Secret Santa Fic For lilbreck
secret alphabets
He is not one to share. She is one to try. Kal-El-centric. Chloe. Au. Pg.
For Tonya. Sorry there’s no smut.
Big thanks to sanadafaye who cleaned up the story nicely.
--
They are sitting in a parked car in between two streetlamps. The feeble orange light of the streetlamps prevents the night’s blackness from encroaching too deeply. Inside the car it is cold, the engine having been off for over an hour.
They’re waiting patiently, hoping to break a story. The darkness and the cold are prices they pay.
Not that he’s cold. Not that the darkness limits his ability to see. His partner is unaware of this, of course. No one knows.
“Where were you born, Kal?” Chloe asks. Her question disrupts the silence they had mutually, but nonverbally, agreed to when he parked the car.
He shrugs.
Chloe is lifting her thermos of coffee to her lips. She slowly sips then lowers the silver thermos, her gloved fingers wrapped tightly around it. She looks at him quizzically. “No, really, where were you born?”
“Why?” he asks.
“We’re partners, but I feel like we don’t know each other well enough. It’s been six months.”
“I know you like your coffee with two creams and three sugars. Isn’t that more important than where we were born?”
Chloe sighs. She mutters something about stubborn men.
But that’s not it. Not at all. Kal can’t tell her why because the answer could lead to a series of questions he is unable to answer. Won’t answer.
The silence in the car begins again. Outside it is loud, although his partner wouldn’t be able to hear the spectrum of sounds he can. Right now a fight between a husband and wife is occurring in a nearby apartment. It’s verbal at the moment but it could escalate; he has no way to easily escape the car to assist if that happens.
Kal watches Chloe drink from her thermos again. This time she keeps the thermos just below her mouth after she swallows. She is looking straight ahead, waiting.
They continue to wait.
Nothing happens.
--
The next night they’re in the car again, parked on the same street only in a different spot. Tonight is slightly warmer than last night but Chloe still has on her thick coat, scarf, and gloves.
“You’re going to freeze,” Chloe said the night before when she saw his attire. He wore a light sweater and a lightweight wool coat.
“I’ll be fine,” he replied.
Chloe shook her head and told him not to whine when the cold became too much for him. She would have no sympathy, she said. When this never happened, she muttered he must have boiling blood right before she exited the car once their stakeout ended without satisfaction.
Kal just grinned, stretching facial muscles he didn’t often use. It made his partner smile as she waved goodbye.
Two hours into the stakeout this Tuesday night, he is the one to break the previous silence by saying, “I don’t know where I was born.”
This is true legally. In truth, though, he knows where he was born. He was born on a planet in a galaxy far away. He has always known he was different. He has dreamed of his home planet countless times. In the dreams his father talks to him, explains what happened, why his life had to be this way. His father explained why he has the powers he possesses.
The dreams have been a comfort since they started.
He shouldn’t be saying anything; it’s too risky. But Chloe has been too quiet tonight, too hurt by his refusal to answer her question last night. So tonight he has answered her question, and he hopes that will be enough.
“Huh?”
“Last night you asked me where I was born. I don’t know.”
Chloe looks at him, her hands once again wrapped around her thermos. Her coffee addiction is a running joke in the bullpen.
“That’s why I didn’t want to answer,” he adds.
“Oh,” she says. She isn’t pressing him for additional details. It’s distinctly unlike Chloe, and that fact makes him feel warm.
Nothing is said for over a minute. The only sounds are the normal sounds occurring outside: a car backfiring in the distance, police or ambulance sirens somewhere nearby, a door slamming on the block.
“Have you ever heard of a town called Smallville?”
“I have. It’s infamous for its 1989 meteor shower.”
“I was found after that meteor shower. I was found in a field.”
Chloe is looking at him. Her eyes are wide, the pupils dilated from the night’s darkness. “Your parents?”
“The police figured we had been passing through Smallville, taking the scenic route to Metropolis, when the meteor shower hit. Somehow I survived while my parents didn’t.”
Kal doesn’t mention the lack of a car. The police never explained that. They chalked it up to the weirdness of the meteor shower. It was an event unpredicted and one whose consequences were wide and varied.
“I’m sorry,” Chloe says.
Kal nods.
They fall silent again. He suspects Chloe’s silence is the result of her desire not to pry. He appreciates it as unexpected as the gesture is. Only Perry White tends to be more demanding than Chloe in the pursuit to uncover the truth behind any story. In the past six months he has never seen her simply say ‘I’m sorry’ after hearing such a tale. He would have thought she’d start asking questions he can never answer.
He’s thankful she doesn’t, but he isn’t sure what to make of it.
They continue to wait. Nothing comes of it this night. Two nights later they’ll get their break. Patience is key.
--
They’re at work late, the only ones still working on the tenth floor although Perry is still in his office reading a Stephen King novel. The paper goes to print in an hour. Kal knows they won’t make the deadline but he doesn’t say that to Chloe.
He’s reading their notes. Chloe is typing. She says he is a slow typist; he doesn’t inform her that he’s slower because he’s afraid of breaking the keyboard.
There’s something missing; the story isn’t complete yet. They need more and they won’t get it tonight. Kal realized this several minutes ago and is waiting for Chloe to come to the same conclusion.
The moment he’s been waiting for comes a few minutes later. Chloe is rereading what she has typed so far. At the end of it she frowns, brow furrowed. She glances up at him and says, “Damn.”
“Yeah,” Kal says. There isn’t much else to say.
Chloe saves the document then closes the file. She sighs again.
Kal puts away the notes she printed earlier. He stacks the file folder with the notes on top of her inbox. “Tomorrow,” he says.
