A Jest of God
By Rach L.
rach_jiwon@hotmail.com
Category: Angst. Action/Adventure. Chloe-centric.
Rating: PG-13.
Spoiler: Up to X-Rays.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Yadda.
Summary: Lex drops more breadcrumbs, and this time Chloe pursues the trail.
Note: This story takes place after X-Rays and ignores the next episodes that would follow, which also means it will screw up loads of canon elements and head off to the AU department. And no, it's certainly not my fault that I get the urges to take the painfully-intelligent-second-fiddle characters and nurse them into heroes, as Sandra colorfully put it. ;)
***
'God's mercy on reluctant jesters. God's grace on fools. God's pity on God.'
--Margaret Lawrence, 'A Jest of God'
***
-Part 1-
It was one of those moments--those that never came often, and were never really welcomed when they did--when she realized that her friend was growing impossibly taller than she was.
Maybe not impossible. A few inches, maybe? But her awkward and clumsy, caring and charming friend who always seemed to be just *there*, was definitely growing taller. And in one of the rare moments when he was standing straight, not slouched, she *felt* him growing, like the Jack's Magic Bean Tree...or something.
And at one unguarded moment, she blurted out without thinking, "Does Martha water you every night or something? How did you get to be taller than me?"
Clark, ever so clueless, shrugged. "I'm still growing. And,"--he gave her that particular smile of his that she personally enjoyed very much--"I've always been taller than you, Chloe, admit it."
"No, you haven't," she pointed out, her voice too edgy for this kind of topic. "I remember you being *especially* shorter than me."
He naturally slowed down to match her pace, his face still lit with that smile. "That was *years* ago, Chloe. A different story."
"Okay, first, no. Four to five years can't be that long ago. And second," she reached up and smacked him on the head.
"Ow. What was that for?"
"For being so smug about it." She turned away with mock-anger, which brought out another smile from his face. And she, running along, hid a smile.
Okay, so maybe four years *was* a long time. It had been when girls were taller than the boys of the same age, when friends meant sharing every little thing including half-sucked lollipops, and looking at her best friend staring at another girl only meant another teasing blackmail material, not the sudden, needling heartache. A lifetime ago. She didn't miss it all that much, yet somehow, she did.
"Hey, Clark--" she whirled around to catch his gaze, maybe to invite him over for dinner, maybe not. She didn't know what she was thinking exactly, but she never got to find out, because she found him staring beyond her shoulders at something else entirely. She knew exactly what--or, more precisely, who--the object of his intense interest was.
It was disappointing, of course it was, but not at all unexpected. She was so used to the needling pains by now that life probably wouldn't be as interesting without them. At least she was optimistic. And smart. She knew how to hide behind the only-friend mask.
See, she had everything figured out. The way she saw it, everyone had a crush in their high school years, and it was destined to end in one way or the other. After graduation, all of this bothersome emotion would be forgotten, just a piece of memory she would be sure to leave behind in Smallville. She could just imagine how awkward it would be if they ever bothered to show up at a class reunion. But by then, Clark would be another piece of fond memory, and hey, she might even be writing to him. Really, nothing that the power of denial couldn't fix.
Meanwhile, he kept growing and growing, until she was sure she couldn't reach him any more. She suspected that every time he became an inch taller, he grew miles apart from her.
And she found out why in the worst way possible.
***
She was pretty certain that the infamous Kent charm had to be the only reason she was heading off to Clark's to study trigonometry together, because just thinking of the hours of trigonometry with Pete and Clark always made her shudder, and there was no way in hell she could have said yes to it--but she had. She was beginning to think that maybe Clark knew *exactly* what that smile of his could do to her. Either way, she was the helpless victim. She sighed, tugged a renegade streak of her hair behind her ear, and hurried her steps.
