Title: Shaping Superman: The Tale of Caitlin O'Conner

Disclaimer: I don't own Smallville, or any of its components. No money's being made... No spendable money anway... :P

Claimer: K, so I don't own Smallville... But I DO own: Caitlin O'Conner, the entire O'Conner family, Caitlin's Floridian friends (all of them from preppy Britney to punk Elysa), Michele Thompson, all created elements of this story and the idea behind it.

Genres: Action/Adventure, Drama, Supernatural/Sci-fi (hello, it's about SUPERHEROES!), Romance, Humor, Angst (nothing major), Spiritual (Caitlin is Christian, so there are things that entails), General, elements of Clois romance (hidden), some definite Clana elements (it wouldn't be realistic without them), very mild Clark torture

Spoilers: Um... I'm not sure. It does have alot to do with future Superman stuff, so...

A/N: Alrighty... I went back and fixed a few typos in this first chapter and added a prologue... Enjoy that. And I'm also renaming all of the chapters like episodes of the show with single words.

To first time readers: If you don't like Mary-Sues, let me warn you: Caitlin will come off as a Mary-Sue in the beginning. But if you watch, she'll slowly let you in to her faults.

TO ALL: This story is currently being sequeled by the author Michiri in a story called "Shaping Clark: the Michele Thompson Story" and I'm about to finish my own sequel called "Revisiting Superman."

Definition (Prologue)

There comes a point in all lives where they are defined by a single moment, a single influence, a single occurrence. In lives with no meaning, the occurrence has been wasted, but in the greatest of them, the influence is heeded to the greatest of details.

Often this crucial moment is when one's life is reached by a teacher, or when one meets a lifetime best friend. Time and again this influence is made by the realization of your life's purpose, or by the finding of your outlook on the world. In most cases, either of these is reached by the influence of a special person, an educator, a companion. The occurrence, like all others previously mentioned, is often when you at last see that you've had your defining moment, and that that teacher or friend has become both, and has shown you something vastly and amazingly significant to your life. One's defining moment is one's utmost moment.

Superheroes, whether they exist or not, have their defining moments as well. Actually, they have two: one for that of their normal life, one for that of their heroism. They, as all others, may heed the moment, or they may waste it and such squander themselves.

What happens to a life which has honored its definition? Frequently, it is the accumulation of greatness. Perhaps, often it is simply personal joy for those who have nothing immensely huge to offer or change in the world. However small, its rewards are constant.

So the great legend of the superhero called Superman, the remarkable man who is the idol of all of America, where was his defining moment? Did it even exist with such a man?

Of course it did! Both that of his normal "human" life and of his life as a superhero. One must assume that his personal moment included the great sincere influences of his parents, who taught him his devout honesty that so empowers him today. But what of his hero moment? Has it been lost to time?

It has until now.

Meeting

The day started like any other one of Clark Kent's life—wake up late, zip through his morning chores on the family farm using his superhuman strength and speed, and run all the way to school too fast for human eyes to track because he'd missed the bus.

And today was the first day of Clark's junior year in high school.

It looked to be fairly much a repeat of last year: most of the same classes and same extra-curricular activities.

All-in-all, a fun but typical year as far as Clark Kent's life went. But of course, because of Clark's special abilities, it could never be exactly "typical".

This morning he hurried down Smallville High's hallways to his locker. Before he made it there, a hand reached out and grabbed his arm.

"Mr. Kent."

Clark turned to see the owner of the hand and voice: Ms. Burchard, the new art teacher. She as a short, round-faced woman that reminded Clark more of a student than a teacher.

"Yes, Ms. Burchard?" he answered.

"First, it's Pamela or Pam," she replied with a smile. "And secondly, I've got a job for you." She turned around and took a tall, thin blonde girl by the arm, drawing the girl forward toward Clark. "This is Caitlin. She's new to Smallville, and I'd like you to show her around."

Clark turned to the girl and extended his hand, flashing her a bright, welcoming smile. "Hi, Caitlin and welcome to Smallville. I'm Clark."

She returned the smile and shook his hand. But she didn't say a word.

Shy, huh? Clark thought. Well, she was in a new school and town.

"No offense, but I've got a question, Ms. Bur—Pamela," he corrected himself quickly. "Well, two really. One: Why me? I'm a little rushed this morning. I'd still be happy to do so, but I'm not exactly the best choice this morning. And two: Why does she even need an escort? There are a lot of new students here today. I'm sure Caitlin's more than competent enough to find her way around."

