June
17th February 2005, 03:31
Title: House of Cards
Author: June
Disclaimer: Don’t own them, wish I did, but I don’t.
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Season 1-3; especially for ‘Delete’. This is somewhat of a post-ep for that episode.
During the summer she used to be able to make the trip to Metropolis and back with little effort. She worked well under pressure. The endless nights, sometimes filled with story chasing, or whatever trouble she had managed to find with her friends from the Plant, left her little time to do what she was there to do and get back home in time to catch a few hours of sleep. She wasn’t a procrastinator by any means. She was a go getter, a leader. She was ambitious, ambitious in the way that most looked down their nose upon, thought poorly of. She didn’t let it bother her, Chloe Sullivan was influenced by few people’s opinions, and high society brats that she had come across during her stay in Metropolis weren’t among those lucky few.
She was a woman of principal, paved her own preverbal path, led her own way. She was bound and determined to make a name for herself, be a better person, to be a legend in her own right. She wanted so many things out of life, wanted to pursue her dreams, design her destiny. She had never thought of how much she would have to compromise to get to the place she knew she belonged.
“Hey Lana,” the usually cheerful voice was tired, resigned. The blonde sighs, a small smile gracing her lips when Lana offers her that trademark mega watt grin. “Can I have my regular to go?”
Eyes unconsciously roam the coffee shop, not looking for anything in particular and not even the slightest surprise creeping up within her when she realized a certain dark haired, flannel wearing farm boy was nowhere in sight. The thought makes her drum her nails against the counter top uncomfortably, makes her uneasy. She used to envy Lana Lang, used to spend ridiculous amounts of time wondering if she died her hair brown and perfected that whispery, doe eyed look she’d get the attention from Clark she had always wanted. Chloe used to think that Lana had everything she wanted: beginning and ending with Clark Kent.
She was so blinded by her feelings for Clark, so misguided by them, that the possibility of a relationship beyond the term platonic ruled her life. Clark was everything she wanted, he lived in her thoughts, her fantasies, was a constant fixation in the contours of her mind.
It saddens her now, the thought of how much time she wasted on him, on them. How much time she wasted being consumed by her love for Clark and hatred for Lana. It used to be a painful, sad feeling that consumed her when she thought about it. Now she just chalks it up to bad decisions which is becoming an unwanted, common theme in her life.
“Chloe?”
Lana’s voice registers in the blonde’s mind, pulling her back to the present, eyes snapping up with a raised eyebrows.
“Sorry. What?”
“You’re not staying?” Lana asks, slightly concerned, her eyes roaming over the Chloe's features carefully as she places the to-go cup in-between them.
“No,” she shook her head, smiling softly as she reached for the cup and took a small sip. “I’m not feeling very well today.”
“Are you okay?” Lana reached for Chloe’s hand but she immediately pulls back, flinching. She doesn’t try to soothe the mixture of concern and hurt on Lana’s face, because there are no words, nothing she could say, wanted to say.
“I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Lana,” Chloe snapped, clearly irritated. “I think I know better than anyone whether or not I’m fine.”
Lana makes a show of cleaning off the counter top then, working furiously to clean a spot that she had been cleaning when Chloe had first came in. Chloe knew she should apologize, should say something, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She just simply placed a couple of bills on the counter and walked away. Running away really, something she was becoming increasingly good at.
A light snow is falling when she leaves The Talon and walks towards her car, the white flakes falling on her black coat and crunching beneath her fussy, black shoes. The air nips at her cheeks and lips, her eyes fluttering to the cup in her hands before she realized that the joy the substance brought her normally was no longer there.
It was like something was ticking inside her, waiting and waiting, making itself clearer and clearer as the days went by. There was a constant tightening in her chest, a painful forceful feeling grabbing at her gut and then squeezing her heart. It was worse than the betrayal that sliced through her like a knife when she saw Lana and Clark that night in the barn, it was worse than any feelings she had after her mother left. It was stifling, it consumed her, and she just wanted it to go away.
