I just love this!
I just love this!
That was great, i knew Lex would recognise her, how much of an ass is Clark?!!! How can he not see its her, he makes me so mad, I hope there's another update coming real soon!!!
Kimmie
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WOW. This is an amazing story. I love all the dynamic between Chloe and Lex. I like how you make me feel like I'm looking inside their heads to see what makes them tick. I adore the whole story but these are my two favourite parts from the last two chapters. And I think you are right whit the notion that even through so much time has passed they still know how to read each other and how to push each others buttons. I can't wait to see you throw a litte bit more of Clark into the mix. Interactions between Clark and Lex over Chloe are always funOriginally Posted by beantree
Awesome update. Love seeing things from Lex's pov and there were a lot of great Lex moments throughout the update which I wish I could quote but it would take me ages. I liked the icreasing amount of Chlex interaction and all of their conversations with eachother. you get a real sense of a connection between them even when both are trying to hide their emotions from eachother.
“He’s helping Lois Lane. He doesn’t see you, Chloe. He never has.”
She flinched as if he’d hit her, her body trembling slightly, trying to control the rage and pain his words caused. She stood abruptly, turning her back and striding out of his office without another word. And he let her go. Horrified for touching on a vulnerability she once shared with him in a moment of complete trust, exploiting the knowledge.
'Single-mindedness and un-confronted anger’
I tried to drown my sorrows, but the little buggers learned how to swim.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Magnificent and compelling story. I hope you continue to delve into the story of what happened to her and the connection between Chloe and Lex and even Clark and the drama that unfolds between them. Fabulous update, hope we get another soon.
Re: Nights Torn Mad with Footsteps (NC-17)
Fantastic chapter but I'm still confused how Lex is the only one who sees that she's Chloe, had Clark not met Lois?
The nuances of this story are amazing! I cannot get over how unbelievable this story is especially since you're dealing with two people who obviously cared about each other at some point and are now trying to figure out how to be around one another again.
Lex's thoughts on Superman I thought were particulary interesting and insightful. Yea I think a part of it is jealousy because Clark/Superman can help Chloe in ways that he can't but I also think that he makes a really good point of how we all become victims if we start relying on someone to save us. Just spectacular writing.
Steph*
This was a lovely chapter. I am glad that she admitted the truth to him.
Good Morning! This is kind of a shorter update that usual, I'm behind on my editing a bit. Thanks to everyone for the incredible feedback. I'm feeling all warm and fuzzy!
*** Chapter Eleven***
Evidence of hours worth of work was on display before him. Scribbled notes, phone calls upon phone calls recorded by hand, countless photocopied articles covered in precisely highlighted sections with hastily jotted thoughts in the margins, drafts edited and re-edited. Lex was reminded with renewed admiration of the depth to which Chloe took her research. She always did have the ability to impress him. After his cruel words earlier today, he decided not to chase her. Instead he waited for her here, in this little area she cornered off as her own in this expansive apartment. He knew she would come for her work eventually; find him here waiting. Struggling with how to express that even Lex Luthor could fall prey to such pedestrian clichés as lashing out in fear; in trying to protect against emotions moving beyond aloof assistance in her quest. That the frequency of her presence now, having her so close, was reminding him why he let her in against his better judgment all those years ago. The same thing was happening again.
************************************************** ********
He could tell his silence was making her uneasy. Thousands of words passed between them in this short time, more secrets revealed than he felt completely at peace with and he didn’t want anymore talking, not tonight. When he first walked in, she made attempts at conversation, but quickly fell into silence, matching his own. It was something he liked about her, the ability to read people and situations quickly and adjust accordingly. The skill was invaluable.
He had gone to visit Martha Kent today. And now, all he wanted to do was sit quietly and cease all attempts at thought. He showed up to perform the same song and dance he always gave. --*Whatever I can do to help—specialists from Metropolis always available*-- And she ignored his presence completely. Five solid minutes where she seemed as lost as her husband to the rest of the world. And maybe it was that Chloe had gotten him into the habit, or maybe it was the assumption that Martha wasn’t even listening, but honesty came out stark and cold. Not even directed at her really, just words.
“I never know what to do in the face of other people’s suffering.” He moved to leave when there was no response, didn’t expect one, but Martha’s hand shot out, grabbing his wrist forcefully and his body jumped imperceptibly in surprise.
