How We Got Here (Epilogue)

(PREVIOUS CHAPTER)


It's only doubts that we're counting
On fingers broken long ago.
I read with every broken heart
We should become more adventurous.

-- Rilo Kiley "More Adventurous"

EPILOGUE

Six months later

"She's doing it again," he growled, tossing a copy of The Daily Planet on the kitchen table.

Chloe jumped back, gathering several papers. "Hey! Use human strength around my notes. Camilla wants everything on Gettysburg yesterday and..."

"No, but you have to know. I don't care what she writes." He loosened his tie as he paced the tiny kitchen. He missed the farm sometimes. there was more room to pace. "I'm not encouraging her at all. I swear!"

She sighed and put her down her notes, picking up the paper. "...and with that, Superman took me on an intimate flight for two and deposited me safely away from the danger zone and..." Chloe glanced at him aghast. "Did your strong arms really linger on her?"

"I swear, they didn't. I ..."

"Clark, I'm kidding." Chloe put down the paper and moved to him, sliding her arms around his waist. "Heck, last week, I met with Lois for lunch and she told me all about how Superman was giving her bedroom eyes, looking her up and down..."

"What?" Clark pulled away. "I was not! I was only checking her over for injuries. Injuries she only had because she threw herself into all this..."

"And I nodded and smiled and didn't believe a word of it," Chloe cut in, pulling him down by his tie. "I know how Lois exaggerates. And I trust you," she said against his lips.

He relaxed against her, kissed her back, but only briefly. "This is all your fault," he said, moving away and striding to the fridge.

"What?"

"You're the one who said to work for The Planet again. You're the one who said I was selling myself short. You're the one who said Lois doesn't hate me anymore."

"Well, she doesn't."

"That's not the problem."

"Okay." She threw up her hands and moved back to her laptop. "I guess you were happy before."

"I'm not saying..."

"I'm so sorry I encouraged you to have a fulfilling job and a paycheck. I should be drawn and quartered."

"You know that's not..."

"No. It was way better when we lived on the farm and you had to fly out and hang around rooftops to find out what's going on in the city, risk flying away just when the bad guys were coming out to play and..."

"This is not about that. I'm glad we moved here." It was smaller, sure. And the first few months, he bumped into damned near everything. But he was closer to the action, crime-wise, and, really, they didn't need all that space for just them. "This is about me having to hear her go on about whatever harebrained scheme she's cooked up to meet Superman. And then I have no choice but to end up being there to stop her. Doesn't she have better things to do? I know I do!" He moved into the living room. "You know what? One of these days, I will not go after her."

Chloe followed him in. "Clark, I know you don't mean that."

"Fine, I don't," he said, exasperated. As hard as she was to deal with, he cared about Lois. Maybe not as much as Chloe did, but enough not to let her special brand of crazy get her killed.

"Lois will get over this soon enough."

"Doubt it," Clark grumbled, dropping himself on the couch, which groaned loudly. It would be the third couch he'd destroyed. He got up quickly to spare it and paced back into the kitchen. "I think I get it now. Why Rokk seemed so insistent about Lois." He picked up the paper. "If this is the kind of stuff she writes about us..."

Chloe frowned and moved to him, took the paper from his hands. She stared at it a moment before tossing it to the table. "Why do you care what Lois or Rokk or anyone thinks? We know what's true."

"And what is that?" he asked, still unable to let go of his anger. "What are we, Chloe?"

She drew back. "Clark..."

"No. Let's do this, Chloe. We're not roommates, since I'm the only name on the lease. I don't know where those divorce papers are, but I know damned well you might. You don't wear a ring, at least not mine. But you sure hold onto the one Rokk gave you."

She backed away, hand moving to her pocket. He knew the ring was there. It was always on her. She played with the ring sometimes. Not always, but there were a few times he caught her, turning it over and over in her hand, then tucking it away quickly when she realized he was near. It was the ring that bothered him most of all. The fact that it existed disturbed him. She could leave so easily. And it didn't have to be for London. It could be anywhere now. This time, she could start over somewhere else, be even more careful so he'd never find her. She'd done it before, built another life. He supposed she could do it again, if anyone could.

