BrightStar
5th November 2004, 06:33
Title: Long Time No See
Pairing: Chlex friendship
Rating: PG/PG13
Spoilers: Just to be safe, through the current SV season.
Summary: Chloe unexpectedly runs into an old friend.
Disclaimer: I don’t own SV, duh.
Author’s Note: This is a challenge fic from Peggy (thank you!). She’s trying to jump start my muse into finishing my other fic ‘Dry Spell’. I swear, I’m just stuck on the next part and as soon as possible I’ll finish it. Anyway, I hope you guys like it, and if enough people want one, I might be convinced to do a sequel, provided I get enough encouragement. Feel free to send feedback if you feel the need, writers live off feedback.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As I look back on my life I have to wonder how exactly I got here. I don’t mean physically. At 25, it’s a little late for the *birds and the bees* talk. When I say *here* I mean at the Metropolis Museum doing an entertainment feature on the new Alexander the Great Exhibit that was set to open next week.
I’m Chloe Sullivan, the award winning political columnist for the Metropolis Sentinel, not some cub reporter that gets stuck on marshmallow pieces like a newbie. I’ve been working for The Metropolis Sentinel for 4 years, 5 if you count my internships and I haven’t gotten stuck on lollipop pieces since my first year. I spent that entire year writing copy and crime watch until the editor found my old website for The Torch and my old political pieces for the Met U Mainstay.
That’s what landed me my current position as political columnist. Which is why I was flabbergasted when my editor handed me this assignment. I argued for 2 hours with him about why the hell I was receiving this assignment instead of Cassie, the new girl in the entertainment department.
Needless to say he didn’t find my arguments passionate enough to take me off the assignment. So here I am with my press pass mingling with the few other reporters who got wrangled in to the same assignments from their respective papers.
Mick was here from the Gotham Times and Jodie was here from the Planet. God forbid the *star* reporters from the Planet Lane and Kent ever have to stoop so low as to cover a museum opening. Oh well, I’ll have to survive the hours of verbal torture from the two of them at lunch tomorrow anyway, at least this assignment isn’t my choice. They choose to report crap, I mean news, yeah, news…as some asinine form of foreplay.
God, I wish I had never introduced them during Clark’s internship at the Planet. Granted this is all my fault now, but I thought Lois could put the farm boy in his place, away from my dreams of journalistic aspirations.
I’m wandering through the displays of art from Alexander’s personal collection when I’m struck by how absolutely beautiful the collection truly is. For some reason I never imagined how vast and diverse Alexander’s collection of fine art was.
As I move from the personal collection of the legend, I am drawn towards the section dedicated to contemporary pieces devoted to Alexander and his empire. There are even a few pieces from local artists, some of whose names I recognize.
I did a piece a few years ago on a rising star in the fashion industry that had just escaped as a political refugee from Chechnya. Anastasia Sironoff. Or as she insists you call her, Anya. It looks like she designed a sheet dress inspired by Alexander’s Roman and Egyptian art. The dress is an amazing hand painted silk with light embroidery around the edges.
As I wander through the other pieces donated or on loan by locals, ranging from pottery to poetry, I am struck by a familiar pair of blue eyes staring back at me from an exquisite painting.
I am drawn to the painting like a moth to flame… The painting was unbelievably good for being done by an amateur, or even a professional. The picture seemed to be a portrait of Alexander as viewed by the artist. The facial structure was so classic and the colors so vivid, but the eyes. I don’t know what it was about the eyes, but they seemed somehow familiar. Like I could fall into the depths of them and never surface for air.
I forced myself to move on to the next section of the museum, but not before I caught the lack of signature on the painting. I checked the nameplate on the portrait, but all it said was *Portrait of Alexander* by Anonymous.
Anonymous!?! I mean, seriously, who stays anonymous anymore? The donation was even anonymous, although I understand many of the local pieces are merely on loan. This may take more research, hmmm…. talents I haven’t used in awhile…s’okay, it’s like riding a bike, you never forget how.
