Eastern Policies (R) Ch. 25. 29-06-09 END

[kleine_kat]

Hello, all.
I have been bad. I haven’t read other people’s stuff, nor left comments, nor actually finished the rest of the series. Mea culpa. What I HAVE been doing is trying to get the sequel out of my head and my butt away from the computer.

I’ve tried everything: Going back to my original fic about Orpheus, trying to rekindle my old Supernatural addiction, watching Westerns…

Well, as you might have guessed, it didn’t work So I’m back again, with the sequel to Blockage or Samson Reversed. It’s a direct sequel, so if you haven’t read the first part, some things might seem very strange to you.

This fic…I don’t have it planned out as meticulously as Blockage, and it will certainly be much shorter, probably about 100 pages or something. I’m not sure yet. Rating? PG-13 to start with, probably up to R later for sex, violence, torture and other sweetness. If, of course, I can bring myself to finish it—which is not a threat or a troll-like demand for reviews, it’s just that I’m not sure if I’ll be able to get into this one like I did into Blockage.

Ah well. You might call this a teaser, I guess. Cheers!


EASTERN POLICIES

Prologue.

30th January 2008.

It was five twenty-five and most of the Daily Planet had emptied out, first at a trickle, then almost at a stampede. Clark Kent regarded his fellow-reporters drain through the door and allowed himself a five-second marathon of mine sweeper. He lost three of the four games he played, though more because his computer couldn't process his clicks than because he sucked at it.

He sighed. Today was Wednesday, and he always had coffee with Chloe on Wednesday—when the both of them were available, of course. At the moment, she wasn't, being in China, and while he wasn't so starved for friends he couldn't deal with her absence, he had missed his weekly coffee break.

It simply wasn't the same with Lois (who had taken pity on his lonely soul and joined him in Chloe’s stead) . She made a coffee break as exhausting as, say, lifting an airplane and jogging around with it for a hundred miles or so. He liked Lois, he really did, but god, the woman was like a bloody tsunami of talk. She just went on, and on, and on, and when she left the cafeteria, refreshed after the break and with a smear of cream on her left cheek, he lay flattened in his chair, chewed up and half digested by the natural force called Lois Lane.

Chloe was spunky and witty, a bit like a chattering monkey at times.

Lois was more like a wrecking ball. She simply was no fun to have coffee with. Trying to follow her breathless conversation and trying not to be insulted by her 'friendly jibes' cost him more energy than it ever gained him.

She was gone now, for the rest of the week, chasing news and biting off the heads of innocent interviewees.

Clark was already relishing the peace and quiet.

He tsk' ed to himself as the mine field exploded for the fifth time, then lifted his fingers from the key board when his phone buzzed in his pocket. "No, Lois," he muttered to himself, digging into his pocket. "I won't check your article on biochemistry. I have better things to do—and besides, you have a spelling checker." It might be Lana, too, he reflected, gingerly pulling the thing from the depths of his pants. (Shouldn't hold it too tightly. Phones were fragile things. So, he had noticed, were pants not made of denim.) It was her turn to shop-n-cook and she usually phoned him to ask if he were going to make it home in time.

He raised his eyebrows as he noticed the name on the display. It wasn't Lois, and neither was it Lana. According to his number rec he was being called by LEX, and that was quite impossible. They had more or less buried the hatchet (because, Clark figured with a dull blush of shame, it was kind of hypocritical to bear a grudge against people who may have caused you the occasional feelings of hate, enmity and betrayal, but who forgave you for jumping and assaulting them in the most violent way), but really, Lex was still the last person he expected to call. Especially from China.

Unless, he thought, Chloe had nicked his phone and had missed their Wednesday coffee chat as much as he had. What time was it in China at this point, anyway?

He answered the call with a short, inquiring "Clark Kent," which made asking the name of the person on the other side redundant.

"Clark." Lex's voice, echoing a little with distance and underscored by a swift patter of footsteps. Clark's eyebrows arched up while his brain attempted to formulate reasons why Lex could possibly want to call him from China. He decided to give his imagination a break and simply ask.

"Hey, Lex. What are you..."

"Shut up and listen. I don't have much time," Lex interrupted him. "You need to record this—write it down or record it. Do you have a recorder at hand?"

Although he immediately bristled at the 'shut up', the urgency in Lex's voice made Clark swallow any sharp words and hunt for his USB recorder, standard journalist issue.

"Yes, got one." Instead of trying to start up an official contraption, he just held the cell close to the recording device; he could follow Lex just fine from the ten-inch distance.

"Good." He sounded like he was running, or at least walking fast; his breath came in short, fast bursts. "Ok, you can delete this bit if you want but I really need you to come to China."

"Lex, what the..."

"Shut up and let me talk, they almost have me and I need to...They have Chloe. And they'll have me in a few minutes. I need you to come and get her, and probably me, out, because I have no clue how anyone else will possibly manage that without superpowers."

There was a distant noise in the background, and the rhythm of footfalls—Lex's footfalls—sped up.

"Now make sure you tape this. I'm in Xue Dong, that is X-U-E D-O-N-G, in a small town called Shueng, S-H-U-E-N-G. This part originally fell under the magistracy of a man called Aiguo Bohai, but he’s dead. Right now this town is ruled by two rivaling gangs and there is a small civil war going on at the moment…”

He took a deep breath, then continued in the same fast, toneless staccato. “You’ll need the army to get in here—army, S.W.A.T., S.E.A.L., I don’t know, civilian hostage situation, foreign kidnapping…use whatever term will get their attention—and you’ll probably need my father’s help as well. He will be able to help you and the army get in faster, through his own…special…means. Don’t bother trying it through the usual, political channels. Governmental influence has ceased, here.

Let my father listen to this tape as well—you are taping this, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Clark said, forcing himself to be curt despite his growing anxiety.

“Good. Good. Hang on.” His footsteps, which had slowed down for a moment, went faster again, and then stopped altogether. When he spoke again his voice was soft and low, and his connection crackled. “Dad, this is Lex.” He rattled off a string of numbers, which might be anything, but which Clark guessed made up his LuthorCorp identification number, or something other official ID. “I’m afraid to say that the China deal has blown up in my face.” It was amazing, but he managed a sarcastic drawl at a hurried whisper. “Mister Wong is dead. So is the mayor of Shueng—or rather he’s been replaced by a man called Fengfei. He leads one of the gangs here, the Phoenix gang. Apparently the glass factory building suffers from squatters, and they form the other cartel. Drug related of course. They’re experimenting with a new kind of…Fuck.”