"You just said you trust me, Chloe. Just minutes ago."

"Of course I trust you."

"Then prove it." He moved closer to her. "Do you know how much it scares me? That one day I can turn my back to find you gone?"

"Clark, it's not like that. I keep the ring so I can travel, just for work and..."

"I could take you anywhere. You know that. But you refuse to try it."

"I just..." She laughed suddenly. "You have better things to do. I don't expect to make you into my own personal aircraft."

Bullsh*t. She knew as well as he did that the ring was her ticket out, should she choose to use it.

"You haven't flown with me," he said levelly, "not once."

"Well, I haven't needed to..."

"Or maybe you just don't want to." He took a deep breath and moved away, heading for their bedroom. "Forget it. I'm just... in a bad mood today."

"Clark..."

"I need to patrol. I'll be back soon."

He changed into a fresh suit and opened the window on the brick wall that was their view. Might not seem like a great amenity, except if you'd rather your neighbors didn't see you zoom out the window in Superman's get-up. So it was fine for him and Chloe. Really, they hadn't been picky. At the time, they'd been happy enough to carve out their own place together. Or maybe that was just him. She had been strangely compliant about... well, everything.

He almost turned back as he hovered just south of their building, wanted to make sure she was still there, even now. He refused to. He had to trust her. He'd never been so close to having it all, really, and it was hard to believe it could actually happen. That he could be with someone who knew him, really knew him. And that she would stay. She said she wanted to be with him and that she always had. He had to believe in that. One fight didn't mean she'd leave. They'd fought before.

********************************

It had been touch and go a few times. There were times he felt her leaving, just knew she would.

The first had been the end of the first week, when he'd finally pushed her to do something.

The first week, nothing happened. Not nothing altogether, but none of the carefully planned meetings, none of the piles of possible paperwork. She sifted through notes and recorded interviews and typed away furiously for The Times while he patrolled Metropolis. Between that, they just... were. They ate, they slept, they watched TV, they explored the previously forbidden territories of each other. That was Clark's favorite part. And, as they had about a decade of sexual tension stored up, his favorite part was the greater part of that week. He liked to think of it as a honeymoon and would have smiled and teasingly called it one, but for fear of scaring her off.

The first fight was after she'd got the last of her things. She'd only used it a few times. He'd come home to find there were more clothes, at least three laptops, which she insisted were all necessary in case one failed, and her saying she just popped out to get a few things. A few times, he came home to nothing and wondered, for hours, if she'd come back. But she showed in the end, smiling and cradling ever more stuff and saying she "just had to take care of some business in London." But that smile didn't reach her eyes.

It wasn't London that scared him. It was that she could go anywhere in a blink. That was why he never forced the issue that first week. He was so afraid, if he said a word about untangling this mess, she'd find it too easy to leave before anyone knew. He accused her of that and she countered that she was only taking a moment before getting into all the hard stuff. He yelled that she had a week and was no closer to contacting Lois or Oliver or anyone she knew, even her father, wherever he was.

"Don't you think I want to? Did you ever think that I wanted to share this time with just you before all that?"

He'd froze, then, because he hadn't thought of that. He was just so eager to get this official, make it so she couldn't leave again.

"Clark, this is going to be hard and draining and, before the end, I might want to leave. It will be easier to leave. So did you ever think that I wanted to remind myself why I'm staying?"

"You want your life back," he said softly. "So why won't you take it?"

"Clark, that name and that life is the smallest reason I'm staying. If I wanted to reinstate my name, I could do so and run off again. The biggest reason I'm here, with you, is you!"

He'd gathered her to him, by then. Kissed her lips, then that sweet spot just under her ear, then carried her to bed. Because it was all he could do, all he had to give. He was hers and he'd show her in every way and hope it was enough.