I finished the rest of my general notes regarding the Alexander exhibit and went off in search of the museum director, Mr. Samuel Garrish. He wasn’t difficult to find, but getting answers out of the man was like trying to convince Lois that Henri Bendel’s is not discount shopping. Mr. Garrish was surprisingly tight-lipped regarding the Alexander portrait. Curious thing was he seemed to let the information regarding every other piece in the museum flow from his mouth like a fountain in central park, but the second I brought up the portrait, he started fidgeting and sweating and repeatedly changed the subject. When it became apparent I wasn’t going to get any more information from him I set off to find someone or something slightly more, open to my powers of persuasion…or at least my expert hacking skills.
I have to admit, I did require an accomplice for my plan to work, so I enlisted the help of the one person available to me who wouldn’t rat me out to anyone. Mick from the Gotham Times, the man loves a good mystery, and well, he owes me a couple of favors, ever since I introduced him to his boyfriend.
I got Mick to start talking to Mr. Garrish about some pieces of the exhibit that he was interested in doing spotlight pieces on and even got him to feed the director a line about doing an article on him regarding his work with the museum. People are so easy, all anybody wants is a little fame and Mr. Garrish was no different.
So with the director occupied, I went in search of his office, and more importantly, his computer. It wasn’t terribly hard to find, since on the door was a sign that read Samuel Garrish, Museum Director, and lucky me, the door was unlocked. I quickly slipped in to the office and shut and locked the door behind me. At any rate if I was gonna get walked in on, I’d have a moment to at least try to hide. I quickly hacked into his computer records for the Alexander exhibit, and was severely disappointed to not find a name to accompany the loan of the Alexander portrait to the exhibit. Unbelievable! Sheesh, what does a girl have to do around here to pry into the privacy of an anonymous donor?
Okay, plan B, check to see if any return addresses accompanied the donations and attempt trace it back to the source. Aha! Bingo, 1733 Lincoln Boulevard, Metropolis. Jackpot, now all I have to do is write this down and get out of here, before Mr. Garrish discovers I’m missing and becomes suspicious. Any public relations officer worth his salt know not to leave any reporters to their own means for too long…
I slip out of the office just in time to hear Mr. Garrish and Mick coming around the corner towards the office. Luckily the ladies room is just past the office, so I have a perfect cover for why I’m here.
“Hello, Mick, Mr. Garrish. Thank you for allowing the members of the press to have a sneak preview of this amazing exhibit, Mr. Garrish. The publicity from all these articles should bring in lots of art lovers and tourists alike. I must be going now, I have to get a rough draft to my editor by tomorrow. Thank you again. Mick, I’ll be seeing you.”
I shake hands with both gentlemen, wink at Mick and briskly walk through the lobby of the museum and out to the street. I am almost giddy with excitement at the opportunity to do some ‘not-strictly-legal’ research into the portrait owner and artist. And here I thought the museum piece was going to be boring and uneventful.
I head for the parking garage and my new car, a Lexus SC convertible that I bought myself as a present for receiving the Stewart Parson’s Award for Journalistic Excellence, it’s not the Pulitzer, but in the journalism community it’s still pretty big. The award came with a substantial bonus from the publisher’s of the Sentinel as a congratulatory incentive for the writers to *do our best*. I felt I deserved it and well, I couldn’t help my self. It’s been a few years since I’ve seen him in person, but he’s almost always somewhere in the back of my mind. (Hence the name of the car I bought).
Lex and I became friends over coffee at the Talon, commiserating over watching Clark moon over Lana. And we watched him finally get his head out of his ass and realize that there was more to life than Lana Lang.
When Clark decided to move to Metropolis with me for college, well, I decided to help him out, much to my chagrin when he applied for the Daily Planet internship that I had wanted, he got it instead. Oh well, it landed me with the Sentinel and I forgave him after much groveling and bribery on his part.
Lex and I kept in touch through e-mail even though LexCorp was based in Metropolis, after the LuthorCorp buy-out he had to oversee projects around the country. We used to drop random notes to each other while he was traveling and I was in school.