Her hands shake as she opens the door and slides into the car, she spills a little bit of the coffee on the floor as she places the cup in the cup holder, but she’s beyond caring. Her car was tainted now, just like her.
Maybe she had been wrong, maybe this was her penance for what she had done to Clark, maybe this feeling, the tightening in her chest, the constant paranoia, those were the consequences for her betrayal. When her car fails to turn over when she puts her key into the ignition, she laughs bitterly, wishing that Clark hadn’t missed her with his truck, that Lana had used better aim.
Stiff, cold fingers tighten around the steering wheel and she bangs her head against it a couple times for good measure.
The insisting tapping on the window made her jump, caused the pain in her chest to be overcome be panic momentarily. She gasped as her wide eyes met concerned gray ones.
“Is everything alright?” Lex's voice is muffled by the barrier of the window, but she can hear the slight concern beneath the words.
Rolling the window down turns out to be a difficult task, but she manages in record time. “My uh,” a bitter laugh escapes her chapped lips and she shakes her head as she leaned it back against the seat. “My car won’t start.”
Tears are suddenly burning her eyes, the tightening in her chest full blast and for some reason it becomes harder and harder to breathe. She rubs anxiously at her head, the pounding behind her temples increasing every time she blinked.
“Chloe you don’t look to well.”
Hazel eyes turn towards the bald man outside her window and she closes her eyes briefly, before opening them again.
“Are you sick?”
“I’m fine,” she lies, reaching for the coffee cup stopping when she realized how badly her hands were shaking. They immediately dropped to her sides. She refused to be weak, to let someone see her weak.
“Your obviously not,” Lex says again reaching into the car and turning the key in the ignition, frowning when it failed to turn over once again. “Come on,” he motions over his shoulder to where she was pretty sure that ridiculous Porsche. “I’ll take you home.”
“No,” the shake of her head is stubborn and the small smile she offers him is anything but real, “I’m fine, I’ll walk.”
“That’s a long way.”
“I need the fresh air.”
“It’s freezing out.”
“I think I’ll be okay,” she snapped, eyes raising towards him sharply.
It obviously didn’t bother him, and if it did he didn’t let it show, he just stood a tad bit straighter and looked to the side for a moment before turning his gaze back to her. It was harder then, somewhat colder. “Would you like me to call Clark? Maybe you’d be more comfortable with him.”
There was no malicious intent in his tone, no underlying meaning that she could think of, but it struck her, struck a cord in her that just snapped. The tears came silently at first, and Chloe tried with everything in her to push them away, but they just wouldn’t stop. For the life of her she couldn’t get them to stop.
“I’m sorry,” she wiped angrily at the tears trailing down her cheeks, laughing slightly as she turned her head towards him. It was better to laugh, it kept her from sobbing dramatically like some stupid girl in those stupid movies she had always hated. “I don’t…” Chloe laughed again at the sight of his face because he was looking at her like she was crazy. Which was not too far off, because she did feel a little bit crazy, a little bit guilty too. She was starting to realize that it wasn‘t a very good combination. “My car won’t start,” Chloe sniffled and sighed heavily at once.
Hastily she reached for her keys, trying once, twice, three times to start the car before kicking it angrily and banging her fist against the steering wheel. A sob finally escaped her when she tried another time without success, and her teeth started to chatter as a gust of wind entered through the window, her legs tingling beneath her thigh high stockings as the frigid air nipped at them.
“Come on Chloe,” Lex urged, opening the door and reaching for her. Chloe moved instinctively away from him, flinching when his hand fell against her arm. She swallowed harshly at the contact, fresh bruises flutter through her mind from Lana and Clark’s attacks. Bruises that would take weeks, possibly months to fade but would never truly disappear. Chloe thinks she deserves them now.
He opens his mouth to say something, but obviously thinks better of it. He looks hurt for a brief moment, regards her carefully for a second before that cool, calm Luthor exterior is put firmly in place.
