Bloodlines

Chapter 1

When Lois Lane smiled like she couldn't stop, it usually meant one of two things: either her boyfriend was around or she was on the tail end of an investigative piece gone right. Considering she was talking on her personal cell-phone at the moment, it could only mean that Clark Kent was, indeed, sweet talking her.

"No, I don't want Korean," she said, fixing her hands-free more securely in her ear. "We had Korean two days ago. How about the new Persian place on Davie and Thurlow? Then this time don't order the lamb if it doesn't-- I swear, Smallville, for strapping farmer's boy, you have the weakest stomach on Earth! Fine, fine, toasted subs but make note that I am pissed the hell off. Yeah? Me too." She hung up still smiling, seeing everyone's eyes on her, demanded, "What? No one else here has a personal life? Actually that wouldn't surprise me a bit."

Perry hollered incoherently from his office but Lois was so used to it that she ignored him for the article before her. She knew he wanted another city piece about Superman but a source had given her some dirt on Luthor's administration and she wanted to confirm it ASAP. Why America voted that swine into the Oval Office, she'd never understand.

The phone rang again, this time through her desk line. "Lane," she barked.

"Lois Lane? Daughter of Gen. Samuel Lane and Ella Lane nee Li?"

"That's me."

"This is Ramir Boutboul of Tishlar, Boutboul and Knobe, Solicitors and Barristers in Vienna, Austria."

Something in Lois's brain twitched. She grabbed a pen and paper. "Hi, Mr. Boutboul. You're calling from a long way; how can I help you?"

"Before I can answer that question, I need to verify for identity for security reasons."

"Security reasons, huh? I know a bit about that and I reserve the right to refuse to answer those questions until I know on whose behalf you're calling."

"Fair enough." She could almost hear his smile across the telephone wires. "My client is Chloe Sullivan."

"And I know you're telling the truth because?"

"Ms. Sullivan told me to tell you that her key-phrase is 'Mulder was an amateur.'"

Lois picked up a pen, now alert. "Ask me your questions."

"What year were you born?"

"Nineteen eighty-five."

"Where did you live when you were eleven and what significant injury did you sustain?"

"We were stationed in the USVI back then and I didn't hurt myself too badly unless you count the time my sister, Lucy, bit my hand hard enough to need a couple stitches."

"Finally, will you please name members of your family on both the maternal and paternal sides?"

"Sure, how far do you need me to go up? The General had us memorizing those things like the alphabet."

"Three generations is quite sufficient," said Boutboul

Taking a deep breath, Lois recited, "Gen. William Lane married Clementine Straussenberg which resulted in three children: Samuel, Joseph, and William, Junior. On the maternal side, there's Dr. Michael Li and Dr. Jane Dorsey which resulted in two daughters, Ella and Moira. Samuel and Ella produced two kids, myself and my sister Lucy. Joseph died in combat in nineteen sixty-seven and William Junior is currently serving in Morley Military Hospital. He's divorced and I have no idea where his two kids are. Moira Li married Gabriel Sullivan and had one daughter, Chloe, my cousin and your client."

Boutboul made an indecipherable noise. "Very good, Ms. Lane. I understand you're probably at work at the moment and I do apologize but my client's terms are quite specific concerning the time that I contact you."

"That's Chloe all over," she said. "She's always been better than me at crossing her T's and dotting her I's."

"Most certainly. If I may suggest finding a private place or having some support with you?"

Lois began tapping her pencil against her pad. She always thought better when she beat out a face-melting drum lick. "I'm fine where I am, Mr. Boutboul. Now please, what is it that Chloe wanted to tell me?"

"I'm afraid I'm the bearer of bad news. Chloe Sullivan passed away yesterday."

Rather than cry, she snorted. "What, again?"

"I'm…sorry?"

"My cousin has a nose for dangerous assignments, Mr. Boutboul. News of her death is always highly exaggerated."

"Not this time, Ms. Lane. We have a body, you see."

Lois dropped the phone.