*Had 9 business meetings today, it sucked. How was yours?*
*Showed up my ethics professor during class by out debating him on today’s topic of journalistic ethics. For my efforts I got to write an extra 5-page report. Sucks on this end too.*
*Kick Clark for me.*
*K, buy-out a company for me.*
*Miss you.*
*Miss you more.*
After 4 years of this back and forth, I was finally graduating from Met U with full honors and tons of job offers, even one from the Planet, but by then I was loyal to the Sentinel, those people had become my family, and I wanted to keep that. I searched the crowd for him as I gave my graduation speech; he wasn’t there. After that, the e-mails and phone calls dwindled to next to nothing and final stopped all together.
Lois tried to help by insisting that he wasn’t worth it, but by then she had been partnered with Clark at the Planet and wasn’t particularly thinking clearly. As much as she would never admit it, she was as taken with Clark at first sight as he was with her. Well, now they have each other, and the Planet.
I got back to my office at the paper in time to give my editor the preliminary run down of what my article would be about and make something up about how I needed to research some of the local artists involved in the exhibit. Obviously I left out the bit about my fascination with the portrait. I headed to my office to start investigating the address my hacking had gotten me.
While I spent several hours that afternoon attempting to find the owner of the portrait, the address had no listings for an occupant. How frustrating! I called in multiple favors with sources, but still couldn’t find the owner. I resolved to just show up at the address and request to see the patron of the museum.
I hoped into my car and drove towards the west end of Metropolis. The address I’d gotten from Mr. Garfish’s office led to a ritzy neighborhood on the edge of town with large house located on decent plots of land. Rich people wanting the illusion of country life with the amenities of city life.
I found my self at the address I had procured. 1733 Lincoln Boulevard. It’s a large beautiful mansion. Done in antebellum style with columns and balconies. I could even picture a gallant Civil War soldier returning to the loving arms of his young bride. In the middle of Kansas. (How weird is that?)
That thought alone brought me back to reality and why I was in front of the house, ready to disturb the occupants. I come up with a cover story involving architecture and the use of post-war design on modern buildings that even my college friend Marianne would be proud of and walk up the driveway to the front door. I’m vaguely surprised that there is no long driveway or gate to this amazing house.
I ring the doorbell and wait. As I’m about to leave, the door opens to reveal a butler with a slightly bored look on his face.
“May I help you miss?” he asks with a sigh.
“My name is Chloe Sullivan, I’m with the Metropolis Sentinel, and I’m doing a piece on post-war architecture and modern art. Is the owner in tonight?” I say with as much of a straight face as possible.
“Certainly, please come in. May I take your coat? Let me show you to the sitting room.”
I am slightly shocked that such an upscale house would just let a stranger walk in off the street to interview an obviously wealthy homeowner regarding the lame topics of architecture and art. Wordlessly I relinquish my coat and allow myself to be led through tastefully decorated hallways in to the lavish sitting room.
“Mr. Luthor will be right with you,” he said before vanishing out the side door.
Luthor? Luthor!!!! Shitshitshitshit. Chloe Sullivan how do you get yourself into these situations??? I start pacing back and forth neglecting to notice as the side door reopens and admits a person into the room.
How could I be so stupid? How could I not see that fate had something evil in store for me when I got handed that museum piece. Argh! What am I going to do? Now I’ve resorted to pirate talk. Okay, calm down, you can do this. Just calm down, you’re a seasoned journalist, you can do this and at least this time you’re on the ground floor, not too far a fall out the window.
I’m startled out of my internal rant by a questioning chuckle from behind me.
“Good evening Miss Sullivan, what can I do for you?” Lex asked.
I turn around.
“Lex, long time no see. Well for starters you could call me Chloe, once upon a time we were friends.” I reply with a bit of the hurt that I thought was gone after all this time.
“Very well, Chloe, how are you?” he replied, like no time had passed since the last time we had talked.
“I’m fine, thanks for asking. Now I have a question for you, and no, it doesn’t have anything to do with architecture, but it does have to do with art.” I say.
I’m about ready to begin my line of questioning, when I look into his eyes and am struck by how familiar his eyes look. The shining bright, pure blue, which I haven’t looked into for so long. And then it hits me.
“You, it’s you. The painting, it’s you.” I stammer through the sentence trying to collect my thoughts.
I discover the urgent need to sit down suddenly. Just as quickly, he’s by my side, easing my on to the sofa.