When she finally reached the Kent Farm, however, she found that she wasn't the only one trying to enter the house. She frowned at the long lurking shadow of a man. With a dark Armani suit and perfect designer shoes, the man didn't look like he belonged to anywhere in Kansas, but strangely, he looked almost familiar.
It was probably very unwise, but she called out aloud, "Hey, who are you?"
If the man was surprised by her presence, he didn't show it. "Lex," he closed the distance between them with a few quick steps, and offered his hand, "Lex Luthor."
Lex Luthor? Oooh. "Ah, the infamous prodigal son of the trillionaire," Chloe commented, inwardly comparing him to the pictures she had seen. The photos obviously didn't do the justice to his intense eyes and charming demeanor. Make that *very* charming, she thought as she shook his offered hand. She had never been a big believer of charming guys. Dumb jocks and naive farm boys she could handle, but charming ones were somewhat out of her league, hence making them very dangerous. "And may I ask what you are doing lurking about Clark's?"
Lex Luthor's eyebrow arched up at her comment, seemingly not at all offended. But for some reason, her spider reporter sense was tingling--there was something simmering underneath his casual attitude and friendly expressions. "Mr. Kent doesn't like me very much," he said, shrugging.
"Well, can't say that surprises me," she said cautiously. Mr. Kent not liking a Luthor, now *that* was understandable. She herself had some reservations regarding this rich son of a Gun. Sure, there were probably thousands of stories she could rake out from this man, and hell, she wanted stories. She *lived* for stories. Yet, it was impossible not to think that this man had to have some sort of agenda. Clark obviously thought of Lex as a friend, and Clark still had naive bits about him; Chloe liked to think that she didn't.
Luthor was giving her a smooth smile that she guessed would work on every woman with eyes. "I see you have me at disadvantage. I know nothing about you, but you seem to know everything about me."
"Chloe Sullivan," she tried not to sound *too* guarded. "I'm--"
"Clark's friend, the editor of the Torch. Your reputation precedes you." When she looked at him suspiciously, he quickly added, "Clark's mentioned you."
"He has?" Down, down, girl. Don't perk up. She vainly tried to keep her expression neutral. "Well, don't believe everything he says. You know how he is."
"Do I indeed," an odd, incomprehensible glint shone in his eyes, but it passed quickly before she could analyze it, "But no worries. I've heard only good things."
"Somehow I doubt that very much."
He smiled again, and this time, it felt more genuine. "Actually, I've been following your work for some time. Your theory on the effect of the meteor shower is quite fascinating. And I'd have to say you're leading an excellent investigation."
There was interest in his voice, and all the sincerity of the world. Oh yeah. This *was* a dangerous person. And even knowing all that, a compliment from the Big-Shot Lex Luthor over her stories was enough to bring up a small proud grin on her face. "Well, Mr. Luthor, flattery can get you everywhere."
"Lex."
"Lex," she corrected, not liking the fact that she was consciously thinking of the implications of getting to know Lex Luthor (whose father practically owned Daily Planet, minds you) on the first name basis.
"I was especially interested in the idea that the meteor shower might have caused certain mutations in Smallville. It's an extremely intriguing idea, don't you think?"
She almost snorted. "Well, my, *I* think so, too. I wrote those articles. I should know."
There was a short laughter from him. "Right, well, Chloe. Oh, may I call you Chloe?"--of course he didn't wait for her reply--"I have another mystery for you to solve."
"Yeah?" Okay, this was beginning to get disturbing. Was Lex *Luthor* giving her tips now? "Shoot."
"A man recklessly drove his Porsche off a bridge at 60 miles an hour. Why is it that he's still alive and kicking, having a conversation with a wonderful lady such as yourself?"
"Gee, I don't know. I would think that it's because somebody hauled your wet butt out of the river. I say you should thank him with your life."
"You know," he drew an index finger, the smile on his face seemingly sweet and innocent, "I can actually tell when someone doesn't like me very much."