Once Clark got a hold of his hearing powers, he realised that it worked best when he had a focal point. In Smallville, he listened to his mother's heartbeat-- the deep, hollow waves crashing against an underwater mountain, powerful yet undetectable on the surface. Long before he learned how babies were soothed by hums that mimicked their time in the womb, Clark had focussed on this as his grounding point.

He didn't know when he started using Lois' heartbeat as a focus; maybe it started when they became roomies, Metropolis rental prices being what they were for two college kids. It was strange to go from his mother's easy rhythm to Lois' faster, stronger beat. It should have been annoying, that loud, insistent bass drum but it grew on him. Actually, everything about his relationship so far had been like that.

He had an effect on her too, thank God. Because of all the adventures they'd gone through together, Lois rarely had the normal physiological reaction to dangerous situations. The only time he ever heard her heart suddenly jump to a faster pace was when something bad happened to someone they knew. So when he heard her heart rev up to twice its usual beat during a routine patrol, Clark didn't hesitate to drop everything and zoom to her side.

He found her on the roof of the Planet, on her knees. Her sobs ripped right through his heart.

"Lois!" He sank on his knees with her, enfolding her in his arms, forgetting about his colours and who might see Superman and Lois Lane like this. "Lois, sweetheart, what's wrong? What is it? I'm here, honey, what is it? Tell me how to fix it."

"No, not…" She hiccoughed, snorting her runny nose and hiccoughed again. Lois was not a pretty crier.

"No? Not what?"

"Not huh-huh-here. People cuh-cuh-can s-s-see."

Lois. Always the logical one. Clark pushed off.

Somewhere over the Australian plain, Lois finally caught her breath enough to speak. "It's Chloe," she said. "Clark, Chloe's... she's gone. Oh, God, Chloe's gone and I was so pissed off at her for disappearing and not telling us and you have no idea the kinds of things I would email her and... and... I don't understand why she wouldn't contact us. I'm her cousin! And you! You've been her best friend since you were kids and--oh, crap, Lane, you've gone and stuck your foot in it again." She cupped Clark's face. "How're you doing, baby?"

Clark landed quietly on a flat-topped mountain. "Are you sure? We've thought she was dead before."

"The lawyer who called me had all the right answers to all the questions I could ever ask about Chloe. And, he had all these terms that only Chloe would come up with-- secret questions, something about a will divided between five people. I assume you're one of them. I just know Clark. I know it here." She pressed her fist against her stomach.

Sadly, he understood what she meant. "I guess they're contacting family first."

She arched an eyebrow. "Have you checked your office voicemail lately?"

"Sorry, there was a dam in Greenland." Clark took his cell phone out. Seconds later, his face fell. "I don't have anything." He hadn't heard from Chloe Sullivan for thirteen years. Not a day went by when he didn't wonder what he did to make her hate him so much.

The funeral was in London. Perry White gave them both two weeks of bereavement leave despite Lois' protestations that it would only drive her crazy. Only Clark kept her from flying off the handle.

"She wouldn't have been secretive if she wasn't onto something," he'd said, calmly, quietly as she'd been raging up and down their condo and throwing longing glances at the locked case which held her Beretta. "They found a way to silence her. We owe it to her to think straight and get the story out."

Lois wished the trip would blur. Memories of her time with Chloe in Smallville kept playing over and over in her head. Clark stared out the window the entire flight; her hand was practically glued to his, her thumb tracing the lines in his palm. The silence would have discomfited most people but they'd learned to read each other to the point of non-verbal communication, the very same one that Lois used to tease the Kents about.

Clark shifted to press a kiss on Lois' forehead. "Why don't you sleep?"

"It's still noon Metropolis time," she said. "But even if it was midnight, I wouldn't be able to sleep. Is my investigative reporter sense completely out of whack or is there something handwave-y about this whole thing? Even more so than the suddenness and the terms of the will."

"It's not out of whack," said Clark. "The Chloe I remember tended towards conspiracy theories but not to the point of paranoia. I never thought I'd say this but she's being too careful."

Lois smiled. "Remember the first piece I handed to her for the Smallville Torch?" Clark snorted and she punched his arm. "Hey, it took a lot out of me to get my baby cousin to edit a high school piece! She's the whole reason I got into investigative reporting and the reason we have food on the table, Mr. Kent. We sure as hell wouldn't have a roof over our heads if we had to rely on you for a regular salary, handsome."