He started walking again; Clark could hear the soft thump of his feet on wood. As he continued, he spoke more urgently than ever. “They have Chloe Sullivan, I don’t know where, and I don’t know what they want with her. She’s been missing for two hours now. At first I’d hoped she’d simply ran away but I am pretty much convinced either of the gangs has her. It can be that they’re just holding her because they want to get to me, but I…I just don’t know. I don’t know what they want, I’m not even sure I’m pursued by the same gang that has her. Maybe they’ll demand a ransom, but I doubt they’ll get through to the West, so that’s unlikely. I already tried contacting the authorities but I can’t reach anyone. I think the ambassador over this region might either be assassinated too, or deposed, or maybe he’s in league with them…or maybe it’s simple bureaucracy that’s against me…”

He cursed again as a high, male voice shouted something in Chinese, and he broke out at a run again, never halting his stream of information, wooshing it out every time he exhaled. “Chloe Sullivan is related to General Lane…” he panted, probably singularly for his father’s sake. More voices joined the din in the background. “He should be able to pull some strings in the army…He might be able to penetrate the area and get her out… Get Clark with him to bring this out to the rest of the world…I need a reporter I can more or less trust to actually print the truth, so…There is no one here I trust, or know, really, no contacts, but one of the hotel people…” He suddenly cut off with a yelp of pain.

“Lex!” Clark shouted, jumping up despite himself.

“Huh,” Lex breathed. He was still walking but he appeared to be slowing down. “They shot me. With a…tranquilizer dart. Right. At least I hope it’s a tranquil…tran…fuck it. I guess they don’t want me dead…yet.” He gave a rather desperate chuckle. “So. Clark. This is not a trap. Or a ruse to get my…I’d appreciate it if you could come and pick Chloe up…Me too if you…” There was a crash, the kind a body makes when it falls to the floor. “Fuck…” Lex spat weakly, far away, and then a great many moving people obscured any other sound he might have made, barking harshly in Chinese, and then the line went dead.

TBC

So, let me know what you think!

[dagney]

Oh Kit, I'm jumping for joy and squealing like a girl. I'm in for this fic, Wow you've got my attention and Clark had better get his ass to China ASAP. Dagney

[hfce]

What the HELL!!!? I was expecting this to be slow going and then the drama. But damn you just right to it. Oh I hope Clark can save them both. EEK!!!

[Nyx]

Thats an opening act full of action!!!

I'll be waiting for an update.Soon!!!!!!!

[Kit Merlot]

Alright, this is how you begin a sequel!

I hope Clark's able to get to Chloe and Lex in time, and I also hope that Sam Lane and Lionel Luthor will be able to help out.

Please let us know what happens next as soon as you can

[tatie87]

I can't tell u in word how excited I am that you're doing a sequel. The prologue was a great start. I never saw Chloe and Lex being kidnapped as the next story line. I can't wait for the next update.

[somethingeasy]

squeeee!!! I was so, SO happy to see the sequel begun, Kitty! I don’t think I’ve stopped grinning ever since I discovered and read this latest chapter. And it started off with an AWESOME beginning too! I loved how we started off with Clark’s point of view for this chapter. It was really fascinating getting the first introduction to our main, favourite characters (Chloe and Lex) through the eyes of another important (but essentially side) character.

It was five twenty-five and most of the Daily Planet had emptied out, first at a trickle, then almost at a stampede. Clark Kent regarded his fellow-reporters drain through the door and allowed himself a five-second marathon of mine sweeper. He lost three of the four games he played, though more because his computer couldn't process his clicks than because he sucked at it.

*snorts* yeaaah riiight! Let’s use that old ‘I’m too advanced and superpowered’ excuse to explain why he keeps losing at mine-sweeper, ROTFL! It is a cute reason though… and something I bet Lex would have his usual geek-gasms over if he knew, LOL!

Lois was more like a wrecking ball. She simply was no fun to have coffee with. Trying to follow her breathless conversation and trying not to be insulted by her 'friendly jibes' cost him more energy than it ever gained him.

She was gone now, for the rest of the week, chasing news and biting off the heads of innocent interviewees.

Clark was already relishing the peace and quiet.

*blinks in shock* Clark has absolutely no idea about how Lois feels about him, does he?!?? Woah! He truly thinks that Lois can’t stand him. He has no idea that the reason why Lois can’t stop herself from prodding him is because she LIKES him, and she despises him for ‘making her like him when he’s clearly not available’.

He raised his eyebrows as he noticed the name on the display. It wasn't Lois, and neither was it Lana. According to his number rec he was being called by LEX, and that was quite impossible. They had more or less buried the hatchet (because, Clark figured with a dull blush of shame, it was kind of hypocritical to bear a grudge against people who may have caused you the occasional feelings of hate, enmity and betrayal, but who forgave you for jumping and assaulting them in the most violent way), but really, Lex was still the last person he expected to call. Especially from China.

gosh, how very magnanimous of you, Clark. You’re willing to give Lex the benefit of the doubt because he didn’t report you for assault and rape (not to mention weird alien hormonal drugging). But seriously though, I can see that Lex’s underhanded plan to buy Clark’s confidence and trust with his body as payment is actually working. I ‘suppose’ it’s heartening to know that Lex whoring out his body and sanity is getting him something in payment. But is it worth it…?

"Good." He sounded like he was running, or at least walking fast; his breath came in short, fast bursts. "Ok, you can delete this bit if you want but I really need you to come to China."

"Lex, what the..."

"Shut up and let me talk, they almost have me and I need to...They have Chloe. And they'll have me in a few minutes. I need you to come and get her, and probably me, out, because I have no clue how anyone else will possibly manage that without superpowers."

There was a distant noise in the background, and the rhythm of footfalls—Lex's footfalls—sped up.

I blinked in surprise at Lex’s terse tone when he started, until I reached this part and realized that he was in big trouble in China. Not only Lex, but Chloe too… and you KNOW that it’s the ‘Chloe’s in trouble’ thing that really driving Lex insane during this disaster.

"Now make sure you tape this. I'm in Xue Dong, that is X-U-E D-O-N-G, in a small town called Shueng, S-H-U-E-N-G. This part originally fell under the magistracy of a man called Aiguo Bohai, but he’s dead. Right now this town is ruled by two rivaling gangs and there is a small civil war going on at the moment…”

He took a deep breath, then continued in the same fast, toneless staccato. “You’ll need the army to get in here—army, S.W.A.T., S.E.A.L., I don’t know, civilian hostage situation, foreign kidnapping…use whatever term will get their attention—and you’ll probably need my father’s help as well. He will be able to help you and the army get in faster, through his own…special…means. Don’t bother trying it through the usual, political channels. Governmental influence has ceased, here.

