scifichick774
16th July 2005, 07:07
Title: Of Lost Lives and New Beginnings
Author: scifichick774
Rating: T
Category: Drama/Angst
Pairing: Lex, Chloe/OC, implied future Chlex…sort of.
Spoilers: I never watched season 4 (or most of season 3), but there might be stuff in there. Say season 4 to be safe in case I gleaned information from my friends’ ranting. As far as the comics, I’m not about to go look up the specific issue numbers, but the Contessa is featured, so any of them that have her in them.
Summary: Future fic. He thought Chloe Sullivan was probably dead. She wasn’t.
Disclaimer: Obviously not mine. I’m just playing with the imaginary characters’ lives for fun and not for profit.
Archival: Sure – just let me know where.
Author’s Note: Happy birthday, CC! Okay…it’s late. I’m sorry. Do you know how hard it is for me to write SV anymore? Dang. That said, this is also my swan song piece for that fandom. I *will* finish the ones that are still ongoing (eventually), but this is my last new one for SV.
~*~*~*~
The hem of her blood-red dress fell past her heels and onto the floor, puddling out behind her in a rich pool of crimson that, in Lex’s mind, served as a metaphor for all the innocents and sinners alike who met their slaughter; lured in by the voluptuous curves that came before the ripples of silky fabric, they failed their destruction when they failed to contend with her rapier wit.
It had been years since he’d seen her, so he supposed he shouldn’t have been all that surprised that she’d changed. Oh, she still radiated spirit and life like she always had – the qualities that drew people to her to begin with – but the resonance was darker somehow and more dangerous.
No longer a child of sunshine and naïveté, she was a creature that embodied the shadows and the night, and all the temptations that came with them. She was magnificent. And though his body reacted immediately, the heightened paranoia he’d come to live with wondered why she was there.
It was a LuthorCorp charity event after all. And she’d made it clear, years ago, whose side she was on.
It wasn’t his.
No matter. He’d slept with more women that fell into the ‘enemies’ category than otherwise and he wasn’t going to let such a minimal thing deter him from getting what he wanted.
And oh, he wanted her. Her allure was even stronger than he’d originally thought, he realized only after crossing the room without actually consciously deciding to do so yet.
He fought a frown when he reached her. She either hadn’t noticed his approach because of the conversation she was already engaged in or was making a concerted effort to ignore his presence there.
He would have put money on the latter.
She may have been naïve back in the days when she’d still acknowledged his existence, but she wasn’t unobservant. Besides, her companion was talking business – a sure fire way to kill any conversation with a beautiful woman.
“Miss Sullivan,” Lex greeted smoothly, drawing her attention away from the other man, who’d paused his rambling just briefly to take a sip from his champagne flute.
Or that was the plan anyway. As it was, she only flicked her gaze at him for a millisecond before returning it to the dark-haired man in front of her. Like noting the source of a nearby noise and nothing more.
There was no feigned ignorance on her face; no indication at all, in fact, that she was intentionally disregarding him – not even the recognition of the name with which he’d addressed her. There was nothing.
It was interesting.
And disturbing.
He’d know she’d left her identity behind when she left Smallville – as he had frustratingly, and to no avail, tried to search for her – but she still should have responded in some way to her old name. Even if it was just a blink of surprise that was quickly covered up, something should have been there and it wasn’t.
When he first saw her, he thought she might be there for a story, but there was there was a noticeable lack of enthusiasm in her eyes that used to be there when she was following a lead or conducting an interview. It was almost like she wasn’t there at all; just a shell of the person she used to be, and a grown up one at that.
He was shaken by it. He’d given up hope of ever finding her again long ago, and hope of having a real friendship with her long before that, so he knew, in his head, that he shouldn’t have been as bothered by it as he was. But he was. And he felt his chest tighten in a rare moment of remorse over the decisions he’d made in the past that had obviously affected her.
“Ah,” her companion said, inclining his head at something in the distance behind her. “I think I’ve overstayed my welcome.” She raised her eyebrows inquisitively. “My apologies, Contessa, but if I’m not mistaken, your husband has spotted us and he is…not known…”
So, Lex mused, she was married; and most probably to someone of ill-repute. The excessively large gems gracing her left ring finger should have been a tip-off he realized only too late. But then, his attention hadn’t really been on her hands, had it?
“For letting the men I speak to out of his hearing range live?” she finished for him with a quirky smile and amusement dancing in her eyes.
If Lex had had any doubts about the woman’s identity, they were put to rest with that one expression. It was slightly unsettling to hear it accompanied by the words she’d said though. Very…un-Chloe-like.
