It's a beautiful afternoon in the posh east end of Metropolis. Tucked away in an upstairs loft is a high end art gallery where Audrey Peyton seems well at home. A pretty young lady, she seems to be hiding that fact behind square rim glasses and a loose peasant blouse.

    She smiles coyly directing an older couple around the loft.

    "This piece might add the dimension you're looking for" she suggests, pointing to a framed painting on the wall.

    "It's exquisite" the woman gushes, walking towards it.

    "It certainly is, but I was hoping for something a little more alive" the man adds.

    "Yes," Audrey says stroking the frame of the piece. "You have to make a connection. If you donít feel it immediately, chances are you never will" She adds, turning their direction towards the south wall.

    The man is struck and drawn into a rather large abstract print hanging dead center.

    "I think he made a connection" the wife laughs.

The man steps back, admiring it with sparkling eyes.

    "I love this one," Audrey begins. "It took me weeks to paint. I still remember the first stroke of paint I put on the canvas" she says, her fingers softly touching the surface. "Sometimes I felt like I could walk into it and lose myself while I was creating it" She says with a far off look in her eyes. Catching herself, she adds, "I think it captures the emotion youíre looking for."

    "Yes, Ms. Peyton does extraordinary work" a voice calls from the doorway.

    Audrey turns to confirm who is darkening the door of the gallery.

    "Mr. Luthor..." She says with a curious tone.

    "Please, Ms. Peyton, call my Lionel" he offers, consuming the room. "But, I wanted to compliment you on your accomplishments."

    "Well, thank you-"

    "Unfortunately I came to collect on your delinquent lease."

    "You what?"

    "It's a shame really. An artist's mind shouldn't have to be wasted on such trivial details as paying the rent, but I have far too many accountants who are fascinated by such deadlines and you've missed your fair share."

    Audrey stammers, unable to shape her anger into words.

    "I hope your brushstrokes are sharper than your tongue. Good day, Ms. Peyton."
 
 

                                                                                                             ******
 
 

    Defeated and confused, Audrey floats through the front doors of the mammoth glass monolith apartment building she calls home. She carries herself up to her apartment, stopping cold at the door. Taped to the door, haunting her eyes, is a piece of paper marked "Eviction Notice". Her fingers caress the document, stopping right at the signature; Lionel Luthor.

    Trying to focus on the fine print of the document she no longer feels her legs. The whole world spins and gravity claims its latest victim, pulling her down the wall to the ground where tears erupt into her waiting hands.
 
 

******
 
 

    Audrey closes the trunk to her small car. She looks up to the apartment high-rise, tilting her head back, hoping that will stop the tears. She opens the door and gets in. Looking in the rearview she wipes the mascara trails that have skidded across her cheeks. Exhaling, she looks down grabbing her purse from the passengerís seat. Rummaging through it she finds the keys, then grabs a few more crumpled bills and a business card with the Luthorcorp Logo and the name "Lex Luthor" etched across it. She slowly runs her fingers over the embossed name. She sighs through closed lips finally counting her tiny stash of money one more time.

    "Thrity-seven dollars," she breathes to herself fumbling with the rearview, which reveals the back seat full of clothes and a few other odd items, mostly art supplies.

    This is all she has left of her life in Metropolis. The few things he could not take from her.
 

    The little car heads down the long stretch of road lined with talk stalks of corn. Finally, she sees the sign "Welcome to Smallville, The Meteor Capital of the World".
 
 

******
 
 

    The Talon is unusually slow for a Tuesday evening., the cold snap is keeping most of the regulars at home. Lana and Chloe hang out at the counter drinking coffee.

    Audrey comes into the Talon backwards, still absorbing the non-complexities of the small-town as she enters the shop. She seems a little pale, complimented by that lost look on her face. Her clothes are meant for cold weather, but almost too much. Her large coat envelops her, making her appear even more fragile than she is.

    Lana, quite familiar with her small town, spots a stranger and moves in with a big smile.

    "Hi, welcome to the Talon. Can I get you something to warm you up?"

    Audrey turns and gives her an uncomfortable smile. "How much is a hot chocolate?"

Chloe looks up, her eyes widening with surprise, looking like a kid on Christmas morning.

    "Two-twenty" Lana says with a smile.

    Audrey bites her lip and reaches her hand into her pocket, grabbing her few precious dollars.

    "Do you have a bathroom I can use?"

    Lana's forehead reveals a little wrinkle as she points to the corner of the Talon.

    Audrey, aware of her seemingly odd behavior, smiles and tries to ease Lana with,

    "Sorry, I just need to freshen up. I'll take the chocolate." Clutching her small purse, she goes in to use the restroom.

    "Do you know who that is?!" Chloe asks with her almost normal enthusiasm.

    "Should I?" Lana asks, looking back towards the restroom.

    "Thatís Audrey Peyton. Sheís only like the most gifted artist in Metropolis." Chloe is getting more excited by the moment. "The Planet just did a huge piece on her a few months back. Maybe I can get an interview with her for The Torch. She would be fabulous for the piece I'm working on."