Holy hell! What the heck did Lex find himself in the middle of?! The most galling part is that it sounds like it’s a mess NOT of Lex’s making. It sounds like a whole political situation that went completely out of control, and Lex and Chloe happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Of course… that could be just be the impression that Lex has managed to (very smoothly and skilfully) managed to impart to Clark. After all, Lex is certainly not going to admit that HE did anything to land himself in this mess, is he?

He started walking again; Clark could hear the soft thump of his feet on wood. As he continued, he spoke more urgently than ever. “They have Chloe Sullivan, I don’t know where, and I don’t know what they want with her. She’s been missing for two hours now. At first I’d hoped she’d simply ran away but I am pretty much convinced either of the gangs has her. It can be that they’re just holding her because they want to get to me, but I…I just don’t know. I don’t know what they want, I’m not even sure I’m pursued by the same gang that has her. Maybe they’ll demand a ransom, but I doubt they’ll get through to the West, so that’s unlikely. I already tried contacting the authorities but I can’t reach anyone. I think the ambassador over this region might either be assassinated too, or deposed, or maybe he’s in league with them…or maybe it’s simple bureaucracy that’s against me…”

He cursed again as a high, male voice shouted something in Chinese, and he broke out at a run again, never halting his stream of information, wooshing it out every time he exhaled. “Chloe Sullivan is related to General Lane…” he panted, probably singularly for his father’s sake. More voices joined the din in the background. “He should be able to pull some strings in the army…He might be able to penetrate the area and get her out… Get Clark with him to bring this out to the rest of the world…I need a reporter I can more or less trust to actually print the truth, so…There is no one here I trust, or know, really, no contacts, but one of the hotel people…” He suddenly cut off with a yelp of pain.

I was openmouthed agape with AWE and admiration about how Lex was handling this impossible situation. Not only did he manage to evade his captors for what seems like a heroic amount of time, but he ALSO managed to utilize that time to enlist two of his most powerful allies(?) into helping him extricate himself from this horrible situation. Erm… the term ‘ally’ is being used very loosely here considering that it’s Lex’s relationship with Clark and Lionel that we’re talking about here… but I’m pretty sure that Lex could NOT have chosen two better people to call on for help.

On top of asking these ‘allies’ for help, Lex ALSO managed to give a very coherent and concise description of the situation he was in… AND he managed to give Clark precise and detailed instructions practically on a minute by minute basis throughout the phone call. You HAVE to wonder sometimes whether Lex is really human after all. At times, he seems more alien and supernatural than Clark.

“Huh,” Lex breathed. He was still walking but he appeared to be slowing down. “They shot me. With a…tranquilizer dart. Right. At least I hope it’s a tranquil…tran…fuck it. I guess they don’t want me dead…yet.” He gave a rather desperate chuckle. “So. Clark. This is not a trap. Or a ruse to get my…I’d appreciate it if you could come and pick Chloe up…Me too if you…” There was a crash, the kind a body makes when it falls to the floor. “Fuck…” Lex spat weakly, far away, and then a great many moving people obscured any other sound he might have made, barking harshly in Chinese, and then the line went dead.

Oh NO! Go save him, Clark!!! Damn, that was a cruel beginning, Kitty! You gave the entire conversation as a rushed, static filled phone conversation, but it was still so detailed that I had no trouble building up a picture of the urgency and excitement and the danger of the situation Lex was in. Amazing writing, Kitty!

I loved, LOVED how throughout the conversation, Lex’s first and prioritized instruction to Clark was to ‘save Chloe’. Lex only mentioned his own rescue as a secondary mission AFTER Chloe was deemed safe.

Squeeee! What an excellent start to the new fic. Please update soon!

[kleine_kat]

Aww, you people are so sweet! Thanks, I’m really touched by your eager reactions!

Guuhhh. I didn’t know it would take me so much time researching Chinese customs and names. But I want to make SOME sense, and not come across as a total Asiadumbo So that’s why it’s going a bit slow at the moment, I have to read up on Chinese etiquette! (Good excuse for lazy writing, right? )

One: 9 Days Earlier - Honored Arrivals

Monday 21st January

It was odd, Lex Luthor reflected as he regarded his fellow passenger through eyes stupid and half-lidded with travel-weariness, how he found personality traits he despised in one person, wholly natural and even charming in another.

Like the way Chloe Sullivan, who happened to be the fellow passenger in question, completely ignored the hideous mess that was her hair, only fluffing it a little with a careless hand, and peered anxiously in her little hand mirror to see if her eye make-up, which was perfect, hadn’t ran out in the last five minutes since landing. Lex was convinced she was capable of walking into the featureless mass of Chinese business people with that owl’s nest without giving said mop a second thought, while worrying about her make-up all the way to the hotel.

Women and their priorities.

How cute.

Of course he was wise enough to keep his mouth shut. If he made a single comment about her hair to a jet-lagged Chloe, she’d probably fish a chamois out of her hand bag and polish his own smooth head until he squeaked. After at most 3 hours of sleep during a journey of over 24 hours by plane, he wasn’t sure his ego would be able to take that.

Chloe snapped her mirror closed and tucked it back into her bag, combed her fingers through her hair (making it look even more out-of-bed-like) and pressed her nose against the window.

“I think I can see our gracious hosts.”

“Really?” Lex gulped down the last of his third whiskey-laced espresso (caffeine to keep him awake, booze to keep him mellow. It was an excellent combination). He got up from his chair, wobbling a little as the plane abruptly taxied into another direction, and joined her at the window. In the distance, a small group of men in suits stood in the middle of the plane, huddled against the bulk of two large, gray Buicks. Lex smiled. Business people never seemed to fit in rural surroundings. Ties streaming out in a snow-scented, natural breeze as opposed to a rush of speed to make it to a meeting in time, or catch a departing train, just looked…weird. He knew from experience that those gleaming city shoes lost most of their function in a cold, wet field especially when, which was the case if he had noticed correctly, the grass was about knee-high in patches.

In Xue Dong Capital, about 500 miles away from here, planes would be able to land on a slab of asphalt the size of, well, Metropolis Airport-West. Here, not even in but near Shueng, they’d had to mow the nearest bit of flat land to enable Lex and Mr. Wong to land. Lex wouldn’t have minded driving over from the Capital, but according to Wong the road to Shuen was ‘Herr’, if not downright absent. Shueng lay at the foot of one of the hills that framed the Changying valley, and no one had as yet seen it worthwhile to pave a decent road over the hills, or dig a tunnel through them.

Changying, Lex had told Chloe, translated as ‘flourishing and lustrous’. It was pretty much dead and soggy now, but the bare bushes and rippling grass in the distance held a promise of great, untamed lushness.

