by Mara

Summary: To his own surprise, Lex finds himself helping Chloe disguise herself as a society babe. And what good can come of *that*?

NOTES: This fic got out of hand, and as usual, it’s all Medie’s fault
Tremendous thanks go to Alexis for reassurance and betareading duties. And thank
you to Angelsgracie for giving me the opportunity and the incentive to write
this fic.
DEDICATION: This story is a gift for Medie on the occasion of her fandom roast,
in honor of the many plot bunnies she’s sicced on me, as well as the
encouragement and praise I’ve received from her. ::hugs::

Lex barely resisted the smirk he felt trying to creep across his face–partially
because he knew how much smirking annoyed Chloe and partially because this was a
smirk-worthy situation.

He’d been silent and expressionless through her entire presentation, a tactic
that had been known to cause less-prepared businessmen to develop a stammer and
drop pens on the floor. But Chloe completely ignored his lack of response,
laying out her proposal with a succinctness Lex secretly wished he could teach
some of LexCorp’s top executives.

“*My* help?” he asked when she finished, leaning back in his leather chair and
tenting his fingers to hide any smirk vestiges. “You want *my* help on a story?”

Chloe frowned at him. “Well, if I’m going to write about the bad behavior of
rich, spoiled young adults, you’re be a natural person to help.”

Lex didn’t move a muscle. “Some people would be trying flattery at this
juncture. Or at least tact. I would imagine that someday you’ll learn both.”

That baited her into a response, her fair skin flushing. “You *know* what I
mean. You know these people, how they dress, how they talk. I need your help to
fit in.”

“Considering our past…antagonism, I’m surprised you’re here,” he said.

“That’s in the past,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “Live in the now, Lex. And
right now I’m asking for your help. Will you do it or not?”

Taking his time, Lex studied Chloe: hair in the blonde flare she’d worn forever,
pink floral shirt making her look younger, expression trying for calm and
patient while he could hear her toes tapping. Four years of college hadn’t
changed her all that much.

Was it even possible? Could he turn nosy spitfire Chloe into a visiting society
girl? And why *would* he?

Although he *knew* nothing was showing on his face, Chloe seemed to have
followed his thoughts. “Look, if you don’t want–”

“Wait.” He knew why he was going to do it: It represented a challenge and he
hadn’t had a good challenge in a while. Besides, he still owed her for…for his
father. “How much time do we have?”

Chloe grinned. “You’ve got a week, Pygmalion.”

“It’s nice to see that some classics are still known. Perhaps this won’t be as
difficult as I thought.” Mind already full of makeup and hair, Lex eyed her
again, trying to estimate her size. This little project might even be fun.

And fun was something else that had been conspicuously lacking recently.

* * * * *

Lex’s secretary was scandalized when he swept out of his office, ushering Chloe
in front of him with a hand on her back. “Rose! Cancel this afternoon’s
meetings,” he called. “Tomorrow too. Reschedule Finver and Gifford for Thursday.
Everyone else gets the next open slot.”

“But Mr. Luthor…” Rose opened and closed her mouth and Lex knew what was
bothering her. Certainly he’d been known to take it in his head to disappear
with a young lady, but they were usually the kind of young lady considered
suitable for the head of LexCorp–rich, gorgeous, and either stupid or devious.

Hand still on Chloe’s back, Lex paused. “Yes, Rose?” His voice held undertones
he knew his secretary could read.

“Nothing, Mr. Luthor. I’ll take care of the rescheduling immediately.” She shot
a curious glance at Chloe, but chose to keep her job.

“Glad to hear it.”

Chloe, eyes narrowed, was obviously trying to figure out what had just happened,
but Lex had no intention of enlightening her. For one thing, he wasn’t in the
mood for the inevitable 20-minute lecture on wealth and power and double-
standards for women. There was enough of that in his immediate future.

“Come along. So much to do, so little time.” As he led her out of the office, a
quick glimpse of her face showed suspicion mixed with caution.

Good.

* * * * *

Suspicion seemed to be winning by the time they stepped off the elevator into
the marble-floored corridor leading to his penthouse. On the way over, she’d
been suitably distracted by the amenities of his latest Ferrari, but now she had
the unsubtle look on her face she’d nearly always had in high school when he was
around.

“Relax, Chloe, I have no interest in ravishing you. I haven’t ravished an
unwilling woman in, oh, weeks.”

She scowled at him. “Don’t be ridiculous. But what *are* we doing here?”

Lex unlocked the door and strode through, covertly watching Chloe’s unease with
the moderately opulent surroundings. They’d have to work on that, he thought as
she picked her way across the deep pile of the rug. “Why are we here?”

“Yes, Lex, why are we here? It’s not a difficult question.”

Down the hall, passing his own bedroom, he stepped into a guestroom. “We’re here
because of a truism.”

Chloe crossed her arms, leaning against an 18th century walnut dresser. “What
truism?” she asked.

With a flourish, he threw open the closet doors and stepped to the side. “Why,
clothes make the man, of course.”

Chloe’s jaw dropped and she was speechless for a moment as her eyes roamed the
racks of clothing of every style and description, men’s and women’s both. Never
speechless for long, she turned to him. “Is there something I should know about
your dress habits?”

“First lesson of the rich,” Lex said. “Be prepared. You have the money, so you
use it.”

“To buy clothing?”

Lex began to flip through the racks, occasionally turning to appraise her again.
“To be able to offer a guest a gown for an unexpected black tie event.” He
pulled out a black Vera Wang dress and handed it to her. “Or something more
casual for a night on the town.” A Casper pantsuit in peacock blue came out, was
held up against her, and then went back. Tilting his head, he considered the
same outfit in red. Nodding to himself, he pulled it out and handed it to her.

“You keep clothing in case a guest needs it?”

When he glanced over his shoulder, Chloe’s jaw looked like it wanted to hit the
floor. “Second lesson: Never look surprised. Never sound astonished. And never
ever seem impressed.”

“How do you do that?”

“Hmm?” He was looking back and forth between a burgundy Halston and another Vera
Wang, this one a gold minidress.

“How are you so…blasé about everything.”

Lex chuckled. “You misunderstand. I didn’t say you had to *be* blasé, just that
you have to *act* that way.” He turned, holding the Halston up against her skin
and hair. “You need to stop showing your feelings on your face.”

She made an effort to stop looking disconcerted and uncomfortable and he raised
an eyebrow at her. “I don’t know how,” she said finally, shifting under his
gaze.

“You’ll learn. If you want this badly enough, you’ll learn.”

He sorted through the rest of the clothing, after shooing her into the bathroom
to start trying on the outfits. She was already starting to get that stubborn
look, but Lex didn’t give her a chance to refuse the clothing. She’d never
succeed for an instant without as much as she could wear, but if he let her
argue, she’d just talk herself out of it.

“Rules are for other people,” Lex said loud enough to be heard through the door
as he flipped the racks to look at the more sedate everyday items. “Whatever you
see someone do, whatever they say they did, don’t look shocked.”

“But–”

“You’re going to have to stifle your natural impulses,” he continued. “Outrage
and curiosity are rarer than a virgin in these circles.” His lips twitched at
the stifled sounds from the bathroom.

Three more outfits in hand, Lex turned when he heard the door opening. “And be
certain that you…”

The words died on his lips as he looked at the figure stepping through the
doorway. Even without the other changes he’d planned for her, Chloe in the Vera
Wang, barefoot, rounded in all the right places, was…astonishing.

Obedient to his previous coaching, she was looking unconcerned and haughty
(well, almost), but when he didn’t respond, her face changed. Glancing down at
herself, she wrinkled.

“I look stupid, don’t I?” She ran a hand over one hip, where the nubby silk fell
perfectly into place, outlining curves he wasn’t sure he’d ever noticed before.
“I don’t think this is going to work. You can put a pig in a suit, but it’s
still a pig.”

“Ah, Chloe,” he found his voice, “don’t compare yourself to a pig. In fact, I’d
prefer you attempted to excise all farm metaphors now, rather than later. But
that’s beside the point.”

She blinked at him. “What’s the point?”

“The point is,” he ran through three responses, “that the dress suits you.”

“It does?”

“It does. If you ask nicely, I might even let you keep it.” He’d never seen her
look so uncertain before, and it was oddly charming, especially when paired with
the bare feet. Tearing his eyes away from the neckline that fell just low enough
to tease properly, he turned back to the closet. “Try on the others.”

“Lex?”

He took an instant to blank his expression before turning. “Yes?”

“Why are you going to this much trouble? You don’t even *like* me. If this is
some weird backhanded favor for Clark, then you shouldn’t bother.” Now she
looked and sounded like herself again–combative and argumentative–and it made
him feel better.

He momentarily considered giving her one of the true answers to her question,
but settled for an evasion. “You asked for my help.”

“Lex–”

“Try on the clothing, Chloe. And remember to look at the labels, so if someone
asks you about them, you’ll know what they’re talking about.”

She met his eyes and held them, once again giving him the disconcerting feeling
that she knew what he was thinking. (Had she been able to do that in high
school? Surely not.) But she couldn’t know. If neither Lionel nor Clark had ever
learned to read him, it was impossible that *she* had. He held her gaze,
consciously staying relaxed, his expression faintly amused.

Finally she gave up and stomped back into the bathroom. Lex let his expression
change to something slightly more nostalgic, remembering countless days and
evenings spent with Clark and his coterie. Frustrating in their nearly
impenetrable innocence and naïveté, they had nonetheless provided a telling
counterbalance to his upbringing. Not that he planned to point that out to
Chloe.

She came out in a sea foam green strapless Chanel that didn’t quite work without
the proper push-up undergarment. He considered it for a moment, giving up when
he decided she would rebel if he tried to pick out a bra for her. Smallville
sensibilities strike again. “The color’s right, but not the size. Next.”

Chloe saluted and marched back. “Okay,” she called through the door, “I can’t
talk about farm stuff or journalism. What *do* I talk about? I’m assuming the
average society girl isn’t much for politics or TV sitcoms. What are my choices
for small talk?”

“No current events unless it’s business or society news. And we all watch
television, we’re just not allowed to admit it. There’s always money–who has it
and who doesn’t. Fashion is safe, but I don’t have the time to teach you more
than the basics.”

“Don’t worry, I can fake almost any topic.” Her voice was momentarily muffled.
“One advantage of journalism is you learn how to sound like an expert without
actually being one. Besides, I have a good memory.”

She stepped out in the pantsuit and he nodded his approval. “That one will do.
So, I’m assuming you have a more clever plan than hoping someone will do
something illegal.”

“Yes, Lex.” Hands on her hips, she glared at him. “I *am* an investigative
journalist. As you might recall.”

“Touché.” He shooed her back to try on the next outfit. “Somehow I doubt your
readers will be surprised that the young, bored, and rich use drugs and have
indiscriminate sex.”

“I want to see what they do and how they manipulate the system to keep out of
official trouble. But I think there’s more to it,” she said through the door.
“These people are influential–if not now, then later when they end up running
businesses or sitting on the boards of philanthropic organizations. Their lack
of ethics now has future consequences.”

He paused, considering the closed door. “Chloe?”

“Yes?”

“Are you investigating me?”

Something thumped and he leaned against the wall, arms crossed and waiting. The
door opened enough for her to stick her head and part of a bare shoulder out.
“No!”

Lex waited.

“No, I’m not investigating you. Jeez, if I was, I’d have said so. Or else you
wouldn’t have known until I published and you tried to squelch the story. You
know that!”

Lex waited.

“Lex, I swear I’m not investigating *you*.”

He nodded once. “Okay.”

“Okay.” They stared at each other, then Chloe realized she was only half-dressed
and ducked back into the bathroom. “So,” she said, “once we’re done raiding your
wardrobe, what next?”

Since she couldn’t see him, he smiled. “Next, we pay a visit to Alberto.”

“Who’s Alberto?”

“The very best hairdresser in Metropolis, of course.”

Her groan was loud enough to be heard in Smallville.

* * * * *

It was fortunate that Lex had no personal need of the man’s services, because it
was entirely likely that Alberto would never, ever forgive him after the
experience of cutting the hair of Chloe Sullivan. Chloe didn’t know it, but Lex
had paid a substantial sum to Alberto to get him in after hours, so nobody else
would see them.

Lex leaned against a nearby counter and watched the battle. Oh yes, this was
definitely amusing enough to be worth the trouble.

“What do you mean tinting?” Chloe’s voice seemed to have gone up an octave.

Alberto was shaking with anguish. “Your hair, it has been butchered. There is
only so much I can do in one day. A little tint, maybe I can distract from the
dryness, the…oh, Mr. Luthor.” He turned to look at Lex, who shrugged. “I can
only do my best.”

“Look, can’t you just cut it or,” she waved her hands around, “something.”

“There is more than just cutting. This is art!” Alberto waved *his* hands, but
his years of experience allowed his handwaving to symbolize his helplessness,
his need to do this right, and just a bit of disgust that she’d let her hair get
in this shape.

Lex nodded. So far, it was Alberto: 2, Chloe: 0. He could see a sweep coming.

Two hours later, as they exited the salon, Chloe watched herself out of the
corner of her eyes, seeming unsure quite what to make of the fashionably elfin
hairstyle with its streaks of silver and gold.

“Next stop is Andrea, if she’s in.”

“I’m afraid to ask, Lex. Just tell me she’s not fitting me for a mink, because I
draw the line at animal fur.”

“Andrea is complicated.” Lex slid behind the wheel of the car. “Let’s just say
she owes me a few favors and I’m cashing in.”

He forestalled her next question by flipping on the car’s mobile phone. Two
rings and Andrea picked up, her warm contralto sounding pleased as it echoed off
the car roof. “Lex! How have you been?”

“The same.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Lex could hear Chloe’s intake of breath, but he ignored her. He certainly wasn’t
going to explain what Andrea meant. “Are you free for a few hours tonight or
tomorrow? I could use some help.”

“Really?” Her interest was piqued. “Not tonight, I’m afraid. I’ve got class. But
if you come by tomorrow evening, I’ll do whatever I can. Do I get an
explanation?”