"Nah," she answered, giving him equally sweet smile. "I like you already. I'm just teeny-tiny pissed that you almost killed my best friend in the world, that's all. No biggie."
The sunny smile on his face didn't even faze. "Ah, but that's what I wanted to talk to you about. Our mutually esteemed friend, Clark."
She was instantly alarmed. He was no longer even *trying* to hide his manipulative streak. She didn't like this. "What about him?"
"I ran Clark over the bridge with me that day."
"Well, no, you didn't. If you did, he would be--"
"Dead," he caught her word, "Exactly."
A chill went down her spine. "You're lying."
"Why would I?"
That was a very good question. "Or delusional. Which, in my opinion, should be very plausible, seeing that you were crazy enough to drive at 60 miles an hour in *Smallville* in the first place. Or maybe your head was damaged seriously--another definite possibility, if you ask me."
Luthor smiled, but it wasn't a pleasant one. "I know what I saw."
She wasn't going to hear this. She wasn't. She wasn't even going to think about what he was suggesting. "Whatever you say, *Lex*." She tried to walk away from him and into Clark's house, but was stopped when he ominously pulled out a large yellow envelope toward her direction.
She didn't want to, but her hand was already taking the envelope. She eyed it with apprehension. "What is this?"
"Something that might provide you with an answer."
Suddenly the envelope felt a ton heavier. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Why, I thought you are interested in finding the truth."
She said nothing, and Luthor, his smile still *irritatingly* intact, began to walk away.
She closed her eyes and tried to control her breathing. Before he reached his car, she finally managed to say, "Weren't you going to see Clark?"
He was wearing a faint grin as he told her, "Nah. I think I'll leave two friends to catch up." Three seconds later, he was gone.
That son of a bitch.
She didn't go to Clark's. She called Martha and asked her to relay the message that she wasn't feeling well, that she couldn't make it to their study session. When her mom said Clark and Pete called her twice, Chloe didn't answer.
She hid the envelope, untouched. That night, she didn't sleep at all.
***
TBC
By Rach L.
rach_jiwon@hotmail.com
Category: Angst. Action/Adventure. Chloe-centric.
Rating: PG-13.
Spoiler: Up to X-Rays.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Yadda.
Summary: Lex drops more breadcrumbs, and this time Chloe pursues the trail.
Note: This story takes place after X-Rays and ignores the next episodes that would follow, which also means it will screw up loads of canon elements and head off to the AU department. And no, it's certainly not my fault that I get the urges to take the painfully-intelligent-second-fiddle characters and nurse them into heroes, as Sandra colorfully put it. ;)
***
'God's mercy on reluctant jesters. God's grace on fools. God's pity on God.'
--Margaret Lawrence, 'A Jest of God'
***
-Part 1-
It was one of those moments--those that never came often, and were never really welcomed when they did--when she realized that her friend was growing impossibly taller than she was.
Maybe not impossible. A few inches, maybe? But her awkward and clumsy, caring and charming friend who always seemed to be just *there*, was definitely growing taller. And in one of the rare moments when he was standing straight, not slouched, she *felt* him growing, like the Jack's Magic Bean Tree...or something.
And at one unguarded moment, she blurted out without thinking, "Does Martha water you every night or something? How did you get to be taller than me?"
Clark, ever so clueless, shrugged. "I'm still growing. And,"--he gave her that particular smile of his that she personally enjoyed very much--"I've always been taller than you, Chloe, admit it."
"No, you haven't," she pointed out, her voice too edgy for this kind of topic. "I remember you being *especially* shorter than me."
He naturally slowed down to match her pace, his face still lit with that smile. "That was *years* ago, Chloe. A different story."
"Okay, first, no. Four to five years can't be that long ago. And second," she reached up and smacked him on the head.
"Ow. What was that for?"
"For being so smug about it." She turned away with mock-anger, which brought out another smile from his face. And she, running along, hid a smile.