***********************

He pushed it out of his mind and concentrated on patrolling. He pulled out his earpiece and called into Watchtower. Victor answered quickly.

"All quiet on my end, Boyscout," he said, multiple police radios going in the background.

"Copy," he said, staring at the streets around him. "Tell me if I'm needed somewhere else. I can probably be there in five."

Victor gave a low whistle. "Really? Usually, you say ten."

"Flight speed's picking up, the more I travel outside."

"Good for you. Anyway, we got a slow night. But if you see anything I don't, you get in there."

"Got it."

He was the only hero in Metropolis these days. The others all had their own turfs and Watchtower was more an all-encompassing database in Happy Harbor than a specific place in Metropolis. The Justice League, as they called themselves, covered more cities now. Bart was stationed in Keystone City. Hal, their newest member, in Coast City under AC. Star City was tag-teamed between Dinah and Oliver. Gotham City seemed covered as well, except the man... or bat on duty in those parts didn't seem too into teams. Oliver had tried to work on him to no avail. He seemed to think Clark might have more luck.

Clark appreciated the vote of confidence. He was glad he and Oliver were on speaking terms now. They hadn't been for months. That had been the second fight he and Chloe had.

****************************

After that week, they'd met with quite a few people. Her father, for one, who'd been in Michigan and, Clark learned, aware she was alive all along. Then his mother, who just hugged her close and cried so hard that Clark just smiled and looked on, not even having the heart to say he told her so. Really, in his early imaginings of these reunions, "I told you so" was a huge factor. In reality, he was as happy to have her again as they were.

But Lois... that was where he'd thought the fight would come from. She'd insisted on meeting with Lois by herself and he'd paced his living room, waiting for her, until she appeared in tears. Lois had swore she'd never speak to her again and he was sure she'd leave after that and he was ready to fight her on it. But there was no fight. She showed no sign of leaving. She was just despondent for two days until Lois showed up on the farm, made at least three disparaging remarks about the state of the place until Chloe came down the stairs. And then they hugged and cried and screamed at each other. Clark left them to it.

No. There'd been no fight. In fact, Chloe had been nearly jolly before she went off to find Oliver, again insisting she do it alone. He'd been pretty optimistic as well until she returned. Then the fight came... or not so much a fight as a silent war. She closed off for a week, claiming she was busy with work. Giving him smiles he knew were fake. Giving him only the shortest responses when he asked her anything. And repeatedly telling him she was "fine."

They still ended up in bed, but it was silent and tense and even her release seemed somehow stifled, as if she was waiting for something to happen...

He was damned near ready to go to Star City himself before it happened. The real fight.

He'd come in, holding his cape and rubbing at a blackened spot, saying "Hey, Chloe, can you look up if..."

"No!" He stopped, jarred as she slammed her laptop closed. "I'm not doing that anymore!"

"Whoa, whoa... wait." He put up his hands. "It's fine. I'll call my mother. I just thought since you had your laptop out, you could look up what gets..."

"No, I won't," she cut in, lifting her chin. "But why am I not surprised?"

He tilted his head, trying to figure her out. "Not surprised about what?"

"You buttered me up with all the... sex, but you've been waiting for this, haven't you?" She crossed her arms. "I mean, I've been pretty useless to you these last weeks. I bet you just can't wait to put me to work again. I'm sure you've been very patient up till now."

"Well, I wasn't going to ask you to actually do it. I can get the stain out myself. I just..."

"No. You were just going to have me look it up, just like before, and let me tell you..." She trailed off, then backed away. "Stain?"

"I have... motor oil on my cape." He held it out lamely. "I was just thinking some website might have a tip or something, for..." He moved closer to her. "Is that what you think? You think you and me is just..."

"No." She flushed and shook her head quickly and gathered her laptop to her. "You know, I'm just stressed. Don't listen to me. I have lots of work to do." She ran upstairs. He'd have gone after her, except he figured he'd better not.