“Let’s just say I need you to dig out your war paints. I think it might be
easier to explain the rest when we get there.”

“We?” Andrea laughed. “This should be interesting.”

“I know you’ll think so. Tomorrow at 7?”

“Sounds good. I’ll see you then.”

Lex clicked off the phone and glanced at Chloe, daring her to comment. She
narrowed her eyes and compressed her lips, refusing to give in. “Well, if
Andrea’s not available, I think we’ve done enough for this evening. You must
have studying to do, windmills to tilt at.”

He could almost hear her teeth grit. “I *do* know who Don Quixote is.”

“Just checking. I can never be sure with Smallville schools.”

Chloe sighed. “Thank you for your help, Lex.”

Conversation was desultory on the way to her apartment.

* * * * *

As arranged, he picked her up the next evening to drive them to Andrea’s. And
just as he’d suspected, Chloe’s curiosity was piqued.

“So, how do you know Andrea?” she asked.

“Prep school.”

If all her interviews were this subtle, he was going to have to re-evaluate his
opinion of her journalistic ability.

“Hmm. And the favors she owes you?”

He looked through the front windshield. “Are for services rendered.”

That shut her up, although he could feel her studying him. Why had he thought
that consulting Andrea was a good idea?

Because she was one of the very few people he could trust.

When they pulled up in front of the modest brownstone, Chloe stared, but didn’t
ask. Lex strode up the front steps without waiting to see if she followed, but
he heard her shoes click on the concrete behind him.

Before he could ring the bell, the door was flung open and Andrea threw her arms
around him. As always, he was thrown off-balance by the warm, genuine welcome.

“Andrea.”

“Hello, Lex.” She grinned and let him go, stepping back.

“You look wonderful,” he said. And she did, curves where they should be, dressed
casually but with style, and a smile hovering around her lips.

“You definitely look the same.” She eyed him briefly. “Still need to get out in
the sun and eat a few more vegetables, but you’ll do. I suppose.”

Chloe stifled a chuckle and Lex glanced at her. “Andrea Lassic, I’d like you to
meet Chloe Sullivan. Chloe, this is Andrea.”

“Good to meet you,” Chloe said, sticking out her hand.

“Likewise. Won’t you two come in?” Andrea ushered Chloe in first, catching Lex’s
eye. He looked back blandly, but knew she recognized the name. He’d forgotten
how much he’d told her of Smallville.

Within moments, they were seated in her living room, Chloe looking stiff in a
chair while Lex and Andrea reclined on the couch.

“So, Lex, what’s the deal?” Andrea waved at a series of containers on the coffee
table. “I’ve dug out the war paint, but why do you need it?”

It only took a few minutes for Lex and Chloe to explain the plan.

“…so I was hoping you could give her some tips on makeup and demeanor.”

Andrea laughed at the dubious expression on Chloe’s face. “Ah, she doubts my
qualifications.”

“No, I, I mean–”

Chuckling, Andrea leaned forward to pat her knee. “It’s okay. I don’t look like
a spoiled brat anymore, but I can assure you I was.”

Don’t get into it, Lex thought, cutting her off. “Believe me, she was. So,
Andrea, will you help?”

“Of *course*, Lex. I’d be happy to. Now shoo.”

“Excuse me?”

Chloe struggled to keep a straight face as Andrea waved her hand as if he was a
recalcitrant puppy. “Go work on my computer. I’m sure you’ve got some stock
research to do or something.”

“Yes, Lex, shoo.” Chloe was definitely laughing now.

Pulling together the remnants of his dignity, Lex stood. “I’ll be in your
office.”

As he left the room, he could hear Chloe. “So, how do you know Lex exactly?”

He winced, tempted to listen at the door, but those who eavesdrop rarely hear
good of themselves. Continuing down the hall to her office, his memory dredged
up other days and nights with Andrea.

Andrea with a needle in her arm. Andrea found pawning her mother’s pearls for
drug money after her father cut her off. Andrea leaning over his arm to throw up
in the toilet.

Lionel had never approved of Andrea as a friend and Lex had needed to sneak
around to see her. Originally, it was out of rebellion, but her wicked sense of
humor appealed to him.

Andrea on the floor, barely breathing. Andrea begging him to help when her
parents refused to take her calls. Andrea on her first day out of rehab, so thin
he could count every rib, her eyes only half-alive.

Nobody knew what he’d done for her except the two of them. And possibly now
Chloe. This was definitely a bad idea, giving Chloe ideas about him that weren’t
true. He wasn’t some do-gooder like her or Clark.

Andrea offering to sleep with him as a thank-you, weeks later. The surprise and
gratitude in her eyes when he said no. Andrea the day she got into grad school,
her entire face the very picture of joy, allowing him to experience that joy
second-hand.

He flipped on the computer, diving immediately into work he’d been putting off,
writing a few unclassified reports from memory and logging on to his external e-
mail. He’d installed her system, so it was *nearly* as secure as his own.

When Chloe came to get him some time later, it took him a moment to notice her
in the doorway, so absorbed was he in the question of whether to increase the
R&D budget to allow for more nanotech research.

She leaned against the doorway, watching him. In return, he studied her face. As
expected, Andrea had done an excellent job. The makeup was subtle and
sophisticated. Exactly right.

“Lex?”

“Can you duplicate this?”

“Pretty much. With some practice. She gave me what I’ll need.” Chloe held up a
small bag in her hand.

“Great. I’ll thank her and we’ll get going.”

Chloe started to say something, but he brushed by her. She got the message
quickly…for once.

She spent most of the ride home that evening giving him strange looks, which he
ignored, instead continuing his lectures on how to act rich, bored, and stupid.

* * * * *

A week later, Chloe’s expression as she threw open her apartment door was
priceless, something like surprise, annoyance, and a pinched nose all put
together. “Lex, what are you doing here?”

Smiling slightly, he inspected her makeup, hair, and the fit of the Donna Karan
dress that slid over her right shoulder and across her chest, finding no fault
with any of it. “I’m here to escort you to the soiree, of course.”

“I told you I can handle things from here. It *is* my job as a journalist and
I’m good at it.”

“I’m sure you are.” Lex extended his arm. “But your professors must have taught
you the value of a native guide. With my introductions, this will go much
faster. Besides, how do you think you got invited if not as my companion for the
evening?”

Chloe obviously wanted to argue with him, but after opening her mouth, she
closed it again. Her nose twitched slightly as she tucked her arm into his and
allowed herself to be escorted to the car. “Fine,” she said, narrowing her eyes.
“Let’s go.”

He opened the door for her and watched her stifle the impulse to snap at him for
the courtesy. “Good girl,” he said.

Dropping the pose, she glared as he got into the driver’s seat. “Call me girl
again, and story or no story, I’ll kick your ass.”

Lex chuckled as he started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. “This
should be an amusing evening.”

* * * * *

For Chloe’s “debut,” Lex had chosen a small party thrown by Ambrosia (sadly, her
real name) Fitzgerald, who he knew for certain, and from personal experience,
was into nearly every illegal, unethical, and immoral practice Chloe was
interested in.

As they pulled up in front of her Metropolis condo, Lex could see Chloe eyeing
the façade with distaste and discomfort. He’d been just about to tease her
again, but changed his mind. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked.

“Of course I am.” Her chin went up and her jaw tightened.

“It’s not too late to give this plan up and have an early dinner at La Miche.
They make a lovely salmon in crab sauce.”

Eyes narrowing, Chloe looked at him. “Why are you suddenly trying to talk me out
of this?”

“I wasn’t,” Lex said, “I was trying to make you angry, because when you’re
angry, you forget to be scared.”

Chloe blinked. “I’m not sure I want to know why you’ve thought that much about
me.”

“Shall we go in?” Without waiting for her answer, he slid out of the car and was
opening the door for her before she had time to forget and open it herself.

“Thank you.” She bestowed a cool smile on him.

“By jove, I think she’s got it,” he said. Taking her arm, he led her up the
steps to the door, pressing the doorbell set into the intricate floral design.

To Lex’s surprise, Ambrosia herself flung open the door, giggling with glee, her
long black hair flying in all directions. “Darling! I can’t believe you actually
agreed to come!”

“Why wouldn’t I?” He gave her a sedate kiss on the cheek. She was already three
sheets to the wind, from the way she swayed, and he remembered *why* he’d
stopped attending her parties.

“Naughty boy,” Ambrosia said with a pout that was the envy of her peers.
“Pretending you haven’t refused practically every invitation for years. We might
even think you didn’t like us.”

The tiny movement from Chloe was probably too small for anyone else to notice,
but Lex didn’t look at her. “Ah, but how could I refuse this particularly
opportune occasion to introduce you to my dear friend Lana Ross?” Stepping back
from Ambrosia, he put his arm around Chloe’s shoulders.

Ambrosia didn’t look entirely pleased at the sight, but she recovered gamely.
“Lana, it’s wonderful to meet you. Any friend of Lex’s is a friend of mine.”

“A pleasure,” Chloe said, shaking the outstretched hand.

“Well, come in then, things are just getting started.” Ambrosia turned and led
them down the hall, past a Ch’ing dynasty vase and a delicate painted screen
that was in rather better taste than he’d expected from her. Her latest
decorator was obviously classier than usual, he thought as her voice drifted
back down the hall, wafted by the sounds of some annoying modern music. “Skye
and Simone are both here and I’m sure they’ll be thrilled to see you.”

“I’m sure,” Lex said.

As they followed Ambrosia, Chloe grabbed his arm and yanked. “Lana Ross?” she
hissed.

“Well, you weren’t planning to be introduced as Chloe Sullivan, were you?”

“No, but–”

“So I’ve given you a name.” He dared her with a quirk of his lips. “Think of it
as a gift.”

Her eyes narrowed again. “Another one?”

“I still owe you a debt.” He hadn’t intended to say that, but he didn’t allow
his face to change, hoping she’d let it go. But this *was* Chloe, after all.

“Lex, there’s no debt.” All vestiges of Lana Ross disappeared and she was all
Chloe again. “If you still think I–”

“I have no desire to discuss this.”

Ambrosia had turned at the door to the living room and dining room and was
looking at them strangely. “Something wrong?”

“Of course not.” Lex smiled just enough to make her melt. He slid his arm around
Chloe’s waist and ushered her in just in front of him, watching how she blanked
her face as he’d taught her, glancing around the room with casual interest and
mild disdain.

She’d actually learned to hide her true feelings much better than he’d expected,
which would make things easier. So why did it bother him so much when she did
it?

“Lex,” Helena called, standing up from a leather couch, “I couldn’t believe it
when Ambrosia said you would be joining us.”

He kissed her cheek. “It has been a while, hasn’t it? I’m afraid business has
taken up much of my time. May I introduce you to Lana Ross? She’s new to town
and I promised I would show her around.”

Helena turned an appraising eye on Chloe and found her acceptable. “It’s lovely
to meet you. So, what brings you to Metropolis?”

“You know how it is,” Chloe said with a languid smile, “Daddy was a tad upset
with me over *one* escapade, and he decided to drag me out of Paris.”

Helena threw her head back and laughed. “Oh yes, I know how that is.”

“So,” Chloe said, “can anyone tell me what fun there is to be had in this
place?”

Helena grinned at Lex and tucked Chloe’s arm into her own. “Oh, I think that can
be arranged.”

* * * * *

The next weeks were a flurry of activity, as Lex worked all day while Chloe was
in classes and studying as much as she could, then he escorted her at night from
party to club to sordid back room. Her impression of a bored party girl got
better so fast, Lex wondered why she’d never tried acting as a career. *He*
almost believed it now and then.

He’d intended to escort her to that first party then leave her to her work, once
he knew she could pull off the impersonation well enough. But he found the
thought of leaving Chloe to the vultures that inhabited his world made him
nervous. She might have learned to play the part, but she was still from
Smallville and truisms become truisms for a reason. You could take the girl out
of Smallville…

Besides, if he let anything happen to her, there’d be hell to pay from Clark,
right? So, obviously, he had to make sure she was safe.

He smiled genially at Zora, who was trying her best to get him into bed, but
kept half his attention on Chloe, who was curled up on a couch with Ambrosia.
Their heads bent together, the conversation looked like it was getting serious.
Chloe brought her drink to her mouth and Lex tried to figure out if she’d really
sipped or was just faking. She’d *better* be faking, because he knew exactly how
much alcohol was in that glass.

“Lex?”

“Hmm?”

Zora leaned forward and put her hands on his cheeks. He didn’t pull away as she
kissed him, but he didn’t encourage it either. Soft lips, talented lips, a hint
of floral perfume, he should have at least been *thinking* about sleeping with
her.

She pulled back after a moment, amusement on those talented lips, and wiped her
lipstick off his lips with her cocktail napkin. “I see I’m wasting my time.”

“Are you?”

“Don’t kid a kidder, Lex. I can’t tell which one of them you want, but stop
wasting my time and go get her.” Zora leaned her head in the direction of the
couch, where Ambrosia was giggling as she whispered something into Chloe’s ear.

“Thank you for the advice.” Lex narrowed his eyes. “But I think I can take care
of my own affairs.”

“Suit yourself. You always do.” Shrugging, she rose from the small table, frothy
pink drink in hand, making sure he got a good look at her ample charms. “If you
change your mind, you know where to find me.”

“I do.” He put as much innuendo as he could into the two words.

She curled her lip at him. “It’s nothing you didn’t do in your time, Lex. I
remember when you were fun.”

He didn’t bother to respond as he leaned back in his seat, struggling to not
turn his head and look at the couch. Sipping his drink, he watched Zora sway
across the room to a more likely–if less wealthy–candidate. He probably
shouldn’t have alienated her, but she’d begun to annoy him. Well, Lex Luthor
could get away with things that lesser mortals couldn’t.

A swish behind him and Chloe was draped across his shoulders in a waft of rose
scent. The pose was sexy, but the voice was all business. “Ambrosia’s on her way
to a drug deal. I’ll make my own way home.”

Smiling genially, he pulled her around and into Zora’s vacated chair. “No.”