“We better tell Perry he can head home.”
“He didn’t have to stay,” Kal says. Chloe says she knows. Blackberries and iPhones have made it easy to get final approval. Perry likes to be in the trenches so he often stays until the end.
They’re turning off lights and putting on coats when Chloe suggests they grab a bite to eat. They eat lunch and dinner together fairly often but not usually after their workday has ended. When the workday is over they go their separate ways.
But it’s not like he has a good reason to say no. All that waits for him at home is the television set or the Vonnegut novel he’s been rereading. So he nods and says, “Sure, why not.”
They end up at a nearby diner. He lives some twenty blocks west of the dinner while she lives some fifteen blocks north. The diner is thus somewhat centrally located and they’ve been here before so there’s familiarity.
The diner advertises itself has a real diner, one that advertises having been around since the 1950s. The décor would appear to support this assertion. That dark mint shade of green is the color of the walls, the carpet, and the plastic of the booths. Black is the color of the tabletops as well as the long counter.
Cheap food and free coffee refills keep the diner relatively busy. At eleven on a Thursday night the diner is only a quarter-full. They have their choice of seating and Chloe selects a booth in the middle of the diner. She slides into the side facing the door. It’s a habit of hers.
They order. Their waitress is an older woman with light brown skin. She smiles dully at them and promises to bring their coffee right away.
“Let’s not talk work,” Chloe says once their coffee is delivered. She’s stirring in her cream and sugar. Kal takes neither.
“Um.”
“Kal,” she says. It sounds like a reprimand.
Chloe’s desire for them to become closer has become a familiar refrain of hers over the past month. It started with where he was born. It continued with her asking questions about where he went to school a week later as they got coffee. He deflected the question somewhat, answering that he attended Kansas State University. Then they had gotten busy with the upcoming city elections, digging into allegations of official misconduct, and that had temporarily derailed her attempts.
Kal isn’t fond of telling his story, the bits of it that he can tell. So much of his life has to remain a secret. He likes his partner, he does, but there’s not a lot he can truthfully tell her.
There is also a lack of trust. It’s there and it has to be. She’s an investigative journalist and it’s her nature to dig. She resisted prying before but there are no guarantees she won’t. Kal already knows she’s curious about the rumors of a ghost-like person who assists those in trouble.
But Chloe is persistent and she has wide eyes and seems to want to know. He’s not really familiar with this.
Then again, he’s not really familiar with people caring. He has worked hard to prevent people from caring, from getting involved. Chloe appears to be resistant to his attempts to limit their conversations to work-related topics.
Kal sighs and sips his coffee. He accepts that he can’t deflect with his partner.
Chloe has her fingers wrapped around her mug, a typical gesture of hers. She says, “You can ask me a question first. Any topic you want. How’s that?”
“Fair.”
“I thought so. So, go.”
It isn’t his nature to ask questions to get to know someone better. In journalism he asks questions to understand a situation better. The person is a stranger and he can ask questions of this person just fine. But in this sort of setting, which Kal supposes is akin to friends getting to know each other better, he has no experience.
“Fine,” Kal says. He picks what he thinks is a neutral question. “What are your parents like?”
Chloe pauses for a moment before answering. “My dad is the funny man. He loves to make jokes. My mother…I’m not so sure about. She left when I was five. I remember that she often seemed sad; she didn’t smile a lot. I guess she was depressed but I didn’t know that when I was five. My dad doesn’t talk about her and her parents died when she was in college.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. My dad was great when I was growing up. He probably spoiled me a little too much but I think I came out okay. Not too many neuroses, I think.” Chloe smiles, laughs a little, adds, “I hope.”
“You seem well-adjusted.”
“That was my goal,” she quips.
They sip their coffee, letting a temporary lull settle. He’s not good at this conversation thing, having generally avoided it through his childhood and adolescence. Chloe is more comfortable with it but still the atmosphere is somewhat awkward and silted. Kal supposes this is his fault.
Their food arrives. It gives them an excuse to be quiet. After they eat, Kal orders apple pie and they both get another coffee refill. It's his third, Chloe's fourth. The caffeine doesn't do much for him but it's a habit. His pie comes quickly and then the questions start again.
“Were you adopted?”
Clark rests his hands on the black tabletop. It has small cracks in it, dips from years of use.
“Kal?”
“No,” he finally says. “I spent fifteen years in foster care. I was three when I was found.”
Chloe doesn’t say anything. He hears the question regardless.
“You want to know why I wasn’t adopted.”
“Not if it bothers you.”
“It doesn’t. Not really. It just never worked out. I wasn’t the easiest of children, and my brother was even worse.”
Chloe starts, her mug halfway to her mouth. Coffee spills. He hands her a napkin to wipe up the coffee on the tabletop and on her fingers.
“After the meteor shower, we were found in the same field. The doctor at the hospital said we were likely brothers, likely twins actually given that we both appeared to be three. So Children Services had us recognized as twins, gave us a birthdate, and tried to find a home for us. It didn’t work out.”
“You’ve never mentioned a brother.”
“We were separated when we were eleven. My brother was seen as too much of a handful and was sent to a group home. Our social worker still had some hope for me, but I was put in a group home eventually as well. I was fifteen.”
“What about your brother?” Chloe asks. Her fingertips are stroking the porcelain of her mug.
“Davis ran away when we were thirteen. He didn’t come back and that’s when we fell out of contact. Before that we had been allowed to exchange letters and visit occasionally.”
Chloe’s voice is small when she says, “Oh.”
The silence comes again. Kal eats his apple pie quickly. He thinks about what he left out of the story, how he knows Davis wasn’t his twin but how he doesn’t know what the relationship is. He remembers the day they were found clearly but it offers no answers.