Lex might have felt smug if this square mile or so of wilderness had been mowed down for him personally—what better mark to leave on the world than one everyone could see, much like a crop circle? Mr. Wong having arrived a day or two before him, also by plane, he merely allowed himself a twinge of satisfaction.

The plane drove on for another hundred yards, then rolled to a swaying stop not far away from the shivering Chinese men.

“It looks cold outside,” Lex said, stretching. “Do you have a scarf with you?”

Chloe waved a handful of fringe at him. “As instructed. But won’t we just be hustled into a car and then taken to our luxurious accommodation with a blazing hearth and Yakuza?”

Lex had already opened his mouth to tell her it was Jacuzzi, not Yakuza, before he noticed her grin and shook his stuffy head. “I think they call it the Triad here in China,” he drawled, shrugging into his own coat.

“Really? So what do they call a bubble bath?”

“A bubble bath? Um… pào pào yù, I guess.”

“Pao pao yu? That means Jacuzzi?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

She giggled, and he raised an eyebrow. “It’s so cute that you know the word for ‘bubble bath’ in Chinese.”

“I’m glad you approve.” He turned towards the door at the sound of the stairs butting against the metal. “Come on, let’s go. And please don’t laugh when they try to speak English, because it’s really funny.”

Immediately her mouth stretched wide, even as she struggled to keep the grin off her face. “Bastard. Now you KNOW I’ll have to laugh.”

“Life is full of smaller and bigger difficulties,” Lex said serenely, shooting her a grin of his own before schooling his features to perfect placidity. The door opened, and a blast of cold wind made him turn up the collar of his coat. “Come. You first.”

Chloe moved towards the door, wrapping her scarf more tightly around her neck. “Should I bow?”

“Nah, a handshake will do. Just don’t stare into their eyes too much. They don’t like it. I’ll introduce you, just keep next to me.” He laughed at her dismayed face and used the moment to smooth out a particularly messy lock of hair under the pretense of affection. “Don’t look so scared. Everything will work out fine, you’ll see.”

“How can I not look a person in the eyes when I talk to them?”

“Address the ground,” Lex suggested, and then they were outside, descending the plane steps and squinting their eyes against the bite of the wind. A few flakes of snow danced in the air, formed icy dandruff in the dark hair of their hosts and instantly numbed Lex’s exposed scalp. He ducked further into his coat.

He recognized Mr. Wong from the webcam meetings they’d had; a slender, fine-boned man in his late thirties or early forties with a generous mouth and small, very black eyes. Mister James Wong, whose name implied a far more Western attitude than he actually possessed, would function as an intermediary.

“Mister Ruthor,” he said in English with unabashed mispronunciation of the proud Luthor name. “Welcome. I hope your flight was not too uncomfortable.” He stepped forward and held out his hand in greeting, gave Lex’s hand a quick shake and immediately turned to introduce Lex to an elderly man with graying temples and square glasses. Mister Wong bowed to the older man from the shoulders. “This is Mister Shanyuang Yu. He is the manager of the Sparkling Sources project.”

The man held out his hand as well and Lex gripped it firmly, flicking his eyes over the man’s face to remember his features before lowering his gaze to the ground. High forehead, wide, flat cheekbones, an arrogant, thin-lipped mouth.

“Shanyuang Yu Jingli,” Lex said with a minor inclination of his head, and he thought he saw a spark of surprised pleasure in Mister Shanyuang’s cool slanted eye. Yes, you stuck-up piece of Asian shit, he thought with jetlagged unpleasantness. This stupid foreigner speaks your language and knows all about your customs. He kept any superior feelings hidden, though, even as Wong continued his introductions in Chinese, his face as blank as the manager’s.

The next man was the town’s Mayor, who was introduced as Mister Fengfei Wei. His face had that strange mask-like quality so many Asian business men and women seemed to have, but he had a small triangular scar, a bit like a tear in his flesh, just above the left corner of his mouth, which gave his impassive features a permanent semi-sneering expression—which, in turn, was a bit disconcerting. The combination of those flat, dark eyes above the involuntary sneer somehow suggested a kind of unfeeling cruelty—the kind Lex had witnessed in the criminally insane during his stay in Belle Reve.

But Fengfei’s handshake was strong and while his fingers were cold, the palm of his hand held a remnant of warmth, and as Lex pronounced his ni hao with a perfect lazy Mandarin accent, his distorted mouth quirked up a bit further, and his eyes crinkled at the corners. Not so bad, perhaps, Lex thought.

He was then introduced to the last and youngest member of the welcoming committee, a nervous-looking pimply young man with too large teeth, with a limp grip and hands white, damp and cold like snow—like shaking hands with a glove only partly filled with ice water, Lex thought disgustedly—a local recruit to the Sparkling Sources who apparently was going to show him and Wong around the place. The last man’s name was Zhen Ye, which made Lex snigger internally, because one of the meanings of ‘Ye’ was bright, and the man looked about as bright as the average Smallville hog.

When he was formerly introduced, he took it on himself to present Chloe, in Chinese to the hosts, in English to her. It made his head spin, switching back and forth like that, but he thought he’d managed it rather neatly and without any grave errors when the men had shaken her hand and Chloe had managed not to show her teeth all over the field.

All in all the introductions had taken perhaps five minutes, enough time for the drivers and his crew to get Lex and Chloe’s luggage out of the plane and into the trunk of the two cars, and more than enough time to make Lex hope his ears wouldn’t just drop off with cold. He didn’t much fancy looking like a seal, as he imagined he must look without ears.

“Please,” Mister Wong said, gesturing at one of the cars. “We will take you to your hotel. I will travel with you. We will meet up with the other gentlemen,” again that almost-bow to the Mayor and the manager, “in Shueng.”

More grave nodding. The welcoming committee hastily filed into one car, while Lex, Chloe and Wong got into the other. Wong took the passenger seat next to the driver, who had to start up the car three times before the motor purred to life. Chloe rubbed her hands, shot Lex a questioning smile.

Lex leaned over so he could whisper in her ear. “Well done, young Padawan.”

Her smile widened. It trembled a little when Wong looked over his shoulder and addressed the both of them in his own charming accent of English. “I hope you are not very much tired by the journey?”

Lex gave Chloe a nudge. There wouldn’t be all that many people who could speak English in this place; it would be good if she could bond with one of the few who did.

“Uh, no, that’s alright,” she said, startled, and then smiled disarmingly. “It was a very long flight, but we…I was able to get some sleep on board.”

Mister Wong smiled over his shoulder, causing his eyes to almost disappear and his mouth to take over roughly three quarters of his face. It made him look surprisingly attractive in a dopey, clownish way.