Her face didn’t change, a tribute to his teaching. “What do you mean, no?”

“I mean, you’re not going without me. I know Ambrosia, remember?”

She laughed as if he’d made a joke. “This is *my* story. There’s no point if I’m
not willing to take a risk. Besides, it’s not as if I’m going to *take* any
drugs or try to make a citizen’s arrest.”

“This is a bad idea.” He had to struggle to keep his cool expression.

“Give it up, Lex. I’m not a child.” Smiling, she patted his shoulder with more
force than anyone watching would have seen, and stood up.

“Be careful.”

Looking over her shoulder, she gave him a genuine grin. “I grew up in
Smallville, Lex.”

He watched her walk away and thought about the various meanings of that sentence
as she met up with Ambrosia, slipping out the back door moments later.

He counted to thirty, then left his drink on the table and followed the ladies
out the door. It wasn’t difficult to track them, as they were giggling loud
enough to be heard for miles around, and he tried not to pay attention to the
content.

Ambrosia stumbled on her high heels, still giggling, and Chloe caught her,
saying something too low for Lex to hear. He strolled along, following the sound
of their voices through several back alleys and out onto the street. Thanks to
several other clubs in the area, there was enough of a crowd at 2 am that
neither of them seemed to notice him.

Soon they were out of the nightlife district, the streets getting dirtier, the
alleys getting darker. Lex had to drop back because the lack of foot traffic
made him too conspicuous. Fortunately, Chloe’s gold dress and Ambrosia’s violet
one both glowed even in the faint streetlights–not to mention how they didn’t
seem to even be looking for someone following them.

Now Lex was starting to get *really* annoyed, stepping over a pile of
unidentifiable liquid and trying to hold his breath. He spent the time as they
picked their way down the street coming up with new and subtle ways to flay
Chloe alive for this.

When they stepped into a slightly less dilapidated apartment building, Lex
cursed under his breath, wondering if he should be calling someone for backup.

He watched them get on an elevator and waited until that elevator stopped on the
10th floor before he pressed the up button. Tapping one foot on the floor, he
considered his options and why he was *so* sure something was wrong.

“Smallville,” he said aloud.

In all his time in Smallville, nothing had ever gone as planned. Every plan had
always gone to hell in a handbasket. And somehow this reunion with a Smallville
resident had him jumping at shadows again.

Perhaps he should leave her to her story.

He turned halfway and stopped as the elevator wheezed and let out an anemic
ding. Well, maybe he could just go up and make certain she was okay. He nodded
and stepped onto the elevator, holding his breath as it groaned and creaked its
way up ten stories.

He’d planned to knock on doors until he found them, but his task was simplified
by the sound of raised voices in 10-C, one of them recognizably Chloe’s.

“I’m not a cop!” Chloe said, with the air of someone repeating herself.

Lex groaned and stuck his hands in his pockets, staring at the ceiling and
wondering what he’d done to deserve this.

He was *never* going to live tonight down.

* * * * *

It took a fair amount of knocking to get the attention of the apartment’s
current occupants, but after a shocked silence, the door finally opened and an
unfamiliar face peered out, stringy hair hanging around a barely-shaven face.

“Is Ambrosia there?” he asked, with an innocent smile.

“Lex?” Ambrosia’s voice was nearly a screech. “What are you doing here?”

“I did promise Lana a ride home.”

“Lex!” Chloe said. There was a small sound that he suspected was the yelp of
having a gun pointed at one’s head. He was familiar with the sound. Ah,
Smallville.

Lex smiled wider at the man holding the door, thankful that Ambrosia couldn’t
see his face–she wouldn’t buy his ‘stupid rich man’ act for an instant.

“Get in,” the man finally said, opening the door.

Lex stepped inside and glanced into the living room area. Chloe, check. No
visible injuries, check. Gun pointed at her, check. “There’s no need for that,”
he said, voice calm and ready to soothe all nearby maniacs.

“Your girlfriend here is a narc. What about you?” The second man was cleaner,
but he looked much smarter, which could be either good or bad. The gun was
definitely bad.

“A narc? Lana? Surely you must be mistaken.” Keep them talking, that was always
best.

“I seen her talking to a cop,” the first man said. “Narc division had me in for
questioning and she was talking to one of the cops. And she wasn’t under arrest,
neither. She was writing stuff down.”

Damn it, of all the unfortunate coincidences…

“Why would you think that was me?” Chloe demanded.

“Hair like that? Don’t see that everyday.”

Lex’s mouth twitched at the irony and he could see Chloe trying to decide
whether to laugh or glare at him.

“What are we going to *do*?” Ambrosia wailed.

Lex had forgotten about her, but from the way she was wringing her hands, she
wasn’t going to be much help. Worth a try, though. “I think Lana and I should go
home and forget that this evening happened.”

Her wild eyes focused on Lex with a start. “You never forget, Lex! Not a slight,
not an insult, nothing.”

“Tie ‘em up in the other room while we decide,” the second man said.

Lex hid his sigh of relief but Chloe was getting angry. Damn.

“Look, this is ridiculous,” she said, in what Lex recognized as the basic
Smallville ‘If you’re going to kill me then get it over with’ speech. “You have
no good reason to believe we’re with the police, so why–”

The second man was about to hit her. “Lana.” Lex’s voice was soft, but he made
it compelling. “Don’t argue.”

Her expression said–in no uncertain terms–that his plan had better be damn
good or she was going to haunt him in the afterlife. But she ducked her head and
was quiet.

“Get up,” the second man said, grabbing her arm. “You.” He pointed at Lex. “Get
in here.”

Lex followed Chloe into a small bedroom and docilely allowed himself to be tied
to a chair while Chloe was bound to the unmade bed. As the two men left the
room, Chloe slumped down on the bed with a wince for her awkward position.

“Do you know,” Lex said, staring at the cobwebbed and splotchy ceiling, “since I
left Smallville, I haven’t been attacked *once*? I’ve even been in fewer car
accidents than I’d been accustomed to.”

“Lex?”

“Nobody struck by meteor rocks has tried to gnaw on my leg.”

“Lex.”

“No love spells, no monsters stalking me through cornfields. Just the occasional
hostile corporate takeover. It’s been peaceful, really.”

“Shut *up*, Lex!”

“Why?” He looked at Chloe.

“Oh, I don’t know. I was thinking about *escaping* maybe. On the other hand, if
you’d rather wait until they gathered up their courage and came back to kill us,
you can stay.”

“And what was your plan from escaping from these ropes?”

She glared at him. “I’m not sure, but if you could shut up for a minute, maybe
I’ll think of something.”

“Why bother?”

Her jaw dropped and she stared him. “You’re secretly suicidal? How did I miss
this?”

“No,” he said patiently, “I just thought we might wait for Superman, since he’ll
be here any moment.”

“What?”

“Before I knocked on the door, I called Clark on my cell phone.”

“You called Clark?” It was almost a squeak.

“He did,” a voice said from the now-open window. “I was surprised.”

Lex sighed. “Hello, Clark. Or are we required to call you Superman now?”

Clark floated in, settling down between them with an annoyed expression, cape
fluttering in the nonexistent breeze. “How many times do we have to have this
argument?”

“Uh, guys?” Chloe tugged on her ropes. “Do you think you could save the eight
millionth repetition of ‘Power corrupts, superpowers corrupt absolutely’ for
some time when I’m not *tied to the bed*?”

Lex and Clark stared at each other for a moment of astonished accord, then
turned to look at Chloe. She stared back, red creeping up her face. “If you
could both get your minds out of the gutter for a minute, there’s a little
matter of men with guns in the next room.”

“Right.” Clark straightened and threw back his shoulders in that ‘hero to the
rescue’ pose that always pissed Lex off. With a quick yank, Clark ripped the
ropes off Chloe’s wrists.

Lex tried not to sigh as Clark did the same for him and turned to the door. He
rubbed his wrists and listened to the sounds of Superman disarming and tying up
the three in the other room.

Chloe leaned against the window, her profile looking angry.

“You could say thank you,” Lex said, never one to step back from a fight.

Chloe whirled, hands on her hips. “I’ll thank Clark when he’s done.”

“I meant me, actually.”

Her glare would have gone right through him if she’d had Superman’s heat vision,
but whatever she was going to say was forestalled by Clark re-entering the room.
“Shall I call the police?” he asked, oblivious to the tension between them.

Chloe looked around. “Are there drugs here?”

His eyes unfocused as he turned in a slow circle. “Absolutely.”

“Good. Call the cops and they can book them for the drugs and leave us out of
it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Lex and Chloe said.

“Okay.” He shrugged and held out a hand to Chloe. “C’mon, I’ll give you a lift
back to your apartment.”

“No, thanks.”

Clark blinked. “How were you planning to get home?”

She looked away. “I was hoping Lex would drive me home, since he’s still got to
pick up his car from the club. If that’s okay.”

It was Lex’s turn to blink. “Certainly.”

“You want Lex to drive you home?” The shock in Clark’s voice was galling. Was it
really so unbelievable?

“We have things to talk about,” she said.

Clark looked at her, then looked at Lex, suspicion all over his face. Lex
shrugged, as nonchalant as possible under the circumstances. Who was he to argue
with Chloe’s whims? Clark should know better.

“Well, if you two are ready to go, let me at least take you down to the street.
And I’ll get the story later.”

Chloe nodded and Lex gritted his teeth as Superman lifted them both with ease,
tucking them under his arms like children or bales of hay.

* * * * *

They made it back to Chloe’s apartment building in complete silence, nothing but
the road noise beneath the car’s tires and the weight of the previous weeks
pushing on Lex’s chest.

When he pulled into a parking space, there was a silence that managed to be at
once louder and more painful. Lex stared out the front windshield, wondering
what he was supposed to say.

Chloe reached for the door handle and paused, clutching it like a life
preserver. “I’m sorry.”

“What?” Surprised, he turned.

Her arms were crossed, she looked defiant, brows drawn, but she repeated
herself. “I’m sorry.”

Lex swallowed. Twice. “For?”

Chloe looked down. “This didn’t go the way I’d planned.”

“You have quite the story, though.”

“But I…” She paused, looking him in the eye. “Yes, I’ve got a story, but I
feel like I made a fool of myself.”

“If you did, you didn’t do it alone.”

Her eyes dropped and she absently smoothed the dress over her thighs. “I’m sorry
I got you into this, Lex. It was a stupid idea.”

“What were you really looking for?” How had he never asked that question of her?

“I’m not sure. I…I wanted to get these people, why they’ve got so much power.”

“Money.” The answer was obvious to him.

“Yeah.” She shrugged, still looking down. Her words seemed pulled out of her
unwillingly. “Maybe I wanted to know what it was like to be like that. To not
care about the rules or what’s right.”

Suddenly, it was incredibly important that she understand. “Not everybody is
like that. I introduced you to the worst I knew because I thought you wanted
that. Not everyone’s like them or…like my father.”

“I know. Andrea kind of explained that.” Her eyes looked unnatural with the
makeup, her cheeks artificial and cold like a mannequin. “Lex,” she said, “what
are you doing?”

His hand was on her cheek, he found, rubbing at the foundation, trying to get
back to the Chloe he remembered, the nosy spitfire who’d plagued his Smallville
days and stood up to his father when nobody else would. He ran a hand over her
hair, wishing he could remove the tinting so easily.

“Lex,” she said again, catching his hands with her own.

“I’m sorry for making you what you’re not.”

“I asked you to.”

“When my father exiled me to Smallville, I spent some time trying to be like
everyone else. It didn’t work.” His hand was still against the side of her face
and he stroked her cheek with his thumb. “I wasn’t suited for country life.”

“But if you could make me suited to city life…” She leaned into his hand. “I’m
not. Not like that, at least. I acted like an idiot. I can’t be like those
people and–”

“And I don’t want you to be!”

She stared, eyes wide.

“I prefer you as Chloe.” He heard her breathing catch, felt her hands tighten on
his. “Don’t change. I think I need to know Smallville won’t change. Even if I’ll
never fit in.”

She smiled and even through the makeup, it was Chloe. “But I think we make a
pretty good team.”

“We do.”

Without a conscious thought, he leaned toward her as she tugged on his hand.
They met over the gearshift, lips brushing awkwardly and then with more
assurance.

She still tasted like expensive lipstick and brandy, but he knew that wouldn’t
last. And the way she kissed lacked the broad experience of Zora, but the
knowledge that she wanted him and not his last name or money made all the
difference.

He licked her lips, smiling when she giggled and looked embarrassed. She finally
loosened her hand, but he only drew back a few inches, looking into her eyes.
“Chloe?” His voice sounded hoarse and his breathing was ragged.

“Come inside?”

“If you want me to.” This was no time to rush. Chloe wasn’t Zora or Ambrosia or
Simone or Helena–she needed care and…

She leaned forward and kissed him again, her tongue slipping into his mouth and
he sucked on it.

Care and honesty. He pulled back. “What do you want?” he murmured against her
lips. “I’m not good at…relationships.”

“Neither am I.” She reddened. “But we *do* make a good team, don’t we? My
brains, your money…”

He chuckled, sliding his hand through her hair again. “I don’t want to let you
down.”

“If you do, you won’t do it alone.” Chloe bit her lip. “Lex, please. Give this a
chance.”

“For you.”

This kiss went on for a while, Lex lost in the moment, enjoying the novel
experience of not needing to impress his partner. Pressing Chloe against the
seat, he leaned forward, jamming his side into the gearshift.

Chloe laughed as Lex rubbed his side. She opened the car door and stepped out,
pausing halfway out. “Coming?” she asked over her shoulder.

He was out the door and around to her side in an instant, arm around her waist.
“Allow me.”

Warm and soft, Chloe leaned against him as they walked up the steps and around
the corner to her apartment. She fumbled with the keys and her face felt warm
when he caressed it.

Squeezing her tighter, he got her attention. She smiled up at him and he kissed
her forehead gently.

Chloe opened the door and they stepped inside, Chloe slamming the door behind
them and nearly pouncing on Lex, who stumbled a step backward.