Kal remembers climbing out of the ship, and the smoke that seemed to be everywhere. There was tall grass surrounding the crater the ship made. The soil was warm beneath his feet. He turned and there was Davis, naked as he was, the same size. Davis’s eyes had been wide but not scared. Together they had buried the ship, both somehow knowing this was needed to protect themselves in this new, strange world.
Once he went looking for the ship. He never found it.
Sometimes he wonders about Davis, who he was, where he is now. Kal worries about Davis. He remembers the trouble that Davis constantly inspired. There was property damage and fights with other children, with adults. Davis as an adult can be a frightening prospect.
But it’s not his problem, Kal tells himself. Davis is who Davis is, and Kal is who Kal is. Only that line of reasoning never works out in the end. He should have done more, didn’t.
“We should get going. Early day tomorrow,” Kal says. His head is full and it hurts from thinking about Davis. And his coffee is gone and his slightly disgusting apple pie polished off.
“Every day is an early day for us.”
“Hence the need for sleep.”
Chloe cracks a smile.
They’re exiting the diner after paying when Chloe says, “Do you wonder about Davis a lot?”
She doesn’t ask if he ever does. She knows better even though she doesn’t really know him. No one really knows him.
“I guess,” Kal says, purposefully leaving things vague. Vague is safe usually, although working with reporters he has to be careful. Vague doesn’t always satisfy a reporter’s curiosity. He twists the question and says, “How often do you wonder about your mother?”
Chloe tilts her head. Her hair seems unusually bright underneath the diner’s neon sign. “More than I’d like.”
He nods. Chloe reaches over and squeezes his forearm. It’s a quick gesture, nothing serious about it, but it makes him pause. Either she doesn’t see this or she chooses to let it slip by.
“Night, Kal.”
Chloe walks away, her feet carrying her to the bus stop. Kal watches and then leans against a streetlamp. He waits until she’s on the bus before he heads in the opposite direction, his hearing tuned in for any call for help that might come. He is usually listening, just in case. Another habit.
--
After the dinner at the diner Chloe seems to take a break from the more serious life-related conversations. Instead she peppers their days with random questions as if the answers to these questions will provide clues to who he is. They won’t but she doesn’t know that.
On a sunny Monday Chloe asks, “Favorite color?” They’re in the bullpen doing necessary background research for an interview later that day.
“What?” Kal responds, looking up from his computer screen to where his partner sits. Their desks are across from each other.
The sunlight that isn’t completely filtered out by the blinds is turning Chloe’s hair golden, he notes. He has noted how blue her eyes appear in the muted light.
“Your favorite color. What is it?”
“Am I supposed to have one?”
“Is that a trick question?” Chloe asks. Her brow is furrowed, a sure sign that she truly is confused.
“Blue, I guess. Or maybe red.” Kal shrugs. He offers as an explanation that he doesn’t usually think about it.
A sad expression briefly adorns Chloe’s face. Then she asks him a question related to their interview subject and things return to normal, or as normal as things can be between them.
On a rainy Tuesday she asks him about his favorite novel. This time he has an answer readily available and he volleys back the question. “Mrs. Dalloway with Harry Potter a close second.”
The questions seem random, occurring in no order that Kal can determine. His favorite film. His favorite meal. His favorite food. Where he likes to buy his clothing. His favorite drink from Starbucks. If he had a teddy bear as a child. His shoe size. His favorite holiday. His favorite subject when he was in school. His favorite type of chocolate. The questions don’t come daily and it varies. Sometimes one question in a day, sometimes two or three. Sometimes there is only a day between the questions. Often it’s between two to four days. Once it was a week.
Over a month later Kal still doesn’t know how these questions will explain the mystery of their inner beings to the other. The concept seems beyond his grasp. Sometimes he catches Chloe watching him as if she’s trying to figure out an answer herself. What her question is he isn’t quite sure and he’s not sure he wants to know.
Sometimes he misses working at the Gazette. He didn’t have a partner at the Gazette but that paper was located in Topeka and had a different reputation. Different expectations are the result, hence the partner thing at the Daily Planet, and Perry has stated more than once that Chloe and Kal are a good pairing.
Kal isn’t sure he agrees with Perry.
He likes Chloe, he does, but his nature to hide means they can never become close. She’s trying and he can’t tell her it’s a pointless endeavor. There’s too much at stake for him to ever reveal all the things she would need to know to truly know him.
Sometimes he thinks she suspects this. He thinks that is why the less-personal questions began. The answers won’t prove to be a decoding ring because the secret is just too great.
So they’re stuck. Her with asking questions in a vain attempt at discovering more and him with telling half-truths and lies to stall her as much as possible. They can’t move forward.
--
On a Saturday morning they’re walking back from the Starbucks near the Daily Planet. Chloe said she needed something stronger than the black sludge found in the kitchen. She dragged him with her. The day is sunny, the spring air fresh and slightly crisp.
They’re waiting to cross the street when Chloe asks yet another question. Kal should be prepared but he never is. The timing is too random.
“Is your full name Kaleb?”
He can’t feel the heat radiating from his coffee cup. He never really can. He says, “No.”
“Just Kal?”
“No. Kalel. Kalel Ethan Turner.”
“Kalel,” Chloe says slowly. “That’s different.” Her comment comes out soft.
“It’s what I said my name was,” Kal says. It was the one piece of information he could volunteer to the hospital and Children Services staff. It might satisfy Chloe’s curiosity, or it might not. It’s hard to say.
In the next moment Chloe is asking another question. There’s a lesson here.