Okay, so maybe four years *was* a long time. It had been when girls were taller than the boys of the same age, when friends meant sharing every little thing including half-sucked lollipops, and looking at her best friend staring at another girl only meant another teasing blackmail material, not the sudden, needling heartache. A lifetime ago. She didn't miss it all that much, yet somehow, she did.
"Hey, Clark--" she whirled around to catch his gaze, maybe to invite him over for dinner, maybe not. She didn't know what she was thinking exactly, but she never got to find out, because she found him staring beyond her shoulders at something else entirely. She knew exactly what--or, more precisely, who--the object of his intense interest was.
It was disappointing, of course it was, but not at all unexpected. She was so used to the needling pains by now that life probably wouldn't be as interesting without them. At least she was optimistic. And smart. She knew how to hide behind the only-friend mask.
See, she had everything figured out. The way she saw it, everyone had a crush in their high school years, and it was destined to end in one way or the other. After graduation, all of this bothersome emotion would be forgotten, just a piece of memory she would be sure to leave behind in Smallville. She could just imagine how awkward it would be if they ever bothered to show up at a class reunion. But by then, Clark would be another piece of fond memory, and hey, she might even be writing to him. Really, nothing that the power of denial couldn't fix.
Meanwhile, he kept growing and growing, until she was sure she couldn't reach him any more. She suspected that every time he became an inch taller, he grew miles apart from her.
And she found out why in the worst way possible.
***
She was pretty certain that the infamous Kent charm had to be the only reason she was heading off to Clark's to study trigonometry together, because just thinking of the hours of trigonometry with Pete and Clark always made her shudder, and there was no way in hell she could have said yes to it--but she had. She was beginning to think that maybe Clark knew *exactly* what that smile of his could do to her. Either way, she was the helpless victim. She sighed, tugged a renegade streak of her hair behind her ear, and hurried her steps.
When she finally reached the Kent Farm, however, she found that she wasn't the only one trying to enter the house. She frowned at the long lurking shadow of a man. With a dark Armani suit and perfect designer shoes, the man didn't look like he belonged to anywhere in Kansas, but strangely, he looked almost familiar.
It was probably very unwise, but she called out aloud, "Hey, who are you?"
If the man was surprised by her presence, he didn't show it. "Lex," he closed the distance between them with a few quick steps, and offered his hand, "Lex Luthor."
Lex Luthor? Oooh. "Ah, the infamous prodigal son of the trillionaire," Chloe commented, inwardly comparing him to the pictures she had seen. The photos obviously didn't do the justice to his intense eyes and charming demeanor. Make that *very* charming, she thought as she shook his offered hand. She had never been a big believer of charming guys. Dumb jocks and naive farm boys she could handle, but charming ones were somewhat out of her league, hence making them very dangerous. "And may I ask what you are doing lurking about Clark's?"
Lex Luthor's eyebrow arched up at her comment, seemingly not at all offended. But for some reason, her spider reporter sense was tingling--there was something simmering underneath his casual attitude and friendly expressions. "Mr. Kent doesn't like me very much," he said, shrugging.
"Well, can't say that surprises me," she said cautiously. Mr. Kent not liking a Luthor, now *that* was understandable. She herself had some reservations regarding this rich son of a Gun. Sure, there were probably thousands of stories she could rake out from this man, and hell, she wanted stories. She *lived* for stories. Yet, it was impossible not to think that this man had to have some sort of agenda. Clark obviously thought of Lex as a friend, and Clark still had naive bits about him; Chloe liked to think that she didn't.
Luthor was giving her a smooth smile that she guessed would work on every woman with eyes. "I see you have me at disadvantage. I know nothing about you, but you seem to know everything about me."
"Chloe Sullivan," she tried not to sound *too* guarded. "I'm--"
"Clark's friend, the editor of the Torch. Your reputation precedes you." When she looked at him suspiciously, he quickly added, "Clark's mentioned you."