“Sorry, just a little overenthusiastic,” she said, kissing him again.

“Enthusiasm is refreshing.”

* * * * *

A siren whooshed by the window, waking him from his light doze. In the faint
moonlight, he saw Chloe blink once and close her eyes again, snuggling closer.

His arm was half-asleep from the weight of her head, but he wasn’t inclined to
make her move. Every breath she took wafted across his skin, warm and humid and
alive, and he wondered what it felt like for men with hair on their bodies.

They did make a good team, he thought. The past weeks aside, she’d always had a
nose for a story, and determination that matched his own–a need to get her way.
Her moral compass was too strong and his too weak. Her common sense was a little
lacking now and then, but with him behind her, there was nothing she couldn’t
do.

Chloe’s eyes drifted open. “What are you thinking?”

“Why do women always ask that?”

She ignored him, turning her head to kiss his shoulder. “Answer the question.”

“Oh, just plotting to take over the world.”

“What, again?” She yawned, pulling him closer. “Can’t it wait ’til morning?”

“I suppose it can.”

“Good. We’ll talk then.” She closed her eyes and nuzzled his shoulder with a
small sigh.

For a moment, he stared, trying to figure out if she was serious. Then he closed
his eyes.

She was right–it could wait until the morning. After all, now they had all the
time in the world.

–end–

by Mara

Summary: Why has Bruce come to Smallville to visit Lex?

NOTES: I wrote this very hastily because DebC thinks nobody loves her and I needed to prove her wrong.
This is kinda sorta Smallvilleverse. Ish. Also kinda building on a lot of Bruce/Lex fanon.

“So, what have you been up to these last years?” Bruce asked, crossing his legs and reaching out for the
glass of scotch.

Lex chuckled. “Right. Like I’m going to tell you something Wayne Enterprises can use.”

“Ah Lex, always so trusting.” Bruce’s lips quirked before he took a sip. “Good stuff.”

“Would I have anything else?”

“Of course not.”

The fire crackled, casting strangely-shaped shadows on the wall. Lex frowned at the shadow above and
behind Bruce. “How do you do that?”

Bruce didn’t turn. “Do what?”

“Cast a bat-shaped shadow while wearing a Perry Ellis suit.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Bruce said with a completely straight face.

“Uh huh.” Lex rolled his eyes and got up to poke at the fire. “You and the farmboy think you keep secrets
so well. At least you’re a good liar when I don’t already know you’re lying. Clark couldn’t lie well if his life
depended on it. When his life depended on it.”

“Clark is…unique.”

Lex turned around and leaned against the wall next to the fireplace, enjoying the warmth against his side.
“That’s one way to put it. You’re really in fascinating company these days: an Amazon, a couple of aliens,
the fastest man alive…”

Bruce’s puzzled face would have fooled nearly anyone else. “Do they work for Wayne Enterprises? I really
can’t keep track of all of our employees. It’s nearly all I can do to stay afloat in our numbers most days.”

Lex poured himself two fingers more of the scotch, enjoying the burn in his throat and chest. “The man
who taught me differential equations really shouldn’t try to convince me he can’t read a budget.”

Bruce just smiled.

“Okay, fine. We’ll play it your way.” Lex reluctantly decided against any more to drink. He wanted to
remember everything in the morning, after all. “You’re not Batman. Clark’s not Superman. And I’m Bugs
Bunny.”

“You wascally wabbit,” Bruce murmured into his glass.

“Cartoons? You?” Lex put a hand to his heart.

“I *do* have a son, remember?” Bruce’s smile was real and very nostalgic. “Dick and Alfred ganged up on
me and insisted on a certain number of cartoons before I was allowed to work.”

“That makes more sense. Superman, Wonder Woman, and Green Lantern together couldn’t resist those two
if they were serious about something. You didn’t have a chance. So, how are they, anyway?”

“Dick’s in college. Alfred still makes certain I eat, forcibly if necessary. They’re both well.”

“I’m glad.” Lex was entirely sincere. He didn’t know Dick well, but Alfred…he’d been a lifeline of sanity
during their childhood, the only thing that convinced Lex that not every adult was a complete nutter.

“How are *you* doing?” Bruce looked up, pinning him with the look that meant he’d better tell the whole
truth or there would be consequences.

“Me?” Lex was honestly surprised. “I thought you knew. I’m doing wonderfully. I threw a big party last
year when dear ol’ Dad died. Didn’t you get your invitation?”

“Yes, I’m afraid I was unavoidably detained.”

“Right, that was the week the Justice League was fighting that weird alien virus, wasn’t it? I think I had my
secretary send you a get well card.”

Bruce didn’t bother to respond, sipping his scotch and looking into the fireplace. His shadow no longer
looked like a bat, but the light reflected up onto his features, turning his classic good looks into something
more sinister. Lex could see why he scared so many criminals.

“So,” Lex ventured, “not that I’m unhappy to see you, but what are you doing in Smallville?”

Bruce hesitated. “I can’t simply decide to visit an old friend?”

“If I didn’t know you so well, I’d assume you were spying on Wayne Enterprises’ main competitor. But you
wouldn’t do it by talking to me, so that’s out.” Lex put down his empty glass and crossed to sit on the couch
next to him. Crossing his arms, he leaned back and waited. Knowing Bruce, this could take a while.

Bruce stared down into his glass, swirling the liquid slowly. “I thought it was time to reconnect with some
old friends.”

“Are we old friends?”

“Yes, we are. And old enemies as well. They’re not that far apart, are they?”

“Not for us, I suppose.” Lex had an inkling. “How did it happen? I mean, what made this time different
than the others?”

Bruce’s head shot up. “What?”

“Since your life is filled with near-death experiences, I just wondered what was different this time.”

Bruce’s mouth twitched. And twitched some more. And his hand was unsteady as he put his glass down on
the floor next to his leg. He appeared unable to speak.

Lex sat up in alarm. Bruce wasn’t going to *cry*, was he? What the hell would he do with a crying man in
his living room?

Bruce’s voice was unsteady. “You think I’m here because of a near-death experience?”

“Yeeees.” Lex wondered it if it was inappropriate to go retrieve the box of tissues from the bookshelf now.

Bruce coughed into his hand, bringing his face under control. “You’ve leaped to a conclusion, Lex.”

“What?”

“I’m not here because of a near-death experience. I’m here because I’ve just received an invitation to our 20-
year reunion and it inspired me to look you up. Really, Lex, you see drama everywhere, don’t you?” Bruce’s
grin was broad and annoying.

“I hate you, you know that, right?”

“Of course, Lex.”

“Did you want to have sex now?”

“You’re just as romantic as I remembered.”

“Is that a no?”

–end–

by Mara

Summary: She’s not Wonder Woman. She’s just a girl visiting Smallville.

NOTES: Azar wanted pre-Wonder Woman Diana, possibly visiting Smallville. It
happens to be her birthday and she needed to be cheered up, so I obliged. Thanks
to Medie for the beta.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time: See the world outside Themyscira,
learn about the things she’d only heard about from others, come to a better
understanding of why the Amazons hid themselves. It had sounded entirely logical
when Diana explained it to Hippolyta, but somehow that logic seemed naïve in the
face of a crowded coffee shop in a town called Smallville.

Everyone seemed to be staring at her, and she wasn’t certain if she was doing
something wrong or if they simply stared at everyone they didn’t recognize. She
fidgeted and tried to decide what to do.

The colored lights made everyone’s skin look diseased, she thought, looking down
into her coffee. That prompted a small chuckle as she wondered if there was a
way to arrange coffee imports to Themyscira, as that was one of the few things
she’d come to love about the outside world.

Movement nearby made her look up as a motherly woman with kind eyes stopped at
her table. “Hi, I’m Martha Kent, manager of the Talon. I couldn’t help but
notice you seemed uncomfortable. Is something wrong?”

Something about the woman’s manner made Diana feel better, although she was
unlike her own mother. “I’m just new in town and I…don’t know anyone yet.”

The woman smiled at her. “Is that all? We can fix that easily.” Turning, she
waved at a table of teenagers in the corner.

A tall teenager with dark hair looked up and nodded, poking the blonde next to
him with his elbow. The two of them wended their way between the tables, holding
their coffee up high to avoid spilling anything. Diana frowned to herself as she
watched the boy move–there was something odd about him, as if he were
deliberately making himself appear more clumsy than he was.

She shook her head to clear it of such imagination.

“What’s up, Mom?” the boy asked when he reached them.

Martha smiled down at Diana. “This is my son, Clark, and his friend Chloe.
Between them, they know almost everyone in Smallville and I’m sure they’d be
happy to help.”

“Hello,” Diana said. “My name is Diana. I’m pleased to meet you.” She was proud
that she remembered to hold out her hand.

“Hi,” Clark and Chloe said together, shaking her hand somewhat awkwardly.

Martha beamed at the three of them and went back to the counter. “Let me know if
there’s anything else you need, dear.”

“So,” Chloe said, sliding into a seat, “are you moving here? Will you be
attending Smallville High? Where are you from?”

“Give her a chance to answer something, would you?” Clark smacked Chloe’s
shoulder as he sat down. He was politer than most of the men she’d met, looking
at her face rather than her chest.

“I’m just visiting, passing through town for a few days,” Diana said carefully.
“I’ve been…sheltered, I’m told, so I’m traveling to see the world outside my
home.”

“Wow.” Clark’s eyes widened. “Your parents let you travel by yourself?”

“I’m a little older than you think,” Diana said, smiling. “My mother wasn’t
pleased with my decision, but she didn’t stop me.”

Chloe’s eyes narrowed. “Where are you from anyway?”

“Oh, it’s a little island. You wouldn’t have heard of it.”

“So why Smallville?” Clark asked.

“Yeah,” Chloe said, “if you want to see things, I’d think you’d go somewhere
like New York or LA.”

“I went to New York.” Diana shivered. It had been a decidedly unpleasant
experience and after she’d rescued the third woman from being attacked, she
decided she had to get out of town. “But New York was so busy that I didn’t know
where to start. I think I need to start small. I really wanted to see places
that were quiet. Normal places.”

Clark jerked his hand and nearly knocked over his coffee, while Chloe developed
a coughing fit and covered her face.

“Is something wrong?” Diana asked, looking at them.

Clark and Chloe exchanged glances.

“If you’re looking for normal,” Clark said, wiping coffee off the table without
meeting her eyes, “Smallville’s probably not the best choice.”

“What do you mean?” Diana looked around at the crowd. It certainly seemed normal
to her. There were men and women engaged in the strange mating dances she’d
observed elsewhere, people eating pastries, drinking coffee, and doing crossword
puzzles.

Clark fumbled with the wadded up napkins. “Uh.” He blinked at her. “It’s kind of
hard to explain.”

“A lot of strange stuff happens here, that’s all.” Chloe nodded firmly.

“Strange?” Diana shook her head. These adolescents weren’t entirely
comprehensible to her, but she suspected their ideas of strange were decidedly
tamer than hers. “Well, I’m certain I can survive strange. Perhaps you can show
me around your town at some point?”

Clark flushed and Diana sighed. Why did men always assume she was implying
something sexual? She would never get used to that.

Chloe grinned at Clark before turning to Diana. “Sure, we’d be happy to show you
around. We’re not responsible for anything strange that happens, though.”

* * * * *

Diana left Smallville a week later with a new appreciation of the word
‘strange.’ Really, she’d assumed they meant lesbians or perhaps an eccentric
recluse or two.

There was no way she could have expected the 10-foot-long neon green snakes, was
there? Obviously not.

And she had a great deal more respect for farm country if they could breed boys
like Clark. Although it was a bit odd that a woman as bright as Chloe had
somehow failed to notice that Clark had superpowers. As, apparently, had
everyone else.

Perhaps people in farm country weren’t as smart as she thought.

–end–

by Mara

Summary: “Lex stared at the two men in front of him, wondering if they were insane, or if he was.”

CONTINUITY: It’s in the same universe as a fic I wrote last year called “Old
Friends, Old Enemies…Same Thing.”
NOTES: This is a present for DebC on her birthday, 3/17/06

Lex stared at the two men in front of him, wondering if they were insane, or if
he was. He didn’t *feel* insane, but how could you tell? “You’re joking,” he
finally said, keeping an eye on the exits in case he needed to make a run for
it.

“No,” Dick said, arms crossed and brow furrowed. “I’d never joke about something
this important.”

Sitting down very carefully on the sofa behind him, Lex concentrated on getting
his head to stop spinning. “It’s ridiculous. You *can’t* be serious.”

“We are,” Alfred said, handing him a drink with that keen eye that had always
made him the sanest adult Lex had ever met.

Lex took a large sip of the drink, neither noticing nor caring what it was.
Unless Alfred had changed drastically, whatever it was would help. “I flew to
Gotham,” Lex said, “because you told me Bruce had been injured in the course of
his…duties. I assumed you wanted my help with something to do with Wayne
Enterprises.”

Frowning, Dick shook his head. “Why would we call the head of Lexcorp for that?”

“Well, I…” Lex trailed off, rubbing one temple. “That’s not important. In any
case, that’s why I came. But this…you’ve got a dozen metas you could ask.”

“No. They all have other obligations.” Dick shifted position, looking
uncomfortable. “It has to be you. We need you to masquerade as Batman until
Bruce is well.”

“But I’m not a superhero!” Lex couldn’t believe they were still discussing this.
Maybe this was a bad dream? He looked hopefully around for naked dancing men,
but they tragically failed to appear.

Alfred gave Lex the kind of look he’d given young Bruce and Lex when they’d
disappointed him by sneaking out after hours. “No excessive heroics would be
required. Simply the application of a certain amount of menace from a man of
approximately the right size in the suit. Master Richard and the others will
provide the action.”

Lex eyed Dick. “Why don’t *you* do it?”

“Because the absence of Nightwing would be noted. We can’t have that.”

“No. Absolutely not.” Lex crossed his legs, smoothing his pants absently. “I owe
Bruce a great deal, but this is too much. Get someone else to play dress up.”

