HumbugGirl
19th April 2003, 01:14
Title: Two Minutes in a Day (1/1)
Author: HumbugGirl
Email: humbuggirl@hotmail.com
URL: http://www.geocities.com/peacefulempress/home.html or http://www.geocities.com/oddfiction
Pairing: Chloe/Lex hints at Chloe/Clark, Clark/Lana
Rating: PG
Summary: Chloe ponders a little something.
Spoilers: None
Distribution: Please ask first.
Disclaimer: Okay so I haven’t had the chance to come up with a proper disclaimer yet so you’ll have to put up with the basic ‘none of the characters belong to me, this is a non-profit piece of work just written for fun with praise directed at the creators of Smallville’ kinda thing.
Author’s Notes: 1)This isn’t much of a fic and I simply wrote it because it came into my head at three o’clock in the morning and I knew it would be worth jotting down.
Feedback: Please. I’d love some.
1.
When she was fourteen years old Chloe Sullivan had stood herself in front of her bedroom mirror and made a promise to herself that she had been convinced that she would always keep. There had been no doubts at all in her mind.
When Chloe Sullivan had been fourteen she had been, now that she considered it, more than a little naïve. She had been so certain she was in love with a tall handsome farmboy named Clark kent, that she would always be friends with Pete Ross and that she would always have a lingering dislike of Lana Lang buried deep inside of her; even if she didn’t get to show it very offence. She had dreamt of being a prize winning reporter with her name on the front of every single edition of The Daily Planet and that one day she would prove all her theories on the meteorite mutants that seemed to pop up in Smallville and be hailed as some sort of hero.
Stood in front of her bedroom mirror two, nearly three years later staring at herself somewhat accusingly Chloe was distinctly aware that things weren’t exactly going to plan; that somehow she had become a traitor somewhere along the way and that she didn’t know when or how it had happened. It was not an especially pleasant thought for a sixteen year old Chloe to consider but it was also one that she could not avoid. Looking at herself appearing to be the picture of innocent Chloe couldn’t help but feel a little sickened and more than a little concerned.
She tried to consol herself with the thought that at fourteen she had indeed been almost tragically naïve. At that age, despite her background in Metropolis and all her supposed knowledge and experiences of big city life Chloe realised she had been missing one, very basic and vital fact – things did not always go the way that you planned them.
That fact seemed all too evidence now.
The sixteen year old Chloe gave a long forlorn sigh and rolled up the bottom of the soft yellow cotton jumper she was wearing and pulled it over her head. She discarded it onto the floor without a second thought.
At fourteen, the tiny town of Smallville had seemed such a quiet place. She had been bored with life within its confines. There had been no blossoming relationship between Lana and Clark to contend with on a daily basis. Pete had not been dating a steady stream of girls – not that Chloe was jealous, only… only perhaps a little disheartened that she did not see so much of him anymore. The prospect of an actual friendship with the unbelievably popular Lana Lang had seemed something entirely impossible. There had certainly been no Lex Luthor racing around town in his expensive cars along with his glamorous girlfriends. Most of all though there had been no indication to Chloe that she would ever break her promise. Indeed it had been a thought so far from her mind that she had all but forgotten about it.
The young blonde girl reached behind her back and found the button that held her skirt in place at the waistband and then unfastened the zip. She had to give it a slight tug but it fell to the ground easily enough after, leaving her stood before the mirror in nothing but her underwear and a frown.
This Chloe knew that if she searched under her bed she would find a tattered old cardboard box covered in pink wrapping paper containing an equally tattered three year journal she had received on her twelfth birthday. She knew that if she were to read the contents then she would find detailed youthful fantasies about what her first time with Clark would be like complete with information on birth control and other such matters that the always overly-prepared teen had thought about before hand. She also knew that no where in that diary, nor in any one after it would she find an actual description of the much fabled event. There would only youthful fantasies, nothing that even remotely resembled reality. Well, at least not where Clark was concerned.
The Chloe at sixteen, now nearly seventeen, knew that if a person were to boot up the computer sat on the desk behind her that they would find a file called ‘observations’ sitting inconspicuously on the desktop. It was not even a password protected file. To double click on the file Chloe knew that a person might find a much more lurid description of the first time she had sex; though it had certainly not been the last. This girl knew that there would be mischievous little side notes concerning her lover along with both fond and bitter memories.
She also knew that towards the end then little notes typed in bold type such as: ‘two days late’ or ‘five days now’ and finally the ominous sounding ‘three weeks late – damn-it’. The last being both underlined and in bold. This was the journal that Chloe had patiently sat down at her computer nearly an hour before and typed in a carefully composed entry about what her doctor had told her that same afternoon when she should have been at school.
That Chloe now stood before the mirror in her bedroom dressed in nothing but her pale pink underwear and turned so she was standing sideways to it, letting her hands trace over the slight protruding bump that was already visible. The Chloe at sixteen was all too aware of the fact that she had broken her promise to herself. She was also aware that to look at herself in the mirror was to see someone who was now frightened and wide-eyed at the prospect, at the possibility of becoming her mother’s daughter; at the urge in her to flee from what life was currently offering her.
This Chloe at sixteen knew something she could never have known at fourteen; that she was pregnant and that that child was Lex Luthor’s.