Not that he knew what she was like anymore.
“Just so,” the man speaking with her agreed, bidding her a polite but hasty farewell.
Lex followed the stranger’s eyes and saw the husband to whom the stranger had been referring. It was hard to miss him as the sea of people crowding the room seemed to part for him without him motioning for them to do so.
It was hard to miss him anyway.
Count Fernan Ibanez was rich, powerful, and unscrupulous, and demanded all the respect due because of it.
A bit like him actually, Lex thought, which was even more interesting.
He wondered when Chloe’s tastes had changed from morally upright farmboys to wealthy would-be dictators.
Or perhaps they hadn’t, he considered. Her husband’s build and coloring were similar to Clark Kent’s after all. Similar, but not exact. The Count’s facial angles made him look handsome rather than pretty and the way he carried himself was confident and, if Lex had been anyone else, threatening.
“Erica,” Fernan said upon his arrival, wrapping a possessive arm around her waist and leaning down for a kiss. “I noticed Colin Ainsworth over here. He wasn’t bothering you, was he?”
“This entire party is bothering me,” Erica sidestepped neatly. “I’m bored out of my mind.”
Ah, an opening at last. “Had I known you were coming, I would have taken a greater interest in what my social events coordinator was planning,” Lex said.
She did look at him this time; really looked. It was disconcerting for him not to be able to read the expression on her face. It used to be so easy.
“Count Ibanez,” he greeted, inclining his head as he extended a hand. “Good to see you again. I’m glad you could make it after all.”
“Mr. Luthor.”
They shook hands and Lex struggled not to let his eyes wander back to openly appraise Chloe’s form. He might only be acquainted with Fernan through their business dealings, but the man’s reputation in regards to his wife preceded him. Colin Ainsworth had every right to have been afraid and scampered off with his tail between his legs like he had.
That thought was the only thing that prevented him from calling Chloe by the name he knew her by.
“Your wife, I presume?”
“Erica,” Fernan provided.
Lex offered her his hand as well, along with an inquisitive cock of his head. “I’m sorry…you look very familiar. Have we met?”
He was sure she caught the teasing tone that lay beneath the false sincerity everyone else heard. Sure of it. And yet, she didn’t react at all.
“Not to my recollection,” she replied.
“No…I’m sure,” Lex persisted. “It may have been some time ago perhaps, but –”
“Ah. Well, in that case, it’s possible,” Fernan grudgingly admitted. “But I’m afraid if it was longer than six years ago, then my wife won’t remember.”
Lex raised his eyebrows in silent questioning.
“I was in an accident,” Erica explained with a slight tremble in her voice. It made her sound too much like how she had when her life had been threatened before (by his father, by him…) for his comfort. “I lost –”
Fernan rested his lips against her temple; a comforting gesture rather than a kiss. “You needn’t explain, darling. He’s just a business associate.”
Lex scowled, but not so it was noticeable.
“He might know me – I mean, who I was,” Erica whispered back.
It struck him soundly then.
She wasn’t just pretending. She really didn’t remember.
God.
He knew that feeling. Knew it too well.
He still hadn’t gotten all of his memories back.
“He just said he recognized you,” Fernan argued in a hushed voice. “He could recognize a thousand people and not remember their names or anything else about them.”
Erica released a breath of acceptance and defeat. She nodded gently and reached for the hand her husband had on her arm, giving it a squeeze to reassure him that she wouldn’t press the matter.
“If you’ll pardon us, Mr. Luthor,” Fernan said. It was teetering on the edge of being impolite but it definitely wasn’t a request.
Lex pushed one corner of his mouth up into a false grin. “Of course.” He turned his attention to the Contessa. “I apologize if I caused you any discomfort. I didn’t realize –”
“It’s okay,” she said. “It was nice to meet you, Mr. Luthor.”
“You too, Chloe.”
She furrowed her brow for a split second in confusion before correcting him. “Erica.”
“Right. My mistake. My apologies again.”
He watched the entire time while the Count escorted his wife away from him and to the main doors to exit the ball, smirking in triumph when he saw the woman he once knew glance back at him not once, but twice, in curiosity.
Even a seemingly permanent case of amnesia couldn’t steal that from her, he mused with an odd sort of pride.
Overprotective husband or not, she would search him out if she thought he held the answers to her past. And if things progressed beyond a simple regaling of information…
Well, he thought, his smirk growing giddier if such a thing was possible; he could always arrange for Count Fernan Ibanez to have an accident of his own.
