frantic dialing of the girl and distinguishable cry, "Oh My God, Erick. You'll never believe what just happened!"

He kissed me softly before we flew back to Metropolis in front of the steps of the school that raised us, that taught us so much about who we'd become.

I smiled up at him my best blinding smile.

"What?" he asked confused by my expression.

"Nothing." My smile grew wider. "I'm just…happy."

He gave me a funny look but did not scrutinize me any further. Another chapter certainly did come to a close, another moment passed into memory. As we flew above the clouds I could feel it. It was the end of an era, but more importantly it was the start of a new one.

So had he fulfilled his promise all those years ago? Had it been a night to remember? Had it been worth my while?

One day, when it's all over, I'll tell you.

Finis

Thanks for reading!