THE END
Author: HumbugGirl
Email: humbuggirl@hotmail.com
URL: http://www.geocities.com/peacefulempress/home.html or http://www.geocities.com/oddfiction
Pairing: Chloe/Lex hints at Chloe/Clark, Clark/Lana
Rating: PG
Summary: Chloe ponders a little something.
Spoilers: None
Distribution: Please ask first.
Disclaimer: Okay so I haven’t had the chance to come up with a proper disclaimer yet so you’ll have to put up with the basic ‘none of the characters belong to me, this is a non-profit piece of work just written for fun with praise directed at the creators of Smallville’ kinda thing.
Author’s Notes: 1)This isn’t much of a fic and I simply wrote it because it came into my head at three o’clock in the morning and I knew it would be worth jotting down.
Feedback: Please. I’d love some.
1.
When she was fourteen years old Chloe Sullivan had stood herself in front of her bedroom mirror and made a promise to herself that she had been convinced that she would always keep. There had been no doubts at all in her mind.
When Chloe Sullivan had been fourteen she had been, now that she considered it, more than a little naïve. She had been so certain she was in love with a tall handsome farmboy named Clark kent, that she would always be friends with Pete Ross and that she would always have a lingering dislike of Lana Lang buried deep inside of her; even if she didn’t get to show it very offence. She had dreamt of being a prize winning reporter with her name on the front of every single edition of The Daily Planet and that one day she would prove all her theories on the meteorite mutants that seemed to pop up in Smallville and be hailed as some sort of hero.
Stood in front of her bedroom mirror two, nearly three years later staring at herself somewhat accusingly Chloe was distinctly aware that things weren’t exactly going to plan; that somehow she had become a traitor somewhere along the way and that she didn’t know when or how it had happened. It was not an especially pleasant thought for a sixteen year old Chloe to consider but it was also one that she could not avoid. Looking at herself appearing to be the picture of innocent Chloe couldn’t help but feel a little sickened and more than a little concerned.
She tried to consol herself with the thought that at fourteen she had indeed been almost tragically naïve. At that age, despite her background in Metropolis and all her supposed knowledge and experiences of big city life Chloe realised she had been missing one, very basic and vital fact – things did not always go the way that you planned them.
That fact seemed all too evidence now.
The sixteen year old Chloe gave a long forlorn sigh and rolled up the bottom of the soft yellow cotton jumper she was wearing and pulled it over her head. She discarded it onto the floor without a second thought.
At fourteen, the tiny town of Smallville had seemed such a quiet place. She had been bored with life within its confines. There had been no blossoming relationship between Lana and Clark to contend with on a daily basis. Pete had not been dating a steady stream of girls – not that Chloe was jealous, only… only perhaps a little disheartened that she did not see so much of him anymore. The prospect of an actual friendship with the unbelievably popular Lana Lang had seemed something entirely impossible. There had certainly been no Lex Luthor racing around town in his expensive cars along with his glamorous girlfriends. Most of all though there had been no indication to Chloe that she would ever break her promise. Indeed it had been a thought so far from her mind that she had all but forgotten about it.
The young blonde girl reached behind her back and found the button that held her skirt in place at the waistband and then unfastened the zip. She had to give it a slight tug but it fell to the ground easily enough after, leaving her stood before the mirror in nothing but her underwear and a frown.
This Chloe knew that if she searched under her bed she would find a tattered old cardboard box covered in pink wrapping paper containing an equally tattered three year journal she had received on her twelfth birthday. She knew that if she were to read the contents then she would find detailed youthful fantasies about what her first time with Clark would be like complete with information on birth control and other such matters that the always overly-prepared teen had thought about before hand. She also knew that no where in that diary, nor in any one after it would she find an actual description of the much fabled event. There would only youthful fantasies, nothing that even remotely resembled reality. Well, at least not where Clark was concerned.
The Chloe at sixteen, now nearly seventeen, knew that if a person were to boot up the computer sat on the desk behind her that they would find a file called ‘observations’ sitting inconspicuously on the desktop. It was not even a password protected file. To double click on the file Chloe knew that a person might find a much more lurid description of the first time she had sex; though it had certainly not been the last. This girl knew that there would be mischievous little side notes concerning her lover along with both fond and bitter memories.
She also knew that towards the end then little notes typed in bold type such as: ‘two days late’ or ‘five days now’ and finally the ominous sounding ‘three weeks late – damn-it’. The last being both underlined and in bold. This was the journal that Chloe had patiently sat down at her computer nearly an hour before and typed in a carefully composed entry about what her doctor had told her that same afternoon when she should have been at school.
That Chloe now stood before the mirror in her bedroom dressed in nothing but her pale pink underwear and turned so she was standing sideways to it, letting her hands trace over the slight protruding bump that was already visible. The Chloe at sixteen was all too aware of the fact that she had broken her promise to herself. She was also aware that to look at herself in the mirror was to see someone who was now frightened and wide-eyed at the prospect, at the possibility of becoming her mother’s daughter; at the urge in her to flee from what life was currently offering her.
This Chloe at sixteen knew something she could never have known at fourteen; that she was pregnant and that that child was Lex Luthor’s.
THE END