Oneshot: faded photo (Batman/Smallville)
Faded photo
Fandom: Smallville, Batman
Word count: 992
Ship: slightly (not really) Chruce
::
It had been her own fault, she told herself. She hadn’t been careful enough. So the reason why she sat with her father in her room, on her bed, with old photo albums, was all her own doing.
She had helped Oliver with one of his ‘special’ assignments. All in all, an ordinary job for her, when it happened. Or rather not right away… After having successfully finished the assignment, she had gone home to have dinner with her father. And being who she was, she didn’t check if one of green arrows super villains was stalking her home. Really why should she have? So upon arriving home, the villain had finally made his move. Too bad that her father had been present.
Needless to say, that her father had not taken it well seeing his baby girl dead on the floor, or her long time friend Clark Kent rushing in to save the day with probably (knowing Clark) a lot of show and action. Not taken it well, would be too enthusiastic. He had cradled her in his arms and sobbed, believing never to see his baby girl smiling again. Even hearing Clark reassure him that everything would be alright didn’t stop his tears from rolling down his cheeks.
After Gabe had held his daughter for a total of five hours, seemingly in shock throughout the time, Chloe had stirred and woken up. He father had almost crushed her back to death with a bone shattering hug and death grip.
Of course after this death and resurrection experience, Chloe had to tell him everything. She started with her meteor theory, the meteor induced powers and went on to how this all fitted into her life. She had to tell her father about her adventure in Smallville, the heroes, as well as the crime fighting, which she more than reluctantly did. And not telling him the real identities of those said heroes.
So now she was sitting with her dad in her room. And he was going through one of many old photo albums that had for years gathered dust, somewhere in their cellar. One particular photo album did catch her eye. It was a nice creamy colour and had faded red roses printed on it. It read M.S. in italics and looked like no one had picked it up in centuries.
Intrigued she flipped through the album, only to find a total bunch of strangers looking back at her, flashing her smirks or genuine smiles. They were all dressed rather expensive she noticed. Everyone of those people was wearing either something extravagant or smart or both. Her father noticed the album and photos that had her captive and said with a sad smile. “That was your mothers. It’s her side of the family and friends.”
She saw a picture with a stiff looking man and a younger version of her mother. She traced the face of her mother and noticed as the pages and pictures progressed, that more pictures were taken from the same couple.
“Who’s that?” she asked after the seventh picture he had been on. This one he was standing with a small boy with brown hair.
“Ah, that is cousin Alfred. Alf was her closest relative and confident for a long time.” He said watching the pictures in front of him. “He has a dry sense of humour but I think you would like him.” Chuckling he turned back to his own photos.
“Is that his son?”
He looked a little sad and shook his head. “No, that is his masters son. Alfred is a butler. Pride of his family. I think his name is Ben, Bud… Bruce or something.”
As the pictures went on, she found more of her mother and father, younger and happier than in the other photo albums. Some pictures of her mother, she noticed, were her standing next to a beautiful woman who looked a little older. They were both either smiling or had a conspiring smirk on their faces.
The last two pictures she noticed ended in the middle of the album. After that no other pictures were to be found. One picture was with her mother and the woman. He mother looked like she was bursting out of her clothes with her round pregnant belly. The little boy from the other picture was also on it. Looking very bored, and ready to run toward a little brunette girl, that was standing in the background.
The last picture was the little boy again, holding what seemed to be a newborn in his arms, and kissing its forehead. The scene was so sweet she decided, that she picked up that one photo and inspected it better. It was black and white, and faded already around the edges. She turned the photo around and sure enough found writing on the back side.
Bruce (6 years) and Chloe (1 month) it said, in what was sure to be her mothers hand.
“Hm I never saw these pictures before. Why is that?”
Gabe looked a little uncomfortable and sad. He took the picture from his daughter hand and sighed heavily. “That picture was the last one taken. Your mothers friend and her husband were killed sometime after the picture was taken. It hit her hard, knowing that her friends only son would grow up without the warmth and comfort of his parents. As far as I remember, Alfred got the guardianship. …” He stopped talking and stared at the picture with a far away look in his eyes. So deep in thought that he jumped a little when Chloe decided that she had enough of depressing topics for the night.
But the faded picture she decided she would keep. It really was one of the sweetest things she had ever seen, and for some reason she just couldn’t shake the feeling that there was much more to the picture than her father was telling her.