"He has?" Down, down, girl. Don't perk up. She vainly tried to keep her expression neutral. "Well, don't believe everything he says. You know how he is."
"Do I indeed," an odd, incomprehensible glint shone in his eyes, but it passed quickly before she could analyze it, "But no worries. I've heard only good things."
"Somehow I doubt that very much."
He smiled again, and this time, it felt more genuine. "Actually, I've been following your work for some time. Your theory on the effect of the meteor shower is quite fascinating. And I'd have to say you're leading an excellent investigation."
There was interest in his voice, and all the sincerity of the world. Oh yeah. This *was* a dangerous person. And even knowing all that, a compliment from the Big-Shot Lex Luthor over her stories was enough to bring up a small proud grin on her face. "Well, Mr. Luthor, flattery can get you everywhere."
"Lex."
"Lex," she corrected, not liking the fact that she was consciously thinking of the implications of getting to know Lex Luthor (whose father practically owned Daily Planet, minds you) on the first name basis.
"I was especially interested in the idea that the meteor shower might have caused certain mutations in Smallville. It's an extremely intriguing idea, don't you think?"
She almost snorted. "Well, my, *I* think so, too. I wrote those articles. I should know."
There was a short laughter from him. "Right, well, Chloe. Oh, may I call you Chloe?"--of course he didn't wait for her reply--"I have another mystery for you to solve."
"Yeah?" Okay, this was beginning to get disturbing. Was Lex *Luthor* giving her tips now? "Shoot."
"A man recklessly drove his Porsche off a bridge at 60 miles an hour. Why is it that he's still alive and kicking, having a conversation with a wonderful lady such as yourself?"
"Gee, I don't know. I would think that it's because somebody hauled your wet butt out of the river. I say you should thank him with your life."
"You know," he drew an index finger, the smile on his face seemingly sweet and innocent, "I can actually tell when someone doesn't like me very much."
"Nah," she answered, giving him equally sweet smile. "I like you already. I'm just teeny-tiny pissed that you almost killed my best friend in the world, that's all. No biggie."
The sunny smile on his face didn't even faze. "Ah, but that's what I wanted to talk to you about. Our mutually esteemed friend, Clark."
She was instantly alarmed. He was no longer even *trying* to hide his manipulative streak. She didn't like this. "What about him?"
"I ran Clark over the bridge with me that day."
"Well, no, you didn't. If you did, he would be--"
"Dead," he caught her word, "Exactly."
A chill went down her spine. "You're lying."
"Why would I?"
That was a very good question. "Or delusional. Which, in my opinion, should be very plausible, seeing that you were crazy enough to drive at 60 miles an hour in *Smallville* in the first place. Or maybe your head was damaged seriously--another definite possibility, if you ask me."
Luthor smiled, but it wasn't a pleasant one. "I know what I saw."
She wasn't going to hear this. She wasn't. She wasn't even going to think about what he was suggesting. "Whatever you say, *Lex*." She tried to walk away from him and into Clark's house, but was stopped when he ominously pulled out a large yellow envelope toward her direction.
She didn't want to, but her hand was already taking the envelope. She eyed it with apprehension. "What is this?"
"Something that might provide you with an answer."
Suddenly the envelope felt a ton heavier. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Why, I thought you are interested in finding the truth."
She said nothing, and Luthor, his smile still *irritatingly* intact, began to walk away.
She closed her eyes and tried to control her breathing. Before he reached his car, she finally managed to say, "Weren't you going to see Clark?"
He was wearing a faint grin as he told her, "Nah. I think I'll leave two friends to catch up." Three seconds later, he was gone.
That son of a bitch.
She didn't go to Clark's. She called Martha and asked her to relay the message that she wasn't feeling well, that she couldn't make it to their study session. When her mom said Clark and Pete called her twice, Chloe didn't answer.
She hid the envelope, untouched. That night, she didn't sleep at all.
***
TBC