    "Are you serious, Chloe? Thatís her?" Lana asks through her teeth, her interest now piqued.

    "Wonder what she's doing in Smallville."

    "Thatís what I," she snatches her pencil and pad out of her bag, "will be finding out." Chloeís face now crimson with joy, a chance for a great story, and the chance to outshine Lana Lang all rolled into a neat little package.

    The door to the restroom opens and Audrey comes back out.

    "Wonder what sheís doing so far from Metropolis..." Chloe quips, her teeth biting on the pencil.

    "Chlo.." turning and throwing her an embarrassed glance.

    Audrey, taking notice of the two teens obviously discussing her, smiles at them and takes the hot chocolate from the counter. She sips it and moves her eyes around the Talon, turning her back to them.

    Lana, playing the peacemaker, tries to coax her to chat. Maybe this will shut Chloe up, and save herself the embarrassment.

    "So, what brings you to Smallville? Are you here on business?"

Audrey smiles, despretely trying to hold back giggling.

    "I'm sorry, I...uh.. that probably was like the lamest. Sorry, I'll shut up now." Lana wrinkles her nose and turns her pink face towards Chloe.

    "No, I don't do much corn business" she quips, holding her hand out to Lana "I'm Audrey."

    "Lana Lang" she shakes her hand, bobbing her head she gestures down the bar "This is Chloe."

Chloe jumps off the chair, "As a matter of fact, I was hoping you would grant me an interview, Ms. Peyton" she says confidently shoving out her hand.

    Audrey, blushing, shakes Chloe's hand and smiles "Am I mistaken, or am I back in Metropolis. Ms... ?"

    "Sullivan" Chloe finishes. "No, this is Smallville, but we like new out here in the sticks as much as the next guy." Her pen is poised over her pad of paper "Now, do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"

    Audrey seems taken aback by the thought of the third degree.

    Chloe, honing in on this adds "For our school paper, The Torch, I know the arts section would love an exclusive" Chloe is batting her eyes, ever the persuasive journalist.

    "Iíd love to Chloe, maybe next time though."

    She takes her chocolate and turns to go to the corner table.

    "It will only take a sec. I'd love to hear all about the new exhibit" Chloe says perching on her toes, like a cat over a mouse.

    Lana gives Chloe the 'let it rest' look and walks up to Audrey.

    "It's not you, she treats us all like that" Lana adds with a smile.

    "It's OK, I'm just afraid I'm not very quotable today."

    Lana and Audrey sit down at a table near the window.

    Not trying to push, Lana breaks the ice, "I've always loved art. I would love to go to Paris one day and visit the Louvre."

    "I adore France. I actually spent some time there while I was in school" Audrey says.

    "So, France huh?" Chloe prods. "Which school did you attend?"

    "Lots actually. I can't seem to stay put. Part of the starving artist lifestyle I guess. So, how does Smallville treat us artists, Lana?"

    "I've never lived anywhere else. But, it's great. I like it" she says, her smile beaming with hometown pride.

    "Yeah, small towns do have their charm. Metropolis is so big and impersonal it can almost devour a person."

    She sips her chocolate looking out the window. "I guess I better settle up" she says, leaving a few dollars on the table, heading out the door.
 
 
 

******
 
 

    "Clark, shut that door, you're letting in all that cold air!" Martha nags, swatting him with a dishtowel.

    "I was looking for dad. Is he still out there?" Clark asks peeking through the window in the door.

    "There's supposed to be a hard freeze tonight so he's wetting down the crops."

    "Why is he doing that? He knows I can just heat 'em up in the morning" Clark quips with a grin.

    "Yeah right, and have a field full of jiffy pop again?"

Clarks smiles, walking out the door to join his father outside.

"Need a hand?"

    "Thanks son, but I think I've got it taken care of." Jonathan pats Clark's broad shoulder. "The sprinklers are going, just took me a little while to get 'em all turned on. Now, let's get inside. It's dropping by the minute out here."

    The two flannelled farmers make their way back towards the house.

    The small farm kitchen glows, and you can almost smell the home cooked food on the table. The Kents are gathered around the table full of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, collard greens and biscuits.

    "Oh shoot, the gravy" Martha zips to the sink and flips on the faucet for a bit of water to finish up the gravy.

    "The pipes" Jonathan says,  snapping his fingers, remembering that he forgot to cover the pipes. He shoots up from the kitchen table moving towards his coat.

    "Relax, I can defrost them in the morning" Clark reassures him with a grin, placing his hand on his fatherís shoulder, reaching for a chicken leg with the other.
 
 
 

******
 
 
 

    The wind howls outside the Kent farm hugging the barn and farmhouse just before sunrise. Rows and rows of iced corn stand erect in the fields.

    The Kent home is already stirring, as usual. Martha is frying up eggs and Jonathan is trying to make a pot of coffee.

    "Clark, son do you mind running out and warming up the pipes?"