Clark blushed even though the taunt was an old one. "Aren't you tired of holding my first two years at the Planet over my head?"

"Nope. Never. With all the times I had to make excuses for you to Perry, I should've been a novelist. And I'm still the one who has to pick up after you when you skip out for your second job."

"I do appreciate it, Lois."

"Damn well better, Smallville. I'm still proud of the one about the broken water tower."

He raised the armrest between them and pulled Lois closer so she could tuck her head under his chin. In this position, Clark felt her heart beating and she warmed herself on his body heat.

"Have I told you lately how much I love you, Lane?"

"Not in the past couple hours, Kent. I think we're overdue." In a quieter tone, she added, "I was going to shop for your anniversary present today."

"You're my anniversary present. Now, hush and go to sleep. I have a feeling we're going to be wiped as soon as we reach London."

A cab awaited them as soon as they walked off the runway. London-Heathrow was as noiselessly busy as always with bodies surging and falling away in multicoloured waves.

"I hate airports," said Lois.

Clark replied with an interested, "Hmm?"

"Every time I'm in an airport, there's always something dangerous waiting for me on the other end. I like it better when we fly privately."

Ten years of being together and they had code-speak down pat. Clark smiled at her. "I'll take you up later. When things have settled down." To the cab driver, he said, "Where are we supposed to meet Mr. Boutboul? I thought his offices were in Vienna."

"I don't know about Vienna, sir," said the cabbie. "But I'm supposed to drive you to the 41 Hotel."

"The 41?" Clark's eyebrows rose. "Chloe's been holding out on us."

Lois only shook her head and adjusted her seatbelt.

Once at the luxurious hotel, Lois and Clark were directed to an elevator that whipped them up immediately to the fifth floor club and lounge. A uniformed staff member took their luggage and herded them into the proper hallway. Elaborate wall scones and five-foot tall flower arrangements led them to their suite.

"I keep expecting a snotty voiceover to tell me that I'm on a hidden camera reality show," Lois muttered.

Clark scanned a wide radius around them. "I don't hear or see anything very--" He stopped in his tracks.

Lois froze as well. "What is it?"

"A voice from the past. Which room did we have again?"

"Five-five-seven."

He strode the rest of the way down the hall with Lois fast on his heels. Suite 557 was at the very end of the hall, a simple, narrow door in comparison to the rest of the furnishings. Automatically placing himself between Lois and danger, Clark focussed his vision past the door, past the suite's foyer and into the room's occupants.

A woman perched on a high-backed Louis VXI sofa. Her hair was swept up in a French twist with a pearl and ruby clip holding the immaculate hair-do in place. On the other side of the sofa was a man staring at his clasped hands. They avoided looking at each other. The man took a sip of wine, grimaced and went back to staring at his hands. Lana Lang. Pete Ross.

The television filled the loaded silence between them. "Alexander Luthor was the first independent presidential candidate voted into office, garnering a near-even split between the Republicans and Demoratic parties. Current re-election polls indicate a high--"

Lana's lips tightened. "Can you turn that off, please?"

Pete waited until the anchor finished her sentence then switched to a cooking show.

"Hey." Lois patted Clark's arm. "What is it?"

" Lana and Pete," he said.

"Lana Lang? The sun around which you orbited for the first twenty years of your life Lana? Great." If she had heat vision, Lois would have burnt the door off its hinges.

Clark eased his posture. "Lane, your claws are showing."

"You leave me and my claws out of this argument, Kent. Bad enough I have to deal with that bikini-clad Amazonian fetishist prancing around you with her golden dominatrix rope--"

"Please, don't call it a dominatrix rope, it's-- oh, never mind." Clark rolled his eyes. This was a doomed conversation.

"-- but now the girlfriend of Christmas Past is right behind that door. Clark, I saw what you were like back then! You were obsessed with her. It was like this dark, limpid pool of Lana Langness from whence you could never escape. She's the blackhole of love angst!" Lois degenerated to arm flailing.

"That was over ten years ago. Isn't it time you got over that?"