"Firstly, you've got a knack for making the new students feel welcome, and you've got most of the same classes as Caitlin," Ms. Burchard replied coolly. "And to your second question: Caitlin is more than competent enough, but up until this point, she's been homeschooled." At this, Clark's eyebrows rose. Homeschooled? "She doesn't even really know how public high school works. Besides, you can introduce her to all of your wonderful friends."

Clark caught the subtle life of the teacher's brow that said, "And protect her from any bullies."

But Caitlin caught it too and she shot the teacher a "Gee, thanks for believing I can take care of myself" look.

Ms. Burchard must've caught the look, but she totally ignored it. "So, Clark, what do you say?"

"Sure," Clark answered after a few seconds' hesitation. "I'd be glad to escort her."

"Good," Ms. Burchard said. "You two ought to get moving, class starts soon."

Clark nodded a quick good-bye as the teacher turned and strode off.

"Well, Caitlin, if you'll follow me, I'll help you find your locker," Clark said, starting off down the hall with Caitlin right beside him. "What number do you have?" he asked.

"472," she answered without hesitating.

Clark frowned. "Did you memorize it already?"

"Yes."

Odd, Clark thought. He'd only gotten his locker number yesterday and he hadn't memorized it… he carried a piece of paper in his breast pocket with the number.

"So…" Clark said, searching for a topic. "Caitlin, where are you from?"

"Florida," she answered quietly.

Whoa. That was unexpected. From her accent, Clark would have expected that she was from the southeast… Like Alabama or Georgia. Not Florida.

"Wow, Florida," he said. "That's quite far away. So, where at in Florida? Miami? Tampa? Panama City? Pensacola?" Clark scoured his mind for other large Floridian cities.

"Actually, north of Jacksonville," she answered.

"So Smallville's a big step down from your old home," he said. "What's it like going from huge city to tiny town?"

"No, Smallville's a bit bigger than my hometown," Caitlin replied. "Yulee's only got a population of 10 thousand, Smallville's about 25. I said north of Jacksonville. Tiny country town, not quite as farm orientated as Smallville anymore."

"Oh," Clark said, slightly embarrassed. "Still, how much different is it, and what do you miss about home?"

"The people are pretty similar, and the feel of the town reminds me of another little town that kind of melted to and mixed with Yulee: Fernandina. But Fernandina's a little bigger than Smallville. Still, it's got the same feel. It's still got its differences though. And of course, it's gonna take me a lot of gettin' used to not to have a beach at all."

"Yeah, that has to be a huge difference," Clark said. He had her talking now. "Well, what brought your family so far away to Smallville?"

"My dad's business," she said, bitterness creeping into her voice. "His company is openin' a plant outside of Metropolis, and they wanted him to supervise it for its first 6 months or so. And my dad couldn't live in or even near a big city, so we found Smallville. And we up and moved. The entire family. I still can't understand how my dad could uproot me and all of my siblings like that."

"'All of your siblings'?" Clark asked. "How many do you have?"

"Three brothers and a sister."

Clark felt his eyebrows jump. Five children? Her parents had to be nuts…

"And one of my brothers is nine and a half years older than me, and married. So his wife is out on our little homestead too."

"So, let me get this right," Clark said. "You have eight people crammed into one house?"

"Not exactly," Caitlin said. "My family bought a vegetable farm, with one big house that my parents, two younger brothers and sister live in. Then there's an add-on apartment-style room for me. And another, small house out on the other side of our cornfield for my brother and his wife."

"Ah, so eight people in two houses."

"Yes."

Clark looked up and looked at the lockers. "Here we are. You said you had 472? It should be right over there." Clark gestured.

"Thanks," Caitlin said, stepping over to the one marked '472' and opening it.

Clark turned and strode down the hall a little way to his locker, marveling at just how different this new girl was. Very different indeed.

X-X-X-X-X

"O'Conner, Caitlin."

Caitlin looked up. "Here," she said.

The history teacher made a mark on his roll, then passed on.

"Patterson, Gilbert."

Gosh, I hate public school. Well, years and years of homeschooling's freedoms had left Caitlin feeling extremely trapped and annoyed by public school's "structure". And she spent most of the time during class daydreaming about home, since she already knew almost everything the teachers were saying. Homeschooling was at fault for that too.

Why did we have to move?

