The Beginning of Everything Else- Chloe Sullivan Fic 002
Title: The Beginning of Everything Else
Fandom: Smallville
Characters: Chloe Sullivan & the usual cast of season 1 characters--only not.
Prompt: #001- Beginnings
Word Count: 3,928
Rating: PG
Author's Notes: While brainstorming over what different AUs I could think of, one that kept coming to mind was genderbending. And while I've seen some awesome and wonderful fic where Clark or Lex are girls, I hadn't seen anyone write Chloe as a guy. And then, my evil little muse on my shoulder whispered that I should write it. I found it a lot of fun to create Cal Sullivan, to see how and why he'd act differently than Chloe, and most amazingly how the other characters in Smallville began to change with his presence.
A short biography of Cal, for those who might want to read before jumping in, can be found here.
I also have to give props to my wonderful team of proofreaders and cheerleaders, shansgrl , pixiewildfire , danamulder , and shivershifter .
And now that the author's notes are starting to get as long as the fic :), I hope you all enjoy reading Cal as much as I've enjoyed writing him.
The Beginning of Everything Else
by Tracy (lunarknightz)
Disclaimer: Smallville isn't mine, but Cal sorta is.
“Ah, the ever errant Mr. Kent arrives! News at eleven!” Cal Sullivan laughed as Clark jogged over to them. “Cutting it close, aren’t you? Freshman Year waits for no one, man.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” Clark groaned. “Just because I didn’t make the bus…”
“When have you made the bus, Clark? I’m telling you, you’ll have to speed it up as next year when I get my car.” Cal placed a great deal of emphasis on the word car. “You’re bringing down my speed, man.”
“Ignore Cal. Please.” Pete Ross walked up beside Clark and slapped him on the back. “He heard some sort of weird noise on the bus, and his weird-ometer is on Defcon 5.”
Cal crossed his arms and glared at his friends. “The truth is out there, man. Just because everyone else in this town chooses to ignore the really strange things that happen in this leafy little hamlet we call home, doesn’t mean that they don’t happen.”
The trio of best friends slowly walked towards the large and intimidating doors of Smallville High School. Together they made quite a sight, tall and dark haired Clark, the slightly shorter and fair haired, blue-eyed Cal, and the short and dark skinned Pete. Clark and Pete had been best friends for as long as they could remember, both having been born and raised in the sleepy Kansas town. Cal was a recent transplant from Metropolis, having moved to Smallville at the beginning of eighth grade. Despite their differences, the friendship between the three boys was strong, causing their parents to jokingly refer to them as “The Three Musketeers”.
“As much as we’d love to join you and Scooby inside the Mystery Machine for another zany adventure, Clark and I have business to do.” Pete said, pulling a slip of paper from his pocket and waving it under Cal’s nose.
Cal grabbed the paper. “You’re trying out for the football team?” He snorted.
“We don’t want to be the Scarecrow.” Pete whispered. “We’re trying to avoid it. Which is more than I can say for you, buddy. If you’re not on the team, you’re a prime target.”
“I’m already on the team.” Cal shrugged.
“What?” Clark and Pete exclaimed in unison. “Tryouts are this afternoon!”
“It’s called the power of the press.” Cal grinned. “You are looking at the team’s official photographer. I talked to the coach yesterday. I don’t have to get sweaty, I’m on team roster, there’s no chance of me being the Scarecrow, and…” he paused dramatically. “I get a letter jacket out of the whole deal.”
“And you get to join the social ranks of the AV nerds!” Pete elbowed him in the side. “That’s great man. Because with your skills, there ain’t no way in hell that you’d make the team.”
“Whatever.” Cal sighed. “Between the team and the Torch, I’m pretty much set for extracurricular. Which…by the way, you’re looking at the new Executive Editor of the Smallville High Torch. Cool, huh?”
“Wow. You really were busy during orientation.” Clark’s voice was full of wonder. “They gave a Freshman that position?”
“Yeah, the last editor kind of ran the paper into the ground. Nobody wants to touch it with a ten-foot pole. I was the first to ask, and besides, I promised them I could find some staff members right off the bat.” Cal looked at his friends hopefully.
“Uh…. I’m gonna be pretty busy with the team.”
“Pretty busy riding the pine pony, you mean, Pete.”
“Very funny.”
“I’ve never written anything other than a book report before.” Clark’s eyes were wide.