"Says the man who took a whole week before letting a certain Hugh Hefner wanna-be into your little clubhouse."

"That's different. He was leering at you."

"Clark, Bruce leers at everyone. It's part of his disguise. If it's breathing and female, he leers at it." Lois thought for a moment. "You know, maybe it doesn't even have to be breathing or female; it just has to have an orifice. But that's beside the point. I didn't start pining for Bruce when I was in diapers."

"No, you only pranced around in skirts five inches long on your date with him. I don't even see you in five-inch skirts."

"They were two business lunches before we were seriously together and besides, you see me naked."

Clark had to concede to that. "Whatever, Lane. Let's get this over with for Chloe's sake."

Lois sighed. "You're right. You know me and emotional stress." At his forgiving smile, she scanned the passkey through the electronic reader. The door's magnetic lock tumbled open. They braced themselves for the reunion.

Pete jumped to his feet when they entered. "I thought I'd see you two." He strode forward to clasp Clark's hand. In response, Clark hauled him into a full, back-slapping hug. Outside of family, they had known Chloe the longest. There'd been a time when the three of them were inseparable, finishing each other's sentences and each others' homework.

"Something's got to happen next," said Clark. "This just isn't right."

"I know," Pete said. "If she jumped out of the closet and call it a trick, I don't think I'd be mad."

"Much."

"Much." They broke the embrace but stayed close. "I always thought I'd go first." At Clark's protestations, Pete said, "I was the most ordinary, let's admit that much. You're you and Chloe was practically made of Teflon."

Sensing an even deeper pit of depression in the near future, Lois interrupted the conversation. "Come on, Ross, you're selling yourself short. It's not every guy who becomes a consul before he hits thirty."

Pete grinned weakly. "Lois. I'm being an idiot. I'm so sorry for your loss."

"The loss is all ours," said Lois, accepting his embrace. "You and Clark are practically family, you know that. The goatee's hot on you, Ross." She flashed a flirtatious smile at Clark. "What do you think, Smallville? Want to grow a little scruff? It might be fun."

Clark returned the smile. "God help us from any more of your fun, Lane. I've barely recovered from the last time we--" He stopped himself just in time, coughing in embarrassment.

Pete looked at Clark's reddened cheeks then at Lois, who was all too pleased with herself, then back at Clark. Stepping back, he slapped his thigh and let out a chuckle.

"We didn't realise you were married," said Lana. She remained on the couch, perfectly poised.

As always, Clark and Lois tripped over the explanation for their relationship. "We aren't really--"

"Oh no, it's not--"

"-- been a while now--"

"-- nothing official--"

"-- Clark's afraid of tuxes--"

"-- Lois hates pomp--"

They stared at each other. "We're just together."

"You seem to be very happy," said Lana. "I'm so pleased for you althugh I can't say I'm surprised."

"Lana." In five of his long-legged strides, Clark crossed the room to her side. She rose, wringing her manicured hands. He almost hugged her; Lois braced herself for the rush of jealousy that she knew was unfounded but couldn't prevent. Lana was just so beautiful. Lois was no slouch in the self-confidence department; she was aware of her own looks, how to flatter her features and she knew for a fact that in the right wrapping, her legs could turn Clark into a gibbering wreck. But there was something about Lana's porcelain delicacy that set her teeth on edge.

Clark must have sensed that because in the end, he only took Lana's hands and kissed her cheek lightly. She returned the kiss quickly. "It's been too long, Clark."

"Much too long. Mom was just wondering about you."

"Mrs. Kent, mother to everyone. Is she still in office?"

"No, she retired... I guess four years ago now." Clark held a hand out for Lois who came to his side and staked out a seat in the plush love seat across from the antique sofa. "She's back to managing the farm."

Lana and Pete also sat. "All that land by herself?" asked Lana.

"She's hired a few hands, local kids mostly. Also, half of the land is donated to Met U as part of their research into naturopathic remedies. Having the college around has really breathed new life into Smallville. The Talon is a movie theatre again albeit in three floors and digital surround sound," Clark teased.

Lana only smiled wistfully. "It would be fun to see it."

"You should."