Smallville was all well and good, but it couldn't compare to Yulee anyway. Her mother's family had been rooted to that town for the past six generations, but as soon as Daddy was offered the job that would send his family all the way to stinkin' Kansas, he'd jumped.

Now she was nearly a thousand miles from the only home she'd ever known. Nearly a thousand miles from the beach she'd loved so much. Nearly a thousand miles from all of her friends…

Stop. She instructed herself harshly. This wasn't doing her any good.

"Well, welcome to your junior year of high school at Smallville High, everybody," the teacher said. "I'm Mr. Adamson, and I'm now personally welcoming you to your first session of my class: American History 101. I won't make your first encounter with me all that boring, actually I'll try and keep it interesting. I'm making it something you guys probably haven't learned much about: conditions in the south during the time of the American Civil War."

Caitlin felt her face pinch up angrily. She was from the south, and they taught those exact conditions to all kids in the south.

"Yes, I know all of you have heard over and over again what the conditions here in our area were, and how we didn't play too big a part, but I'm going to show you what was going on in Georgia, Alabama, the Carolinas, Virginia, northern Florida… And so on. I think I'm mainly going to touch on various forts that are obscure in the war's told history. Like Fort Clinch. Can anyone tell me where Fort Clinch was?"

None in the class raised their hands.

"I thought not—" Mr. Adamson began. He stopped when he saw Caitlin's hand go up in the air. "Well, it seems we have someone who wants to take a crack at it. Miss…?"

"O'Conner," Caitlin supplied.

"Alright," the teacher said with the smile of a predator that had prey in its range. "Miss O'Conner, where was Fort Clinch located?"

"Fort Clinch is located in the city Fernandina Beach, on Amelia Island, Florida." A smug smile began to cross her face. "It was first a Confederate fort, then taken by the Union in 1862. Beyond being used during the Civil War, it was also used during the Spanish-American war. Constructed in 1847, but the land was used before that all the way back to 1736, restored and turned into a state park in 1935. Nothing major in the Civil War, no major battles or skirmishes, but allowed access to Georgia and Florida coasts." Her smile had fully blossomed. "Is that enough information?"

"More than adequate, Miss O'Conner," Mr. Adamson said, frowning. "You're from the south, aren't you?"

"Yessir," she replied, letting her southern accent come fully in.

"That's a lot of information for anyone on such a minor fort, even if they are from the south," the teacher prompted.

"I'm from northern Florida," she supplied. "A couple miles outside of Fernandina Beach, just off Amelia Island. My family loves the state park, camps there, fishes there, has friends that manage the park…"

"Ah, I see." He spread his hands open wide. "It seems we have an expert, right here in our midst. Miss O'Conner, would you like to help teach this particular lesson? I would guess that you probably learned a lot about most of the things I'll be teaching on in grade school."

"Yes, sir, I'll help where I can. You have no idea how much you've just brightened my day."

X-X-X-X-X

Clark Kent had the same American History class as Caitlin. He saw firsthand her display of knowledge, and after that first outpouring, she tried to keep it as little flaunting as possible.

Needless to say, Clark was impressed.

And add one more notch of strangeness to the new girl.

After class, Clark joined Caitlin right outside in the hall. "Nice job there," he said. "It's very refreshing to get taught by someone your own age that knows more on a subject than the actual teacher. It gives us some hope. And it seems to me that you just might have the knack for teaching."

"It's not a knack, per se," Caitlin replied. "Just experience. My three younger siblings were homeschooled along with me, and often I was their teacher. My mother wasn't the best at teaching. I think that's why she's sent us to public school."

Interesting, and odd.

"So, what's next?" Caitlin said. "No, wait… I can answer that. Lunch, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Clark said.

"Well, I'm starved. Lead on to the cafeteria."

X-X-X-X-X

The cafeteria was just like Caitlin expected: filled with all of the school's students, separated into their little cliques already.

Jocks and cheerleaders, Goths, skater punks, music junkies, nerds, and miscellaneous.

She had always despised the cheerleader/jock types. So superficial and stupid. Goths weren't her kind either, far too dark and against her beliefs. Skater punks were all well and good, but she wasn't very good on any kind of board. Music junkies… She liked music, but not like that. Nerds… Personally, she'd always felt she was a nerd, and with a high grade-point average, glasses, braces a few years ago and the occasional acne, she often fell right into that category. But she didn't feel that on the first day of her high school career it was wise to isolate herself with that group. Maybe she should try and fall in with someone other than the outcasts.