* * * * *

Sitting by Bruce’s bedside hours later, Lex allowed himself a moment of fear at
seeing a man so *alive*, so *powerful*, reduced to this. The lines of pain in
Bruce’s face were obvious even in a drugged sleep, and Lex turned away to regain
his composure.

When he turned back, Bruce’s eyes were open. “I’m going to be fine, Lex.”

“You have bones broken in places I’ve never even *heard* of,” Lex said.
“Although that could simply be because I spent most of that anatomy class
planning to assassinate my father.”

“Was that what it was? I thought that was when you designed the mega-cannon.”

Frowning, Lex considered. “Perhaps you’re right.”

Bruce chuckled, trying to hide how much laughing hurt. “Thank you for coming,
Lex.”

Lex shrugged a shoulder. “You’d do the same for me. Although *I* wouldn’t ask
you to do anything nearly so insane.”

“Mmm. So?”

Lex scowled at him. “So, how in the world do you do it night after the night?
The suit’s like an oven. And it chafes.”

–end–

by Mara

Summary: “I’m fine, Clark. Just wondering how long you’ve had a twin brother.”

Chloe blinked. Then she blinked again. Then she rubbed her eyes and wondered if
she’d had enough coffee that morning. Maybe one more cup might help?

Nope, still the same sight.

“Uh…Chloe? You okay there?” Clark sounded worried.

“I’m fine, Clark. Just wondering how long you’ve had a twin brother. I mean, all
those years growing up, you’d think I’d have noticed. I know I was busy with the
Wall of Weird, but really, it’s been 10 years since we graduated, couldn’t you
have ment–”

“Chloe!”

She stopped, barely hiding her smile. “Yes?”

“He’s not my twin brother. Conner’s my c–cousin.” With an ecstatic smile, Clark
put an arm around the shoulder of a teenager who didn’t really look like an
exactly identical twin, but could certainly be Clark’s slightly shorter
fraternal twin. The nose was different, but still…

Conner didn’t look nearly as thrilled by Clark, but he managed a respectable
grin. “Hi, nice to meet you.”

“Your cousin.” Chloe wondered for the thousandth time if Clark thought she was a
moron. “Right. Well, it’s nice to meet you too. Are you just visiting Smallville
for the summer?”

“Uh…”

Clark shot Conner a look she couldn’t decipher. “He’s going to be staying with
my parents for a while. Maybe going to high school here in the fall.”

Chloe thought about challenging this shoddy cover story and asking about the
heretofore unknown aunt and uncle, since she used to love making Clark stammer
and blush while he tried to lie believably, but that had gotten old at least
fifteen years ago. Besides, this new kid didn’t deserve it until he’d been
around for a while. “Uh-huh. Well, Conner, welcome to Smallville, home of the
weird.”

“The weird?” Now Conner looked worried.

“Clark hasn’t told you?” She shook her head in dismay. “How could you not
prepare him for the strangeness? That’s just mean.”

“C’mon Chloe, gimme a break.”

Clark shot her a look she knew of old, and she relented. “Okay, but when he runs
into his first green glowing cow and you haven’t warned him, it’s not *my*
fault.” She shook her head.

“Fair enough.”

Chloe smiled at the adorably bewildered Conner and wondered if he was some kind
of meteor mutant that Clark had adopted. “Conner, in any case, welcome to town.”

“Thank you,” he said with an adorable smile, “and my friends call me Con.”

Clark looked at Conner, who smiled blandly back. What was *that* all about?

“Right. Con. But let’s talk about cheerful things instead of Smallville. So,
Clark, how’s work at the Daily Planet? And then I’ll tell how I’ve got it so
much worse at the Gotham Post.”

Conner sat back in his seat and let them banter.

She’d give him a little time to settle in. She owed that much to Clark, at
least.

* * * * *

Chloe let it go for all of two days–which she was fairly sure was a new
personal best–but at the end of those 48 hours, she was hunched over her
laptop, using every shady computer contact she had to investigate this Conner
Kent.

It took a lot less time than she expected and her coffee was still warm when she
picked it up and sipped thoughtfully. There wasn’t much, which wasn’t entirely
impossible, except that Conner only seemed to be four years old. Well, his
history was only four years old, at least. There was his driver’s license from
this year, and a library card that hadn’t been used much, as well as some not-
very-secured records of the foster care system in Metropolis.

Conner didn’t seem to have a birth certificate she could find, or standardized
test scores, or *anything* older than four years.

And why had the Kents apparently allowed him to languish in foster care? That
was probably the weirdest part of the whole thing. Chloe tried to imagine
Jonathan and Martha Kent allowing their nephew–heck, even their fourth cousin
twice removed–to stay in foster care for longer than it took them to find a
lawyer, but there even her prodigious imagination failed.

Chloe stared into the bottom of her mug and decided she needed to get home and
use the computers at the Post. Maybe she could find something from there.

* * * * *

Knowing that if she officially showed back up at work before her vacation was
over, she’d be dragooned into covering something like the mayor’s press
conference on education reform, Chloe snuck in when only the night shift was
there and found an empty office to work in.

After an hour of searching, she’d found little more than she’d turned up from
Smallville, and it was beginning to make her head hurt. Chloe leaned back in the
chair and frowned at the screen, freezing at the sound of a voice behind her.

“Who are you working for?” the voice asked in a soft growl.

She blinked. “I work for the Gotham Post. How about you?”

“Don’t try to be funny,” the voice said, circling to stand off to her left.

She turned her head, careful not to make any sudden moves, but couldn’t help the
small gasp. “Robin?”

The slender young man in the cape and green and red outfit didn’t look amused by
her reaction. Actually, considering that he was almost as short as her and was
walking around in green tights, he mostly looked really really dangerous. “Who
are you working for?”

“Honest,” she said, “I don’t know what you’re asking.”

His face grew more still. “Your investigation is going into very deep waters. I
know about your history with Luthor, but I’d advise you to stay out of this
fight. You’re way out of your league on this one.”

She scowled at him. “Look, if you’ve been investigating *me*, you must know that
I don’t like being threatened.”

“I’m not threatening you. I’m warning you: Stop what you’re doing or you will be
in danger.” With a last long look, he turned and strode out the door into the
hallway.

Chloe burst out of her chair and ran after him, but by the time she came through
the doorway, the hall was already empty. Hands on her hips, she glared around
her, but realized the futility of chasing him.

Stomping back into the office, she sat in the cushy swivel chair and rocked
back. “I hate when–Luthor?” She stared at the opposite wall without seeing the
dog calendar hanging there. “Luthor? What the hell do the Luthors have to do
with this? And why does Batman’s sidekick care?”

Chloe slumped down and her lips quirked up in a grin. Well, even if she never
did figure out who Conner was, she’d just gotten the best affirmation *ever*
that Clark was Superman.

Although other than that, she thought with a frown, Robin thought she knew a
heck of a lot more than she actually did. Which was flattering, if not precisely
helpful.

Tapping her fingers on the desk, Chloe pondered what she *did* know:

One, Conner Kent was somehow related to, or at least associated with, Clark
Kent, and therefore Superman.

Two, Robin (and probably Batman) was not pleased with her investigating Conner.

Three, somehow Conner led back to either Lex or Lionel Luthor. Or–she thought
with annoyance–Robin could be using her known animosity to the Luthors to lead
her off the track. But she didn’t have so many leads that she could ignore this
one.

Four, they had some kind of tap on the Gotham Post computers and possibly on her
laptop. Chloe glared at the computer and tried to decide if she was confident
enough in her hacking skills to try and find that tap and defeat it. No, she
wasn’t. But were they watching her, or had she just stumbled into something they
were already doing?

Five, the Kents were in on this, whatever it was. After all, she’d always been
certain they knew about Clark’s weird abilities. And it was highly unlikely
Clark’s lousy lying could convince his parents they’d somehow forgotten a
nephew.

Six, someone had wiped all records about Conner before four years ago, so that
period was presumably the important time. What happened to Conner four years
ago?

Logging off, Chloe swept out of the Gotham Post’s offices. Whatever the answers
were, she wasn’t going to find them sitting around Gotham, not unless she wanted
to sit on rooftops and hope that Batman would show up and tell her.

She only hoped the airline was logging her frequent flyer miles correctly.

* * * * *

Following people in Gotham was easy, since the city was abundantly supplied with
crowds, alleys, shadows, and other accoutrements of the stalker. Chloe frowned
as she squinted into the standard-issue Smallville bright sunlight. Obviously
this was going to require some additional effort.

Slumped down in her rented car a few hours later, Chloe kept her eyes glued to
the binoculars and hoped nobody she knew would drive down this road, the most
deserted one she could find overlooking the side of town nearest the Kent’s
farm. It could have been worse, she supposed–she could be trying this in a town
she *didn’t* know like the back of her hand.

And well, if they went somewhere too far away, she could always run into them
accidentally. Smallville was, after all, a small town.

Chloe sighed in boredom as Clark and Conner strolled down Main Street, peering
idly in windows. “C’mon, Clark, don’t you have something better to do?” she
muttered. “Leave the kid alone for a while.”

Clark and Conner both stopped short in front of a window and looked at each
other. Frowning, Chloe refocused the binoculars. Surely they weren’t that
impressed by Mrs. Jenning’s yarn store? Clark said something to Conner, who
shook his head, then both of them oh-so-casually looked around.

Although she was amused to note that Conner had just as little ability to be
subtle as Clark, she was less amused when both of them seemed to stare directly
at her for an instant. She dropped the binoculars in shock. What the–?

Picking them up again, she took a minute to find them. They were once again
strolling idly. As she watched, she chewed on her bottom lip. Did Superman have
super hearing and super vision? And even if he did, why had Conner reacted at
exactly the same moment? Was he also a…whatever Clark was?

It certainly would explain a lot. Except for where he came from and why he
didn’t seem to exist more than four years ago. And what the hell the Luthors had
to do with it all.

Chloe leaned her chin on the car door and continued to watch.

In fact, she watched for two hours, until they finally went back to the farm.
Once they got started on chores, she decided that Jonathan would keep them busy
for a while and it was probably safe for her to take a break.

Driving back to the motel room she’d rented in Wichita (in the hopes she could
keep her presence secret for at least a little while), Chloe tried to decide if
she was wasting her time or not. Well, she still had a week of vacation time
left, so she could waste at least another day while she tried to come up with a
new plan.

Pulling into the motel parking lot, Chloe noticed a white van pulling in behind
her. That made her nervous, so she started to turn the car around, but before
she could, the van rammed the back of her car. Head flung forward onto the
steering wheel, she saw stars and heard voices. She tried to get out of the car,
but before she could, someone else was opening the car door. That was the last
thing she remembered.

* * * * *

The light was entirely too bright, Chloe thought as she struggled to open her
eyes. And why was someone operating a jackhammer so close to her head? And while
she was at it, she really didn’t appreciate the dead skunk in her mouth.

Chloe groaned as she recognized the telltale signs of being kidnapped and
drugged. It got tiring. Who was it this time? She tossed a mental coin. “I
didn’t think your lot went in for kidnapping, Robin.”

In the confused silence, she concentrated on focusing her eyes, and the blur
resolved into…a man who was definitely not a costumed superhero.

“Never mind,” she said faintly as the hulking man with the scar on his left
cheek twirled a gun around his forefinger.

“Don’t go anywhere,” he said with an annoying smirk, disappearing through a door
to her right.

Tugging on her arms, she found that, as she’d suspected, she was tied to a chair
with heavyweight rope. She wasn’t going anywhere any time soon.

Well, if it wasn’t Robin and Tall, Dark, and Scary who’d kidnapped her…She
looked around the room, which appeared to be an unused laboratory, with stone
counters and fume hoods and things. Now really, who did she know that had lots
of laboratory space in which to imprison reporters?

When the door opened again, Chloe wasn’t surprised to see Lionel Luthor in all
his hairy glory. Irked, certainly. Disgusted, definitely.

“Oh, it’s you,” she said with all the casual disdain she could muster.

His laugh was just as slimy as she remembered and she had to repress a shudder
as he walked closer. “It’s nice to see you, Miss Sullivan. It’s been some time
since we last met.”

“Puh-leaze.” She rolled her eyes. “Do you fool anyone with that act anymore?”

He stood just off to the side, so that to watch him she’d have to crane her
neck. “You might be surprised what people are willing to believe in order to get
what they want.”

She refused to turn, staring straight ahead at an empty counter, trying to count
the gray specks in the black stone. “No, I don’t think I’d be surprised.”

“Well, I *was* surprised–not pleasantly, I might add–to find that once again
you were snooping in my business.” Out of the corner of her eye, she could see
his head tilt as he studied her. “Others advised me to leave you to it, but I’ve
found that to be an ineffective method of dealing with you. I prefer to
be…more direct.”

She couldn’t help one nervous swallow. Whatever she’d stumbled onto, it was big.
If only she could think of a way to convince him to tell her more. “I don’t know
what you’re talking about.”

“Come now,” he said with another smooth laugh, “we know each other far too well
for such dissembling, don’t we? Why don’t you just tell me how you found out?”

Chloe shook her head in disbelief. It was flattering to know that everyone had
such a high opinion of her brains, but they could pick a nicer way to show it.
“Go fuck yourself.”

His greasy smile disappeared, replaced by a look of cold calculation. “You’ll
tell me what you know soon enough. And when I have my son back…” He glared at
her and stalked out of the room.

Chloe blinked. His son? How did Lex come into this? Her head spun and not just
from whatever had knocked her out. This was getting weirder by the moment.

The scarred man who’d waved a gun at her came back, accompanied by another
anonymous thug. Without speaking, they untied her and dragged her down the
corridor. She mentally sent a prayer to whoever might be listening as they threw
her into the room. The thud of the door was followed by the click of a solenoid.

She sat down hard on her butt, blinked twice, and looked up at the doorway. A
grin slid across her face. “No no, don’t throw me in the briar patch with the
electronic door,” she whispered as she limped over to examine the keypad on the
inside of the doorway. Of course, it had millions of combinations, so there was
no chance she’d find the right one by accident.