The End
Author: scifichick774
Rating: T
Category: Drama/Angst
Pairing: Lex, Chloe/OC, implied future Chlex…sort of.
Spoilers: I never watched season 4 (or most of season 3), but there might be stuff in there. Say season 4 to be safe in case I gleaned information from my friends’ ranting. As far as the comics, I’m not about to go look up the specific issue numbers, but the Contessa is featured, so any of them that have her in them.
Summary: Future fic. He thought Chloe Sullivan was probably dead. She wasn’t.
Disclaimer: Obviously not mine. I’m just playing with the imaginary characters’ lives for fun and not for profit.
Archival: Sure – just let me know where.
Author’s Note: Happy birthday, CC! Okay…it’s late. I’m sorry. Do you know how hard it is for me to write SV anymore? Dang. That said, this is also my swan song piece for that fandom. I *will* finish the ones that are still ongoing (eventually), but this is my last new one for SV.
~*~*~*~
The hem of her blood-red dress fell past her heels and onto the floor, puddling out behind her in a rich pool of crimson that, in Lex’s mind, served as a metaphor for all the innocents and sinners alike who met their slaughter; lured in by the voluptuous curves that came before the ripples of silky fabric, they failed their destruction when they failed to contend with her rapier wit.
It had been years since he’d seen her, so he supposed he shouldn’t have been all that surprised that she’d changed. Oh, she still radiated spirit and life like she always had – the qualities that drew people to her to begin with – but the resonance was darker somehow and more dangerous.
No longer a child of sunshine and naïveté, she was a creature that embodied the shadows and the night, and all the temptations that came with them. She was magnificent. And though his body reacted immediately, the heightened paranoia he’d come to live with wondered why she was there.
It was a LuthorCorp charity event after all. And she’d made it clear, years ago, whose side she was on.
It wasn’t his.
No matter. He’d slept with more women that fell into the ‘enemies’ category than otherwise and he wasn’t going to let such a minimal thing deter him from getting what he wanted.
And oh, he wanted her. Her allure was even stronger than he’d originally thought, he realized only after crossing the room without actually consciously deciding to do so yet.
He fought a frown when he reached her. She either hadn’t noticed his approach because of the conversation she was already engaged in or was making a concerted effort to ignore his presence there.
He would have put money on the latter.
She may have been naïve back in the days when she’d still acknowledged his existence, but she wasn’t unobservant. Besides, her companion was talking business – a sure fire way to kill any conversation with a beautiful woman.
“Miss Sullivan,” Lex greeted smoothly, drawing her attention away from the other man, who’d paused his rambling just briefly to take a sip from his champagne flute.
Or that was the plan anyway. As it was, she only flicked her gaze at him for a millisecond before returning it to the dark-haired man in front of her. Like noting the source of a nearby noise and nothing more.
There was no feigned ignorance on her face; no indication at all, in fact, that she was intentionally disregarding him – not even the recognition of the name with which he’d addressed her. There was nothing.
It was interesting.
And disturbing.
He’d know she’d left her identity behind when she left Smallville – as he had frustratingly, and to no avail, tried to search for her – but she still should have responded in some way to her old name. Even if it was just a blink of surprise that was quickly covered up, something should have been there and it wasn’t.
When he first saw her, he thought she might be there for a story, but there was there was a noticeable lack of enthusiasm in her eyes that used to be there when she was following a lead or conducting an interview. It was almost like she wasn’t there at all; just a shell of the person she used to be, and a grown up one at that.
He was shaken by it. He’d given up hope of ever finding her again long ago, and hope of having a real friendship with her long before that, so he knew, in his head, that he shouldn’t have been as bothered by it as he was. But he was. And he felt his chest tighten in a rare moment of remorse over the decisions he’d made in the past that had obviously affected her.
“Ah,” her companion said, inclining his head at something in the distance behind her. “I think I’ve overstayed my welcome.” She raised her eyebrows inquisitively. “My apologies, Contessa, but if I’m not mistaken, your husband has spotted us and he is…not known…”
So, Lex mused, she was married; and most probably to someone of ill-repute. The excessively large gems gracing her left ring finger should have been a tip-off he realized only too late. But then, his attention hadn’t really been on her hands, had it?
“For letting the men I speak to out of his hearing range live?” she finished for him with a quirky smile and amusement dancing in her eyes.
If Lex had had any doubts about the woman’s identity, they were put to rest with that one expression. It was slightly unsettling to hear it accompanied by the words she’d said though. Very…un-Chloe-like.