“That you came here at all is enough. More than enough.” And then let him go. He felt as though he might crack into a hundred pieces. Storming out of the hospital he tried not to show how badly the visit had shaken him. Anger at Clark flared from nowhere. *Where was he?* His mother needed him, was drowning in that hospital room all alone and he was nowhere to be found. Lex could offer a million comforting words that would never approach the effectiveness of Clark simply stepping foot in that room. His infuriation simmered as he drove, flying down back roads at dangerous speeds until he ended up here. Already more composed being in this place, realizing he should suspend his judgment of Clark until he knew more, but still unable to shake feeling dark and raw.
He watched Chloe move around the small house, clean up from the meal she prepared for herself before he came. Storing the leftovers he indelicately refused at his arrival. The dim light seemed to make her skin glow against the delicate blue of her camisole. Meeting his gaze transiently, she scooped up the paper he had unceremoniously tossed on the couch and settled in to read; comfortable enough, despite his stoicism to share the oversized sofa, but still staying safely wedged in her corner, legs stretching out over the cushions between them. Maintaining space.
Silence surrounded them.
Her feet, small and warm, were only inches away from where he sat. Slim ankles curving up softly into smooth calves. And with barely a thought he reached his hand over, gently wrapped his fingers around her right ankle, then ran his palm flatly up her leg, stopping at her knee to glide down again. He felt her tense beneath his touch. Her voice emerged. Quiet, calm and unbelievable casual.
“What are you doing, Lex?”
He wasn’t sure exactly, just knew that he needed this contact, felt an urgency to keep it intact. Without answering her question, not really knowing how, he only continued to smoothly run his hand along. Very slow. Savoring the friction of skin against skin, feeling a light shudder move through her body.
“Lex, stop,” more resolve in her tone now, trying to hide the tinge of pleading.
And he halted his movements, but didn’t break the contact with her ankle. She sat forward, hooking her arms around her bent knees. Lex took sharp notice that the move was designed to bring her gaze closer so she might study his expression, while letting him maintain his touch. Startled by the extent of her insight into his mood, he caught her eyes, breaking the study of his own hand for the first time since reaching out for her.
She knew him. Unsure of when this kind of knowledge had taken hold between them, here it was clear as day. Without one word of explanation, she knew something had shaken him, knew he wasn’t interested in telling her about it, knew she had to get at the issue from a different angle. He saw her thought process reflected in every expression, every action, plain as day; amazed that he knew her too.
“You’re pretty quiet today, Lex. Any reason you’re here so early?” Her eyes burdened with concern, words striving for nonchalance.
“I just stopped by to chat,” he breathed, moving through the air between them to meet her lips, his unoccupied hand sliding up to cradle her jaw as he deepened the kiss, thumb sweeping lightly over her cheek.
He was peripherally surprised at her lack of protest. Instead her knees dropped, eliminating the barrier between them as her feet hit the floor. He felt her body move toward him imperceptibly, then hesitate. He wanted her near, didn’t want her fighting against the impulse, wanted no guilt from this for either of them. He ran his hand high up her leg, over the thin fabric of her shorts. Finding the destination he sought as he pushed his hand under the edge of her camisole to make contact with the small of her back, pulling her closer. Her breath hitched as he moved his mouth down the slope of her neck, the hand on her back now moving up the side of her body, gripping her upper rib cage as he ran a thumb over her nipple. Instinctually her body arched into the touch and she let out a breathless giggle of disbelief as she ran her fingers lightly across the back of his head and down his neck.
“This is going to changes things, you know,” a bit of urgency coloring her voice.
“Does that worry you?” he murmured, brushing nose and lips across her collarbone.
“Yes,” the word carrying hints of darkness as she pulled him down onto the expanse of couch, finding his mouth again.
************************************************** ********
Footsteps tore into his recollections, stopping short in the doorway. She froze seeing him. He spoke immediately, not waiting for her to address him.
“I was out of line.”
“But not inaccurate, right?” Anger was present nowhere in her demeanor as she walked tiredly to the chair at his right and sat. Somehow, her seeming lack of fury or aversion to being near him made him feel worse.
“I had no business saying that.”