They’d taken her purse, but hadn’t searched her pockets. Chloe grinned as she
pulled a slim piece of metal out of her back pocket. About a year before, she’d
taken to carrying this easily missed item, in the expectation that at some point
in her journalistic career it might come in handy. Apparently today was that
day.

She wedged a fingernail into an almost invisible crack in the surface and opened
the tiny container of screwdrivers and other such useful implements. Attacking
the panel with glee, Chloe made a mental note to send a thank you note to
everyone she’d pestered into teaching her electronics, lockpicking, and other
such useful arts.

Half an hour later, she wasn’t quite as amused, but she was making progress. She
just hoped she could finish before they came back to get her, because she
doubted she’d enjoy whatever came next. Lionel obviously thought she knew
something and somehow it seemed unlikely he’d developed anything approaching
scruples in recent years.

Mumbling under her breath to herself, she grinned as she finally figured it out.
She manipulated several wires and listened in satisfaction as the door unlocked
itself. Flinging the door open, she was surprised to see two figures standing in
front of her, nearly identical mouths hanging open. One was in spandex with a
cape, the other in jeans and a t-shirt. Both had an S-symbol on their chests.

Chloe skidded to a halt before running Clark and Conner down. “What took you so
long? Never mind, let’s go catch Lionel. I owe him.”

Clark recovered first from his surprise. “No, we’ve done what we came here to
do. Let’s go.”

“Thank you for coming to save me, but I–”

“We didn’t come here to save you,” Conner said. “We didn’t even know you were
here until a few minutes ago.” He grabbed her arm and tugged her down the
hallway.

She tried to resist, but found he was substantially stronger than he looked. No
big surprise there. “But Lionel is–”

The lights flickered as alarms started to blare. Clark and Conner both winced in
pain, then looked at each other. An instant later, Clark picked Chloe up before
she could argue.

Her mouth opened then closed as she suddenly found that all three of them were
floating in midair, then flying down the corridor at high speed. “Whoo hoo!” she
yelled as the walls flashed by.

Conner pulled slightly ahead and Chloe covered her head as he smashed into a
door and shards and splinters flew around them.

* * * * *

The air rushing by was so loud that even if she’d yelled questions at Clark, she
doubted she could understand the answers, so she had to settle for hanging on
and hoping they’d land soon.

In answer to her hopes, Clark and Conner settled down in an abandoned field that
had once grown corn. Clark put Chloe carefully on the ground and stepped back,
arms crossed, obviously waiting for the explosion.

Chloe brushed debris from their escape off her arms. “Well? What do you have to
say for yourself, Superman? And you? Who are you…Superboy?”

Clark covered his mouth to hide a grin as Conner choked. “Just call me Kon. With
a K. That really *is* what my friends call me.”

“Hello, Kon. Nice to see you again. Now I assume I’m going to get my
explanation?”

Clark and Kon both looked up at the sky and Chloe snorted. “Oh, don’t think
you’re going to get out of this so easi–” She ground to a halt as a small sleek
airplane slid to the ground not far from them.

A hatch opened and several figures appeared, jumping or flying out. A blonde
teen in bike shorts and a halter-top flew straight up and hovered above the
plane, obviously keeping watch. A yellow blur sped around a few times before
slowing to become a red-haired teen in spandex. He sped close to them long
enough to wave cheerily and shout “Hi, Kon!” and dashed off again. Another young
woman, this one with a bow and quiver on her back, jumped out, waved, and leaned
against the plane’s side. Wisps of smoke floated by her shoulder and Chloe
decided she didn’t really want to know about that.

The last figure leaped out with catlike grace, cape billowing, and Chloe wasn’t
surprised to see Robin striding toward them. His face was as expressionless and
calm as it had been in Gotham, but as soon as he was close enough, Kon grabbed
him, pulling him into a rough hug. Chloe saw his face change for just an instant
and her annoyance with Robin faded when she saw that moment of concern and fear
for a friend.

Robin stepped back, all business again. Without a word, he looked at Chloe.

“Hi!” she said cheerfully.

He looked at Clark and Kon. The former shrugged. “We couldn’t leave her with
Lionel, T–Robin.”

Robin looked like he was tempted to disagree. “No, I suppose not.”

Chloe couldn’t wait any longer. “Why did Lionel call you his son?” she said to
Kon.

He flinched and Clark and Robin both leaned forward as if to shield him.

“Oh my god!” she said as the pieces fell into place. “You’re a clone! That’s why
I couldn’t find anything more than a few years old. Lionel cloned you from
Clark.”

Kon stared at the ground. “Not exactly.”

“Ew. Don’t tell me he cloned you from Clark and himself. ‘Cause that’s just
gross.”

Clark looked a little green about the gills at the idea as well. “No, not
himself.”

“Lex?” Chloe’s breath caught in her throat. “He used Lex’s DNA, didn’t he? He
was making himself a new son with superpowers.”

None of them answered, which was answer enough.

Chloe thought about it. “That’s awful. That…explains a lot.”

“Yeah,” Clark said. “I figured you’d make that connection eventually.”

“It *was* about four years ago, wasn’t it?”

Clark nodded, his round face unusually haggard. “When Lex found out…well, it
was the final blow to his sanity. Somehow he decided it was *my* fault.”

“Clark–” She put a hand on his arm.

“I know it wasn’t my fault, but I’ve tried so hard…”

“Superman, you know Lex Luthor can’t be trusted,” Robin said, arms crossed and
looking as if it wasn’t the first time he’d had to say that. Beside him, Kon
stared up at the sky, and Robin turned, his voice rough. “I didn’t say that
*you* couldn’t be trusted.”

“But he’s kind of my dad, isn’t he? I have half his genes.”

Chloe snorted. “If your other half is Clark’s genes, I don’t think you have
anything to worry about. He’s the biggest do-gooder for miles around, with or
without superpowers. If you even got half of that, I think you’ll be okay.”

Kon brightened. “You think?”

She nodded firmly. “I know.” She brushed hair back out of her face as the
speeding teen in spandex took a few turns around their group, stirring up the
air.

Robin turned to face him. “And we’re all with you.” Chloe couldn’t see Robin’s
face, but Kon’s was full of emotion.

She and Clark stepped away, the latter coughing politely to cover their retreat.

“So…Superman.” She eyed the costume, glad to get a chance to see it up close.
It was interesting. “Does Lois know?”

Clark flushed. “She found out recently.”

“Hmm.”

“Chloe, I wanted to tell you. I did.” For a few moments, he looked so young
again, just like the teenager she remembered tripping over his own feet whenever
Lana looked in his direction.

“It’s okay, Clark. I knew.”

“You knew?” He actually looked surprised, the dork.

“Yes, Clark. I’ve known you were different in some way since 8th grade, and I’ve
known you were Superman since…” she stopped to count on her fingers, “since
the third time Superman saved Lois Lane from certain death.”

“Oh.”

“You’ve *got* to tell me what Lois said.”

“Later,” Robin said from behind her. “We need to get back to business. What’s
the status of your mission?”

Kon looked much happier. “Success, man. We’ve got everything you need to know to
build a…” Looking at Chloe, he grinned. “A Superboy. Or at least repair one.”

“And?”

Clark nodded. “Luthercorp are going to find that every speck of data on the two
of us has disappeared from their computers. Your virus worked. You?”

“With Kid Flash’s help, Arrowette and I wiped the laptop and home computer of
every scientist involved. Wonder Girl and Secret tell me the government’s data
is gone as well.” There was the tiniest tilt in the corner of Robin’s mouth.
“The only thing left is their memories. And I think we’ve given them enough to
think about for a while.”

Clark and Kon looked satisfied and Chloe frowned. “Who’s handling the PR
aspect?”

They all looked at her like she’d spoken Greek. “What?” Clark asked.

“C’mon,” Chloe said, “you’re a reporter, Clark. In a few hours, Lionel Luthor is
going to be on the phone with the owners of every major newspaper and TV station
in the country, in between phone calls to the vast number of Senators and
Representatives he owns. You’re going to have the entire US military after you
and that’s just to start with.”

She put her hands on her hips and glared. “You need to fight back or the image
of every hero will be tarnished.”

“If he could do that, then why hasn’t he done it before?” Kon asked.

“Because you’ve never hit him this badly before.” She paused, uncertain whether
to go on, but they needed to understand. “I saw his face when he thought I could
tell him where to find you, Kon. This is different. He…he won’t stop.”

Kon’s mouth tightened and Chloe could see individual muscles in his arms clench
and release.

Clark nodded reluctantly. “She’s right. I remember how he was with Lex. This is
going to be worse than we thought.”

“I won’t go back,” Kon said. Were his eyes glowing red?

“No, you won’t,” Clark said.

The man and the boy faced each other silently and Kon slowly relaxed. “Okay,” he
said. “What now?”

“Now,” Chloe said with relish, “we fight back *my* way. We take this as public
as we can.” She eyed clean-cut Kon, with the all-American face and the spit curl
on his forehead. “Oh yeah, Lionel’s toast. He just doesn’t know it yet.”

Robin stared at her. “Can you take down Lionel Luthor?”

“I’ve been waiting for an opportunity for years,” she said. “And with this
ammunition, we can do it.”

“She’ll have our backing,” Clark said, and Robin nodded slowly.

“Whose backing?” Chloe asked.

“Heroes like Superman, Batman, and the Flash. We’re the newly formed Justice
League of America,” Clark–no, Superman said.

“Justice League of America?” she said, nodding. “That’s catchy. I can work with
that.”

–end–

Final author’s note: I know the show had a Bart Allen/Flash character, but that
made absolutely no sense, so in my own mind, that Flash was *obviously* Wally
West and my speedster cameo is the true Bart Allen. So there. And on a separate
note, I first encountered the idea of the JLA needing a PR person in
MyklarCure’s JLAin’t series, available on ff.net and the Cat Tales site.
Granted, I’ve gone about it entirely differently, but I suspect I was influenced
by that storyline.

by Mara

Summary: “Batman, I presume?” Chloe asked.

“Are you sure this is okay?” Kon asked, tugging at the hem of his S-shield t-
shirt.

“Absolutely,” Clark said with the telltale cheek twitch that meant he was lying
through his teeth.

“We are *so* dead,” Kon said to Chloe with a firm nod.

She tried to sound just as confident. “I’m sure it won’t be that bad.”

“Yes, it will. I mean, you haven’t met Batman. You have no idea how secretive he
is.” Kon stuck his hands in the pocket of his jeans.

“That’s the point,” Clark said as he herded them toward a table and chairs in
the middle of the echoing cave. “Batman needs to meet Chloe and talk to her
about her plan, instead of dismissing it all as ridiculous.”

Chloe tried to look calm and collected instead of staring around her like a
tourist, but what in the *world* was that giant penny? And that ominous
rustling…just how many bats *were* there in this cave? She looked at Clark.
“Did you even ask Robin before bringing us here?”

“Um…” Clark all-but-shuffled his feet.

“I’ll take that as a no,” she said with a sigh. “Well, if you get me killed,
your mother will give you a stern talking-to.”

Clark winced. “Oh, I didn’t think of that. Maybe we should–”

“What are you doing here?” a deep voice grated from out of the shadows.

All three of them jumped, looking guilty, but Chloe recovered first, laying her
file folders down on the table with care and crossing her arms as she peered
into the gloom. “Batman, I presume?”

He stepped out of the shadows, well, loomed really, she thought, trying not to
lean back as he walked toward her. “Ms. Sullivan,” he said. Somehow when he said
her name it didn’t make her skin crawl the way it did when Lionel said it, and
yet, she still wanted to hide under a desk somewhere.

But Chloe was made of strong stuff and she straightened her spine and gave the
dark figure a bright smile. “Good morning!” she chirped in the absolute most
obnoxious tone she could manage.

Batman turned to look at Clark, who lifted his chin and set his jaw, clearly in
Superman mode. Chloe watched with interest–she’d always wondered what happened
when an irresistible force met an immovable object.

“Dead,” Kon whispered in her ear.

“Not yet,” Robin whispered in her other ear.

Chloe and Kon both jumped, turning to glare at Robin, whose lips twitched in
what Chloe had learned was a smile for him. She shook her head at him, showing
her annoyance, then went back to watching the confrontation.

Batman tried to loom over Superman, but gave it up when it became clear that
Superman wasn’t impressed. “Why is she here?” Batman asked, sounding as if he
wasn’t used to asking questions twice.

“She’s here because, as a charter member of the Justice League, you need to meet
with her concerning the ongoing plans.”

“And why have you brought the clone?” The worst part of the question, Chloe
felt, was the completely impersonal way Batman said the word. She swallowed,
unable to look at Kon.

Superman stepped forward until his chest nearly touched Batman’s. “Don’t *ever*
call him that again.”

Chloe wanted to cheer, but she couldn’t move. Batman let the statement sit for a
long moment, then turned, his cape swishing dramatically behind him. Although
Chloe couldn’t see his eyes, she felt him studying her, and felt when his gaze
moved on. Kon stiffened beside her and she glanced at him, eyes widening when
she saw Robin had moved to Kon’s other side, where he looked ready for a fight.

“Robin,” Batman said, the simple word holding meanings Chloe could only guess
at.

“Batman,” Robin replied, not moving an inch from Kon’s side.

Everyone else held their breath, then Batman inclined his head very slightly and
strode to the table, pulling out a chair and seating himself.

Chloe shrugged and sat down opposite him while everyone else was still boggling.
“Shall we?” she asked.

Robin gave her a small nod as he and Kon sat down next to her. Chloe was
interested to see that he’d aligned himself with Kon and not Batman. She hoped
that wouldn’t have repercussions later, but presumably Robin could take care of
himself.

Clark hovered for a moment and Chloe had a flashback to school lunchrooms, back
in the days when Clark couldn’t decide whether to sit next to her, or sit on the
other side so he could see Lana better. She coughed into her fist.

Clark finally sat next to Batman. “Well,” he said, “as you know, Lionel Luthor
has been conducting…experiments that–”

“I’m familiar with his activities,” Batman said with a hint of impatience. “If
I’d known, I–”

“Batman.”