“What about Davis?”
Kal shakes his head. “Davis couldn’t, or wouldn’t, speak. A nurse named him.”
If Chloe finds it odd that one twin could speak but the other couldn’t she doesn’t say. If she finds it odd that he knew his name but not his brother’s name she doesn’t say. She just looks at him like he’s a puzzle she’s trying to figure out but can’t. He’s no help in the matter.
He knows she just wants to understand him. He can’t tell her the effort is pointless. He’s an alien and she’ll never understand him.
They’re back at the office. “Time to get back to work,” Kal says with what he hopes is a light tone.
“Yeah,” Chloe says. Her voice sounds distant. Kal isn’t surprised.
--
“How about beer and pizza at my place tonight?” Chloe suggests. She’s leaning on his desk, the fingers of her right hand resting on the stack of papers in his inbox.
Kal’s fingers are paused over his keyboard. Chloe has an earnest expression on her face and he finds himself nodding and saying, “Sure.”
“Great.” She smiles then reverts the conversation back to the topic of work.
Later that day he arrives at the apartment building Chloe said was hers. They left work at the same time, but she said to take half an hour and head home to change before coming over. So Kal did, changing into jeans and a long-sleeved white shirt. He rings her buzzer.
A few minutes later and he’s in her apartment, his jacket in Chloe’s hands. She hangs it in her coat closet.
“Do you ever wear color?” Chloe asks as she turns around. Her back is almost pressed against the wall.
Kal shrugs. “I guess not a lot.”
People remember color. He likes colors, particularly red and blue. Those are the colors of his birth family but those colors, and the particular shades that represent the El line are not exactly discreet. They are bright colors, the kind that draw the eye. He needs to blend in, as that’s the safest thing for him.
His parents wanted him to survive. He won’t do anything to jeopardize that even if that means wearing neutral colors.
Chloe nods and directs him to the living room. The walls are white, he notes, but the furniture provides splashes of color. Her couch is a pale blue while an armchair in the corner of the room is lavender colored. The coffee table is cherry wood.
“Nice place,” Kal says. “It suits you.”
“Thanks.” Chloe smiles and says, “Have a seat.”
There’s an awkward atmosphere. It’s not exactly unfamiliar: it reminds him of nearly everyday Chloe has asked him a personal question. It reminds him that they aren’t close, which is what he wants. It makes Chloe smile too much.
“Beer?” she asks.
“Sure.” Beer has no effect on him but he can drink it just the same.
He’s sitting on the couch. Chloe is sitting in the armchair. They each have a bottle of beer in their hands. He watches her play with the label, worrying it so that it peels off slightly. He wonders why she invited him, tries not to worry unduly.
He does worry. It’s his nature, Kal thinks. The consequence of being a survivor of a dead planet.
“How did you get into journalism?” Chloe asks.
How to answer that question? He can’t exactly say he thought it would aid him in his desire to get involved and help people with his abilities. Sometimes this happens although not as much as he would like. The trouble with becoming involved is that most people don’t cry out for help. It’s generally only after the violence has occurred that it comes out.
Maybe he should have gone into policing. Hindsight is twenty-twenty as they say. He thought journalism would allow him a less intrusive way into people’s lives.
“It seemed like a good fit,” he ultimately says.
Chloe looks disappointed in his answer. Her eyes drop to her lap, and he has the urge to confess his secrets to her. Just as quickly as it comes the urge passes; he knows better. A dozen films and books have revealed what humans think of aliens.
“What about you?” Kal asks to deflect.
She’s looking at him again which he takes as a good sign. Her fingers are once again playing with the label of her beer. She’s wearing jeans and a t-shirt, fitting in with her apartment.
He thinks that maybe he should just leave.
“My mother left and I never understood why. It started a lifelong need to understand, to find truths. Journalism is where I belong.”
The buzzer rings, saving Kal from having to answer. She has been truthful while he couldn’t. He sinks deeper into the cushions of the couch, the cotton soft around him. Again he thinks of leaving but it’s really too late for this.
Chloe comes back with the pizza. She grabs plates from the kitchen and napkins. The awkward atmosphere is still present, pressing down on them as they eat.
There’s more silence. It’s not a comfortable silence. It’s awkward like usual with them.
“Does it ever get tiring having to constantly wear your armor?” Chloe asks abruptly.
He looks over at her. Her plate has a half-eaten slice of pizza on it, like she was eating but the question wouldn’t leave her alone.
He says, “What?”
His hearing works fine. He heard the question and heard it clearly. He knows what she is asking but he wants her to take back the question.
“You never let anyone in. You have this armor that seems to prevent it.”
“You’re trying.”
“You’re not letting me in.” Her fingers are tightly gripping her plate. Her posture is tense.
Kal has had thirty years to learn how to keep people from prying. It started when he was three and he just knew he wasn’t like other kids. He knew he was different. After thirty years he doesn’t trust anyone, and he thinks it’s true about leopards being unable to change their spots. Chloe can’t overcome his instinctual need to hide the truth.
There’s a knowing look in her eyes when he doesn’t respond. It’s a sad knowing look.
“I thought so,” she says softly. It is a reprimand and it feels like one.
It also feels like this was a last chance. She was hoping he would say something truthful and the only thing she got was his refusal to budge an inch.
It’s not that he likes to be alone or that he prefers to be lonely. It’s not that he wouldn’t like to have a friend. But it’s not that easy and it’s just safer this way. Safer for all.
“I should go,” Kal says.
Chloe nods. She doesn’t see him out.
--
The questions stop.
Kal feels relieved and, strangely, disappointed at this. The two feelings are in competition and neither wins in the end. Nothing wins.