Not that he knew what she was like anymore.
“Just so,” the man speaking with her agreed, bidding her a polite but hasty farewell.
Lex followed the stranger’s eyes and saw the husband to whom the stranger had been referring. It was hard to miss him as the sea of people crowding the room seemed to part for him without him motioning for them to do so.
It was hard to miss him anyway.
Count Fernan Ibanez was rich, powerful, and unscrupulous, and demanded all the respect due because of it.
A bit like him actually, Lex thought, which was even more interesting.
He wondered when Chloe’s tastes had changed from morally upright farmboys to wealthy would-be dictators.
Or perhaps they hadn’t, he considered. Her husband’s build and coloring were similar to Clark Kent’s after all. Similar, but not exact. The Count’s facial angles made him look handsome rather than pretty and the way he carried himself was confident and, if Lex had been anyone else, threatening.
“Erica,” Fernan said upon his arrival, wrapping a possessive arm around her waist and leaning down for a kiss. “I noticed Colin Ainsworth over here. He wasn’t bothering you, was he?”
“This entire party is bothering me,” Erica sidestepped neatly. “I’m bored out of my mind.”
Ah, an opening at last. “Had I known you were coming, I would have taken a greater interest in what my social events coordinator was planning,” Lex said.
She did look at him this time; really looked. It was disconcerting for him not to be able to read the expression on her face. It used to be so easy.
“Count Ibanez,” he greeted, inclining his head as he extended a hand. “Good to see you again. I’m glad you could make it after all.”
“Mr. Luthor.”
They shook hands and Lex struggled not to let his eyes wander back to openly appraise Chloe’s form. He might only be acquainted with Fernan through their business dealings, but the man’s reputation in regards to his wife preceded him. Colin Ainsworth had every right to have been afraid and scampered off with his tail between his legs like he had.
That thought was the only thing that prevented him from calling Chloe by the name he knew her by.
“Your wife, I presume?”
“Erica,” Fernan provided.
Lex offered her his hand as well, along with an inquisitive cock of his head. “I’m sorry…you look very familiar. Have we met?”
He was sure she caught the teasing tone that lay beneath the false sincerity everyone else heard. Sure of it. And yet, she didn’t react at all.
“Not to my recollection,” she replied.
“No…I’m sure,” Lex persisted. “It may have been some time ago perhaps, but –”
“Ah. Well, in that case, it’s possible,” Fernan grudgingly admitted. “But I’m afraid if it was longer than six years ago, then my wife won’t remember.”
Lex raised his eyebrows in silent questioning.
“I was in an accident,” Erica explained with a slight tremble in her voice. It made her sound too much like how she had when her life had been threatened before (by his father, by him…) for his comfort. “I lost –”
Fernan rested his lips against her temple; a comforting gesture rather than a kiss. “You needn’t explain, darling. He’s just a business associate.”
Lex scowled, but not so it was noticeable.
“He might know me – I mean, who I was,” Erica whispered back.
It struck him soundly then.
She wasn’t just pretending. She really didn’t remember.
God.
He knew that feeling. Knew it too well.
He still hadn’t gotten all of his memories back.
“He just said he recognized you,” Fernan argued in a hushed voice. “He could recognize a thousand people and not remember their names or anything else about them.”
Erica released a breath of acceptance and defeat. She nodded gently and reached for the hand her husband had on her arm, giving it a squeeze to reassure him that she wouldn’t press the matter.
“If you’ll pardon us, Mr. Luthor,” Fernan said. It was teetering on the edge of being impolite but it definitely wasn’t a request.
Lex pushed one corner of his mouth up into a false grin. “Of course.” He turned his attention to the Contessa. “I apologize if I caused you any discomfort. I didn’t realize –”
“It’s okay,” she said. “It was nice to meet you, Mr. Luthor.”
“You too, Chloe.”
She furrowed her brow for a split second in confusion before correcting him. “Erica.”
“Right. My mistake. My apologies again.”
He watched the entire time while the Count escorted his wife away from him and to the main doors to exit the ball, smirking in triumph when he saw the woman he once knew glance back at him not once, but twice, in curiosity.
Even a seemingly permanent case of amnesia couldn’t steal that from her, he mused with an odd sort of pride.
Overprotective husband or not, she would search him out if she thought he held the answers to her past. And if things progressed beyond a simple regaling of information…
Well, he thought, his smirk growing giddier if such a thing was possible; he could always arrange for Count Fernan Ibanez to have an accident of his own.
The End