“What painting? Oh, the exhibit at the Metropolis museum. I see you received the press tour pass, that I arranged to be given to you,” he states.
I look up at him with wide hazel eyes.
“You Jerk! You set me up didn’t you??? Oh, you are gonna get it mister” I yell at him before tackling him to the ground from the sofa.
We are rolling around on the floor, me trying to get the upper hand when the butler reappears at the side door.
“Dinner is ready sir. Shall I set an extra place for the young lady?” He asks with a completely straight face which I find quite amusing since I’m sitting on Lex with my right knee pinning one of his arms to his chest.
“Yes Duncan, that would be great, thank you,” he replied.
“What, Lex? You think you’re some great omnipotent being that can just command a person to stay for dinner? Huh? Is that what you think? Well let me tell you something mister---:
I trail off as he begins to give me this sad puppy dog expression that I never thought I would see look so adorable on a grown man, let alone Lex Luthor.
“Well, Chloe, if you would give me a moment to speak, I was hoping you would do me the honor of staying to dinner so that we could catch up. Because as you so bluntly put it, once upon a time, we were friends. So would you please stay for dinner? I’ve got double chocolate cheesecake for desert,” he says.
Oh, he plays dirty.
“Very well Lex, I suppose for double chocolate cheesecake, I can stay for dinner.” I state with a smile on my face.
“As long as you know that you are going to have to do a lot of groveling for pulling this stunt over on me.” I add, glaring at him with my shrewd reporter glare.
He holds his hands up in surrender, “I do believe Miss Sullivan, this is the beginning of a renewal of a beautiful friendship.”
As he leads me through the sitting room towards the dinning room, I think to myself, *what have I gotten myself into!?!* Oh well, he’s worth it I suppose. I grin to myself and begin to plan my revenge. Hmmmm, I wonder if Lois and Clark want in on this…
The End
Challenge Requirements:
Place - The Alexander the Great Exhibit in the Metropolis Museum
Near future----Chloe's a columnist in The Metropolis Sentinel
Object - A Lexus
Near future - after Chloe's out of school
Four words - beautiful, gallant, unbelievable, and omnipotent
Pairing: Chlex friendship
Rating: PG/PG13
Spoilers: Just to be safe, through the current SV season.
Summary: Chloe unexpectedly runs into an old friend.
Disclaimer: I don’t own SV, duh.
Author’s Note: This is a challenge fic from Peggy (thank you!). She’s trying to jump start my muse into finishing my other fic ‘Dry Spell’. I swear, I’m just stuck on the next part and as soon as possible I’ll finish it. Anyway, I hope you guys like it, and if enough people want one, I might be convinced to do a sequel, provided I get enough encouragement. Feel free to send feedback if you feel the need, writers live off feedback.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As I look back on my life I have to wonder how exactly I got here. I don’t mean physically. At 25, it’s a little late for the *birds and the bees* talk. When I say *here* I mean at the Metropolis Museum doing an entertainment feature on the new Alexander the Great Exhibit that was set to open next week.
I’m Chloe Sullivan, the award winning political columnist for the Metropolis Sentinel, not some cub reporter that gets stuck on marshmallow pieces like a newbie. I’ve been working for The Metropolis Sentinel for 4 years, 5 if you count my internships and I haven’t gotten stuck on lollipop pieces since my first year. I spent that entire year writing copy and crime watch until the editor found my old website for The Torch and my old political pieces for the Met U Mainstay.
That’s what landed me my current position as political columnist. Which is why I was flabbergasted when my editor handed me this assignment. I argued for 2 hours with him about why the hell I was receiving this assignment instead of Cassie, the new girl in the entertainment department.
Needless to say he didn’t find my arguments passionate enough to take me off the assignment. So here I am with my press pass mingling with the few other reporters who got wrangled in to the same assignments from their respective papers.
Mick was here from the Gotham Times and Jodie was here from the Planet. God forbid the *star* reporters from the Planet Lane and Kent ever have to stoop so low as to cover a museum opening. Oh well, I’ll have to survive the hours of verbal torture from the two of them at lunch tomorrow anyway, at least this assignment isn’t my choice. They choose to report crap, I mean news, yeah, news…as some asinine form of foreplay.