“That’s okay. It’s a rebuilding season. If you give a thousand monkeys a thousand type writers, eventually one of them has to crank out something that’s not a complete and utter piece of shit. I’ll start you off easy, Clark. How do you feel about cafeteria menus?”
“About what they serve?”
“About typing them out.”
“Okay, I guess.”
“Yes!” Cal threw his fist in the air in a sign of victory. “Two staff members down, and…” his gaze drifted off to the side of the school yard. “Hey Lana!” he called, motioning her over towards their little group.
“Yeah, Cal?” she replied, walking over to the group.
Lana Lang was the most popular person in their class. Though only a Freshman, she hung out with the older kids- she was even dating a Senior, Whitney Fordman, the head quarterback of the football team. Lana’s classic good looks, pale ivory skin set off by her raven colored hair, had earned her the affection of the male population of the school, and the jealousy of the girls. Everyone loved Lana, it seemed, but no one loved her more than Clark Kent, the boy next door who had crushed on her from afar since elementary school.
Every time Clark got within a few feet of her, his whole body seemed to rebel against him. Cal and Pete blamed it on excessive nerves. Just like clockwork, as Lana grew closer, Clark felt his knees weaken, and he crumbled to the pavement, dropping the books in his arms to the ground.
Cal bent down and picked up the book. “Nietzsche? Trying to grow a dark side, Clark?”
“Doesn’t everybody have one?” Lana said, walking up to Cal’s side. “So tell me, Clark, are you man or superman?”
“I….I haven’t quite decided yet.” Clark stuttered.
She smiled. “So what’s up, Cal?”
“Well… you’re looking at the new editor of the Smallville Torch. As the last editor left it in quite deplorable condition, I’m trying to recruit some new and talented blood to..you know, report.” Cal smiled, his sickeningly sweet grin oozing charm. “And I was thinking, who is more beloved and more suited for a position than Lana Lang?”
“Wow.” Lana smiled. “That’s quite an offer. And it would, I guess, look pretty good on a college application, right? I could write about sports, since, you know, I go to all the games anyway. Yeah, Cal. You can count me in.”
“Excellent. Once I get the office set up and the staff assembled, we’ll have a staff meeting. I’ll be in touch.”
“Hey babe.” Whitney Fordman, Lana’s blonde and hunky boyfriend walked up behind her. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” A look of disgust fell over his face as he looked at Cal, Pete, and Clark. “Are these guys bothering you?”
“No.” Lana kissed Whitney’s cheek quickly. “I’m going to be working on the paper this year. Covering sports.”
“That piece of trash? That’s social suicide!”
“It used to be.” Cal spoke assuredly, sticking up for his beloved paper. “It’s a new quarter. The rebound is going to surprise everybody.”
“Oh. Good luck with that.” Whitney and Lana walked away, hand in hand.
The warning bell rang, and the trio of best friends entered Smallville High for the first time, starting a new chapter of their lives.
In the next four years, things would change for them in ways that they could not even imagine.
***
“Excuse me, pardon me, coming through.” Cal ran down the steep bank of the river, pushing his way through the sea of state troopers gathered around the accident site. “Clark! Clark!” He called, seeing his friend sitting down, soaking wet with a red blanket draped over his shoulders.
“Cal?” Clark looked up. “What are you doing here?”
“Well, I certainly didn’t come to check and see if you were okay. Can’t a friend do that? I was just driving by; it’s not like I have an illegal police scanner that I listen to obsessively so that I won’t miss something exciting and or interesting in this crazy town. Nothing like that.” He winked.
“This is Cal. He’s one of my best friends…even though he tends to be a little…”
“You’re Lex Freaking Luthor!” Realization dawned on Cal, and he was a little star struck. Even though his Dad ran Fertilizer Plant #3, “My Dad works for you, I mean, um, he works for your Dad.” Cal stuck out his hand. “I’m Cal. Cal Sullivan. Editor of Smallville High’s Best Student Newspaper and occasional wacky sidekick of Clark’s.”
Lex smiled politely and shook Cal’s hand. “Most people just call me Lex. You’re a reporter?”
Cal grinned. “The first freshman to ever be awarded the editors position of the Smallville Torch, actually.”
“He was the only one who wanted the job.” Clark said with a chuckle. “And he’s already roped me into writing for it.”
“Well that shows initiative, Clark.” Lex nodded. “That’s admirable. Especially in something as challenging at journalism…you have to go after the big stories, they won’t just fall in your lap. That’s impressive, Cal.”