Lana and Pete exchanged cryptic looks. "Smallville's a little dangerous for Lana," said Pete. "Anything in the States is as a matter of fact."

"Is this about Luthor?" asked Lois. "'Cause I'll have you know, we--"

Someone rapped smartly on the door. Clark automatically skimmed through the barrier to check for intruders as Pete stood to answer it. Two men stood behind the door, the older one facing them and the other, leaning away. The latter's heart was racing although he breathed at an easy pace.

"Are you ready?" asked the calmer man.

"Whatever," replied the second one, shrugging with so much nonchalance that it had to be faked.

"Everything will be all right, I'm sure."

"Yeah, look, I just want to get this over with, okay?"

"Of course."

Clark stood. "Pete, maybe I should answer it."

Without a word, Pete stepped back but stayed within arm's reach. Lois positioned herself out of view as a third line of defence. To her surprise, Lana pulled a compact pistol out of her clutch.

"Who is it?" asked Clark.

"Ramir Boutboul, sir, with Conner Sullivan."

Conner Sullivan? Clark mouthed the name at Lois but it was Lana who caught his attention. The hand holding the pistol dropped to her side, the other hand covered her gasp.

Clark opened the door. On the other side was a perfect photocopy of himself at age fourteen.

To his credit, Boutboul looked as flabbergasted as everyone else in the room. He blinked through frameless glasses, his gaze bouncing between Clark and Conner over and over. Pete, Lana and Lois did the same with various speeds in dawning revelation.

Lois broke the hypnotic pingponging exchange of gaping. "Looks like you've been holding out on us, too, Smallville."

Clark whirled around so quickly his glasses nearly fell off. "Lois, I promise you I... Chloe and I never... I think I'd remember... I mean, even... wait..." He pressed two fingers against his temple.

"Hey." Lois squeezed his arm. I believe you, her eyes said.

I would never keep something like this from you, he replied in the same manner.

I know.

Conner's shock broke on a much more heated note. "If this is about living with him, I'm not going to do it. I've been fine all this time without him and I sure as hell don't want anything to do with him now!"

Clark visibly crumpled at his words. Family meant so much to him, not only because of his upbringing but because he knew he was the last of his kind. To have a blood relative say something like that... stabbing him with a shard of kryptonite would have been kinder.

Her temper stoked, Lois marched up to the teenager and poked her finger into his chest. "Listen, buddy, we might not have known you but I know Chloe and she would have been damned pissed off that you're talking to someone you barely know like that."

Discreetly, Boutboul cleared his throat and shut the rest of the hallway out of the erupting drama. "Ladies, gentlemen, if you haven't already deduced, this is Conner Sullivan, Chloe Sullivan's son."

"And he's is so out of here, you won't even have time to eat his dust." Conner made for the door but Boutboul was there before him. For a little guy, he was pretty spry, Lois reflected.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Sullivan, but your mother's will explicitly requires you to stay here with the rest of the guests until this evening." Boutboul pulled a package out of his briefcase. It was wrapped in brown paper and otherwise featureless. "As soon as I leave the room, you may open this package. I will return at eleven o' clock sharp with the rest of the instructions. Good day, gentlemen, ladies." With a smart little bow, he marched out of the door.

Pete reached for the package but Clark waved him away. He waited until his footsteps reached the elevator before saying, "Let me have a look at it first."

"A bomb doesn't really tick, you know," said Conner. When the adults stared at him, he explained, "I told you, I can take care of myself. Mom taught me a lot of stuff."

"Even if that's true, I should still scan it," said Clark. "Everyone step back."

"I told you, I don't --"

Lois shoved him, gently, on the shoulder. "Just move, Junior."

A metal box encased whatever the package was holding. Clark focused another layer deeper and found a portable DVD player, the kind found in any electronics department of any store. It already held batteries and a DVD. Everything scanned cool; no suspicious chemicals or extra devices hung from the player.

"I think we're okay," Clark said. He ripped the wrapping paper off. The metal box had a combination lock, the sort found in luggage but with seven dials instead of the usual five.

Pete whistled. "Jeez, Chloe, what's in this thing, a map to the fountain of youth?"