Lex could feel Chloe relax in her seat, and despite herself her wattage turned up at the sight of Wong’s banana mouth.

“Good,” Wong said. “Very good! You see, the business people in Shueng have prepared a small welcome reception. Unless you are too exhausted by your trip, they would be delighted if you could attend.”

“Of course,” Lex said, with a look at Chloe, who nodded. “We’d be honored.”

“Good,” Wong said again, pleased. “Good.”

They fell silent. Lex half-dozed in the leather seat, moving only to rub his tingling ears as they thawed. Chloe’s leg touched his at the knee, warm and solid; he could feel the edge of her boot rub against his shin as she shifted to look outside. It was still snowing sparingly, and Lex thought the landscape had a kind of despairing fairy-tale look about it: all those bare, white trees like fluff-covered skeletal arms reaching for the heavens.

Chloe seemed to share his sentiment. “How Poe-esque,” she murmured, drawing his attention to a large black bird sitting in the top of a large hedge plant.

Wong spoke up again. “Yes,” he said, “Shueng is still very much untouched by the hectic modern life and infrastructure, as you will find out for yourself.”

“Have you been here long, Mister Wong?”

“Please, call me James,” Wong said, and Lex made a mental note to congratulate Chloe on her befriending politics. It had taken him three meetings and five phone conversations before Wong would let him call by his first name, and his invitation had lacked the warmth he was now showing Chloe. He repressed the urge to put a possessive arm around her shoulders and ooze alpha male dominance. It would most likely be lost on Wong anyway. He was far too Asian to recognize any subtle signals Lex might give out, and besides, he was married. And, Lex mused, I doubt she’d be attracted to a man who can only pronounce voiceless l’s.

“Not very long,” Wong continued, and his lip curled a little. “I only arrived yesterday. Of course I have visited the place twice before to see if it was suitable—which it is, for our purposes, uniquely suitable. But I have never stayed for much longer than a few days. Mister Zhen, the young man you’ve just met…He is the one who did the footwork for me here.” He pulled at his safety belt, adjusting it against his shoulder so he could turn his head without having it cut into his throat. “I, myself, am from Chongquing.” When Chloe looked blank, he added, “I daresay my travels to alive here took me almost as long as your own.”

“It’s right in the middle of China,” Lex explained. “A bit to the south. Shueng’s pretty high up north. Did you fly to Beijing, first?” Wong nodded. “We did, too. Stopped there to fuel up and await the morning, and then flew over the mountain range when we had enough light.”

“The travel papers I sent to you were satisfactory?”

“We didn’t have any difficulties in Beijing,” Lex said. “We lost a few hours in Shanghai earlier, because they had to check a few things.” He shrugged. He’d been fast asleep in the parked plane when the authorities had bowed their heads over his travel documents, discussing whether they should let him in and invade their perfect isolation. He couldn’t be bothered with mundane things like overzealous customs officers, letting his spokespersons deal with the problems. “They got us in, and I daresay they’ll get us out again, too.”

“It is hard to quickly arrange a visa for foreign people,” Wong sighed. “Especially when they want to build factories in the outlands of Jilin. Even though Sparkling Sources is a solid company with a good Chinese foundation, it has taken a long time before we finally got the warrant to build the glass factory.”

Chloe perked up. In order to keep her keen, Lex had refused to tell her anything about his big project. He knew she’d searched his apartment for scraps of information about the mysterious factory, and also that she’d talked to three of his employees. Unfortunately, she’d picked the wrong ones. The China Project was Lex’s private baby, he’d arranged almost everything by himself, and only his father and a few sponsors knew what it was all about.

“A glass factory?” She raised her eyebrows at him.

Lex smiled. “How about the permit for the construction of a decent infrastructure?”

“I’ve had word that my latest proposition has been accepted, though no official Go-Ahead. It will take some time before the required people have signed it.” He twisted around in his seat. “We won’t get permission to tunner our way through the mountain. The road will have to run over the pass.”

“So be it,” Lex said. Next to him, Chloe was quivering with curiosity. He put his hand on her knee. “Patience,” he drawled. “It’s much more fun to find it out bit by bit than in one boring old statement.”

“So it’s more than just a glass factory?”

“Yes.”

“You did not know?” Wong asked. Immediately his face became impassive again. “I thought you were…you are not a member of Mister Ruthor’s management team?”

Chloe looked stricken. “No! I mean…No, I’m not. I am…”

“Miss Sullivan is my associate,” Lex said smugly. “Just like I told you when you needed personal information for the visa and the other documents. Whether or not she is on my management team is inconsequential.”

“Ah,” said Wong. He sat straight in his seat, radiating cool displeasure.

Chloe mouthed Lex’s name in despair, but again Lex shrugged and patted her knee. As with overzealous customs officers, he could not be bothered by the perceived feelings of face-loss of his colleagues either. Chloe would charm her way back into his good graces within two hours, of that he was certain. As for himself, all he had to do to mollify Wong was discreetly compliment him on how beautifully he had arranged everything—which he proceeded to do, and as he had expected, Wong said it was nothing and showed his silly grin again. He must have picked that up in the West.

Face lost.

Face regained. That simple.

A few minutes later they entered the outskirts of the town, and Chloe outdid herself in her charm-the-Chinaman policies by exclaiming, “Oh, but it isn’t small at all! I thought it would be like…a tiny village, but it’s quite large. Is that huge thing a Buddha statue?”

Immediately, Wong turned round again, almost beheading himself with his safety belt. “Yes,” he said. “It is. It is quite ancient. It used to be situated on the mountain, over there,” he pointed straight ahead, to the slope of the mountain’s foothills, “Appalently it has been here for over a thousand years, next to a temple, watching down on the village as it grew. Then, about two hundred years ago, there was an earth quake, and the path leading to the temple and most of the temple itself was destroyed, and the people of the village decided to bring the statue into the town. If you look to your right…no, you can’t see it from the road. Perhaps Mister Zhen or one of the other locals will show you, later. After they Buddha was transpolted to the town square, there were a few poor harvests. Not bad, just not rich. The people of Shueng came to believe that Buddha was trying to tell them something. One of the monks told them that Buddha was supposed to look down on them, not live in their midst, where he could not oversee their lives. So, they built another statue for Buddha, on the other mountain, and next to it, another temple.”

He turned to Lex. “It is quite interesting, I can recommend seeing it. It’s quite a bit of a hike, but the view is magnificent, and the temple is still mostly intact.”