Fandom: Smallville, Batman
Word count: 992
Ship: slightly (not really) Chruce
::
It had been her own fault, she told herself. She hadn’t been careful enough. So the reason why she sat with her father in her room, on her bed, with old photo albums, was all her own doing.
She had helped Oliver with one of his ‘special’ assignments. All in all, an ordinary job for her, when it happened. Or rather not right away… After having successfully finished the assignment, she had gone home to have dinner with her father. And being who she was, she didn’t check if one of green arrows super villains was stalking her home. Really why should she have? So upon arriving home, the villain had finally made his move. Too bad that her father had been present.
Needless to say, that her father had not taken it well seeing his baby girl dead on the floor, or her long time friend Clark Kent rushing in to save the day with probably (knowing Clark) a lot of show and action. Not taken it well, would be too enthusiastic. He had cradled her in his arms and sobbed, believing never to see his baby girl smiling again. Even hearing Clark reassure him that everything would be alright didn’t stop his tears from rolling down his cheeks.
After Gabe had held his daughter for a total of five hours, seemingly in shock throughout the time, Chloe had stirred and woken up. He father had almost crushed her back to death with a bone shattering hug and death grip.
Of course after this death and resurrection experience, Chloe had to tell him everything. She started with her meteor theory, the meteor induced powers and went on to how this all fitted into her life. She had to tell her father about her adventure in Smallville, the heroes, as well as the crime fighting, which she more than reluctantly did. And not telling him the real identities of those said heroes.
So now she was sitting with her dad in her room. And he was going through one of many old photo albums that had for years gathered dust, somewhere in their cellar. One particular photo album did catch her eye. It was a nice creamy colour and had faded red roses printed on it. It read M.S. in italics and looked like no one had picked it up in centuries.
Intrigued she flipped through the album, only to find a total bunch of strangers looking back at her, flashing her smirks or genuine smiles. They were all dressed rather expensive she noticed. Everyone of those people was wearing either something extravagant or smart or both. Her father noticed the album and photos that had her captive and said with a sad smile. “That was your mothers. It’s her side of the family and friends.”
She saw a picture with a stiff looking man and a younger version of her mother. She traced the face of her mother and noticed as the pages and pictures progressed, that more pictures were taken from the same couple.
“Who’s that?” she asked after the seventh picture he had been on. This one he was standing with a small boy with brown hair.
“Ah, that is cousin Alfred. Alf was her closest relative and confident for a long time.” He said watching the pictures in front of him. “He has a dry sense of humour but I think you would like him.” Chuckling he turned back to his own photos.
“Is that his son?”
He looked a little sad and shook his head. “No, that is his masters son. Alfred is a butler. Pride of his family. I think his name is Ben, Bud… Bruce or something.”
As the pictures went on, she found more of her mother and father, younger and happier than in the other photo albums. Some pictures of her mother, she noticed, were her standing next to a beautiful woman who looked a little older. They were both either smiling or had a conspiring smirk on their faces.
The last two pictures she noticed ended in the middle of the album. After that no other pictures were to be found. One picture was with her mother and the woman. He mother looked like she was bursting out of her clothes with her round pregnant belly. The little boy from the other picture was also on it. Looking very bored, and ready to run toward a little brunette girl, that was standing in the background.
The last picture was the little boy again, holding what seemed to be a newborn in his arms, and kissing its forehead. The scene was so sweet she decided, that she picked up that one photo and inspected it better. It was black and white, and faded already around the edges. She turned the photo around and sure enough found writing on the back side.
Bruce (6 years) and Chloe (1 month) it said, in what was sure to be her mothers hand.
“Hm I never saw these pictures before. Why is that?”
Gabe looked a little uncomfortable and sad. He took the picture from his daughter hand and sighed heavily. “That picture was the last one taken. Your mothers friend and her husband were killed sometime after the picture was taken. It hit her hard, knowing that her friends only son would grow up without the warmth and comfort of his parents. As far as I remember, Alfred got the guardianship. …” He stopped talking and stared at the picture with a far away look in his eyes. So deep in thought that he jumped a little when Chloe decided that she had enough of depressing topics for the night.
But the faded picture she decided she would keep. It really was one of the sweetest things she had ever seen, and for some reason she just couldn’t shake the feeling that there was much more to the picture than her father was telling her.