Chapter Text
Chapter One
The smell of hay and engine oil clung to Claire Kent’s shirt as she leaned over the rusty hood of her father’s old red tractor. The machine was on its last legs, and no matter how many times she had tried to convince her father to let it go, Jonathan had insisted it had to be saved — “it’s been in the family for generations.” The Kents didn’t waste money on things they could fix themselves — that was one of the first lessons Martha and Jonathan had drilled into her after they had taken her in. Work hard. Earn what you have. Rely on each other.
So when the low, polished growl of a Porsche engine cut across the quiet morning air, Claire’s stomach sank. She didn’t need to look up to know who it was.
Lex Luthor, she thought bitterly, brushing dirt from her hands. Clark Kent’s new friend. It had started a few weeks ago, after the accident at the bridge — the one everyone in Smallville still whispered about. Clark had pulled Lex from the twisted wreck of his Porsche like it had been nothing, and somehow the billionaire’s son had decided the two of them were destined to be friends.
To Clark, it was simple, but to Claire, the whole thing had felt wrong. Lex Luthor didn’t come to Smallville to make friends. Men like him didn’t do anything without expecting something in return. The car door clicked, and Claire barely had time to untangle herself from the engine bay before Lex Luthor stepped out, his impossible calm plastered across his face. Expensive leather shoes scuffed against the gravel.
“Morning, Claire,” he said smoothly, hands in his pockets, like he owned the whole farm. “Is Clark around?”
Claire’s jaw tightened as she wiped her greasy hands on her jeans. “He’s up at the house.” Lex nodded once.
“Thanks. I just thought I’d check on him,” he said, his voice calm, almost casual. Claire wiped her hands on an old rag, keeping her gaze on the tractor. “He’s probably upstairs, doing whatever it is he does.” “I see,” Lex said, taking a slow step closer, studying her quietly.
“You’re the one keeping things running down here, then?” Claire chuckled lowly, brushing her sleeve. “I suppose.”
Lex considered her for a moment, then turned and walked up toward the house. Claire went back to adjusting a stubborn bolt, muttering under her breath, Didn’t even offer to help. Typical.
A few days later, Claire sat at the edge of her bed, a stack of college brochures spread across the floor. Senior year was winding down, and the excitement of graduation was tangled with the pressure of making the right choice. She had options — plenty of them — and a good mind that could take her anywhere, but she wanted more than just prestige. Law school had been her goal for years, and she wasn’t about to settle for anything less than a program that would challenge her and let her make a difference.
Her room smelled faintly of hay and laundry detergent, a small reminder of home, of the farm she loved but sometimes wished she could leave behind. Her thoughts drifted briefly to her family and to Clark — where would he be if she were gone? Then her mind flicked to Lex and his sudden new friendship with Clark. The thought made her uneasy. Claire pushed the brochures aside and opened her laptop, fingers flying over the keys as she researched law programs. Each school came with a list of prerequisites, and scholarships, and she meticulously made notes for each one. She didn’t just want to go to college; she wanted to go somewhere that would push her, somewhere she could make a real difference someday.
Her thoughts drifted to Martha, who had always been her quiet anchor in the whirlwind of decisions. She remembered her mother’s gentle advice: “Follow your heart, Claire, but don’t be afraid to work for what you want.” Martha had believed in her from the moment she had come into their lives, and that belief pushed Claire to aim higher than she sometimes thought she could. The sound of her phone buzzing on the nightstand made her glance up. It was a message from Chloe, reminding her about the study group later in the afternoon. Claire smiled faintly. Schoolwork, friends, plans for the future — that was the life she understood and controlled. Lex, with his polished charm and unpredictable presence, didn’t fit into any of that. Still, she couldn’t completely shake the thought of him. Clark’s new friend, the one who had appeared out of nowhere, now seemed woven into the edges of her life.
Claire sighed and closed her laptop, leaving it open on the edge of her desk, and pushed back from the bed. She paused for a moment, glancing at the stack of brochures, then shook her head and headed down the stairs. The wooden steps creaked softly beneath her feet, a familiar sound that reminded her of home. In the kitchen, the smell of fresh muffins mingled with the lingering scent of hay from earlier chores. Martha looked up from the counter and smiled warmly as Claire entered. “There you are,” she said. “I thought you might want a little snack before heading out.” Claire nodded, her mind still half on colleges and half on the farm. “Thanks, Mom. I’ll grab one quick.” She picked a muffin from the tray and leaned against the counter, letting herself enjoy the quiet of the morning for a moment.
The sun was dipping low over Smallville as Claire slipped into her jacket and headed for the truck. Evening air carried the faint scent of cut grass and the distant hum of traffic, a reminder that the day wasn’t over yet. She climbed in, started the engine, and drove through the quiet streets toward the centre of town.
Her destination was the Torch, the Smallville High newspaper. The Torch was a small classroom near the end of the school, just past the library. Claire only ever went there to pick up Clark or to see Chloe. Pulling up to the familiar yellow-and-red building, she hopped out of her truck and headed inside.
As she walked into the room, she could see Clark, Chloe, and Pete deep in conversation over something—probably one of Chloe’s “Wall of Weird” investigations. Ever since the meteor shower, strange things had been happening in Smallville, and Claire had learned to expect the unexpected. She suspected, though she would never admit it aloud, that Clark’s origins had a lot to do with it.
“Hey,” she said as they spotted her walking in. “Ready to go?” Clark turned and gave her his signature Kent smile. “Yep,” he said, sliding his backpack over his shoulder.