“Sure,” Lex nodded, stifling a yawn. He was rather more fascinated with legends and myths than most men of his age, but since this particular story did not involve hidden maps, mysterious keys or glowing green stones, he could not manage more than a mild interest. Of course he was willing to visit old Buddhist temples and gawk at statues. After a good night sleep, that was, and an opportunity to voice what he was actually thinking. Already the Chinese requirement to be placid yet distant made him want to throw a tantrum and verbally flay people with sarcasm. He wished they’d already taken the next step in the complex dance of Chinese Business Etiquette, where he could ask people whether they were married and if they were looking forward to the Olympics. He had always been much better at bonding than at aloofness.

Well, no. I just like it better. He rubbed his stinging eyes. Now they had completely thawed out, his ears felt as if they had been recently boiled. I’m just tired. I just hope they won’t expect us to socialize for more than an hour. They’d be HIGHLY insulted if I fell asleep in the middle of that Fengfei’s welcome speech.

Chloe, still relatively fresh and blissfully ignorant of Chinese Business Protocol, leaned eagerly forward. “Are there still monks living there?” she asked. “At the new temple, I mean?”

“Perhaps in the summer,” Wong said. “But frankly, I do not believe the new temple was anything more than a place of worship. It is more of a shrine than a temple. Perhaps one or two monks lived there, to keep the place tidy? At the moment it is abandoned.”

“So the first temple was inhabited?”

“According to Mister Zhen it was. But it is now quite destroyed.”

“I’d still like to see the ruins of the old temple, too.”

“Perhaps I can ask Mister Zhen, or his sister. She has little Engrish, but she knows the mountains like the inside of her pocket and she is a dependable person. I could ask if you want.”

“We would like that,” Lex drawled, too weary to smirk at any mispronunciation. Chloe shot him an amused smile.

“You still awake?”

“Barely.”

“If you are too tired…” Wong started, but Lex shook his head.

“I don’t wish to insult Mister Shanyuang or the others,” he said. “Beside, one can only beat a jet-lag by following the rhythm of the day and wait with going to sleep until night.”

“Very good,” said Wong. The car stopped in front of an imposing building. “We have arrived. The hotel is inferior and the service abysmal, but it is the best I could arrange.”

*

As far as Chloe was concerned, the Hotel was excellent and the service impeccable, but while that might be her low standards or yet another weird Chinese custom—condemning whatever you offered as being unworthy while knowing it was more than fine—she wasn’t sure. Personally, she thought the building, with its white walls, marble floors, delicate screens and stylish decorations, a hell of a lot more beautiful than the Ritz in Metropolis. And the slim, demure staff in respectively red, silk, traditional Chinese dress for women, and simple, almost severe black-and-white waiter uniforms for men, was attentive and quick.

After a few minutes to freshen up in their room, Lex and Chloe were collected by a man who introduced himself as Feng Lao. (Another Feng, Chloe thought despairingly. She had the feeling she’d already met three people with the same name, and at first sight they all looked alike, too). Feng Lao was but a humble bellboy, but he originated from Xue Dong, and spoke a little English. If they did not object, Feng Lao would be their intermediary at the hotel.

Lex said he had no objection, and Feng Lao bowed from the shoulders and asked the honored arrivals to follow him down to the reception.

They were received in a huge room tactically made smaller with the clever use of paper screens to keep the select crowd (make that fifteen people) from experiencing agoraphobic attacks. They were welcomed and, again, introduced to a bunch of people Chloe did not understand and could hardly distinguish from one another, then business cards were exchanged, and drinks were poured.

Apart from James Wong and Feng Lao—who might also be Lao Feng, she was no longer sure which name came first—no one seemed to speak English. Dazed after the latest introduction and temporarily abandoned by Lex, who had been whisked away by two gentlemen with knife-straight partings in their hair, Chloe inched towards the munchies, taking in the room as she drifted towards the paper screens that formed some sort of separation from the rest of the room.

A long, narrow table with snacks and delicacies stood in the middle of the actual room, and at the far end of the recreated room, in front of two of those screens. One showed a school of Koi carp, the other a long, snake-bodied dragon. Propelled by her inner reporter, Chloe sneaked a peek behind the screens, and noticed a grand piano and several stacks of chairs on the other side. On the wall opposite was a great collection of multicolored masks, which she would have loved to investigate, but at that moment a distressed waitress almost force-fed her a dumpling in order to pull her away from the screen.

The guests, Chloe gathered, were not supposed to snoop behind the curtains. She took another dumpling and, finding herself unattended for the moment, amused herself with watching Lex Blend In.

She didn’t know how he did it, since he was as Caucasian as they came with his fair skin (natural red-head, she thought with an internal snicker), blue eyes and long, sly, Western features, not to mention his height, just a fraction over 6 foot—but he pulled it off. The first few minutes Lex stood out between the unanimous black-haired, short, slanted-eyed group like a white raven amongst a flight of crows. But somehow, over time, he so perfectly copied their gesticulation, their body language and their manner of speaking he could just have been a taller, paler Shuengian.

Wax on, Wax off, Chloe thought, substituting Mask for Wax. She took a sip of wine. Although Mister Myagi had been Japanese rather than Chinese, she had no trouble at all imagining Mayor Fengfei, one of the few she recognized at first sight because of his characteristic scar, instructing some youthful grasshopper in various destructive martial arts.

She hadn’t really noticed in the field because of his coat, but in a suit the man’s bulk was impressive. She wouldn’t be at all surprised if he had been a warrior monk before deciding it would be nice to lead this distant fairy-tale Poe town.

Maybe, she fantasized, already half-drunk after one glass of wine and 24 hours of international travel, he’s the monk that lives in the Shrine James was talking about. Wouldn’t that make a great article? Warrior monk by summer, Mayor by winter. I can just see him do Tai Chi or whatever it’s called exercises beneath a waterfall, and scrubbing the moss of that Buddha statue hanging by the tips of his fingers from a branch or something…And wow, is that a part of a tattoo I see in his neck? Isn’t that the height of cool? A Mayor with a tattoo? I wonder what it looks like…Would he have Koi on his back or a dragon?

She felt a jaw-snapping yawn rise up and hid the part she couldn’t swallow behind her hand.

“Miss Surrivan?”

Ah huff of laughter escaped through her yawn. Hee. Rex Ruthor and Miss Surrivan. She hid her rather hypocritical mirth—after all, she didn’t speak a word of Chinese—in a welcoming smile and held out her hand. The man standing next to him, all gleaming black hair and polite, stiff smile, must have been introduced to her before but she had no idea who he was.

“If you’re not sure of a person’s name,” Lex had told her during their short moment of privacy in the hotel room, “don’t guess, just ask them again. You can ask a person’s name as often as you need without offending them. They think we’re stupid anyway, and can’t keep them apart. Which, of course, you can’t, if you’re new to the herd.” He had shown his mocking little smile. “I find that it helps to compare their faces to any animals or people I know they resemble, and try to keep track of their names that way.”