He'd ended up finding Oliver himself, then, on the roof of Star City's courthouse. "Kind of being a bitter ex about this," he said, just before Oliver spun on him and cocked his bow.

Oliver stilled when he saw him. "Don't have anything that'll make a dent in you, anyway," he said, lowering it.

"What did you say to Chloe?"

Oliver smiled tightly. "What didn't I say to Chloe?" He turned and jumped the roof.

Clark followed easily, landing on the next rooftop before him. "This some kind of petty revenge for you? Breaking us up?"

Oliver scoffed and moved around him. "Since when is there a you and Chloe? I mean, there was a you and Lois --- just after a me and Lois. Then there was a me and Chloe and now suddenly..." He laughed and jumped to the next roof.

Clark followed, landing in front of him again. "What are you trying to say?"

Oliver stepped up to him. "I guess I'm saying I'm not about to give you Dinah's address."

"This isn't about you. This isn't about me taking anything from you."

"Really? Because it sure seems like it." He jumped and flipped into the next roof.

Clark followed, then hovered above as Oliver seemed to wait for him to land. "This is about me and Chloe," he said, smirking a little as Oliver flinched, then looked upward.

"Not bad," he said. "We might be able to use you."

"I'm sure you have what you need, between everyone," he said, trying to sound nonchalant. Fact is, it hurt. Bart, Victor, AC, Dinah, Oliver... They all seemed part of something greater. Maybe he hadn't been much of a joiner, but he wondered now, if he wasn't missing something.

"But not all in one," Oliver said, taking off his glasses and staring shrewdly at him. "Yet I never know with you. Are you going to stand by us or run around pursuing your heritage or whatever?"

"I know what I'm here to do now," he said, lowering to the rooftop. "And I've been doing it for over a year. And I'm not here to talk about that."

"So you're not here to get back in the gang?" Oliver huffed and sat on the ledge. "I mean, come on. Now you got your little secret weapon back, you finally have some free time to..."

"I didn't want her back for that. You don't know as much as you think about me and Chloe. You have no idea how hard I've tried to keep her."

"And why? Because she's useful, right?"

"Because I love her!"

"Since when? I mean, I spent half a year trying to undo the damage you did when you treated her like some stranger. And let's not even go into how she never believed that I wanted to be with her, that anybody would. And, just so you know, that was all on you. I worked my ass off, trying to get her to trust me after years of you dicking her around. And this is the reward? I have to watch this!"

Clark clenched his fists, something hot and not altogether pretty flowing through him. "You think you should have her back?"

"No. This isn't about me and Chloe. If she wanted to be with me that badly, she wouldn't have run off and pretended to die." He stood up and stared Clark. "I know why she left. She was running away from you. And now I'm supposed to act like you aren't poison to her?"

Clark relaxed just a little. "I'm not saying we don't have some things to work through."

"I don't see a we in there. I see you. You're the problem. Trying to make sure she stays this time."

"Damned right I am," Clark growled. "I need her and I'm not spending another second of my life convincing myself I can't have her! I don't give a **** if she's not even a footnote in my life story. So you and Rokk can just shove it!"

"Rokk?" Oliver drew back. "You mean Future Guy? What the hell does he have to do with anything?"

"Never mind. You don't need to know. Let's just say there were a few more reasons why Chloe thought she shouldn't exist." Clark paced away and stared out at the city. It was no Metropolis, but it didn't look bad from high up. "Sometimes I think I was convinced she shouldn't as well. I pushed her away, as if having her in my life was some kind of mistake. Like we were never supposed to know each other and maybe that's why things were so strained between us. But that wasn't why." He turned to Oliver. "Do you know what it's like to go through more than a decade with someone you could be with, if you'd just let it happen?" He pulled a chain out from his neckline, then broke it, letting it fall to the ground, leaving a ring. "Just trust it, no matter what anyone says. I'm going to do that now."