    Clark runs down the stairs, grabbing up a piece of toast and flying out the front door in a flash. Standing on the side of the house, he focuses on the pipes, his eyes pulsating a weak beam of heat that instantly chisels the ice off the well, sending steam rising into the morning air.

    He grins, taking another bite of toast.

    Ever in control of his farm, Jonathan joins Clark out front. The elder Kent leans down to turn the knob on the well, pulling back from the sting of the hot metal.

    "Yeesh, Clark" shaking his hand from the burn. He shoots a sly smile towards Clark, who returns it.

"What's Chloe doing here so early, you two working on another story?" Jonathan asks motioning with his head towards the end of the long Kent driveway.

    Clark, puzzled, takes a few steps to get a better look.

    "That's not Chloe's car."

    "Now who could it be then at this hour?" Jonathan ponders.

    Clark jogs up the dirt path, coming to a stop by the small car parked by the Kent mailbox.

    The windows are covered with ice, and the car's not running.

    "Hello?" Clark calls out, knocking on the driver's window. "Hello?" he leans down, peering into the window.

    It's no use, the frost and ice are solid. He focuses his eyes on the window and the heat from his eyes defrost the ice instantly.

    His eyes quickly scan the inside of the car, stopping at the bundled girl laying in the backseat. Itís Audrey. Sheís barely covered by her oversized coat.

    Clark tries the door, a bit of ice breaks off the handle from the freeze but the door is locked tight. Almost as reflex Clark pries the metal door of the compact car open, screeching metal splitting the still morning air.

    She doesn't move, despite the large crash of the broken metal and cracking ice.

    "Clark, whatís going on?" Jonathan asks, breathless from his run up the driveway.

    Clark shakes her shoulders, trying to wake her. His movements turn her head towards him, revealing her almost blue lips from frostbite. Without hesitation he has her up into his arms.

    "Son..." Jonathan prods, grabbing Clark's shoulder.

    Clark backs out of the car and turns to reveal the unconscious girl he has in his arms.

    "Clark!" Jonathan gasps, searching Clark's eyes for information.

    "Dad, we need to get her warm" Clark's words setting his father into motion.

    "Martha!" he hollers, running back down the driveway. "Martha!" He turns to Clark, who is close behind him "Is she breathing?"

    "Yeah, barely."

    "Do you know who she is, Son?"

    "No."

    "Why would she be here, and in this cold?" Jonathan asks, his face draped with concern.

    "Jonathan!" Martha's voice cracking with fear. She stops cold on the porch when she sees her son carrying a limp girl towards their home. Her hands go to her mouth "Oh My God!"

"Martha..." Jonathan starts, seeing his wife overcome with emotion "run inside and gather some warm blankets."

    Martha turns back to the house, the screen door slamming behind her.

    "Lay her down in the living room, not too close to the fire" Jonathan instructs Clark.

    "But Dad she's freezing."

    "I know, but we can't warm her up too fast. Trust me son" Jonathan says, holding back the screen for Clark to enter the house first.

    Clarks lays her down on the overstuffed couch. He unzips her huge coat and carefully slips it off her, tossing it to the floor.

    "Get her shoes" Jonathan motions to Clark, meeting Martha at the base of the stairs, taking the top two blankets from her stack.

    "Martha, put those near the fire" he says, putting one blanket on the arm of the rocking chair, shaking the other into the air, unfolding it. He lays it over the girl's torso, tucking it into the couch cushions around her.

    Clark unties her keds, and slides them off her tiny feet.

    "Here's some socks, Clark" Martha says handing him a pair of tube socks.

Removing her thin pink socks, Clark pulls up the huge pair of socks he recognizes as his own. He shimmies them all the way up to her knee under her pants.

    "Oh, Clark, who is she?" His mother askes, her voice full of concern.

    "I don't know."

    "I'm gonna grab some whisky from the cellar. See if you can wake her" Jonathan says, leaving the room.

    Clark puts his hands on her frigid pink cheeks, searching her face for a sign.

    Martha goes to her side, folding the blanket down under her chin. She turns, grabbing the other blanket form the chair, covering the cold strangerís legs with it.

    "Should we call someone? An ambulance?" Martha questions her son.

    "I don't know, Mom. Maybe there's a reason she came to us."

    Martha sits down in the rocking chair, brushing the stranger's hair from her forehead.

    "Why wouldn't she come to the door? Why would she stay out in the horrible cold?" Martha asks, her voice breaking with worry.

    Audrey's head slightly moves to the side, her cheek falling into Clarkís palm.

    "Mom..." Clark's voice changes in pitch.

    "Is she waking up?" Martha anxiously asks.

    Audrey lets out a weak cough, her head bobbing back to the other side.

    Clark takes her hand into his, intently watching her eyes.

    Her lids close a little tighter, then slowly open, blinking against the dim light of the room.

    "Clark..." she whispers, her chin quivering from the cold.

    Martha's eyes quickly go to his, searching them for an answer.