“I’m sorry,” she shakes her head, pocketing her keys from the ignition and sliding out of the car with little effort. “It’s just been one of those days,” she offers him a watery smile as he moves past her to roll up her window and close the door.
“I’ll call to get it towed,” Lex offers, tossing her the briefest of smiles as he leads her to his car, the snow falling heavily, the slight shimmering of the flakes as they fell somehow echoing throughout the abandoned street.
“No,” Chloe sighs heavily, wiping at her red eyes as she looks at him out of the corner of them, noticing his frost bitten cheeks and slightly red scalp. She would have found it terribly endearing under different circumstances. “It’s just the cold… my car is temperamental.”
There’s no acknowledgement of her words from Lex, he just slides into the car easily, waiting for her to do the same. He does everything with ease, with control. It’s expected, she’s used to it, but it reminds her oddly of his father and her stomach lurches nauseously. There is silence between them, just like she figured there would be. But the silence is ringing in her ears, putting her on edge, the constant ringing annoying and oddly uncomfortable.
They were great conversationalists, good at bantering, they usually stuck with that, it was a safe, common ground.
But something was off with him, had been for weeks Chloe admits internally, ever since he’d returned. He wouldn’t initiate conversation, and she really didn’t have in her to do so either. So she just stares forward, watches the snow fall over the town as she passes it by, leaving it a distant memory. A blur, outside the protected, oddly warm, safe ground of the ridiculously expensive sports car.
Chloe used to think there was something magical about snow, used to sit outside late nights in Metropolis and just watch it fall, blanketing the city around her. The sound it made when it fell, the feel of it soaking your gloves in the early morning, the hassle she had to go through nowadays clearing it off the car, she loved it, lived to breathe it in.
Hazel eyes travel down to the sleeves of her coat, catches sight of the water droplets on the black fabric where the flakes had fallen and melted. It wasn’t so magical for her anymore, didn’t hold the innocence of her youth. It held the memory of her grasping for something unattainable, something she’d never get, something that she wasn’t sure would ever reveal itself. She’d stood at the funeral earlier that day, said goodbye to a man that was dead because of her. Max’s blood was on her hands, because of her mistake, her stupidity, her foolish notion that she could actually up one on Lionel Luthor.
A sideways glance was sent towards the man next to her, and she wondered if he’d ever regain the memory of those seven weeks he‘d lost. She wondered if she’d ever tell him what she knew, ever give him the piece of mind he craved that she had in her possession. Apart of her knew she wouldn’t. She wasn’t one to be afraid, but when you were dealing with the ongoing war between the devil and his son, she knew she was allowed.
The tightening in her chest returned as they neared her house, and for a brief moment she recognizes it, understands. She becomes painfully aware of once more as she leans her head against the cool window, her eyes falling closed as she pushes the tears away once more. She hated being weak, hated people seeing her weak, hated it even more now because of the man sitting next to her.
So many times in her life Clark had saved her, protected her. He’d always been there when she needed him. And when he hadn’t been there, Lex had been, promising protection from his father. Giving her the comforting words she didn’t know she needed until he said them.
She’d felt safe with the two of them, felt secure. It was a feeling so foreign to her now.
Chloe’s fingers rub over the pad of her thumb, where the thorn of the white rose she’d carried with her to the funeral had pricked her. It was quick and painful at the time, irritating above all else. It was like a paper cut, usually small but ever so painful. She remembers the feeling she’d gotten when she’d watched Max’s widow walk away, watch the tears fall down the woman’s cheeks. Recognizes it as the same tightening her chest, the same horrible feeling that washes over her various times throughout the day.
It was her betrayal to Clark, the hidden secrets between them. The secret she now kept from Lex. It was the deal she made with Lionel in a moment of weakness. It was Max and his widow. It was all those things and so, so much more.
It was simple really.
It was fear consuming her, fear overriding her senses.
Chloe Sullivan needing saving.
And no one was there to do it.
Authors Note: This is for all of you who have been reading "Everything" and have been waiting patiently for the next update. I promise it's coming, soon. My muse sort of got sidetracked tonight, but I am hoping it's getting back on track.