“Why not? You were right. I’ve spent hours with him, talking about the same kinds of things we always talked about everyday at that stupid high school newspaper. And he doesn’t even have the first clue. How long did it take you? Ten minutes? Five?”
“You can’t compare the two, Chloe.”
“How can I not?” a hint of exasperation emerging in her voice.
“He never felt the need to memorize you the way I did. He had no reason to believe you wouldn’t be around forever.”
“But you did?”
“I knew you too well then.”
She let a single, quiet sob escape her; a large tear spilled slowly down her cheek. “I’m sorry for this, Lex.” Her voice thick but steady, “This craziness, this gigantically fucked-up situation where I just show up and insert myself into your life. I didn’t mean to do this to you. Or to myself. I never expected… I don’t know what I expected.”
“You’re not entirely to blame. I came to that apartment knowing I would find you.”
“I was so angry, *so* angry this afternoon in your office, but I didn’t know why. I couldn’t care less about Clark’s powers of observation. It’s youLex; it’s the way you look at me and I feel completely transparent. Like a child; like a fifteen year old kid trying to one up you in a Bartlett’s contest.”
“Funny, that’s exactly how I always remember you.”
She laughed, a perfect bittersweet laugh emerging through the threat of tears and suddenly Lex remembered what it had been like to love her. Bittersweet.
“It’s late. I won’t keep you.” She stood, moving to gather her multitude of papers, seemingly satisfied that the conversation was concluded. Apologies made. But he remained ill at ease. He brought his hand up to lightly skim her fingers resting on the table and she paused, keeping her eyes averted.
“You always start with such an innocuous touch. Like it means nothing. Just a casual meandering impulse.” Voice distant.
“You shouldn’t leave.”
“Yes. I should.”
He stood now too. Moving closer to her, invading the space at her side, fingers sliding up to her elbow, holding there. He bowed his head near her own and could hear her breathing become more deliberate, saw her eyes slip closed.
“You aren’t the only one shaken by this remarkable familiarity.” He let her hear the vulnerability, still present seven years later, buried deep during her absence. She nodded slowly, finally turning her head to look up, eyes locking with his.
“As evidenced by what happened today.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I forgive you,” she murmured, crossing the short inches between their lips, kissing him like she’d been starving for this since first seeing him on those church steps.
Her mouth was just as he remembered; soft and lush. His fingers still well versed in the contours of her body. And he pulled her blouse off in a hasty effort to feel more skin, her own fingers making quick work of his buttons, pushing back the barrier of fabric from his shoulders, letting the dress shirt slide onto the floor. His mouth moved along her jaw, the taste of her body familiar and comfortable. She tasted like his youth.
“I lied before,” he whispered onto her throat, “this is how I always remember you.”
She smiled drowsily as he ran his lips along her shoulder, her collarbone, her neck, “Thank god.”
Her response made him chuckle against her skin and she drew in a breath, feeling the vibration. He brought his hands to her waist, hoisting her up onto the table, papers pushed haphazardly out of the way, scattering in every direction; palms gliding up her thighs to push that same gray skirt, so abused by city asphalt earlier today, out of the way. She tilted her hips, letting him hook his thumbs on the waist of her underwear and slide them down. There was a strange urgency between them. No roughness, no lack of delicacy, only the need for momentum.
She reached for his belt, dismantling the buckle in one quick movement, pants and boxers joining his shirt, discarded on the floor. And she tucked her head into the crook between his neck and shoulder, her lips grazing the sensitive skin there, inhaling. He shuddered at the act, trying to focus on the fingers he dipped into her-- first two, then a third-- thumb brushing the sensitive bundle of nerves above. Her body jumped, a small cry of appreciation escaping as she brought her legs up to wrap around his hips, responding to the rhythm he was creating. After a moment, her hand slipped down, seeking his erection to slide along his length --once, twice—before brushing his warming fingers away and guiding him into her. His breath caught, feeling her wet and warm around him, and he felt her hands move instantly to grip his shoulders, pulling him closer; taking him in deeper. A moan growled low in his throat.