He is not one to share. She is one to try. Kal-El-centric. Chloe. Au. Pg.
For Tonya. Sorry there’s no smut.
Big thanks to sanadafaye who cleaned up the story nicely.
--
They are sitting in a parked car in between two streetlamps. The feeble orange light of the streetlamps prevents the night’s blackness from encroaching too deeply. Inside the car it is cold, the engine having been off for over an hour.
They’re waiting patiently, hoping to break a story. The darkness and the cold are prices they pay.
Not that he’s cold. Not that the darkness limits his ability to see. His partner is unaware of this, of course. No one knows.
“Where were you born, Kal?” Chloe asks. Her question disrupts the silence they had mutually, but nonverbally, agreed to when he parked the car.
He shrugs.
Chloe is lifting her thermos of coffee to her lips. She slowly sips then lowers the silver thermos, her gloved fingers wrapped tightly around it. She looks at him quizzically. “No, really, where were you born?”
“Why?” he asks.
“We’re partners, but I feel like we don’t know each other well enough. It’s been six months.”
“I know you like your coffee with two creams and three sugars. Isn’t that more important than where we were born?”
Chloe sighs. She mutters something about stubborn men.
But that’s not it. Not at all. Kal can’t tell her why because the answer could lead to a series of questions he is unable to answer. Won’t answer.
The silence in the car begins again. Outside it is loud, although his partner wouldn’t be able to hear the spectrum of sounds he can. Right now a fight between a husband and wife is occurring in a nearby apartment. It’s verbal at the moment but it could escalate; he has no way to easily escape the car to assist if that happens.
Kal watches Chloe drink from her thermos again. This time she keeps the thermos just below her mouth after she swallows. She is looking straight ahead, waiting.
They continue to wait.
Nothing happens.
--
The next night they’re in the car again, parked on the same street only in a different spot. Tonight is slightly warmer than last night but Chloe still has on her thick coat, scarf, and gloves.
“You’re going to freeze,” Chloe said the night before when she saw his attire. He wore a light sweater and a lightweight wool coat.
“I’ll be fine,” he replied.
Chloe shook her head and told him not to whine when the cold became too much for him. She would have no sympathy, she said. When this never happened, she muttered he must have boiling blood right before she exited the car once their stakeout ended without satisfaction.
Kal just grinned, stretching facial muscles he didn’t often use. It made his partner smile as she waved goodbye.
Two hours into the stakeout this Tuesday night, he is the one to break the previous silence by saying, “I don’t know where I was born.”
This is true legally. In truth, though, he knows where he was born. He was born on a planet in a galaxy far away. He has always known he was different. He has dreamed of his home planet countless times. In the dreams his father talks to him, explains what happened, why his life had to be this way. His father explained why he has the powers he possesses.
The dreams have been a comfort since they started.
He shouldn’t be saying anything; it’s too risky. But Chloe has been too quiet tonight, too hurt by his refusal to answer her question last night. So tonight he has answered her question, and he hopes that will be enough.
“Huh?”
“Last night you asked me where I was born. I don’t know.”
Chloe looks at him, her hands once again wrapped around her thermos. Her coffee addiction is a running joke in the bullpen.
“That’s why I didn’t want to answer,” he adds.
“Oh,” she says. She isn’t pressing him for additional details. It’s distinctly unlike Chloe, and that fact makes him feel warm.
Nothing is said for over a minute. The only sounds are the normal sounds occurring outside: a car backfiring in the distance, police or ambulance sirens somewhere nearby, a door slamming on the block.
“Have you ever heard of a town called Smallville?”
“I have. It’s infamous for its 1989 meteor shower.”
“I was found after that meteor shower. I was found in a field.”
Chloe is looking at him. Her eyes are wide, the pupils dilated from the night’s darkness. “Your parents?”
“The police figured we had been passing through Smallville, taking the scenic route to Metropolis, when the meteor shower hit. Somehow I survived while my parents didn’t.”
Kal doesn’t mention the lack of a car. The police never explained that. They chalked it up to the weirdness of the meteor shower. It was an event unpredicted and one whose consequences were wide and varied.
“I’m sorry,” Chloe says.
Kal nods.
They fall silent again. He suspects Chloe’s silence is the result of her desire not to pry. He appreciates it as unexpected as the gesture is. Only Perry White tends to be more demanding than Chloe in the pursuit to uncover the truth behind any story. In the past six months he has never seen her simply say ‘I’m sorry’ after hearing such a tale. He would have thought she’d start asking questions he can never answer.
He’s thankful she doesn’t, but he isn’t sure what to make of it.
They continue to wait. Nothing comes of it this night. Two nights later they’ll get their break. Patience is key.
--
They’re at work late, the only ones still working on the tenth floor although Perry is still in his office reading a Stephen King novel. The paper goes to print in an hour. Kal knows they won’t make the deadline but he doesn’t say that to Chloe.
He’s reading their notes. Chloe is typing. She says he is a slow typist; he doesn’t inform her that he’s slower because he’s afraid of breaking the keyboard.
There’s something missing; the story isn’t complete yet. They need more and they won’t get it tonight. Kal realized this several minutes ago and is waiting for Chloe to come to the same conclusion.
The moment he’s been waiting for comes a few minutes later. Chloe is rereading what she has typed so far. At the end of it she frowns, brow furrowed. She glances up at him and says, “Damn.”
“Yeah,” Kal says. There isn’t much else to say.
Chloe saves the document then closes the file. She sighs again.
Kal puts away the notes she printed earlier. He stacks the file folder with the notes on top of her inbox. “Tomorrow,” he says.