Author: June
Disclaimer: Don’t own them, wish I did, but I don’t.
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Season 1-3; especially for ‘Delete’. This is somewhat of a post-ep for that episode.
During the summer she used to be able to make the trip to Metropolis and back with little effort. She worked well under pressure. The endless nights, sometimes filled with story chasing, or whatever trouble she had managed to find with her friends from the Plant, left her little time to do what she was there to do and get back home in time to catch a few hours of sleep. She wasn’t a procrastinator by any means. She was a go getter, a leader. She was ambitious, ambitious in the way that most looked down their nose upon, thought poorly of. She didn’t let it bother her, Chloe Sullivan was influenced by few people’s opinions, and high society brats that she had come across during her stay in Metropolis weren’t among those lucky few.
She was a woman of principal, paved her own preverbal path, led her own way. She was bound and determined to make a name for herself, be a better person, to be a legend in her own right. She wanted so many things out of life, wanted to pursue her dreams, design her destiny. She had never thought of how much she would have to compromise to get to the place she knew she belonged.
“Hey Lana,” the usually cheerful voice was tired, resigned. The blonde sighs, a small smile gracing her lips when Lana offers her that trademark mega watt grin. “Can I have my regular to go?”
Eyes unconsciously roam the coffee shop, not looking for anything in particular and not even the slightest surprise creeping up within her when she realized a certain dark haired, flannel wearing farm boy was nowhere in sight. The thought makes her drum her nails against the counter top uncomfortably, makes her uneasy. She used to envy Lana Lang, used to spend ridiculous amounts of time wondering if she died her hair brown and perfected that whispery, doe eyed look she’d get the attention from Clark she had always wanted. Chloe used to think that Lana had everything she wanted: beginning and ending with Clark Kent.
She was so blinded by her feelings for Clark, so misguided by them, that the possibility of a relationship beyond the term platonic ruled her life. Clark was everything she wanted, he lived in her thoughts, her fantasies, was a constant fixation in the contours of her mind.
It saddens her now, the thought of how much time she wasted on him, on them. How much time she wasted being consumed by her love for Clark and hatred for Lana. It used to be a painful, sad feeling that consumed her when she thought about it. Now she just chalks it up to bad decisions which is becoming an unwanted, common theme in her life.
“Chloe?”
Lana’s voice registers in the blonde’s mind, pulling her back to the present, eyes snapping up with a raised eyebrows.
“Sorry. What?”
“You’re not staying?” Lana asks, slightly concerned, her eyes roaming over the Chloe's features carefully as she places the to-go cup in-between them.
“No,” she shook her head, smiling softly as she reached for the cup and took a small sip. “I’m not feeling very well today.”
“Are you okay?” Lana reached for Chloe’s hand but she immediately pulls back, flinching. She doesn’t try to soothe the mixture of concern and hurt on Lana’s face, because there are no words, nothing she could say, wanted to say.
“I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Lana,” Chloe snapped, clearly irritated. “I think I know better than anyone whether or not I’m fine.”
Lana makes a show of cleaning off the counter top then, working furiously to clean a spot that she had been cleaning when Chloe had first came in. Chloe knew she should apologize, should say something, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She just simply placed a couple of bills on the counter and walked away. Running away really, something she was becoming increasingly good at.
A light snow is falling when she leaves The Talon and walks towards her car, the white flakes falling on her black coat and crunching beneath her fussy, black shoes. The air nips at her cheeks and lips, her eyes fluttering to the cup in her hands before she realized that the joy the substance brought her normally was no longer there.
It was like something was ticking inside her, waiting and waiting, making itself clearer and clearer as the days went by. There was a constant tightening in her chest, a painful forceful feeling grabbing at her gut and then squeezing her heart. It was worse than the betrayal that sliced through her like a knife when she saw Lana and Clark that night in the barn, it was worse than any feelings she had after her mother left. It was stifling, it consumed her, and she just wanted it to go away.