“Thanks.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew a small spiral notepad. “Could I possibly get an interview? Because something this big? The Ledger might even want to pick up an article about this. A local farmboy rescuing a billionaire from our tumultuous waters? That’s front page news!”
“I don’t see why not.” Lex nodded.
“Cal.” Clark groaned. “I really don’t you writing a story on me.”
“Why in the hell not?”
“I didn’t do this for publicity….I just did the right thing.”
Cal rolled his eyes. “Dude, you’re a hero. You go can’t go around saving people’s lives and expect to keep it a secret! This is news. People who take a risk and succeed are heroes! The stuff that legends are made of! It’s a good story, Clark. People need these kind of stories at times like this. They need a reason to smile. The news is full of terrorists and people suffering, and here’s a story, a story in our very own town, that might just put a smile on people’s faces and make them think, even for a little bit, that life is still worth living. So like it or not buddy, you’re front page news.”
“Damn.” Lex whistled. “You are a writer.”
Cal nodded, inwardly thrilled with the praise. “So what exactly happened?”
“I hit some debris in the road, and lost control of my car, causing me to drive right off the side of the bridge.”
“And I…I was standing on the bridge nearby.” Clark said quietly, reluctantly. “So I ran down the bank and dove into the water.”
“I thought I’d hit Clark at first.” Lex gazed up at the bridge, at the mangled metal railing. “But I guess it was just a close call.”
Cal followed his gaze. He’d sped down to find Clark without even glancing at the accident sight. He let out a low whistle at the amount of destruction. “If you had….Clark…you would be dead!” Cal’s stomach churned at the thought of his best friend dying. “Wow. You may be Lex’s guardian angel; but apparently you’ve got one too, dude.”
Clark started to reply, but his words were drowned out by Jonathan Kent’s shouts. “Clark! Clark!” He ran up to his son, pushing Cal gently out of the way. “Son, are you okay?”
Clark nodded. “I’m fine, Dad, really.”
Jonathan examined his son visually, and found no apparent injuries. He glanced up and turned his concerned look in Cal’s direction. “Cal, were you in the accident as well?”
“No, Mr. Kent. I drove by shortly afterwards. I’m okay.”
“Good.” Jonathan sighed in relief. “Now, who was the maniac driving that car?”
“That would be me, Mr. Kent.” Lex stood up, and extended his hand to Jonathan. “Lex Luthor.”
Jonathan ignored Lex’s outstretched hand. Instead, he shrugged off his brown jacket and draped it over Clark’s shoulders. “I’m Jonathan Kent.” He said bluntly. “Clark is my son.”
“He’s quite an extraordinary person, Mr. Kent. If there’s any way I can repay you, let me know.”
“Drive slower.” Jonathan growled, and led Clark away from the riverbank, to the Kent’s old and rusty blue truck.
“So, exactly how fast were you going?” Cal questioned Lex as they watched the Kents drive away.
****
“What happened to this place?” Clark exclaimed as he entered the Torch office the next morning. The ancient computers and out of date publishing equipment covered with dust that had filled the room the morning before were gone. The office had been completely redone, with new furniture, lighting, and several I-Mac computers. “Did you sign up for trading places or something, Cal?”
“Isn’t it great?” Cal beamed from behind one of the monitors. “Don’t you just love it?”
“It’s great…” Clark said slowly. “But how did it happen?”
Cal tossed him a note card. “Apparently, Lex thinks you and I have quite a future ahead of us in the world of journalism.”
“Lex paid for all this?” Clark was amazed. “I hope my Dad doesn’t find out.”
“Why…what would your Dad do?”
“I woke up this morning to find a cherry red, brand new car in my driveway. It was gift from Lex.”
“Really?” Cal’s eyes widened. “Awesome! So you’re going to be driving me to school in this baby, right?”
“Dad made me give it back.” Clark groaned. “He said that I didn’t exactly deserve a prize for saving somebody’s life.”
“That sucks.” Cal groaned. He looked at his computer longingly, and picked up the keyboard and cradled it in his lap. “There’s no way that he’s taking this back, right?”
“I think he’d have to go through Principal Kwan.” Pete said from his spot in the doorway behind Clark. “And he may be even more possessive of this technology than you, Cal.”
“That’s un-possible.” Cal put his keyboard down gently on the desk. “Me and computers= OTP, man. OTP.”