“We better tell Perry he can head home.”
“He didn’t have to stay,” Kal says. Chloe says she knows. Blackberries and iPhones have made it easy to get final approval. Perry likes to be in the trenches so he often stays until the end.
They’re turning off lights and putting on coats when Chloe suggests they grab a bite to eat. They eat lunch and dinner together fairly often but not usually after their workday has ended. When the workday is over they go their separate ways.
But it’s not like he has a good reason to say no. All that waits for him at home is the television set or the Vonnegut novel he’s been rereading. So he nods and says, “Sure, why not.”
They end up at a nearby diner. He lives some twenty blocks west of the dinner while she lives some fifteen blocks north. The diner is thus somewhat centrally located and they’ve been here before so there’s familiarity.
The diner advertises itself has a real diner, one that advertises having been around since the 1950s. The décor would appear to support this assertion. That dark mint shade of green is the color of the walls, the carpet, and the plastic of the booths. Black is the color of the tabletops as well as the long counter.
Cheap food and free coffee refills keep the diner relatively busy. At eleven on a Thursday night the diner is only a quarter-full. They have their choice of seating and Chloe selects a booth in the middle of the diner. She slides into the side facing the door. It’s a habit of hers.
They order. Their waitress is an older woman with light brown skin. She smiles dully at them and promises to bring their coffee right away.
“Let’s not talk work,” Chloe says once their coffee is delivered. She’s stirring in her cream and sugar. Kal takes neither.
“Um.”
“Kal,” she says. It sounds like a reprimand.
Chloe’s desire for them to become closer has become a familiar refrain of hers over the past month. It started with where he was born. It continued with her asking questions about where he went to school a week later as they got coffee. He deflected the question somewhat, answering that he attended Kansas State University. Then they had gotten busy with the upcoming city elections, digging into allegations of official misconduct, and that had temporarily derailed her attempts.
Kal isn’t fond of telling his story, the bits of it that he can tell. So much of his life has to remain a secret. He likes his partner, he does, but there’s not a lot he can truthfully tell her.
There is also a lack of trust. It’s there and it has to be. She’s an investigative journalist and it’s her nature to dig. She resisted prying before but there are no guarantees she won’t. Kal already knows she’s curious about the rumors of a ghost-like person who assists those in trouble.
But Chloe is persistent and she has wide eyes and seems to want to know. He’s not really familiar with this.
Then again, he’s not really familiar with people caring. He has worked hard to prevent people from caring, from getting involved. Chloe appears to be resistant to his attempts to limit their conversations to work-related topics.
Kal sighs and sips his coffee. He accepts that he can’t deflect with his partner.
Chloe has her fingers wrapped around her mug, a typical gesture of hers. She says, “You can ask me a question first. Any topic you want. How’s that?”
“Fair.”
“I thought so. So, go.”
It isn’t his nature to ask questions to get to know someone better. In journalism he asks questions to understand a situation better. The person is a stranger and he can ask questions of this person just fine. But in this sort of setting, which Kal supposes is akin to friends getting to know each other better, he has no experience.
“Fine,” Kal says. He picks what he thinks is a neutral question. “What are your parents like?”
Chloe pauses for a moment before answering. “My dad is the funny man. He loves to make jokes. My mother…I’m not so sure about. She left when I was five. I remember that she often seemed sad; she didn’t smile a lot. I guess she was depressed but I didn’t know that when I was five. My dad doesn’t talk about her and her parents died when she was in college.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. My dad was great when I was growing up. He probably spoiled me a little too much but I think I came out okay. Not too many neuroses, I think.” Chloe smiles, laughs a little, adds, “I hope.”
“You seem well-adjusted.”
“That was my goal,” she quips.
They sip their coffee, letting a temporary lull settle. He’s not good at this conversation thing, having generally avoided it through his childhood and adolescence. Chloe is more comfortable with it but still the atmosphere is somewhat awkward and silted. Kal supposes this is his fault.
Their food arrives. It gives them an excuse to be quiet. After they eat, Kal orders apple pie and they both get another coffee refill. It's his third, Chloe's fourth. The caffeine doesn't do much for him but it's a habit. His pie comes quickly and then the questions start again.
“Were you adopted?”
Clark rests his hands on the black tabletop. It has small cracks in it, dips from years of use.
“Kal?”
“No,” he finally says. “I spent fifteen years in foster care. I was three when I was found.”
Chloe doesn’t say anything. He hears the question regardless.
“You want to know why I wasn’t adopted.”
“Not if it bothers you.”
“It doesn’t. Not really. It just never worked out. I wasn’t the easiest of children, and my brother was even worse.”
Chloe starts, her mug halfway to her mouth. Coffee spills. He hands her a napkin to wipe up the coffee on the tabletop and on her fingers.
“After the meteor shower, we were found in the same field. The doctor at the hospital said we were likely brothers, likely twins actually given that we both appeared to be three. So Children Services had us recognized as twins, gave us a birthdate, and tried to find a home for us. It didn’t work out.”
“You’ve never mentioned a brother.”
“We were separated when we were eleven. My brother was seen as too much of a handful and was sent to a group home. Our social worker still had some hope for me, but I was put in a group home eventually as well. I was fifteen.”
“What about your brother?” Chloe asks. Her fingertips are stroking the porcelain of her mug.
“Davis ran away when we were thirteen. He didn’t come back and that’s when we fell out of contact. Before that we had been allowed to exchange letters and visit occasionally.”
Chloe’s voice is small when she says, “Oh.”
The silence comes again. Kal eats his apple pie quickly. He thinks about what he left out of the story, how he knows Davis wasn’t his twin but how he doesn’t know what the relationship is. He remembers the day they were found clearly but it offers no answers.