Her hands shake as she opens the door and slides into the car, she spills a little bit of the coffee on the floor as she places the cup in the cup holder, but she’s beyond caring. Her car was tainted now, just like her.
Maybe she had been wrong, maybe this was her penance for what she had done to Clark, maybe this feeling, the tightening in her chest, the constant paranoia, those were the consequences for her betrayal. When her car fails to turn over when she puts her key into the ignition, she laughs bitterly, wishing that Clark hadn’t missed her with his truck, that Lana had used better aim.
Stiff, cold fingers tighten around the steering wheel and she bangs her head against it a couple times for good measure.
The insisting tapping on the window made her jump, caused the pain in her chest to be overcome be panic momentarily. She gasped as her wide eyes met concerned gray ones.
“Is everything alright?” Lex's voice is muffled by the barrier of the window, but she can hear the slight concern beneath the words.
Rolling the window down turns out to be a difficult task, but she manages in record time. “My uh,” a bitter laugh escapes her chapped lips and she shakes her head as she leaned it back against the seat. “My car won’t start.”
Tears are suddenly burning her eyes, the tightening in her chest full blast and for some reason it becomes harder and harder to breathe. She rubs anxiously at her head, the pounding behind her temples increasing every time she blinked.
“Chloe you don’t look to well.”
Hazel eyes turn towards the bald man outside her window and she closes her eyes briefly, before opening them again.
“Are you sick?”
“I’m fine,” she lies, reaching for the coffee cup stopping when she realized how badly her hands were shaking. They immediately dropped to her sides. She refused to be weak, to let someone see her weak.
“Your obviously not,” Lex says again reaching into the car and turning the key in the ignition, frowning when it failed to turn over once again. “Come on,” he motions over his shoulder to where she was pretty sure that ridiculous Porsche. “I’ll take you home.”
“No,” the shake of her head is stubborn and the small smile she offers him is anything but real, “I’m fine, I’ll walk.”
“That’s a long way.”
“I need the fresh air.”
“It’s freezing out.”
“I think I’ll be okay,” she snapped, eyes raising towards him sharply.
It obviously didn’t bother him, and if it did he didn’t let it show, he just stood a tad bit straighter and looked to the side for a moment before turning his gaze back to her. It was harder then, somewhat colder. “Would you like me to call Clark? Maybe you’d be more comfortable with him.”
There was no malicious intent in his tone, no underlying meaning that she could think of, but it struck her, struck a cord in her that just snapped. The tears came silently at first, and Chloe tried with everything in her to push them away, but they just wouldn’t stop. For the life of her she couldn’t get them to stop.
“I’m sorry,” she wiped angrily at the tears trailing down her cheeks, laughing slightly as she turned her head towards him. It was better to laugh, it kept her from sobbing dramatically like some stupid girl in those stupid movies she had always hated. “I don’t…” Chloe laughed again at the sight of his face because he was looking at her like she was crazy. Which was not too far off, because she did feel a little bit crazy, a little bit guilty too. She was starting to realize that it wasn‘t a very good combination. “My car won’t start,” Chloe sniffled and sighed heavily at once.
Hastily she reached for her keys, trying once, twice, three times to start the car before kicking it angrily and banging her fist against the steering wheel. A sob finally escaped her when she tried another time without success, and her teeth started to chatter as a gust of wind entered through the window, her legs tingling beneath her thigh high stockings as the frigid air nipped at them.
“Come on Chloe,” Lex urged, opening the door and reaching for her. Chloe moved instinctively away from him, flinching when his hand fell against her arm. She swallowed harshly at the contact, fresh bruises flutter through her mind from Lana and Clark’s attacks. Bruises that would take weeks, possibly months to fade but would never truly disappear. Chloe thinks she deserves them now.
He opens his mouth to say something, but obviously thinks better of it. He looks hurt for a brief moment, regards her carefully for a second before that cool, calm Luthor exterior is put firmly in place.
“I’m sorry,” she shakes her head, pocketing her keys from the ignition and sliding out of the car with little effort. “It’s just been one of those days,” she offers him a watery smile as he moves past her to roll up her window and close the door.