"This is Chloe," said Lana. "That's not a bad guess."

Conner shot her a glare. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing bad," Lana said. She still had a vaguely shocked look about her, like she had to drink in as much information as possible on this scene.

While Conner was distracted, Clark crushed the lock between his thumb and forefinger. "Huh. I guess it's not as tight as it looks," he said, jiggling the box hard. "I wonder if we should follow up on the warrantee--"

"Smallville." Lois said, her impatience only half-joking.

"Um, right." He opened the box and drew out the DVD player. Setting it on the coffee table, he waited for everyone to take a seat before pressing play.

The strange thing about getting older, in Lois' opinion, was that while you were aware of time passing, you never actually felt it. Here she was on the verge of thirty-five and she still felt like a twenty-year-old. She'd celebrated around fifteen of Clark's birthdays and knew, logically, that he wasn't the apple-cheeked country boy with too-large hands and wide eyes she first met. She knew, logically, that Chloe was the same age as Clark and would have had to change. Even that didn't prepare her for seeing Chloe as an adult.

"Oh my God." Lois leaned forward. "Oh, jeez, Two-Bit, when did you stop being so little?"

It wasn't that Chloe looked bad. Someone who hadn't known her in high school would not have guessed her age past twenty-five. But weariness pulled her eyes down and lines bracketed her mouth. Lois chose to believe they were laugh lines. She still wore her hair short but, like Lois', it had gotten darker.

"Hi guys," said Chloe from the recording. "If you're watching this, I'm dead and I meant it this time. No faking, no kidnappings, just plain old gone."

Lana let out a squeak and buried her face in Pete's shoulder. He cupped her head, a little stiffly, Clark though. He filed the reaction away for future gnawing.

Chloe laced her fingers together. "First of all, I want to say I'm sorry. There's a reason I stayed out of touch with everyone and his name is Conner. I had to protect him."

Conner cursed under his breath, ignoring the swift sidelong glances from the others in the room.

"That said, my second point is this: I'm onto something big. Really massive. Pulitzer stuff if we're still competing, Lois." She winked, making Lois sniffle. "Of course, since you guys are watching this, I probably didn't finish it. Just remember me in your byline. It would be an honour to be named beside the famous-- or is it infamous?-- Lane and Kent writing team. All the information I have is split up and stored away in several different places. You all have everything you need to figure out where they are and how to decode them; you just have to figure it out. Like Nancy Drew or X-Files, right? We'll see if my lessons in paranoia sank in.

"Okay, now for the tough parts." The video skipped as Chloe's expression twisted. She reached for the camera then, a second later, much more composed but with a slightly redder nose, the video stilled. "Whoa. Okay, I knew that was going to be tough but I haven't even started and the waterworks went off. Clark, Lois, you know what I'm talking about. We're all writers because text can edit itself. We can go back and change things, make ourselves sound wittier, smarter and more put together than we are in real life. We could never seem to get the right words out when spoken."

Clark had to laugh with her at that. Pete and Lois smiled as well, watery ones. Lana had long since dipped into her clutch for Kleenex and had a steadily growing pile on the side table.

"So here's my attempt to be verbally adept and sincere and maybe in the end, I'd've convinced you that I didn't write and re-write this part ten times." Chloe sniffled. "Pete, you always protected me. You were the first one to make friends with me when I moved to Smallville and even when you lost patience with me, you were always on my side. I know now why you had to cover up for Clark so many times and I just want you to know that I never resented you for that. That was just you being you. There's this old fable about the sun and the wind competing to get a man to remove his coat. The wind blew and blew until he always blew out a tornado but the man only clutched his coat tighter. Then the sun came out. He just came out and shined down on the man and within minutes, the man took his coat off. You're like that sun. You're going to rule the world someday with your gentleness. God knows you don't need it but I'm leaving you my dad's office desk, you know, the one we carved our names into and then patched up badly 'cause Clark had an attack of conscience?

"Lana." Here Chloe's self-deprecating grin showed through the sadness. "You and me, we've been through a lot, haven't we? I'm not going to say much because we've talked before but I just... please, after you watch this, tell them about that conversation, okay? It's not my story to tell and they all need to hear it."