"So, which group is yours, Clark?" she asked.

As she waited for a reply, she looked at him up and down. He looked fairly strong, like he'd been working out, exercising… But not exactly a jock. He never struck her as being superficial enough.

Definitely not a Goth/punk, he didn't look like a music junkie… he seemed smart, but not too nerdy. So all that left was miscellaneous.

"Well, I've got friends from across the board, and we kind of formed our own."

After heading through the line and having all sorts of odd-looking junk dumped on their trays and plates, Clark steered Caitlin over to a table where two girls were already sitting and chatting.

After sitting his tray down on the table, Clark said, "Caitlin, I'd like you to meet a couple of my friends." He gestured to the one with blond, messy-styled hair that rather resembled Caitlin's own. "This is Chloe. She's the editor of 'The Torch' our—"

"School newspaper," Caitlin finished for him. Ignoring the look on Clark's face, she extended a hand to Chloe, which Chloe then preceded to shake. "Hello, Chloe."

"Hi," Chloe replied with a huge smile.

"And this is Lana," Clark said, gesturing toward the pretty, dark-haired girl across the table.

The pained look on Clark's face was only there for a second as he said Lana's name, but Caitlin caught not only that, but an emotional flicker from Clark too. He was obviously on semi-good terms with Lana, but if that look was any indicator, they had had a large if not enormous disagreement lately.

And not only that, but Caitlin also sensed the giant upsurge of affection from Clark towards Lana.

Very interesting.

Caitlin offered her hand to Lana, who like Chloe, received and shook it with a smile. "Hello, Lana."

"Hi."

Caitlin came around the table to sit beside Lana, across from Clark as he said, "And this is Caitlin. She's new to Smallville and the high school. I was recruited to show her around."

"Caitlin O'Conner?" Chloe said. "The one who turned on Mr. Adamson in history class?"

Caitlin made no move to answer this, so Clark did it for her.

"Yeah," he said. "He asked a question he thought no one could answer, and she flipped it back on him and basically showed him not to underestimate the students. Wait, how did you know?"

"It's all over the school!" Lana said. "You've already become a celebrity, so to speak."

"That spread mighty fast," Caitlin said with a frown. "We just got out of history class five minutes ago."

"Never underestimate the power of gossip," Chloe said with a smile.

"Indeed." Even as a homeschooled child, she had learned the power of gossip.

"Hey, this is actually a pretty good story for the Torch," Chloe said, a glimmer beginning to show in her eyes. "Would you mind doing an exclusive interview with me?"

"Uh, sure," Caitlin said. This was the first time she'd ever been on the speaking end of an interview.

"I can see the headline… 'Southern Student Teaches Teacher.' Or something like that."

"Sounds rather cheesy if you ask me," Caitlin replied.

"Excuse me?" Chloe said, an eyebrow raised.

"I said it sounds rather cheesy," Caitlin repeated. "The headline sounds tacky… Won't catch people's attention solely by the title. You need that when you've got a good one on your hands… You have to catch 'em before you hold 'em. One of my dad's fishing proverbs."

"And you would know all of this because… you're a reporter yourself?" Chloe prompted.

"I do a little journalistic writing from time to time," she admitted. "But truly, fiction is my strong suit."

"Fiction?" Lana finally spoke up some. "That's quite interesting."

Caitlin knew what Clark was thinking: Add one more odd thing about the new girl to the ever-growing list.

If only you knew the depths to which the oddness goes.

"Yes, it is." Chloe's face had gained an interested expression. "So you know how to bend the written word a little, especially when it's not true." It was a statement, not a question. "I think we've just found ourselves the Torch's third permanent reporter," she said to Clark.

"Chloe, before you go getting all excited, don't you think that you should ask her?" Clark retorted.

"Oh, yeah," she said, turning to Caitlin. "Well, what do you say, Caitlin? Join the staff of the Torch? If you list it as your primary extra-curricular, you get excused from a whole mess of annoying classes and side activities."

"I guess my answer's yes," Caitlin replied. "Sounds like a pretty interesting use of my time." She paused, then added, "Oh, and it's unlikely that I'll be a permanent reporter."

Chloe's brows came together tightly. "Why?"

"My family will be leaving Smallville and going back to Florida in early March."

"Well, six months is probably plenty of time," Chloe replied. "Anyway, do you have a better title for my story/interview with you?"