Kal remembers climbing out of the ship, and the smoke that seemed to be everywhere. There was tall grass surrounding the crater the ship made. The soil was warm beneath his feet. He turned and there was Davis, naked as he was, the same size. Davis’s eyes had been wide but not scared. Together they had buried the ship, both somehow knowing this was needed to protect themselves in this new, strange world.
Once he went looking for the ship. He never found it.
Sometimes he wonders about Davis, who he was, where he is now. Kal worries about Davis. He remembers the trouble that Davis constantly inspired. There was property damage and fights with other children, with adults. Davis as an adult can be a frightening prospect.
But it’s not his problem, Kal tells himself. Davis is who Davis is, and Kal is who Kal is. Only that line of reasoning never works out in the end. He should have done more, didn’t.
“We should get going. Early day tomorrow,” Kal says. His head is full and it hurts from thinking about Davis. And his coffee is gone and his slightly disgusting apple pie polished off.
“Every day is an early day for us.”
“Hence the need for sleep.”
Chloe cracks a smile.
They’re exiting the diner after paying when Chloe says, “Do you wonder about Davis a lot?”
She doesn’t ask if he ever does. She knows better even though she doesn’t really know him. No one really knows him.
“I guess,” Kal says, purposefully leaving things vague. Vague is safe usually, although working with reporters he has to be careful. Vague doesn’t always satisfy a reporter’s curiosity. He twists the question and says, “How often do you wonder about your mother?”
Chloe tilts her head. Her hair seems unusually bright underneath the diner’s neon sign. “More than I’d like.”
He nods. Chloe reaches over and squeezes his forearm. It’s a quick gesture, nothing serious about it, but it makes him pause. Either she doesn’t see this or she chooses to let it slip by.
“Night, Kal.”
Chloe walks away, her feet carrying her to the bus stop. Kal watches and then leans against a streetlamp. He waits until she’s on the bus before he heads in the opposite direction, his hearing tuned in for any call for help that might come. He is usually listening, just in case. Another habit.
--
After the dinner at the diner Chloe seems to take a break from the more serious life-related conversations. Instead she peppers their days with random questions as if the answers to these questions will provide clues to who he is. They won’t but she doesn’t know that.
On a sunny Monday Chloe asks, “Favorite color?” They’re in the bullpen doing necessary background research for an interview later that day.
“What?” Kal responds, looking up from his computer screen to where his partner sits. Their desks are across from each other.
The sunlight that isn’t completely filtered out by the blinds is turning Chloe’s hair golden, he notes. He has noted how blue her eyes appear in the muted light.
“Your favorite color. What is it?”
“Am I supposed to have one?”
“Is that a trick question?” Chloe asks. Her brow is furrowed, a sure sign that she truly is confused.
“Blue, I guess. Or maybe red.” Kal shrugs. He offers as an explanation that he doesn’t usually think about it.
A sad expression briefly adorns Chloe’s face. Then she asks him a question related to their interview subject and things return to normal, or as normal as things can be between them.
On a rainy Tuesday she asks him about his favorite novel. This time he has an answer readily available and he volleys back the question. “Mrs. Dalloway with Harry Potter a close second.”
The questions seem random, occurring in no order that Kal can determine. His favorite film. His favorite meal. His favorite food. Where he likes to buy his clothing. His favorite drink from Starbucks. If he had a teddy bear as a child. His shoe size. His favorite holiday. His favorite subject when he was in school. His favorite type of chocolate. The questions don’t come daily and it varies. Sometimes one question in a day, sometimes two or three. Sometimes there is only a day between the questions. Often it’s between two to four days. Once it was a week.
Over a month later Kal still doesn’t know how these questions will explain the mystery of their inner beings to the other. The concept seems beyond his grasp. Sometimes he catches Chloe watching him as if she’s trying to figure out an answer herself. What her question is he isn’t quite sure and he’s not sure he wants to know.
Sometimes he misses working at the Gazette. He didn’t have a partner at the Gazette but that paper was located in Topeka and had a different reputation. Different expectations are the result, hence the partner thing at the Daily Planet, and Perry has stated more than once that Chloe and Kal are a good pairing.
Kal isn’t sure he agrees with Perry.
He likes Chloe, he does, but his nature to hide means they can never become close. She’s trying and he can’t tell her it’s a pointless endeavor. There’s too much at stake for him to ever reveal all the things she would need to know to truly know him.
Sometimes he thinks she suspects this. He thinks that is why the less-personal questions began. The answers won’t prove to be a decoding ring because the secret is just too great.
So they’re stuck. Her with asking questions in a vain attempt at discovering more and him with telling half-truths and lies to stall her as much as possible. They can’t move forward.
--
On a Saturday morning they’re walking back from the Starbucks near the Daily Planet. Chloe said she needed something stronger than the black sludge found in the kitchen. She dragged him with her. The day is sunny, the spring air fresh and slightly crisp.
They’re waiting to cross the street when Chloe asks yet another question. Kal should be prepared but he never is. The timing is too random.
“Is your full name Kaleb?”
He can’t feel the heat radiating from his coffee cup. He never really can. He says, “No.”
“Just Kal?”
“No. Kalel. Kalel Ethan Turner.”
“Kalel,” Chloe says slowly. “That’s different.” Her comment comes out soft.
“It’s what I said my name was,” Kal says. It was the one piece of information he could volunteer to the hospital and Children Services staff. It might satisfy Chloe’s curiosity, or it might not. It’s hard to say.
In the next moment Chloe is asking another question. There’s a lesson here.
“What about Davis?”