Everyone turned to look at Robin. Chloe blinked and wondered if it would look
bad if she slid further away. Suddenly, even having Kon between her and Robin
didn’t seem enough. She hadn’t realized he could look *that* scary without even
*doing* anything.

Batman and Robin engaged in yet another staring match and Chloe relaxed enough
to roll her eyes. “Good grief,” she said before she’d thought about it. Everyone
looked at *her* and she tried to appear calm. “Hey, we can do this all day if
you like. I’m sure Kon would be thrilled to watch everyone fight over his
existence, but that’s really not what we came for. And I’m sure you must have
better things to do. He’s here, he’s Superboy, get used to it.”

To her deep shock, Batman’s lips twitched just like Robin’s did when he was
almost smiling. “Agreed.”

Chloe wasn’t entirely sure which parts he’d agreed to, but she decided not to
push her luck by asking. “Then let’s get down to business,” she said.

Batman steepled his fingers and watched her over the top of them. “What do you
intend to do?” he asked.

Chloe didn’t even pause to think about it. “I intend to make that goddamn
bastard Lionel Luthor sorry he was ever born.”

There was a pause, everyone holding their breath, and Batman nodded. “A worthy
goal.”

Chloe grinned at him. “I thought so too.”

–end–

by Mara

Summary: Working for the Justice League can lead you to some pretty strange
places. Chloe should know better than to get complacent.

Fine, it’s a series. Happy now? ::glares at everyone:: This one is
totally Reanne’s fault. ::glares specifically at her:: I didn’t originally
intend…well, you’ll see. Let’s just say she gave the characters some ideas and
then they insisted. Hmmph. Big thanks to Ozchick for helping the story flow,
forcing Batman to make more sense, and giving Alfred a chance to speak. Thanks
to Amarin Rose for the line edit and clearing up some muddy prose.

CONTINUITY: This is a sequel to “Family Life” and “Family Ties”, alternate reality futurefics which ignore all Smallville canon later than the middle ofseason 4 and borrow some older bits of comic canon.

Chloe noticed she was tapping her fingers on the conference table. Again. She
tried to stop, but decided that it was a definite improvement over what she
*wanted* to do: leap across the table and strangle Batman.

Not that she’d have any success, but the temptation to try was fairly strong.

(The Flash was tapping his fingers too, but he *always* did. The man just
couldn’t stay still.)

“Batman,” Chloe said with exaggerated patience, “I appreciate your concerns, but
the reason I’m *here* is to promote the League. And nail Lionel Luthor to the
wall, of course, but if you want to make certain that the world media doesn’t
create the image of the League, a certain amount of publicity is necessary.”

He scowled in a way that she was sure made criminals quake in their boots. “I do
not speak in public.”

“Fine,” she said, slapping her notebook on the table and leaning back. “That’s
fine. There are plenty of Leaguers who give a good interview.” She waved her
hand at Wonder Woman and Superman. “If you’d *listen* to me, you’d realize that
wasn’t what I was asking. In any case, I’d be insane if I put you, Mr. Tall,
Dark, and Gloomy, on television to promote this organization!”

Superman and the Flash had sudden coughing fits and Chloe realized what she’d
said. Wonder Woman, obviously tired of listening to them bicker, broke in.
“Perhaps we could move on.”

“No,” Chloe said, fed up. “I think we need to deal with this now.”

Superman looked at Wonder Woman. “I wish J’onn were here,” he whispered.

“I heard that!” Chloe said, glaring at them.

Batman matched her glare, causing Superman to subside and Wonder Woman to shake
her head as if to say she wasn’t responsible for either of them. The Flash
stared up at the ceiling with a look that said ‘I’m not here, teacher, so don’t
call on me.’

“If you don’t want me here, why don’t you say so?” Chloe asked, turning to
Batman.

His expression didn’t change. “I didn’t say that,” he replied.

“You’re certainly acting that way, arguing with every decision I make,
questioning my judgement.”

“If I thought you didn’t belong here, the Watchtower transporters wouldn’t work
for you.” Batman stood up from the table. “I don’t believe you need me at this
meeting. Send me a summary.”

With a swirl of the cape, he strode out the door, leaving Chloe, hand raised to
berate him, mouth hanging open. She snapped her mouth closed, dropped her hand,
and glared at the closed door. “Damn it,” she said fervently, “I *hate* when he
does that.”

Chloe turned and found the three heroes smiling broadly. “What?”

“Congratulations,” Wonder Woman said.

Superman nodded. “Good for you.”

Chloe took a step backward. “Okay…scaring me now.”

The Flash patted her back and returned to his seat in an instant. “What they
mean,” he said, “is that when Batman tells you to send a summary, it means he
trusts you to get it right.”

“Oh.” Chloe blinked. “Okay. Let’s get on with the meeting, then.”

“Of course,” Superman added, “that doesn’t mean he won’t return your summary
with a dozen amendments.”

“Great,” Chloe said as she sat down. “Something to look forward to.”

* * * * *

Chloe whistled under her breath as she sorted through the gigantic pile of
newspaper clippings on her desk in the Watchtower. She’d faced down the scariest
thing to come out of Gotham (at least since the last Gotham Knights away game)
and survived. Okay, it wasn’t a decisive victory, but it felt like a victory
nonetheless.

Hearing footsteps, she looked up, grinning at Kon as he came through the door to
the small office she’d taken over. “Hey,” she said. “This is so cool! If I need
a specific newspaper or magazine anywhere in the world, I just call up the Flash
or Kid Flash and send them off to get it. A few minutes later, I’m clipping
articles from Bild-Zeitung or Le Figaro.”

“That’s great,” he said, his voice flat and tired.

Chloe leaned back in her chair and looked at him. “Come on in and close the
door,” she said. “Tell your Aunty Chloe what’s wrong.”

He blinked. “Aunt Martha is enough. Do I need an Aunt Chloe too?”

“Never mind,” she said. “What’s wrong?”

Kon sat down in the other chair in the room and fidgeted. “It’s nothing wrong,
exactly. It’s just that I need a break.”

“Mmm.” She nodded. “I’ve been pushing you pretty hard, I know.”

“And I know why, but I feel like if one more reporter asks what it’s like to be
a clone… Anyway, Rob knows a place I can hide out from the media for a while.”

Chloe smirked at him. “And with you in the spotlight so much, you two haven’t
had any time together, have you?”

Kon went white. “Uh…there’s nothing…I mean we…”

“Whoa!” She waved a hand. “Relax! What’s wrong? Batman getting on your case for
dating his sidekick?”

Kon just stared at her, jaw hanging slightly open.

“Oh geez, don’t tell me he doesn’t know.” She shook her head. “Some great
detective *he* is. Puh-leaze.”

“We didn’t think anybody knew.”

“How could I *not* know?” She sniffed in disdain for lesser intellects. “I’ve
seen the way he looks at you and you look at him. Robin has shown actual
*emotions*.”

“Oh.” Kon blinked and looked flattered.

“Well,” she said with a shrug, “if you don’t want them to know, I’m certainly
not going to talk. Although…that’d be useful. Think of it: We’d have HRC
working with us in an instant. I’ve heard they’re not that great at advocacy,
though.” She took a look at his pale face. “I’m kidding, Kon. I’d never use you
guys that way. Well, not unless you wanted me to.”

“No!”

“Okay, I got the message.” She grinned at him and he sat back in the chair,
looking less like he was about to have a heart attack. “So, you need a break,
huh?”

“Yeah.” He was more relaxed, but still vibrating enough to look like Kid Flash.

She studied him for a moment, noting the twitch in his fingers and bloodshot
eyes and nodded. “Yeah, I think you do. Okay, you and Robin take off. Just tell
me that you’ve at least told Clark and the Kents that you’re disappearing.
‘Cause if I get Jonathan Kent threatening me for letting you get kidnapped,
you’re gonna hear about it.” She leaned forward and gave him a hard look.

He held up a hand. “I’m going to tell them right now. Promise.” He stood.

His hand was on the door when she had to ask. “They really don’t know?”

“Hmm?”

“Batman and Superman really don’t know that you and Robin are–”

“Dating!” Kon said hastily.

“Dating,” she agreed. “They have no idea?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Huh.” She thought about it for a second and waved him away. “Go take a
vacation. Clark and I will go to the reception in Gotham tonight without you.”

“Reception?”

“Some Wayne Foundation thing. Lot of movers and shakers. Lot of money. It’s not
all about you anymore, remember?”

* * * * *

The room was warm and a little stuffy, but Chloe barely noticed through her glee
at the evening’s successes.

It was 11:30 and she’d made arrangements to speak to several philanthropists–
fundraising was a sort of unofficial part of her job these days–and had found
public opinion in these circles to be *very* favorable toward her charges and
*very* unfavorable toward Lionel Luthor. The latter was due more to his status
as embarrassment to the highest social stratum than any great moral outrage at
his actions, but she’d take what she could get.

As always, she’d been asked a hundred idiotic questions about the Justice League
which were almost balanced by a few dozen insightful ones. Although Chloe
decided she had some sympathy for Kon, because if one more giggling socialite
asked her if Superman was married…well, she wouldn’t be responsible for her
actions.

Chloe hid a grin in a glass of champagne as she remembered the last time someone
had asked that question of Lois. Fortunately, her impetuous cousin had gained
some maturity over the years, or else that particular idiot would have found
herself dangling off the balcony by an oh-so-fashionable stiletto heel.

Okay, who else did she need to speak to?

“Ms. Sullivan?” a tenor voice said behind her.

She turned, professional smile already in place and hand outstretched. “Ye–”
Her eyes widened.

“Ms. Sullivan, it’s nice to meet you at last,” Bruce Wayne said, kissing her
hand. “So you’re the woman who’s been shaking up high finance.”

“I’ve been trying, Mr. Wayne.” She took her hand back when he looked like he was
going to hold onto it.

Wayne gestured to the CEO of Wayne Enterprises, standing a few feet away.
“Lucius tells me that you’ve been very successful. Something about Luthorcorp’s
shareholders?”

“They’ve ousted Lionel Luthor,” she said with satisfaction. “We’re working on
criminal charges next.”

“How fascinating.”

He didn’t sound fascinated, Chloe thought, he sounded slightly bored, but
something about him made her nervous. Weird. She bared her teeth at him. “It is
fascinating. And important. What Lionel Luthor has done *cannot* be accepted in
a civilized world.”

Raising an eyebrow, he grinned at her. “I didn’t say it should.”

Chloe flushed slightly when she realized how vehement she’d sounded. “My
apologies. I take my work seriously.”

“No harm done.” He paused, glancing at the band, which had just started a waltz.
“In fact, would you care to dance?”

“Ah…” Damn, why did this man make her so flustered? “I’d love to, Mr. Wayne.”

“Please, call me Bruce.” He tilted his head toward her.

“Then I’m Chloe.”

When he put one arm around her, leading her onto the floor, Chloe noticed that
he was incredibly muscular. And he was an equally impressive dancer, making her
feel clumsy by comparison. Thank goodness Martha had suggested ballroom dancing
lessons as soon as everyone realized the social circles the League would expose
her to, or else she’d be giving an even poorer showing.

“How did you get a job working for the Justice League?” Bruce asked, as he
nodded at Gotham’s mayor in passing.

She’d been asked that question a hundred times recently. “I met Superman and
Superboy while they were running from Lionel Luthor and I couldn’t resist the
challenge,” she said with a grin.

“That’s exactly what you told the Daily Planet and the Washington Post.” He
looked down at her and she became overly conscious of where their bodies were
touching.

“It’s what I tell everyone. It has the benefit of being true,” she said with
more candor than she’d intended.

“But it’s not the whole story.” Bruce’s tone was much less lighthearted than his
expression as he smiled in passing at two movie stars she vaguely recognized.

“Why do you care, Mr. Wayne?”

“It’s Bruce, remember?”

“I’ll call you Bruce when you stop frightening me.” She stared up at him, not
even bothering to watch where they were going.

His misstep was almost imperceptible, and he looked at her. “I don’t think
there’s much that frightens you, Ms. Sullivan.”

Something about the way he said her name… “Oh fuck. Fuckity fuck.” She sounded
like an idiot, but didn’t care. “You…you…”

“Not here, please.” His smile hadn’t changed, but in his voice there was an
echo, a hint of rustling wings.

“Why now? I mean, why let me figure it out right now? Because I can tell you I
wouldn’t have guessed in a million years.” A bubble of hysteria floated through
her stomach as she imagined him saying something like ‘And now I’ll have to kill
you.’

“I hadn’t decided until a few moments ago. And once I’d made up my mind, there
seemed little reason to wait.”

She concentrated on a particularly difficult turn. “You bastard. You just wanted
to watch me freak out in the middle of an important party.”

“That was an interesting side benefit, naturally.” His lips twitched in a
nearly-Batman smile. “You do ‘freak out’ in a most attractive fashion.”

“That was a joke. B-Bruce Wayne makes jokes.” Eyes wide, she wondered if this
was some kind of pizza-induced nightmare.

“Oh, I’m very funny,” he said. “Just ask anyone here.”

The song came to an end and they drifted to a halt. Chloe found herself in an
unaccustomed situation: totally speechless.

Bruce, Batman, whoever the hell he was, seemed to find this very amusing. “It
was lovely to dance with you, Chloe,” he said, as everyone nearby tried to
listen in. “And I would like very much to discuss…your work…again sometime.
Perhaps dinner tomorrow night if you’ll be in Gotham?”

“That would be very nice,” she croaked out.

“I’ll have someone pick you up, then. Is 6:00 too early?” He held her hand to
his lips for a long moment.

“That’s fine.”

“I’m sorry we can’t dance again, but I really must mingle with some of my other
guests.” He kissed her hand again and walked away.

Chloe was trying to decide if fainting was too dramatic an option when a strong
hand she recognized grabbed her shoulder. She whirled around. “You! You knew!
I’m going to kill you!” she hissed, trying to keep a pleasant expression on her
face.