Oliver sighed and stood beside him. "You don't deserve her."

"No. But I will."

When he got home, she shot up from the dining room table, her chair scraping back loudly in the near dark.

He moved to her. "Chloe..."

"Carbona," she said.

He stopped. "What?"

"Carbona," she repeated, a sort of nervous smile touching her lips as she moved to the table. "They make a version that takes out motor oil." She turned back, holding a tiny paper bag. "I looked it up and got some," she held the bag out further, "for you."

Clark shook his head and took it, tossing it aside. "I should have looked it up myself. I don't expect you to..."

"This is nothing. I mean, it's a very... girlfriendly kind of thing to do. I shouldn't have jumped on you before. It's just..."

"Chloe, whatever Oliver said..."

"He was wrong. I know that. I knew it before. I don't know why I let it get to me..."

"No. He was trying to look out for you."

"I get that. I know he cares. And I should have taken it that way and brushed it off and trusted you. You're not keeping me here to be your own personal search engine." She nodded to herself. "And that wasn't a question. You don't have to reassure me. I do trust you." She reached out and took his hand, rubbing along his fingers until she stopped, lifting his left hand, staring at it in the dim light. "You're wearing the ring?"

"I had it on a chain before, but..."

"No. I know. I just... didn't think you'd... I mean, I don't expect this. I know we're still feeling our way here."

"Chloe, I'm with you. There's no one else and there never will be, as long as you're with me." He shrugged and smiled. "I figured I might as well show it."

Her eyes filled and she bit her lower lip, pulling him down to her. He kissed her back, trying not to pull away and ask about her ring, where it was and why she wouldn't put it on. He wouldn't ask it of her now. There was time.

**********************************

But here he was. Six months later and Chloe was still "feeling her way" with him. When would she make this permanent? When would he know, for sure, she'd stay? He wanted to think she would. That he really could have it all.

Sometimes, he felt he was close to it. Sometimes, she stared at him like she used to, those wide eyes and that nearly secret smile. He felt like all he felt for her was mirrored back to him. He felt loved and admired and even treasured. And he felt crazy to think she'd ever go. But then he'd ask about looking for a bigger place, with his income steadying out and hers growing even larger with the possibility of a book deal, they could afford something more. But she seemed to want to "wait and see."

At times, their relationship seemed as hard as their friendship, so cluttered with all the things they didn't say.

"I still got nothing, Big Blue."

He snapped to attention and adjusted his headset. "What's that, Cyborg?"

"All quiet on radio. You got anything?"

Clark looked around, listened hard. "No," he said glumly. "Nothing going on here."

"Don't sound so disappointed. It's quiet everywhere. Just means you guys are doing something right. Why don't you go home? And tell that girl of yours I read the Roswell draft she sent me. Fascinating read, but tell her to give the tin hat a rest."

Clark smiled. "People laughed when she claimed the meteor rocks were causing metahuman abilities, so I wouldn't count her out."

"True enough." Victor laughed. "Over and out?"

"Over and out," Clark said softly, thinking about those early days with Chloe. How frightening she was, how right she was about so many things he didn't want anyone to know. He supposed he'd stayed frightened of her long after he should have let it go. She was just as scary now that she knew. Because she could know him, everything about him, see him at his worst, and still stay. Somehow, he was still convinced it couldn't be possible.

But she was there. He lifted off and headed home. She was waiting for him. Maybe she needed some time. Who was he to begrudge her that? How many years had she waited for him? He could wait longer. He'd tell her so. As long as she was here...

But she wasn't. When he moved out from the bedroom, not even changed from his suit, she was nowhere. Her clothes from yesterday were still half-out of the hamper, her laptop was still on the table, but no sign of her. Just a note, folded on top of her laptop.

He approached it, nearly shaking. He'd been in a bad mood. He'd pushed it today. Maybe it needed to be said, but not in anger. If he could have said it more nicely somehow, even waited until he'd cooled down, she wouldn't be...