God, I wish I had never introduced them during Clark’s internship at the Planet. Granted this is all my fault now, but I thought Lois could put the farm boy in his place, away from my dreams of journalistic aspirations.
I’m wandering through the displays of art from Alexander’s personal collection when I’m struck by how absolutely beautiful the collection truly is. For some reason I never imagined how vast and diverse Alexander’s collection of fine art was.
As I move from the personal collection of the legend, I am drawn towards the section dedicated to contemporary pieces devoted to Alexander and his empire. There are even a few pieces from local artists, some of whose names I recognize.
I did a piece a few years ago on a rising star in the fashion industry that had just escaped as a political refugee from Chechnya. Anastasia Sironoff. Or as she insists you call her, Anya. It looks like she designed a sheet dress inspired by Alexander’s Roman and Egyptian art. The dress is an amazing hand painted silk with light embroidery around the edges.
As I wander through the other pieces donated or on loan by locals, ranging from pottery to poetry, I am struck by a familiar pair of blue eyes staring back at me from an exquisite painting.
I am drawn to the painting like a moth to flame… The painting was unbelievably good for being done by an amateur, or even a professional. The picture seemed to be a portrait of Alexander as viewed by the artist. The facial structure was so classic and the colors so vivid, but the eyes. I don’t know what it was about the eyes, but they seemed somehow familiar. Like I could fall into the depths of them and never surface for air.
I forced myself to move on to the next section of the museum, but not before I caught the lack of signature on the painting. I checked the nameplate on the portrait, but all it said was *Portrait of Alexander* by Anonymous.
Anonymous!?! I mean, seriously, who stays anonymous anymore? The donation was even anonymous, although I understand many of the local pieces are merely on loan. This may take more research, hmmm…. talents I haven’t used in awhile…s’okay, it’s like riding a bike, you never forget how.
I finished the rest of my general notes regarding the Alexander exhibit and went off in search of the museum director, Mr. Samuel Garrish. He wasn’t difficult to find, but getting answers out of the man was like trying to convince Lois that Henri Bendel’s is not discount shopping. Mr. Garrish was surprisingly tight-lipped regarding the Alexander portrait. Curious thing was he seemed to let the information regarding every other piece in the museum flow from his mouth like a fountain in central park, but the second I brought up the portrait, he started fidgeting and sweating and repeatedly changed the subject. When it became apparent I wasn’t going to get any more information from him I set off to find someone or something slightly more, open to my powers of persuasion…or at least my expert hacking skills.
I have to admit, I did require an accomplice for my plan to work, so I enlisted the help of the one person available to me who wouldn’t rat me out to anyone. Mick from the Gotham Times, the man loves a good mystery, and well, he owes me a couple of favors, ever since I introduced him to his boyfriend.
I got Mick to start talking to Mr. Garrish about some pieces of the exhibit that he was interested in doing spotlight pieces on and even got him to feed the director a line about doing an article on him regarding his work with the museum. People are so easy, all anybody wants is a little fame and Mr. Garrish was no different.
So with the director occupied, I went in search of his office, and more importantly, his computer. It wasn’t terribly hard to find, since on the door was a sign that read Samuel Garrish, Museum Director, and lucky me, the door was unlocked. I quickly slipped in to the office and shut and locked the door behind me. At any rate if I was gonna get walked in on, I’d have a moment to at least try to hide. I quickly hacked into his computer records for the Alexander exhibit, and was severely disappointed to not find a name to accompany the loan of the Alexander portrait to the exhibit. Unbelievable! Sheesh, what does a girl have to do around here to pry into the privacy of an anonymous donor?
Okay, plan B, check to see if any return addresses accompanied the donations and attempt trace it back to the source. Aha! Bingo, 1733 Lincoln Boulevard, Metropolis. Jackpot, now all I have to do is write this down and get out of here, before Mr. Garrish discovers I’m missing and becomes suspicious. Any public relations officer worth his salt know not to leave any reporters to their own means for too long…
I slip out of the office just in time to hear Mr. Garrish and Mick coming around the corner towards the office. Luckily the ladies room is just past the office, so I have a perfect cover for why I’m here.