Kal shakes his head. “Davis couldn’t, or wouldn’t, speak. A nurse named him.”
If Chloe finds it odd that one twin could speak but the other couldn’t she doesn’t say. If she finds it odd that he knew his name but not his brother’s name she doesn’t say. She just looks at him like he’s a puzzle she’s trying to figure out but can’t. He’s no help in the matter.
He knows she just wants to understand him. He can’t tell her the effort is pointless. He’s an alien and she’ll never understand him.
They’re back at the office. “Time to get back to work,” Kal says with what he hopes is a light tone.
“Yeah,” Chloe says. Her voice sounds distant. Kal isn’t surprised.
--
“How about beer and pizza at my place tonight?” Chloe suggests. She’s leaning on his desk, the fingers of her right hand resting on the stack of papers in his inbox.
Kal’s fingers are paused over his keyboard. Chloe has an earnest expression on her face and he finds himself nodding and saying, “Sure.”
“Great.” She smiles then reverts the conversation back to the topic of work.
Later that day he arrives at the apartment building Chloe said was hers. They left work at the same time, but she said to take half an hour and head home to change before coming over. So Kal did, changing into jeans and a long-sleeved white shirt. He rings her buzzer.
A few minutes later and he’s in her apartment, his jacket in Chloe’s hands. She hangs it in her coat closet.
“Do you ever wear color?” Chloe asks as she turns around. Her back is almost pressed against the wall.
Kal shrugs. “I guess not a lot.”
People remember color. He likes colors, particularly red and blue. Those are the colors of his birth family but those colors, and the particular shades that represent the El line are not exactly discreet. They are bright colors, the kind that draw the eye. He needs to blend in, as that’s the safest thing for him.
His parents wanted him to survive. He won’t do anything to jeopardize that even if that means wearing neutral colors.
Chloe nods and directs him to the living room. The walls are white, he notes, but the furniture provides splashes of color. Her couch is a pale blue while an armchair in the corner of the room is lavender colored. The coffee table is cherry wood.
“Nice place,” Kal says. “It suits you.”
“Thanks.” Chloe smiles and says, “Have a seat.”
There’s an awkward atmosphere. It’s not exactly unfamiliar: it reminds him of nearly everyday Chloe has asked him a personal question. It reminds him that they aren’t close, which is what he wants. It makes Chloe smile too much.
“Beer?” she asks.
“Sure.” Beer has no effect on him but he can drink it just the same.
He’s sitting on the couch. Chloe is sitting in the armchair. They each have a bottle of beer in their hands. He watches her play with the label, worrying it so that it peels off slightly. He wonders why she invited him, tries not to worry unduly.
He does worry. It’s his nature, Kal thinks. The consequence of being a survivor of a dead planet.
“How did you get into journalism?” Chloe asks.
How to answer that question? He can’t exactly say he thought it would aid him in his desire to get involved and help people with his abilities. Sometimes this happens although not as much as he would like. The trouble with becoming involved is that most people don’t cry out for help. It’s generally only after the violence has occurred that it comes out.
Maybe he should have gone into policing. Hindsight is twenty-twenty as they say. He thought journalism would allow him a less intrusive way into people’s lives.
“It seemed like a good fit,” he ultimately says.
Chloe looks disappointed in his answer. Her eyes drop to her lap, and he has the urge to confess his secrets to her. Just as quickly as it comes the urge passes; he knows better. A dozen films and books have revealed what humans think of aliens.
“What about you?” Kal asks to deflect.
She’s looking at him again which he takes as a good sign. Her fingers are once again playing with the label of her beer. She’s wearing jeans and a t-shirt, fitting in with her apartment.
He thinks that maybe he should just leave.
“My mother left and I never understood why. It started a lifelong need to understand, to find truths. Journalism is where I belong.”
The buzzer rings, saving Kal from having to answer. She has been truthful while he couldn’t. He sinks deeper into the cushions of the couch, the cotton soft around him. Again he thinks of leaving but it’s really too late for this.
Chloe comes back with the pizza. She grabs plates from the kitchen and napkins. The awkward atmosphere is still present, pressing down on them as they eat.
There’s more silence. It’s not a comfortable silence. It’s awkward like usual with them.
“Does it ever get tiring having to constantly wear your armor?” Chloe asks abruptly.
He looks over at her. Her plate has a half-eaten slice of pizza on it, like she was eating but the question wouldn’t leave her alone.
He says, “What?”
His hearing works fine. He heard the question and heard it clearly. He knows what she is asking but he wants her to take back the question.
“You never let anyone in. You have this armor that seems to prevent it.”
“You’re trying.”
“You’re not letting me in.” Her fingers are tightly gripping her plate. Her posture is tense.
Kal has had thirty years to learn how to keep people from prying. It started when he was three and he just knew he wasn’t like other kids. He knew he was different. After thirty years he doesn’t trust anyone, and he thinks it’s true about leopards being unable to change their spots. Chloe can’t overcome his instinctual need to hide the truth.
There’s a knowing look in her eyes when he doesn’t respond. It’s a sad knowing look.
“I thought so,” she says softly. It is a reprimand and it feels like one.
It also feels like this was a last chance. She was hoping he would say something truthful and the only thing she got was his refusal to budge an inch.
It’s not that he likes to be alone or that he prefers to be lonely. It’s not that he wouldn’t like to have a friend. But it’s not that easy and it’s just safer this way. Safer for all.
“I should go,” Kal says.
Chloe nods. She doesn’t see him out.
--
The questions stop.
Kal feels relieved and, strangely, disappointed at this. The two feelings are in competition and neither wins in the end. Nothing wins.