Pete tossed him an old yearbook. “Got what you sent me after, Chief.”
“Chief. Huh.” Cal chuckled. “I kind of like that.”
“Don’t get used to it.” Pete rolled his eyes. “There will be no living with you, man.”
Cal opened the yearbook and flipped through it, gazing at the pictures. Finally he thumped one picture with his index finger. “Got it!”
“Got what?” Clark gazed over his shoulder. “Jeremy Creek? Who is he?”
“Well, that.” Cal motioned towards the yearbook. “Is a picture of Jeremy Creek twelve years ago. And this…” he used his mouse to bring up a picture on the computer screen. “Is a picture of Jeremy Creek that I took ten hours ago.”
“That’s impossible.” Clark shook his head. “He’d be like 26 today. Must be a kid who looks like him.”
“Yeah, my money was on the evil twin theory too, ‘til we Cal did a little digging and found a missing person’s report.” He passed Clark a piece of paper.
“Jeremy disappeared from the state infirmary a few days ago. He’d been there, in a coma for twelve years. The doctors claim he suffered from massive electrolyte imbalance, which might explain why our mystery man hasn’t aged a day.” Cal stood up and looked over craned his neck to look over Clark’s shoulder.
“So you’re telling me he just woke up?”
“There was a huge electrical storm, and the hospital’s generator went down, and when it came back on, Jeremy was gone. Charging him up like the Energizer Bunny.” Pete chuckled.
“So now he’s back in Smallville, putting former jocks into comas. You have to ask yourself, why would he do that?” Cal rubbed his chin, as if stroking an imaginary beard.
“Well, Sherlock, why did he?”
“Because.” Cal leaned over and pulled out an old edition of the Torch. “Twelve years ago today, they chose Jeremy Creek as the scarecrow.” He handed the paper to Clark.
Clark read part of the article aloud. “Jeremy Creek, a freshman at Smallville High was found comatose in a field, twenty yards away from meteor strike.”
“The exposure to the blast must have done something to his body.” Cal reasoned.
“That can’t be right.” Clark sat down in Cal’s chair, his knees feeling weak. The last few days had been a rollercoaster, starting high school, surviving being hit by a speeding Porsche and thrown off a bridge, and finding out the truth of heritage…it was almost too much to handle.
“Cal, you need to show him.” Pete said gently.
“Show me what?”
Cal lead Clark and Pete towards a closet at the side of the room. He flipped on the light. “It started out as a scrapbook and just kind of mutated.”
“What is it?” Clark asked, looking at the collage of pictures and papers stuck on the wall. Each picture, each article was of something weird, something strange.
“I call it the Wall of Weird.” Cal stood in front of his creation, and extended his arms, as if presenting it to his friend. “It’s every strange, bizarre, and unexplained event that’s happened in Smallville since the meteor shower.”
“And it explains why Cal is more deserving of the nickname ‘Spooky’ more than Mulder ever was.” Pete chuckled.
“Hey, it’s science. Ground zero for the town going all schitzo is the meteor shower.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about this?” Clark said slowly.
“Well, Gee, Dad, I didn’t think I had to tell you everything that happens in my life. Do you tell me everything about your life? We all keep secrets, Clark.” Cal folded his arms in front of him. “I didn’t know my hobbies had to have the Clark Kent seal of approval.”
“It…you don’t….but….Lana.” Clark’s vision was drawn to a picture of Lana Lang twelve years ago. She was on the cover of Time Magazine, wearing a frilly pink princess dress. ‘Heartbreak in the Heartland.’ The cover read.
Clark wanted to scream. He wanted to throw up. He came to Earth in that meteor shower. The death of Lana’s parents, all the pictures and articles on the wall- he, and only he was to blame. “It’s all my fault.” Clark muttered. The room was too small. The school was too small. He couldn’t breathe, he had to get out of here. He rushed out of the room, leaving a very confused and bewildered pair of best friends behind him.
***
“Wow, Clark.” Lana came up to Clark on Monday morning. “I have to say, I’m pretty impressed.”
“Impressed? Huh?” Clark was still pretty tired. The events of the last week had taken their toll. After being hung up in the field with Lana’s necklace and fighting Jeremy, he’d been utterly exhausted. He’d spent most of the weekend sleeping, waking up occasionally to eat and use the bathroom. Clark finally felt up to moving this morning, but he still felt a teeny bit groggy.