“I’ll call to get it towed,” Lex offers, tossing her the briefest of smiles as he leads her to his car, the snow falling heavily, the slight shimmering of the flakes as they fell somehow echoing throughout the abandoned street.
“No,” Chloe sighs heavily, wiping at her red eyes as she looks at him out of the corner of them, noticing his frost bitten cheeks and slightly red scalp. She would have found it terribly endearing under different circumstances. “It’s just the cold… my car is temperamental.”
There’s no acknowledgement of her words from Lex, he just slides into the car easily, waiting for her to do the same. He does everything with ease, with control. It’s expected, she’s used to it, but it reminds her oddly of his father and her stomach lurches nauseously. There is silence between them, just like she figured there would be. But the silence is ringing in her ears, putting her on edge, the constant ringing annoying and oddly uncomfortable.
They were great conversationalists, good at bantering, they usually stuck with that, it was a safe, common ground.
But something was off with him, had been for weeks Chloe admits internally, ever since he’d returned. He wouldn’t initiate conversation, and she really didn’t have in her to do so either. So she just stares forward, watches the snow fall over the town as she passes it by, leaving it a distant memory. A blur, outside the protected, oddly warm, safe ground of the ridiculously expensive sports car.
Chloe used to think there was something magical about snow, used to sit outside late nights in Metropolis and just watch it fall, blanketing the city around her. The sound it made when it fell, the feel of it soaking your gloves in the early morning, the hassle she had to go through nowadays clearing it off the car, she loved it, lived to breathe it in.
Hazel eyes travel down to the sleeves of her coat, catches sight of the water droplets on the black fabric where the flakes had fallen and melted. It wasn’t so magical for her anymore, didn’t hold the innocence of her youth. It held the memory of her grasping for something unattainable, something she’d never get, something that she wasn’t sure would ever reveal itself. She’d stood at the funeral earlier that day, said goodbye to a man that was dead because of her. Max’s blood was on her hands, because of her mistake, her stupidity, her foolish notion that she could actually up one on Lionel Luthor.
A sideways glance was sent towards the man next to her, and she wondered if he’d ever regain the memory of those seven weeks he‘d lost. She wondered if she’d ever tell him what she knew, ever give him the piece of mind he craved that she had in her possession. Apart of her knew she wouldn’t. She wasn’t one to be afraid, but when you were dealing with the ongoing war between the devil and his son, she knew she was allowed.
The tightening in her chest returned as they neared her house, and for a brief moment she recognizes it, understands. She becomes painfully aware of once more as she leans her head against the cool window, her eyes falling closed as she pushes the tears away once more. She hated being weak, hated people seeing her weak, hated it even more now because of the man sitting next to her.
So many times in her life Clark had saved her, protected her. He’d always been there when she needed him. And when he hadn’t been there, Lex had been, promising protection from his father. Giving her the comforting words she didn’t know she needed until he said them.
She’d felt safe with the two of them, felt secure. It was a feeling so foreign to her now.
Chloe’s fingers rub over the pad of her thumb, where the thorn of the white rose she’d carried with her to the funeral had pricked her. It was quick and painful at the time, irritating above all else. It was like a paper cut, usually small but ever so painful. She remembers the feeling she’d gotten when she’d watched Max’s widow walk away, watch the tears fall down the woman’s cheeks. Recognizes it as the same tightening her chest, the same horrible feeling that washes over her various times throughout the day.
It was her betrayal to Clark, the hidden secrets between them. The secret she now kept from Lex. It was the deal she made with Lionel in a moment of weakness. It was Max and his widow. It was all those things and so, so much more.
It was simple really.
It was fear consuming her, fear overriding her senses.
Chloe Sullivan needing saving.
And no one was there to do it.
Authors Note: This is for all of you who have been reading "Everything" and have been waiting patiently for the next update. I promise it's coming, soon. My muse sort of got sidetracked tonight, but I am hoping it's getting back on track.