"On the roof," he read, nearly laughing in relief. That was all the note said. Nothing else. Nothing "Dear John" or even "Dear Clark" about it. He rushed out the front door and to the stairwell, not even bothering to change. He needed to tell her now, while he still had her, that it was okay. He could wait. He had more time than most people. But not so much time with her. And he wasn't about to waste it arguing about what she did or didn't do for him.

When the roof access door slammed open, he'd been ready to tell her that... except for she wasn't there.

"There you are," he heard behind him. He turned and saw her, sitting at the edge of a glazed skylight he suspected belonged to the people who owned this building. "I've been waiting for you," she said, standing up. "Or... I guess you've been waiting for me." She smiled as she moved to him. "You've been patient, Clark,"

He shook his head. "I've been pushy." He took her hand and pulled her in. "I should never have said what I did today. Not like that."

"Yes, you should, Clark." She tugged on his hand and he let her pull him. "Like I said, you've been patient and I've been... I don't know what I've been Clark. I've been so many things. But mostly scared."

He stared at her as she pulled him past the skylight, swallowing hard. "I've been scared, too. Chloe..."

"Let me finish, Clark." She squeezed his hand before letting him go and backing away. "I keep thinking you'll leave. I keep thinking I have to be ready when you do."

His eyes widened. "Chloe..."

"No, Clark. That's not fair to you. You've been in this and I've been holding back out of... stupid fear."

He started to reply, then stopped himself. He had the same fears, which is why he jumped in so fully. So afraid she'd leave if she didn't know he was in. He smiled, realizing they had the same fears, but they reacted in their different ways. They were like... two sides of the same coin. Always pushing or pulling at each other. But here they were. They were still here, after all this time.

She took a deep breath and moved closer to him. "You know, I just kept waiting for it to end. I kept thinking I'd keep you until your destiny called you, until that future came. Then I'd have to go. But I realized something today, Clark." She gripped his left hand, raised it, even drew her lips across the band that rested there. "You wouldn't leave me. And who are we to know what the future holds?"

He started to pull her to him, but she tore away from him and paced away.

"What does Rokk know? What he read?" She whirled on him. "You know as well as I do that not all journalism is a bastion of truth." She pulled a clipping of what he knew to be today's Daily Planet from her pocket and tossed it to the rooftop. "Superman and Lois Lane," she said, staring down at it. "It's not true. But there it is! It's in the records. Probably in some archive being read by someone some centuries from now as if it's gospel truth! Never mind you and me. This is what they'll see and I can't change that."

"I can," Clark said, focusing his heat vision on the scrap as if he could obliterate it for her.

"No, Clark. I'm saying I don't care. I only care about us. We know what's true. If you want to burn something..." She pulled another piece of paper from her pocket and shook it out, "then burn this." He stared at it, saw his name and hers, in his own writing and hers, saw the words divorce dance before his eyes before she crumpled it up. She took a deep breath and stared up at him. "I never filed it. But I did keep it. I guess I wanted to give you an easy out if..."

"Jesus, Chloe, you're still doing that?

"I know."

"No. This has been our problem all along. Every time I even think about..."

She placed her hand on his chest. "Clark, I know. And I'm done." She smiled and swiped at her eyes. "I was telling myself to be rational and make sure we could break this as cleanly as possible if you decide..."

"I'm not going to decide..."

"Clark, I know."

"I've been the one who's been completely..."

"You have," she groaned. "Now will you let me finish? So oversensitive," she added on a mutter before bending and picking up what looked like the small metal trashcan from their bathroom.

"I heard that," he said, his lips twitching slightly.

"Good," she said, holding it up and dropping the balled up paper in. "I'm done being rational. I'm done keeping things clean. If you break my heart. It's going to leave a hell of a mess." She held up her left hand and he saw the tarnished, nearly green ring.

"Chloe..."

She smiled. "Maybe I'm selfish, Clark. But you're mine now. I've finally got you and I plan on holding on to you."