“It’s all in the paper.” Lana handed him her copy. “I’m so sorry that you had to go all through that. I…I don’t know why Whitney would do such a thing, except he’s just had such a hard time of it lately…”
“It’s okay, Lana. You don’t have to apologize for him.”
Lana blushed slightly, and beamed at Clark. “You’ve surprised me, Clark Kent. There’s more to you than I ever expected.” She turned and walked away.
Clark glanced down at the paper, a freshly printed copy of the Torch. He read the front page article with a grin.
“Heroes and Villians”
By Cal Sullivan
We are told that High School will be one of the most magical periods of our life. When issued our school I.D.s, we imagine them to be the key to our teenage experience. Now, we can get detention like the kids in the Breakfast Club. Now, we can skip school like Ferris Buller, or outwit our Principal (even our esteemed Principal Kwan!) like Zack Morris. But on the first day of school, we are not heroes, we are kids with dilemmas like finding our locker and remembering the combination, or getting the digits of that cute girl in your third period French I class. While the rest of us were stuck in this chorus of everyday mediocrity, one of our classmates had an extraordinary week.
Most everyone in Smallville should be familiar with the heaven that is one of Martha Kent’s organic apple pies. Martha’s son, Clark is now a Freshman at Smallville High, a member of the class of 2005.
Clark was the witness to what could have been a terrible tradedgy. Alexander “Lex” Luthor, son of Pesticide King Lionel Luthor, and heir apparent of Luthor Corp (our town’s number one employer) hit debris on the road, causing him to drive off a bridge and almost die. A truly great soul would have died, if not for the timely and miraculous arrival of Clark Kent. Thinking not of himself, he jumped into the river, and helped Lex escape from his expensive, foreign deathtrap.
“Clark is truly a hero.” Lex Luthor stated when interviewed. “I owe him my life.”
Such an event would be cause for great celebration in Smallville. Yet before the first week of school was out, Clark would find himself treated as a victim, rather than a hero.
Smallville High has the horrible tradition of picking a “Scarecrow”. The “Scarecrow”, usually a poor plebian of a Freshman, is kidnapped by upperclassmen, stripped down to his underwear, and strung up like a character from Oz in one our town’s many fine cornfields. The student is ridiculed by other students, and often misses the Pep Rallies and Dances held on to signify the return to school. Jeremy Creek, picked to be the scarecrow twelve years ago, was exposed to the meteor shower. He missed twelve years of his life; not aging as time went by in a sanatorium. Creek recently regained consciousness and went on a killing spree, murdering several of the football players who chose him as the Scarecrow oh so many years ago.
Captain Whitney Fordman and the rest of the starting lineup from the crows should be thanking their lucky stars that Clark Kent, their choice for scarecrow, is more of a hero and villain. We should all strive to learn from Clark’s example.
Clark walked towards the Torch room, where Cal was happily pounding away on his keyboard.
“Hey.” Clark said, stepping inside the newsroom.
“You like the article?” Cal said, looking up at Clark with a grin.
“How did you find out about the scarecrow?”
“I’ve got my sources.”
“Huh?”
“Lex called me, Clark. He was quite disgusted that you weren’t willing to pursue further legal action. So I took matters into my own hands.”
“You’re not afraid that the entire starting lineup is going to pummel you?”
“If they lay a hand on me, they’ll be expelled. Kwan’s already got them in detention from now until graduation. Some of them are even doing extra volunteer work with school stuff so they’ll be off the hook faster. Speaking of which, I’m moving you up to one of my lead reporters.”
“I’ve never even written an article, Cal!”
“It’s not that hard. You’ll catch on. Besides, I’ve got Fordman covering the cafeteria menus.”
“He’s volunteering?”
“Oh yeah.” Cal grinned devilishly. “He’ll rue the day he ever called the Torch a piece of trash.”
Clark laughed. “Wow. I should be glad that you’re my friend, shouldn’t I?”
“Oh yeah. Give me a computer and a story, and I’m dangerous.”
Pete stuck his head in the door. “Yo, Mr. Daredevil? Mr. Scarecrow? We’ve got Algebra in five. We better hustle.”
Clark walked to the hallway, but Cal hung behind.
“You coming, Cal?”
“Yeah. I’ll be there in a minute. I’ll meet you there.”
Cal turned on his screensaver, enabling his password protection. He looked around the Torch office before he turned off the light.
“Oh yeah, this is the life.” He grinned.