Time moved by in a senseless flux. It was overwhelming, this flurry of desire expanding within him. This frightening level of intimate memory he carried. He knew just how her body moved, where to touch, what would garner the greatest reaction; couldn’t recall that he had ever known any woman so well. Her breathing became more erratic and he moved his hand between them, putting pressure on her clit and she cried out almost immediately. Waves of her orgasm contracted around him and he let go, spilling into her, holding her body tightly to his, suddenly wishing this had never happened. He could feel fear growing at how necessary to his life he could allow her to become, how easily he might grow used to this again. She held onto him, every exhale hitting the skin of his neck as her breathing began to slow.
“You are bad news.” Joviality attempted in her statement, but worry leaking through her words.
“Then we’re a perfect match,” he replied softly, not bothering to hide the apprehension in his own.
***Chapter Twelve***
The shrill ring of his phone woke him out of nightmares. He fumbled for only a second before pressing the cell to his ear.
“Hello?” his voice crackling with sleep.
“Lex?”
He bolted upright in bed, glancing at the clock glowing 4:56am. “Jesus Christ. Where have you been?”
“I need you to come get me.”
“Where are you?”
Tears, suppressed with effort, suddenly choked her voice and his heartbeat quickened. “I don’t know. Some kind of industrial area outside of the city. I can see the skyline…” her voice faltering.
“Do you see any names on the equipment? Any signs?” He was trying to be calm for her, keep his own voice even.
“I don’t know—wait, Osbourne Incorporated…”
“I know exactly where you are. I can be there in twenty minutes. I’ll call from the road.”
“I’m at a pay phone, Lex. No incoming calls.”
“Shit.” He was up now, moving around the room, gathering clothes, shoes; his phone balanced precariously between his ear and shoulder while he pulled on slacks. “I’ll just stay on the line with you then.”
“No, it’s okay. I only have one quarter and it’s going to run up. I’ll just wait for you here. I’ll be fine.”
“Chloe…” he heard the call disconnect and threw his phone onto the bed in frustration. He finished dressing quickly, flew out of his apartment and down the highway, deserted of traffic at this hour.
Forty-eight excruciating hours of not being able to get in touch with her, of not knowing where she was, expecting the worst, was finally coming to an end, but he felt no relief. The last week between them had been so strange after rekindling their physical relationship. Afraid the delicate balance of easy camaraderie and darker desire would shatter at any moment, they desperately kept the two elements separate. And at first he wondered if she was simply taking a break from the complexity, but after thirty-six hours and two unanswered messages, he broke down and contacted Clark.
“I’m looking for Lois.”
“You know Lois?” Disappointment emerging in the man’s tone. Like affiliation with Lex tainted his regard for her somehow. And there was quite a bit of more than just friendly regard evident in Clark’s voice. Irony of ironies.
“Have you spoken with her in the last day and a half?”
“What is this about, Lex?”
“Have you seen her or not?” A long pause followed his outburst and Lex thought for a moment that Clark hung up on him, but his voice came through the line at last.
“No, she was supposed to have a meeting with Perry and me yesterday morning, but she never showed up.”
So something was wrong. Very wrong.
The last time he saw her was sneaking out of bed, two mornings ago. Beautiful, surrounded by the early light of the sun through his windows.
“Where are you going?” He’d question sleepily.
“I have a meeting,” she responded with an unnecessary whisper.
“At--,” he glanced at the clock, “6:30 in the morning?”
“Yes, and shouldn’t you be getting up right now, anyway?”
“No, I should’ve been up an hour ago.” And she was gone by the time he was out of the shower, not heard from again until this frightening phone call asking for his help.
His tires kicked up gravel as he pulled off the smooth asphalt into the limestone and granite extraction site, a large sign with the Osbourne Inc logo looming a few yards away. Throwing the car into park, he jumped out, striding around aimlessly, calling her name with increasing urgency. At the fifth cry, he felt a hand on his arm.
“I’m right here,” her voice quiet.
He turned to face her immediately, hands moving to cradle her neck and chin as he guided her head from side to side slowly; examining for damage done. Dirt and grime smudged her face liberally, but otherwise she was seemingly unharmed.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes, let’s just go,” she muttered, breaking his gaze and moving toward his car. He remained still for a moment, watching her withdraw; then followed.