He smiled as well. "You better." He grabbed for the trashcan. "Now put that down. You'll get burned when I..."

"Wait," She pushed the can at him and dug in her pocket. He heard a dull clink as the heavy Legion ring hit the bottom. "Might as well take care of this, too."

His eyes shifted to hers. "You're sure?"

She took a deep breath and nodded. "I am." He noticed she squeezed her eyes shut when he set it down.

"You're not sure," he said, straightening.

She opened her eyes and groaned. "Clark, I am giving up assisted teleportation, here. It stings a little. So melt the thing before I grab it back."

He bent to retrieve it. "Listen, I trust you, so..."

"No." She stilled him with a hand on his arm. "No more easy outs. Not for either of us."

He nodded and shifted to take her hand, holding onto it as he focused his heat vision, watching as the paper curled into flames, then dust, and the ring slowly spread into a blob in the ash.

"Is it done?" she said, squeezing his hand.

He peered into the can. It was kind of warped now. "Our wastebasket's ruined, but yeah."

She opened her eyes and let out a long breath. "It's fine. I didn't like it anyway."

"I liked it." He turned to her, slightly miffed. "And you said it was very space age."

"I was being sarcastic. I didn't think you'd actually buy it. There's a reason I didn't use a coffee can for our small, containable fire."

He rolled his eyes. "Well, you could have just said you hated it when I bought it."

"I didn't want to hurt your feelings. You know how sensitive you get."

"Well, it's our place. We should have things we both like. If this was more of you going along..."

"It might have been." She turned to him. "And I promise to stop going along right now."

"Good." He leaned down.

"So that painting with the neon light and James Dean and Marilyn and Bogey..."

He drew back. "What? It's classy."

"It's kitschy. There's a difference." She stepped even closer to him. "But can we argue interior design later? We have more important things." She took in a deep breath. "You were right. I haven't flown with you. Not once. You know why?"

"Motion sickness?" he suggested, having nothing better as she slid her arms up his chest and around his neck. It felt nice and final and right in a way that was almost scary.

"I didn't think it was possible," she said, playing with the hairs at his nape, "to fly under the stars with the guy of my dreams and then.... let go."

"So don't," he said warmly, sliding his own arms around her waist. "I'm not letting you go." He leaned his forehead against hers. "Fly with me?"

"Anywhere," she breathed.

He her tighter and rose up, waiting till they were above the clouds to nudge her and wait for her eyes to open. "Scared?"

She didn't look down, but into his eyes. "Not with you." She did look down, then. "It's strange, though." She squinted up at him and he could see her mind working. "What is it about this atmosphere that promotes flight? That same density that makes you able to smash through a wall should actually keep you on the ground, if you think abou..."

"Then don't," he said, pulling her upward and finding her lips. "The first time I flew," he said into her mouth, "I wouldn't have done it if I thought of all the reasons I shouldn't be able to. So I found something better."

"And what was that?" She asked, pulling away and blinking up at him.

"The one person who always believed in me," he said, shooting just a little higher. "You, so you know. It's always been you."

She grinned and buried her head against his chest. "Stealing my lines?"

"Just the good ones." He let loose one hand to tip her chin up. "Where do you want to go?"

"Anywhere you want to..."

"No. No going along." He nipped at her lips. "Your choice."

She slid her lips along his, then drew back slightly. "Empire State Building?"

He frowned. "I think it's closed to visitors by now."

"Good. Then no one will see us," she mumbled against his jaw.

"See us..."

Her lips slid up to his ear and his eyes widened as she whispered.

"I might be... okay with that," he finally said.

She drew back, arching an eyebrow. "No going along, now."

He cleared his throat. "I meant to say I was one hundred percent behind that."

She pulled him closer and her head found its home under his chin. "Maybe we shouldn't. It does feel kind of... rebellious."

"This is you and me, Chloe." He held her close and headed Northeast. "What's more rebellious than that?"

THE END