Title: Never Mind
Author: Louise R
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not mine. Would be so cool if they were though!
Distribution: Ask me! I'm nice!
Feedback: That would be lovely!
A/N: This assumes (sob!) that Chloe died at the end of the season. It's from Lana's POV and it's a tiny bit AU, because it assumes Chloe and Lex were together in S3. I haven't mentioned Lex's memory loss because, ironically, I forgot about that while I was writing it!
Never Mind
She would have found it laughably ironic that it was all about her, in the end.
Having stood on the periphery of everyone's vision for her entire life, when an explosion rocked the sky and took her with it in a blaze of light, we all turned to look at Chloe. And found, despite our burning vision that we couldn't look away.
She would never have dreamed that she could be at the centre of the story, not just reporting on it, and we were all guilty for that. And it was that guilt that tainted us all, weighed us down, for not noticing her light until it was too late, until all it did was show up all our flaws in harsh clarity.
Of course it was Lex and Clark who were most affected, never mind that it was Pete that howled at her grave side. Never mind that I kept forgetting that I couldn't call her with my latest disaster until I was half way through dialling. Never mind that I'd seen this dress that would look gorgeous on her. Never mind that Pete overheard someone criticise the Torch and got suspended for his reaction. Never mind the rest of us that mourned her, they claimed the responsibility and in so doing, claimed the memory of Chloe.
Lex Luthor and Superman. A legendary tale of broken trust, breathtaking heroism and hubris. And there's this dead girl called Chloe, apparently she started it.
Clark and I don't speak now. To this day Clark believes I couldn't handle losing his undivided attention to Chloe's death. The truth is I will never forgive him for stealing the spotlight of all of our grief. For claiming her for himself in death simply because he couldn't spare her a second glance in life. Just another tragic episode in Clark Kent's heroic life. Never mind that I miss her like a punch in the stomach each time I think of her. Never mind that in life and death she should have been known as more than just his cross to bear. Sanctimonious bastard. Chloe would have been proud to know I had inherited her clarity of vision.
And then there was Lex Luthor. Who stood unflinching at her funeral and who never mentioned her name. Who quietly removed her favourite coffee mug from the Torch office and rarely drank from anything else after that. Who bought her house to knock it down and who begged me with his eyes to look on in silence when I caught him stealing photos of her from my apartment above the Talon. Who made love to me once, trembling and shaking and crying with his eyes squeezed shut because I'd walked into his office that day smelling of Chloe's shampoo.
After that the local store never sold that brand of shampoo again. And I discovered the Talon had been signed over to me. I understood that I was never to see Lex again. And a peculiar part of me was pleased that by then I had fallen in love with him. It seemed fitting. I wanted to say look Chloe, I could never compete with you in the eyes of the people that truly love you. I wanted to say look how fucking worthy you are. I wanted to say for God's sake look at me, I'm a poor substitute for Chloe Sullivan. This was the thing I most wanted her to know above all else. It was what she should have always known. This was our damnation. We never let her know.
Except Lex. She'd giggled in this giddy I can't believe it way when she told me he'd kissed her. So bloody typical, she'd said, that he'd kissed her when she'd had ice cream dripping down her chin and was in the middle of a Chloe rant about the printers who'd over charged her despite the Torch coming back two days late. How bloody romantic, she'd said, but still it was kind of perfect. How she'd asked my advice about when she should call him and right in the middle of our dilemma her cell phone had started ringing. How she hadn't mentioned anything about him for a while and then slipped her hand into mine one night and whispered that Lex had thought it was best they keep it quiet, but if there was anyone in the world she would talk to, it would be me.
And the soft smiles across the room when they were out in public. And the way he would walk her to her car even when it was parked right in front of the Talon. The way he managed to politely disappear five seconds after I'd mentioned Chloe was a bit upset about her grade in math. Seeing his mechanic working on Chloe's car, and when I'd asked him about it he'd said she wouldn't let him buy her a new one so he was just replacing all the parts in her car, bit by bit, instead. In his office in the middle of all that courtroom mess, holding each other, eyes closed, foreheads touching. As if they knew their time was too preciously short.
Yet it was Clark who had stood up at the funeral and tearfully informed us there was no one in the town that could feel her loss more keenly than he. And it was Lex who had to watch as everyone shook Clark's hand and told them how sorry they were for his loss. Something in his eyes that day, I should have recognised was the hatred brewing, the outright fury shining. She was Smallville's loss. Christ she was the future's loss. She was the loss of everything. That was what Lex would've said. But if she was anyone's loss, she was his.
And it was no wonder that everything good lost its meaning, that black turned white and sweet turned sour on that day when Clark Kent finally shed a tear for Chloe Sullivan.
Never mind that she cried tears for him for far too long in her too short life and he never gave a shit. Never mind that he took her honesty and integrity and made her think it was a weakness.
Never mind that it was Lex sobbing her name into my hair. Never mind that he said he was sorry as he came inside me. Never mind that he had to wear long sleeves in the height of summer to cover the slash marks and the track marks and the blood he shed for her and the blood he tainted to try to forget her. Never mind that their daughter's middle name was going to be Lana. Never mind my tears smudging the ink in her diary. Never mind our tears at all. Never mind.