***
Shivers were running through her body, difficult to suppress despite the warm night. The first blue light of dawn was filtering through the evening sky and she sat huddled in Lex’s car, trying to fold in on herself. Wanted to disappear into the soft leather passenger seat as he drove them both back to the penthouse. Silent now, she could feel his worry and frustration coiling within him next to her and hoped that when they were unleashed she could hold herself together against the torrent. Let it wash past her instead of allowing it to stir her own traumatic response to the events of the last two days. She would not be intimidated or ruled by those trying to keep her from exposing them as criminals. She repeated the idea like a mantra, trying to draw strength from the words, but the attempt wasn’t working as well as she would have liked. She was scared and the intensity was too fresh to fight, but she was trying.
The instant she stepped out of Lex’s building two days ago hands grabbed at her; hard, bruising fingers gripping her arms, leading her forcefully into a sedan with darkened windows. Her arms and legs were bound, her mouth gagged as she struggled against her captors. No words were spoken, but she knew what was happening, knew exactly why the timing of this little kidnapping corresponded to her meeting with Perry White. What she didn’t know was how far this would go; if she would survive the occasion or if those early moments with Lex would be the last she would have.
She was driven directly to a dark enclosed location, a bag placed over her head. She was seated in a chair, hands pressing down uncomfortably onto her shoulders to keep her in place. A surprisingly inconspicuous baritone materialized at her ear, warning her about curiosity and the cat; a veiled reference given to the explosion that killed her cousin. Then she was swept up again, thrown into the trunk of what she assumed was the same sedan. They drove her around for more than a day. Long stops and long drives. Sometimes she would let sleep relieve the terror ruling those hours, but mostly she would listen, trying to memorize sounds that might reveal her location, or struggle with her bonds, or succumb to her constantly threatening tears. She’d never felt so powerless in her life. After what seemed like a lifetime the trunk was opened and she was dumped onto the gravely ground. A quarter tossed at her disoriented figure, bonds cut unceremoniously and she was free. It was over. Alive and unharmed when two people had been killed because of this story. She couldn’t understand why.
And here was Lex, so impassive next to her. She could practically feel him restraining a stream of questions waiting to spill out at her. She was amazed he hadn’t asked her anything beyond the initial—“Are you okay?”—Intentionally for her benefit or not, she was beyond grateful. She needed his silence; needed, just for a moment, to experience the feeling of safety. She couldn’t discuss the events of the past two days right now. Yearned to push past this and finish what she started with the investigation; knew a certain amount of deliberate denial would be the only way to get through to the end. He pulled the car into his garage, moving around to open her door. She noticed how he walked a step or two behind, watching. But, unlike their first meeting weeks ago, she was thankful for his gaze, drew comfort from it. The elevator doors closed, shutting them in. Muffled, sterile air surrounding them. Both so still she could hear his soft breathing.
“I need to know.”
She jumped slightly, not expecting his voice. “It was just scare tactics, Lex. Nothing happened.”
She could see a muscle clench in his jaw from the corner of her eye. He didn’t speak again. The doors opened into the foyer and he walked out ahead, away from her. She didn’t have the energy to call after him, couldn’t give him what he wanted anyway. What was the point? She meandered slowly through the apartment, running fingers over the lush fabrics covering various pieces of furniture as she made her way to the bedroom, knowing he was in there waiting. An effort to distract herself from the need to be near him, realizing she could give him nothing in the way of answers yet. But she was unsuccessful in the end. Pushing open the cracked door, she found him sitting on the edge of the bed, eyes studying the floor as he smoothed a contemplative hand over his head. His palm resting momentarily on the crown before he looked up to watch her approach. She crossed the room wearily to stand in front of him and after a beat he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close. She returned the embrace, cradling his head against her as she encircled his shoulders tightly with her arm.
“Sometimes I feel like I’m destined to have you slip away again and again.” She could feel his voice vibrate through her body. And though his inflection remained devoid of emotion, she felt thrown hearing such a vulnerable statement leave his lips.
“You and your obsession with destiny,” she whispered, wondering what stopped her from attempting to alleviate his fear. Her own mortality too fresh in her mind, she supposed.
Another excellent update, I love the intensity thats evident as they rekindle their physical relationship. They fit perfectly in this fic, its like they were never apart...Still can't believe how idiotic Clark is though, really how can he not see its her!!!
Kimmie
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