Lana blew her nose and nodded. "Whatever you say, Chloe."

"I also want to thank you so much," Chloe continued. "You gave me the most wonderful, most precious..." She paused, eyes drifting off camera as though looking for a prompt. "Your gift is the reason I exist, I think. So again, thank you from the bottom of my heart. My lawyer's going to give you a key to a storage rental just outside Versailles. You can have everything in it-- memorabilia, clippings, everything I know you'll treasure.

"Lois, you better not be beating someone up. You know that never really helps."

That gave the audience a much needed relief from the gloom especially since Lois had been strangling a pillow throughout the video so far.

"Chloe, you big goof," said Lois.

Almost as if she could hear them, Chloe winked again. "I really looked up to you as a kid, literally and figuratively. Most literally once we hit puberty and I stopped growing. You're the sister I've always wanted-- you're fun, smart, protective as hell and you're just not afraid of anything. Lately I've been afraid of--" Chloe sighed then waved the thought away. "Anyway, I just want to say that I love you and you're the best. I may have started writing before you but you've always been my hero in that department. I'm giving you my laptop and all my files; I know you'll use that information."

Clark raised Lois' hands to his lips. He hadn't let go since the video started; he was afraid he'd crush her hand when Chloe's message for him came up.

"So now it's Clark's turn." Chloe shook her head. "You probably know this, but I honed my investigative skills on you. I couldn't understand how someone as nice and genuinely good could be so invisible to everyone else in Smallville. It's like you had this aura of goodness around you that everyone else took for granted, even yourself. I want you to know that I'm proud of you even though I'm freakin' petrified at the same time. Take care of yourself. Let Lois take care of you. And never worry because you're the most human person I know. I love you buckets, Clark. I always will."

"Love you, Chloe." Clark touched the screen with his fingertips.

"I've written you in as co-executor of all my finances on the grounds that you hold them in trust until Conner's of age. You'll be sharing guardianship with Lois."

"What?" Conner yelped but was quickly hushed by Lois' glare.

"I'd also like you to go through Dad's house in Smallville. You know what I'd like to leave with Conner and, well..." The video crackled again. When it cleared, Chloe had removed her sweater. "Last but most definitely not least, Conner. If you turn around and roll your eyes, young man, I will reach out from the grave and smack you, so help me God."

Conner blushed; he was about to do just that. Instead, with a self-conscious glance over his shoulder, he settled on the floor inches from the monitor.

"Conner, my baby, even now that you're almost six feet tall." Chloe smiled beatifically. "Let's get the useless stuff out of the way: like I said, you get the money, all the investments and all the royalties from my writing, the house in Smallville and the condo there in London. The money will be held in trust until you turn eighteen as long as you finish school and training with your guardians.

"When I was composing this, I had to come to grips with the fact that the English language is really damn pitiful. Here I am, trying to succinctly express all the stuff--" here Chloe spread her arms wide-- "that I feel for you and the thesaurus tells me that the word for it is 'love.' We use that word so easily these days; I can say I love pizza and Orlando Bloom and Brussels in the fall but those definitions don't even cover a fraction of a millionth of the emotions that come up when I think of you. The day you came into my life-- a miniature, wrinkly, red old man in a stocking cap and plaid-- was the most terrifying day that I can remember but I have never regretted it. I could never regret a second of my life with you. I only wish that you could have grown up with my family, the people in the room with you right now, because they would have given you even more love because you should have all of that. You deserve all of that. Whatever you learn today, never, ever, ever doubt that I love you. You're the best part of my life."

"Geez, Mom!" Conner rubbed at his face, his forehead wrinkled with emotion.

Chloe blew a kiss at the camera. "Okay, care and feeding instructions: don't eat too much junk food and make sure to do your homework as soon as you get home from school. Don't over-do anything but don't slack off either. Make sure you brush your teeth every night. Um, God, what else is a motherly thing to say?"

"Shun CNN?" Conner suggested, his head hidden in his arms.

"Oh, yeah." Chloe snapped her fingers. "Shun CNN. I love you, sweetie."

The video flipped to black.