“Hello, Mick, Mr. Garrish. Thank you for allowing the members of the press to have a sneak preview of this amazing exhibit, Mr. Garrish. The publicity from all these articles should bring in lots of art lovers and tourists alike. I must be going now, I have to get a rough draft to my editor by tomorrow. Thank you again. Mick, I’ll be seeing you.”
I shake hands with both gentlemen, wink at Mick and briskly walk through the lobby of the museum and out to the street. I am almost giddy with excitement at the opportunity to do some ‘not-strictly-legal’ research into the portrait owner and artist. And here I thought the museum piece was going to be boring and uneventful.
I head for the parking garage and my new car, a Lexus SC convertible that I bought myself as a present for receiving the Stewart Parson’s Award for Journalistic Excellence, it’s not the Pulitzer, but in the journalism community it’s still pretty big. The award came with a substantial bonus from the publisher’s of the Sentinel as a congratulatory incentive for the writers to *do our best*. I felt I deserved it and well, I couldn’t help my self. It’s been a few years since I’ve seen him in person, but he’s almost always somewhere in the back of my mind. (Hence the name of the car I bought).
Lex and I became friends over coffee at the Talon, commiserating over watching Clark moon over Lana. And we watched him finally get his head out of his ass and realize that there was more to life than Lana Lang.
When Clark decided to move to Metropolis with me for college, well, I decided to help him out, much to my chagrin when he applied for the Daily Planet internship that I had wanted, he got it instead. Oh well, it landed me with the Sentinel and I forgave him after much groveling and bribery on his part.
Lex and I kept in touch through e-mail even though LexCorp was based in Metropolis, after the LuthorCorp buy-out he had to oversee projects around the country. We used to drop random notes to each other while he was traveling and I was in school.
*Had 9 business meetings today, it sucked. How was yours?*
*Showed up my ethics professor during class by out debating him on today’s topic of journalistic ethics. For my efforts I got to write an extra 5-page report. Sucks on this end too.*
*Kick Clark for me.*
*K, buy-out a company for me.*
*Miss you.*
*Miss you more.*
After 4 years of this back and forth, I was finally graduating from Met U with full honors and tons of job offers, even one from the Planet, but by then I was loyal to the Sentinel, those people had become my family, and I wanted to keep that. I searched the crowd for him as I gave my graduation speech; he wasn’t there. After that, the e-mails and phone calls dwindled to next to nothing and final stopped all together.
Lois tried to help by insisting that he wasn’t worth it, but by then she had been partnered with Clark at the Planet and wasn’t particularly thinking clearly. As much as she would never admit it, she was as taken with Clark at first sight as he was with her. Well, now they have each other, and the Planet.
I got back to my office at the paper in time to give my editor the preliminary run down of what my article would be about and make something up about how I needed to research some of the local artists involved in the exhibit. Obviously I left out the bit about my fascination with the portrait. I headed to my office to start investigating the address my hacking had gotten me.
While I spent several hours that afternoon attempting to find the owner of the portrait, the address had no listings for an occupant. How frustrating! I called in multiple favors with sources, but still couldn’t find the owner. I resolved to just show up at the address and request to see the patron of the museum.
I hoped into my car and drove towards the west end of Metropolis. The address I’d gotten from Mr. Garfish’s office led to a ritzy neighborhood on the edge of town with large house located on decent plots of land. Rich people wanting the illusion of country life with the amenities of city life.
I found my self at the address I had procured. 1733 Lincoln Boulevard. It’s a large beautiful mansion. Done in antebellum style with columns and balconies. I could even picture a gallant Civil War soldier returning to the loving arms of his young bride. In the middle of Kansas. (How weird is that?)
That thought alone brought me back to reality and why I was in front of the house, ready to disturb the occupants. I come up with a cover story involving architecture and the use of post-war design on modern buildings that even my college friend Marianne would be proud of and walk up the driveway to the front door. I’m vaguely surprised that there is no long driveway or gate to this amazing house.
I ring the doorbell and wait. As I’m about to leave, the door opens to reveal a butler with a slightly bored look on his face.
“May I help you miss?” he asks with a sigh.