Author: Louise R
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not mine. Would be so cool if they were though!
Distribution: Ask me! I'm nice!
Feedback: That would be lovely!
A/N: This assumes (sob!) that Chloe died at the end of the season. It's from Lana's POV and it's a tiny bit AU, because it assumes Chloe and Lex were together in S3. I haven't mentioned Lex's memory loss because, ironically, I forgot about that while I was writing it!
Never Mind
She would have found it laughably ironic that it was all about her, in the end.
Having stood on the periphery of everyone's vision for her entire life, when an explosion rocked the sky and took her with it in a blaze of light, we all turned to look at Chloe. And found, despite our burning vision that we couldn't look away.
She would never have dreamed that she could be at the centre of the story, not just reporting on it, and we were all guilty for that. And it was that guilt that tainted us all, weighed us down, for not noticing her light until it was too late, until all it did was show up all our flaws in harsh clarity.
Of course it was Lex and Clark who were most affected, never mind that it was Pete that howled at her grave side. Never mind that I kept forgetting that I couldn't call her with my latest disaster until I was half way through dialling. Never mind that I'd seen this dress that would look gorgeous on her. Never mind that Pete overheard someone criticise the Torch and got suspended for his reaction. Never mind the rest of us that mourned her, they claimed the responsibility and in so doing, claimed the memory of Chloe.
Lex Luthor and Superman. A legendary tale of broken trust, breathtaking heroism and hubris. And there's this dead girl called Chloe, apparently she started it.
Clark and I don't speak now. To this day Clark believes I couldn't handle losing his undivided attention to Chloe's death. The truth is I will never forgive him for stealing the spotlight of all of our grief. For claiming her for himself in death simply because he couldn't spare her a second glance in life. Just another tragic episode in Clark Kent's heroic life. Never mind that I miss her like a punch in the stomach each time I think of her. Never mind that in life and death she should have been known as more than just his cross to bear. Sanctimonious bastard. Chloe would have been proud to know I had inherited her clarity of vision.
And then there was Lex Luthor. Who stood unflinching at her funeral and who never mentioned her name. Who quietly removed her favourite coffee mug from the Torch office and rarely drank from anything else after that. Who bought her house to knock it down and who begged me with his eyes to look on in silence when I caught him stealing photos of her from my apartment above the Talon. Who made love to me once, trembling and shaking and crying with his eyes squeezed shut because I'd walked into his office that day smelling of Chloe's shampoo.
After that the local store never sold that brand of shampoo again. And I discovered the Talon had been signed over to me. I understood that I was never to see Lex again. And a peculiar part of me was pleased that by then I had fallen in love with him. It seemed fitting. I wanted to say look Chloe, I could never compete with you in the eyes of the people that truly love you. I wanted to say look how fucking worthy you are. I wanted to say for God's sake look at me, I'm a poor substitute for Chloe Sullivan. This was the thing I most wanted her to know above all else. It was what she should have always known. This was our damnation. We never let her know.
Except Lex. She'd giggled in this giddy I can't believe it way when she told me he'd kissed her. So bloody typical, she'd said, that he'd kissed her when she'd had ice cream dripping down her chin and was in the middle of a Chloe rant about the printers who'd over charged her despite the Torch coming back two days late. How bloody romantic, she'd said, but still it was kind of perfect. How she'd asked my advice about when she should call him and right in the middle of our dilemma her cell phone had started ringing. How she hadn't mentioned anything about him for a while and then slipped her hand into mine one night and whispered that Lex had thought it was best they keep it quiet, but if there was anyone in the world she would talk to, it would be me.
And the soft smiles across the room when they were out in public. And the way he would walk her to her car even when it was parked right in front of the Talon. The way he managed to politely disappear five seconds after I'd mentioned Chloe was a bit upset about her grade in math. Seeing his mechanic working on Chloe's car, and when I'd asked him about it he'd said she wouldn't let him buy her a new one so he was just replacing all the parts in her car, bit by bit, instead. In his office in the middle of all that courtroom mess, holding each other, eyes closed, foreheads touching. As if they knew their time was too preciously short.
Yet it was Clark who had stood up at the funeral and tearfully informed us there was no one in the town that could feel her loss more keenly than he. And it was Lex who had to watch as everyone shook Clark's hand and told them how sorry they were for his loss. Something in his eyes that day, I should have recognised was the hatred brewing, the outright fury shining. She was Smallville's loss. Christ she was the future's loss. She was the loss of everything. That was what Lex would've said. But if she was anyone's loss, she was his.
And it was no wonder that everything good lost its meaning, that black turned white and sweet turned sour on that day when Clark Kent finally shed a tear for Chloe Sullivan.
Never mind that she cried tears for him for far too long in her too short life and he never gave a shit. Never mind that he took her honesty and integrity and made her think it was a weakness.
Never mind that it was Lex sobbing her name into my hair. Never mind that he said he was sorry as he came inside me. Never mind that he had to wear long sleeves in the height of summer to cover the slash marks and the track marks and the blood he shed for her and the blood he tainted to try to forget her. Never mind that their daughter's middle name was going to be Lana. Never mind my tears smudging the ink in her diary. Never mind our tears at all. Never mind.