“Ah, so that is the secret of your success in Asia,” she had said, laughing.

“Absolutely.”

“So what or who does James remind you of?”

“Wong? Why, a bull terrier, of course.”

And the funny thing was that he was right. Wong did look a little like a bull terrier. The man now standing beside her was more difficult; he didn’t immediately ring any animal bells. Maybe his name could give her a hint.

“I am terribly sorry,” she said, when she got her hand back, “I have forgotten your name.”

The wooden smile did not waver. It looked pasted on his lips. “I am Mister Hua Hong,” he said in clipped, careful words. “Yu Jingli’s assistant.”

“Ahh,” Chloe said with a convincing ‘How COULD I forget?’ gesture. Who the fuck is Yu Jingli? Did I meet a Mister Yu Jingli? Wait, Lex said Jingli, back when we just got out of the plane. Didn’t he address the old man as Jingli? “Ni hao,” she said gamely.

“Ni hao,” said Mister Hua. Unless he had introduced himself in the Western way. Then he was probably Mister Hong instead.

Guhhh. She made an attempt at idle conversation. “So, Mister Hua…” He did not correct her, nor did his expression change in any way. Either she had it right or he didn’t know he had facial muscles. He looked just like one of the opera masks she’d seen on the other side of the room. “Did you also fly in from Shanghai, or are you from another city?”

“Yes,” said Mister Hua, nodding. “Shanghai. Yes.”

“Ah.” She racked her brain. “Have you been here before?”

“Yes,” said Mister Hua. “Nice place. Velly quiet. Good air.” He flashed her a smile that appeared and then disappeared so suddenly it almost scared her. “Are you married, Miss Surrivan?”

What!? What was this? Chinese coming-on-to moves? But Mister Hua did not give her the impression of being in any way interested in her. He was just making conversation. Well, so be it.

“No,” she said. “I’m not married. Are you, Mister Hua?”

Another abrupt, quick-vanishing manic grin. “Yes. One wife, three child.”

“How nice. Do you have three sons?” Weren’t all Chinese baby girls aborted or left at monasteries?

“Yes,” Hua agreed. “One son, two gills.”

Apparently not. “That’s great. How old are they? I mean, are they going to school already, or are they still at home, or kindergarten?”

“Yes,” Mister Hua said empathically.

“Um, they’re at school? How old are they?”

“Yes,” Mister Hua repeated firmly.

Chloe smothered her giggle in a sip of wine. “You didn’t understand a single thing I just said, did you?”

“Yes,” said Mister Hua and to her immense relief Lex saved her from further futile conversation by sliding up to her and saying, “I see you’ve made a friend.”

“Oh, definitely. Lex, this is Mister Hua.”

“I know,” Lex said, smirking, and directed a few words at the gentleman in question, who consequently lost a bit of his wood-like expression, and even talked animatedly for a few seconds. When he fell silent, Lex translated to Chloe: “Mister Hua tells me to tell you he is sorry but his English is very poor, otherwise he might have told you about the marvels of the town—the Buddha, I guess, and the ruins and the temple. He wishes you a pleasant evening and hopes to speak to you soon.”

As Lex, as well, stopped talking, Hua made one of those slight bows and beat a hasty, if elegant, retreat.

“Aww,” said Chloe. “And it was so good of him to talk to the lonely foreign girl, even if his English WAS pretty crappy. I didn’t scare him off, did I?”

“No, you didn’t, he just saw an opportunity and took it.” Lex selected a small puff pastry from a tray a red-dressed waitress held out to him, put it in his mouth and shivered. Chloe kept from biting into her own pastry, shot him a questioning glance. “This,” he said, without moving a muscle, “tastes absolutely disgusting.” He took a big gulp out of his glass, emptying it. He put it down on the table.

“Really?” Chloe nibbled at her snack. She had no clue what was in it, but she kind of liked it. “This one’s quite good.”

“Lucky you.” He rubbed his eyebrow. “Sorry about leaving you by yourself like that. They wouldn’t let me go. The upside to that is, that I now know who is married to whom, how many kids they’ve got, what their political views are, on what, etcetera, etcetera. We bonded, and I think they’ve accepted me into their midst. We can leave in a few minutes.”

“And then? Are they going to give us a tour around town?”

Lex’s bloodshot eyes widened. “I hope not! I was planning on going to bed and sleep until dinner.”

“I thought you were of the opinion that it would be better to stay awake and ‘go with the rhythm of the day’,” Chloe teased. “Wasn’t that how you put it to James?”

Lex snorted. “I was being lyrical.”

“Ah, more secrets of your success.” She emptied her own glass, stifled another yawn. She wouldn’t mind a few hours of sleep herself. Mister Wong distracted himself from one of the groups and moved towards Lex and Chloe. “We’re having dinner with the whole assembly?”

“No, just the Sparkling Sources people. I’ll tell you their names later, I’m too tired to remember who’s who at the moment. But I have all their business cards, and assigned animals and traits to them, so…
‘Hello, James.” Chloe did not miss the change from Mister Wong to James. Clearly Lex had also managed to get into Wong’s good graces. “Has everything been taken care of?”

“Yes,” Wong said, picking up a tiger prawn from a tray and munching it, tail-bit and all. He showed Lex his surprising, appealing grin. “I believe they are all satisfied. You must be very tired. Perhaps you would like to rest for a bit?”

“Not particularly,” said Lex. And somehow that meant the same as ‘Yes, and right now if you please,’ because ten minutes later Feng Lao took them back up with the elevator, and at two-forty-five local time Lex tossed his tie onto a chair, kicked off his shoes and let himself drop face-down on his bed.

Chloe looked into the adjourning room that had been reserved for her, sized up the Luthor-covered bed—not as big as Lex’s bed in Metropolis, but big enough—and resolutely dragged the suitcase containing her beauty case and night clothes into Lex’s room.

“Why’d they give us two rooms?”

Lex made a noncommittal sound. It sounded Chinese.

“Well, I’m not going to sleep in another room.”

“Of course you aren’t,” Lex said. He pulled himself upright again, began to undo the buttons of his dress shirt. “You’re going to sleep right here next to me. Ugh…Would you mind if I showered first? And where did I put my toothbrush, because god, those fish-thingies were vile!”

“You mean those round puff thingies with the black sprinkles on top? I thought they were quite nice.”

Lex shivered. “Viiiile,” he drawled, put his shirt on the same chair his tie was already occupying, stepped out of his pants and hung those over the back of the chair as well. As he strolled into the bathroom, Chloe noticed that even the pink of his gunshot scars was starting to fade to white. It would take quite some time before those scars were completely gone, but she was relieved they were at least fading.