“My name is Chloe Sullivan, I’m with the Metropolis Sentinel, and I’m doing a piece on post-war architecture and modern art. Is the owner in tonight?” I say with as much of a straight face as possible.
“Certainly, please come in. May I take your coat? Let me show you to the sitting room.”
I am slightly shocked that such an upscale house would just let a stranger walk in off the street to interview an obviously wealthy homeowner regarding the lame topics of architecture and art. Wordlessly I relinquish my coat and allow myself to be led through tastefully decorated hallways in to the lavish sitting room.
“Mr. Luthor will be right with you,” he said before vanishing out the side door.
Luthor? Luthor!!!! Shitshitshitshit. Chloe Sullivan how do you get yourself into these situations??? I start pacing back and forth neglecting to notice as the side door reopens and admits a person into the room.
How could I be so stupid? How could I not see that fate had something evil in store for me when I got handed that museum piece. Argh! What am I going to do? Now I’ve resorted to pirate talk. Okay, calm down, you can do this. Just calm down, you’re a seasoned journalist, you can do this and at least this time you’re on the ground floor, not too far a fall out the window.
I’m startled out of my internal rant by a questioning chuckle from behind me.
“Good evening Miss Sullivan, what can I do for you?” Lex asked.
I turn around.
“Lex, long time no see. Well for starters you could call me Chloe, once upon a time we were friends.” I reply with a bit of the hurt that I thought was gone after all this time.
“Very well, Chloe, how are you?” he replied, like no time had passed since the last time we had talked.
“I’m fine, thanks for asking. Now I have a question for you, and no, it doesn’t have anything to do with architecture, but it does have to do with art.” I say.
I’m about ready to begin my line of questioning, when I look into his eyes and am struck by how familiar his eyes look. The shining bright, pure blue, which I haven’t looked into for so long. And then it hits me.
“You, it’s you. The painting, it’s you.” I stammer through the sentence trying to collect my thoughts.
I discover the urgent need to sit down suddenly. Just as quickly, he’s by my side, easing my on to the sofa.
“What painting? Oh, the exhibit at the Metropolis museum. I see you received the press tour pass, that I arranged to be given to you,” he states.
I look up at him with wide hazel eyes.
“You Jerk! You set me up didn’t you??? Oh, you are gonna get it mister” I yell at him before tackling him to the ground from the sofa.
We are rolling around on the floor, me trying to get the upper hand when the butler reappears at the side door.
“Dinner is ready sir. Shall I set an extra place for the young lady?” He asks with a completely straight face which I find quite amusing since I’m sitting on Lex with my right knee pinning one of his arms to his chest.
“Yes Duncan, that would be great, thank you,” he replied.
“What, Lex? You think you’re some great omnipotent being that can just command a person to stay for dinner? Huh? Is that what you think? Well let me tell you something mister---:
I trail off as he begins to give me this sad puppy dog expression that I never thought I would see look so adorable on a grown man, let alone Lex Luthor.
“Well, Chloe, if you would give me a moment to speak, I was hoping you would do me the honor of staying to dinner so that we could catch up. Because as you so bluntly put it, once upon a time, we were friends. So would you please stay for dinner? I’ve got double chocolate cheesecake for desert,” he says.
Oh, he plays dirty.
“Very well Lex, I suppose for double chocolate cheesecake, I can stay for dinner.” I state with a smile on my face.
“As long as you know that you are going to have to do a lot of groveling for pulling this stunt over on me.” I add, glaring at him with my shrewd reporter glare.
He holds his hands up in surrender, “I do believe Miss Sullivan, this is the beginning of a renewal of a beautiful friendship.”
As he leads me through the sitting room towards the dinning room, I think to myself, *what have I gotten myself into!?!* Oh well, he’s worth it I suppose. I grin to myself and begin to plan my revenge. Hmmmm, I wonder if Lois and Clark want in on this…
The End
Challenge Requirements:
Place - The Alexander the Great Exhibit in the Metropolis Museum
Near future----Chloe's a columnist in The Metropolis Sentinel
Object - A Lexus
Near future - after Chloe's out of school
Four words - beautiful, gallant, unbelievable, and omnipotent