But Clark wasn’t really listening. “You’re having dinner with Bruce Wayne?” His
eyes looked like they might fall out of his head.

Her smile felt even more fake. “Is that a problem?” she asked, adding in a
whisper only Superman could hear: “Afraid he might take me to his *cave*?”

Chloe had always wanted to see someone ‘poleaxed’. Which was nice, because
that’s exactly what Clark looked like. She dragged him to sit in a couple of
chairs off in a corner, ignoring the curious looks from crowd. Fortunately,
she’d found that being the PR person for the Justice League left a lot of room
for eccentricity.

“Clark, come back.” She waved a hand in front of his face.

Clark focused on her. “He…he…”

“He let me figure it out.”

“He *never* does that. I accidentally looked,” Clark coughed (which she assumed
meant he’d used x-ray vision), “and I thought he was going to kill me. He
threatened to, in fact.”

“Huh.” Chloe sat back and considered this piece of information. “Is there anyone
he’s told voluntarily?”

Clark thought about it for a moment. “Not that I know of. Well, Dick, but that
doesn’t count because he was his ward. And also he was the first, uh,” Clark
looked around, “kid. You know.”

“Dick?” Chloe now knew what it felt like to *be* poleaxed. “You don’t mean that
devastatingly good-looking young man I met earlier, he’s, he was…”

Clark stood up, pulling her with him. “Let’s go. We’ve got a *lot* to talk
about.”

* * * * *

In the hustle and bustle of Clark telling her all about Robin and Nightwing and
Batman, and typing up her notes from the evening (the not-deeply-classified
bits), Chloe didn’t get to bed until almost 3:30 am. She didn’t wake until the
sunlight moved all the way across her bed and stabbed her in the eyes.

“Urk,” she said, pulling the covers over her head. Taking a few deep breaths,
she pulled the covers down again slowly. Then she remembered: “I’m having dinner
with Batman tonight. Holy shit.”

Closing her eyes, Chloe let the memories from the evening wash over her. Clark
had managed to answer quite a few questions, but there were some big ones
outstanding. Why had Bruce let her figure out he was Batman? And why the hell
had he asked her to come for dinner?

Was he planning to work? If so, he could have easily met her on the Watchtower.

Chloe wasn’t particularly vain, but she spared a moment to wonder what in the
world one wore to dinner with Batman. Or Bruce Wayne. Damn it, of all the times
to have allowed Robin and Superboy to vanish, this had to be the most
inconvenient.

After allowing herself to dither for a while, Chloe buckled down and made
herself get some work done. Her home office wasn’t even as well equipped as the
large closet she’d taken over on the Watchtower, but somehow she felt more
comfortable on her own territory.

Time moved along so slowly, Chloe began to wonder if she’d been caught in some
hithertofore unknown time dilation effect. The Batman Effect. Maybe
supervillains had the same feeling before going into battle?

Maybe she’d lost her mind.

Chloe made herself another cup of coffee, then poured it down the drain,
deciding she was jittery enough.

Eventually she gave up on work and went to stare at her closet. The red
strapless was much too fancy. Black, tea length, of course not. Pink was
too…demure. She needed something that told him she wasn’t going to let him
steamroller her. She needed to look professional. Sexy, not frumpy. But not like
she’d dressed up too much for him.

Chloe sighed and started flipping past outfits.

After half an hour, she’d eliminated all her dresses and was down to the suits.
And another twenty minutes later, she settled on a khaki and white Tahari suit
with a cutaway jacket that hugged her curves. It was the first nice suit she’d
bought after the Justice League hired her full-time, and wearing it made her
feel powerful.

She was just running a brush through her hair when her doorbell rang. One deep
breath and she opened the door to find an older man in a suit. “Ms. Sullivan?”
he asked, inclining his head slightly.

“Yes. That’s me. And you are?”

“Alfred Pennyworth,” he said, gesturing politely for her to follow him. “If
you’re ready…”

She wondered how much this man knew about his employer. “I’m ready.”

As they walked down the steps out of the apartment building, Chloe gave into the
curiosity she’d never been able to tame. “You’re Mr. Wayne’s chauffeur?”

“Chauffeur and butler. Among other things.” His smile invited her to join in,
and she did.

Chloe took another deep breath. Okay. She could do this.

She faltered a bit at the sight of the fancy car, but Alfred chivvied her into
it with ease and she settled back in the luxurious leather seat and decided to
enjoy the ride.

Before she knew it, the car was pulling past enormous metal gates and driving up
a winding driveway toward the house. And what a house it *was*. She’d almost
describe it as a castle.

Before she could stop gawking at the mansion, Alfred was opening the car door
for her. He escorted her to the front door and opened it. “Please, follow me,”
he said. “Master Bruce will be along in a few moments. May I get you something
to drink?”

“Ah, a glass of wine. White, if you have it. Thank you.” Chloe nearly smacked
her forehead. She didn’t really like wine that much, but somehow it seemed the
thing to ask for.

Alfred smiled and led her a short way down the hall to what she supposed people
called a sitting room. Or something like that. It looked, well, it looked
exactly the way she’d expected a wealthy man’s sitting room to look, even to the
painting on the wall of some illustrious ancestors.

Although, she supposed that if you were going to hide the fact you were a
superhero, it might be best if your house looked the way people expected it to.

Chloe took a deep breath and strolled around the room casually, looking at the
artwork. She had a suspicion that just the pair of candlesticks on the mantel
were worth more than the sum total of her possessions.

“Chloe, thank you for coming,” Bruce said from the doorway.

This time, she didn’t jump, even though she hadn’t heard him until that moment.
“Good evening, Mr. Wayne,” she said as she turned. “You didn’t exactly leave me
an opening to refuse.”

His lips twisted a bit ruefully. “Mmm, I suppose I didn’t. But I did wish to
speak to you. And not on the clock, so to speak.”

She smiled politely. “There’s this newfangled invention called a telephone.
Perhaps you’ve heard of it?”

Strolling into the room, he shook his head. “You’re determined to make this
difficult, aren’t you? And you can call me Bruce, you know.”

“No, I really don’t think I can.”

Alfred entered the room with her wine and a glass of something sparkling for
Bruce. He shot Bruce a look she couldn’t translate.

“Why *did* you want to speak to me?” she asked as she took her wine.

Bruce looked at Alfred for a second. “It has been…impressed upon me that
perhaps I wasn’t entirely fair to you. Or fair in my initial assessment of you
and your worth to this enterprise.”

Chloe covered her shock with a sip of wine. “Really?”

Alfred handed the glass to Bruce. “Master Timothy was *most* insistent before he
left,” he said over his shoulder on his way out the door.

“Mast–oh. Robin.” Chloe looked at Bruce, who was massaging one temple, his
expression pained. She felt a moment of sympathy for him, as she tried to
imagine dealing with Robin (who was apparently named Timothy) and Clark and
Alfred and…

She sat down on the leather couch and crossed her legs. “I’m here. So talk.”

Bruce sat down and took a sip of his drink. “You are a most unusual woman.”

Chloe nodded. “I’m not impressed or intimidated by money. One nice side effect
of early exposure to the Luthors.”

“That’s right, you knew the Luthors from Smallville.”

“Yes.” She stopped before she said anything else.

His look said that he knew all the things she hadn’t said and didn’t blame her.
Chloe looked down into her glass and swirled the wine around.

“I wanted to apologize,” Bruce said. He sounded like it wasn’t something he said
very often. And like there was something else he wasn’t saying.

“Really?” she said politely. He wasn’t getting off that easily.

Bruce looked at her for a long moment, and she waited. “I…am in a difficult
position in the League,” he said, looking her in the eye. “I’m not, as you might
have guessed by now, a meta. Sometimes this causes me to…overcompensate.”

“Act like an asshole, you mean,” she said helpfully, recrossing her legs.

Bruce blinked. “Yes, I suppose so.”

She smiled brightly at him.

“And that,” he shook his head, “is why I have found your presence helpful.
Because you, unlike everyone except Robin, tell the complete truth. You don’t
hesitate to point out my flaws.”

“And you’ve intimidated the rest of the League into submission.” Chloe took a
sip of her wine.

His lips twitched. “I wouldn’t say that I intimidate Diana, but yes, I have
found that debate is rather stifled. And on the whole I prefer it that way. If
they had their way, we’d debate everything.”

“Now you know how *I* feel,” Chloe said.

Bruce stopped and thought about it, expression serious. “I take your point.
Perhaps we can call a truce. I…don’t want you to leave.”

She looked at him, sitting quietly a few feet away, waiting for her to make up
her mind. She took her time, looking him over, trying to judge his sincerity,
trying to see both Batman and Bruce Wayne in one body.

The muscles, the build, definitely Batman. The classic good looks, the blue
eyes, the chiseled cheekbones, definitely Bruce Wayne, playboy. The attitude? It
was hard to tell. He could be an utter ass or perfectly charming.

“So…Robin and Alfred are really in charge around here, huh?” she said finally.

One corner of his mouth turned up in a smile she thought was neither Bruce Wayne
nor Batman. “Absolutely.”

“Okay.” She nodded. “Apology accepted. You said something about dinner, Bruce?”

His smile widened when she used his first name, and he held out a hand as they
stood up. “Of course. Alfred has made a marvelous rosemary chicken with potatoes
and asparagus.”

She took his hand, shaking her head. “My favorites. You *are* quite the stalker,
aren’t you?”

Bruce tucked her arm into his. “Occasionally it’s a useful skill.”

“I’m sure it is.” Chloe grinned up at him, feeling oddly at ease. “Do you
practice it on women often?”

“Ah…”

* * * * *

A week later, Kon flung open the door to Chloe’s office and bounded in. “Dude,
it was gr–” He stopped in his tracks, jaw dropping.

Chloe sighed. Bruce scowled.

“Uh, look, I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.” Kon tripped over his own feet
as he hopped backward. “I’ll just, uh, go away and next time I promise I’ll
knock and talk to you later!”

The door slammed shut behind him.

Chloe looked at Bruce. Bruce looked at her.

“What’s so disturbing about drinking coffee together?” she asked plaintively,
picking up her ‘World’s Finest’ mug. “He does it all the time with Robin!”

Bruce stared at her for a second. “I think that’s the point.”

“Hmm?” She took a sip, then executed a perfect spit-take back into the mug.
“Oh!” she said, dabbing her chin with a tissue.

“Indeed.”

“You knew they…he thinks we…”

“Aren’t we?”

“Oh.” Chloe looked at the man in the kevlar suit and shrugged. “I suppose we
are. When were you going to tell me?”

His eyebrows shot up over the rim of his own mug. “I rather thought you’d
noticed.”

“I’ve been busy.” She put her cup carefully down on the desk, making sure she
wouldn’t accidentally spill it later. “Hey!” She glared at him. “How long have
you known that Kon and Tim were dating?”

Bruce slowly shook his head. “Have I mentioned that you’re an unusual woman?”

* * * * *

That night, Alfred picked her up for an early dinner before Bruce went on
patrol.

“I could have driven myself, Alfred,” she said. “You didn’t need to take the
time.”

“I wished to have a word with you,” he said, glancing at her in the rear view
mirror.

“Oh.” Her heart sped up. It was the talk with Dad and she wasn’t even prepared.
“Um, about what?”

Alfred took his time, steering the elegant car through a construction zone at
precisely the speed limit. “Master Bruce,” he said finally, “is a…difficult
man.”

“You can say that again,” she muttered. She could see his eyebrows rise. “Sorry,
it’s just–”

“No need to apologize, Miss Chloe. I understand.” He visibly paused, considering
his words. “He has troubled relationships with the few people that he allows in
his life. Master Richard, Master Timothy, Miss Barbara, none is wholly
uncomplicated.”

Chloe stared out the window, watching the city disappear. “I’m not surprised to
hear that nothing is easy where Bruce is concerned. And I won’t lie, I’m not
sure I’m doing the right thing by getting involved with him. It was, well, it
was a bit of a surprise.”

She saw Alfred smile at that.

“Can this work?” Chloe asked. “I’m a blue collar troublemaker from Smallville,
Kansas. He’s Bruce Wayne. He’s Batman. We’re both argumentative and stubborn.
Are we crazy to even try?”

“I do not know,” he said. “But I believe that you are a good influence on him.
He has spoken of you rather often. In fact, he has done so quite frequently
since the day he met you. In promoting the cause of Conner Kent and the Justice
League, I believe you also promoted Chloe Sullivan quite successfully.”

She leaned back in her seat and considered this fact. It did make certain things
clearer. “I see.”

“Yes, I rather think you do.” Alfred was quiet for a few minutes. “I have long
since determined that nothing can steer Master Bruce from the path he has
chosen. All that I can do is clear that path as best I can. But for the first
time in many years, I have hope that he might have a reason to make it down that
path alive.”

Chloe’s breath caught in her throat. “Oh. I’ll do my best.”

Alfred smiled at her. “I don’t believe you could do anything else.”

–end–

by Mara

Summary: Chloe Sullivan would like it known that the entire incident was Not Her Fault.

Notes: This is, however, *entirely* the fault of the gang at Heatherly’s fondue party, who egged me on. You’re just lucky I didn’t write the one about Spider-Man, okay?

Sometimes Chloe wondered if it was even worth it having such good ideas, when the men in her life could always screw them up. And not just in a small way, either.

For instance, there was the time she got the bright idea that Lex needed a pet. Really, there was scientific research to back her up and everything.

“Man,” Clark said two weeks later, leaning his head back against the beatup couch in her apartment, “what a day I’ve had.”

“Hmm?” she said, not looking up from her computer, where she was typing up her story for the Daily Planet about the World Bank’s latest meeting.

“So I got this call from the Justice League, right? And I figured it had to be one of Wally’s jokes, but when I got there, there really *was* a giant mutant gerbil the size of a hippo.”

Chloe stopped typing. In fact, she stopped breathing for a long moment. “Gerbil?” she asked, her voice cracking.

“Yeah. And would you believe that it spit Kryptonite pellets?” Clark looked at her. “Hey, why are you banging your head on the keyboard?”