December scars. With those visible scars disappearing, she hoped the invisible January scars were fading as well.

She unlocked her suitcase and started to dig around for her beauty case and a nightie. Before she’d even found the latter, Lex stepped back into the room, only partly dried off, eyes half-closed, not even bothering with boxer shorts or any other clothing.

Chloe raised one eyebrow. “You look like you have plans,” she said.

“Huh?” He blearily looked down on glorious nakedness. “Oh. Well, not really. I just don’t feel like opening my suitcase.” He searched for access to the bed. It was covered with a bedspread and said spread was tucked tightly into the frame, barring him entrance.

Chloe grinned. “Are you even going to be awake when I get out of the shower?”

Lex pursed his lips. “If I made a strenuous attempt, I might be able to pull it off.”

“My hero.”

“…but I can guarantee nothing.”

She stuck out her tongue. “That would be showing weakness.”

Lex made a soft sound of triumph when he found an opening and yanked the bedspread down. “Better be quick then,” he said dryly, ducking under the covers. “Lend me strength and all.”

Chloe laughed. “You weakling, you!” But she showered in five minutes flat, brushed her teeth and found, upon reentering the room, that her Knight in Shining Nothing still had a gleam of eye shining through the fringe of his lowered lashes.

She crawled in next to him and draped herself against his side. “You were victorious, gallant sir,” she said, and kissed the tip of his nose.

The gleam disappeared, but his mouth curved, and she kissed that as well. “I was, I was. So, can I stop jabbing pins into my fingers now, and go to sleep?”

“You’re no fun, Lex.”

“Damn it, woman, I’m tired! Do you know how hard it is to crack the defenses of those damned impassive Chinese people? But fine, you want fun, let me get my karaoke equipment.”

She giggled. “Karaoke? Why Lex, I’d never figured you a karaoke lover. Would you sing ‘I’m too Sexy’ for me?”

Lex snorted. “Only if you sing that breathy French song, what’s it called… "Je t'aime...Moi Non Plus" in return.”

“ I don’t know the lyrics to that one.”

“Just reach orgasm.”

“Sounds like a great song. French orgasm in D-minor.”

“I rather think it’s G-major,” Lex murmured. He rolled to his side, pulling her a little closer, thereby initiating the gradual turn that would end up with him lying on his stomach and, if Chloe didn’t watch out, her pushed to the very edge of the bed.

She pushed him back a little, closed her eyes. Koi carp and dragons danced against the backs of her eyelids—and suddenly she remembered the conversation in the car, with Wong.

“Lex, why did you tell Wong that I was your business associate?”

“I didn’t,” Lex replied sleepily. “I just told him you were my associate. He put ‘business’ in front of it by himself.”

“But why?”

“Because he probably would have balked if I’d told him you were just my girlfriend.”

“Just your girlfriend.”

He squeezed her arm. “Don’t blame me for Chinese conservatism. They’re all for business relationships, but if I had told him to get me a visa so I could bring my girlfriend, the chances are pretty high he either would have flat-out refused, or simply not done his best. And it would have been worse if I’d let them know you were a reporter. Not related to me, not related to the project, but very much related to the Daily Planet? They’d have barred your way with cattle prods.”

“Is that so.”

“I imagine it would be. Of course I couldn’t be sure. But you’re here now, and that’s most important, isn’t it?”

“Hm.”

Lex sighed. “In what way,” he asked, “have I insulted you this time?”

Chloe wasn’t sure, exactly. Perhaps the ‘just my girlfriend’ part. Or maybe his way of thinking. “I’m proud of being a reporter.”

“I know that. I’m proud of you, too. But they wouldn’t have let you in if they’d known you are a reporter, and I wanted to have you with me, so I fed them a little white lie. I should think you’d be happy I hadn’t started spouting huge black smothering lies.”

She smiled, even though she didn’t want to, and searched for a way to hit him without changing her position. That proved impossible, so she just poked him in the side. Then something else occurred to her, and she chewed on it for almost a minute before asking, “It’s really difficult to get a visa for China, isn’t it?”

Lex’s voice was heavy with sleep. “It isn’t very difficult to get a visiting visa. As a tourist. It is when you come on business. To build factories. I’ve been here once before as a tourist but because this is an official visit…” He trailed off, probably hoping she’d leave the whole thing alone and let him sleep.

He was so very, very wrong. “How long d’you think it would have taken Wong to arrange our visas? Six weeks? A month?”

“Something like that,” Lex murmured faintly. He was heating up, like he always did before dropping off, and Chloe shifted and put her hand on his chest. His reaction to a weight on his chest when he was lying on his back was not as severe as it had been a few weeks ago, but he did go from boneless to alert, if not tense.

“How did you know I’d go with you at that time?”

“Hm?”

“Well, we…I mean I…We fought.” He snorted. “You must have hated me.”

“Hm.”

“Why did you tell Wong to arrange a visa for me if you weren’t even sure we’d still be together?”

“The one big uncertainty that was on MY mind,” Lex drawled, and while he still sounded sleepy, a hint of his old biting sarcasm had slipped back in his voice, “was whether I’d be able to go to China at all, because of certain threatening jail sentences or court cases.”

Chloe winced. He sighed, removed her hand from his chest and curled up around her. Too late she realized it was his next step to his belly-down sleeping pose.

“As I figured it at the time,” he continued, sarcasm gone, “it would be easier to, IF we’d fallen out, and IF you didn’t want to come with me, tell Wong that you were indisposed, than to cancel your visa entirely. After all…” he pressed her shoulder, “No, I wasn’t pleased with you, as I take it you weren’t all that happy with me. But I never hated you, and I’ve always wanted you back. So…
‘But you’re here now, and I hope not against your wishes. Why are we even talking about this?”

“We aren’t. You’re right. It doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t?” Lex murmured. “Are you sure?”

“Maybe tomorrow,” Chloe said.

“That’s a good song as well,” reflected Lex, and in proud possession of the last word, finally was allowed to go to sleep.

TBC


I know, I know, it's a bit slow, but I need to set up the plot! There will be action soon enough...heeheeeee <evil grinTM>

[hfce]

That was not slow at all. That was great. It gave me a nice background how they got there. I loved how Chloe got him to talk about how they got there. She wouldn't let him sleep until she got an answer. More please...

[dagney]

Your descriptions of the local and gentleman is terrific. You continue to give us depth of Lex and Chloe's characters and quirks. Very funny, how Lex thought about Chloe and her grooming priorties. The mnemonic of animals to remember names, excellant. I love this already and since the explosive prolog and nervous and scared about what will happen next. Dagney