"Sure," Caitlin replied. "Something more appealing to a general range of people. 'Proof Teachers Can't Always Teach as Well as Students' or something shorter, like 'Teachers Are Teachable'. You see? More appealing, even if the odd double 'S' double 'T' is not there."

"Sounds pretty good," Clark spoke up. "Better than yours, Chloe."

"Oh, you're only taking her side because she's new!" Chloe joked. "Actually, Caitlin, it does sound pretty good."

"Thank you," Caitlin said, a smile on her face. "And I'm looking good for working for you, Ms. Editor. It looks to be a very interesting school year."

X-X-X-X-X

The rest of the day passed rather uneventfully. More boring classes that Caitlin tried to pay attention to, and had some success at. She noticed most of the teachers avoided asking questions that they meant to be rhetorical, like Mr. Adamson had. Obviously her fame had spread to the teachers as well.

Good. She'd only been in a public school for one day, and she'd already made a name for herself, and a pretty good one at that.

Caitlin was hurrying out of the school's front doors toward the parking lot when she heard Clark behind her.

"So, do you have your own car, or do you still catch a ride to school?" he asked when he'd come up alongside her.

"I have a car—a truck actually—it's just a matter of being allowed to drive it," she replied.

"Your parents don't trust you to drive it?" Clark asked.

"No, it's the law. I don't have my license."

"Failed the test, huh? But you've had what, a year and a half or so?"

"No, I still have a year to go," she replied, glancing at him. "I'm not seventeen, or anywhere close. I forgot to explain this earlier… I just turned fifteen in the end of August. I skipped a grade."

"You did what?" Clark asked, shocked. Fifteen? No way…

"Yeah, you heard right. I'm fifteen years old, and should be starting my sophomore year, but I skipped up to my junior year. I'm not sixteen or seventeen, I'm only fifteen."

"Wow," he said numbly. "That must've taken a lot of work."

"Yeah, my last couple of summers have been spent working towards skipping at least one grade. It worked, and now instead of graduating at seventeen, I'll graduate at sixteen—graduate high school, get into college and get my driver's license all in the same year."

"Ambitious," Clark commented.

"And sometimes, I wander to think 'foolish'."

Personally, Clark couldn't see how he could ever stand doing such a thing. Working himself crazy just to move up to the same level as some people nearly two years older… No, he had to admit, to him, it held nearly no appeal.

"So I guess that means you catch a ride," Clark said, changing the subject before any of those thoughts came out.

"No, actually, I walked this morning."

"So it's not far?"

For a moment, she didn't answer. Then she just said, "Clark, if you don't mind, I'd rather get going, and I'd kinda like to walk alone."

He was slightly hurt, Caitlin could tell, but nothing that wouldn't heal quickly enough.

"Sure," he said. "I have to go find myself a ride anyway."

He turned and was off.

And Caitlin was left wondering just how much stranger Clark Kent could be. Little did she know that she was about to find out just how much in full.

X-X-X-X-X

Fifteen. Clark still couldn't believe it.

Not only did she act much older than a fifteen-year-old, she looked older. She… seemed older on all accounts. Looks, behavior, intelligence…

Why does it matter?

That's just it… it really shouldn't matter.

Why did he care so much that she wasn't the same age as he'd thought she was?

That question went unanswered as Clark got out of sight of the school and started running upwards of seventy miles per hour down the street toward home, concentrating on not hitting any cars on the road.

He didn't see the shockwave until it was too late.

It slammed into him, and since he was going 70 miles an hour, it hit him hard enough to send him flying backwards—even though he was superhumanly strong. He flew back off of the road and into a cornfield, plowing out several rows of corn with his back as he slid along the ground to a halt.

What was that?

It had to have been extremely strong to send him off of his feet and into the air… Extremely strong—

At the head of the row he'd plowed through the corn, he caught a glimpse of a person peeking in at him—

They turned and ran after they realized they'd been spotted.

"Wait!" Clark called futilely after whoever it was.

But they didn't pay attention and instead turned, leapt and zoomed off through the sky. Clark caught one last look at the fleeting back as the figure disappeared out of Clark's vision, moving incredibly fast—probably about as fast as Clark himself could go.

Superhuman speed…

And Clark had to assume that whoever that was had probably had something to do with the shockwave that had caused him to crash in the first place…

It seemed that once again, he wasn't the only special one in Smallville. The only question was, what were this new person's priorities, and could they be trusted?