Title: Escaping Oblivion
Category: Smallville/Batman (Crossover)
Rating: T
Genre: Angst/Romance
Pairing: Chloe/Bruce
Prompt: Oblivion by ohocheese
Word Count: 1,022
Summary: She'd been overlooked most of her life... and then he walked into it.

Escaping Oblivion
1/1

She'd been overlooked most of her life. She had to reach high for people to notice her, wave her hand and nearly scream, "Look at me!" Even with her best friend, she came second best. Standing by her cousin, she was always covered by her shadow. She was just the sidekick; she came in handy when needed, but otherwise, she could be picked up and discarded just so. She didn't want to blame them, they had a lot on their plates as it was, but would it kill them to look at her and express how much of an asset she was? Just once she'd rather be the beauty than the brains. The one other's envied rather than pitied. The Kara instead of the Chloe, the Lois instead of the Chloe, the Land instead of the poor, sad Chloe. But she was Chloe and she loved who she was, it just so happened that few others felt the same.

And then she left Smallville for good; she left Metropolis in the rearview mirror and she refused to look back. She started fresh in a new city, a darker and grimmer city. She turned on her recorder, asked the 'wrong' questions no matter how many times they told her she was getting herself in way over her head. She worked her fingers raw at her laptop, making a name for herself as a reporter that never took the bribe, never bit her tongue, never looked the other way. And she was finally really seen, all too clearly through sniper scopes and high-tech binoculars. The death threats hit an all time high. But did she cower or hide or run? Never.

This wasn't the acclaim she'd been searching for; it wasn't the attention she wanted. The League was behind her, the Daily Planet a distant dream, and now she had her Pulitzer, three in fact, and she wasn't losing her integrity to get them. She wasn't writing obits while Lois and Clark ran off for the real story. She was the best investigative reporter out there and it felt good. But there was something missing; someone, more specifically.

When she came home at night, there was no man there to let her know that he saw her better than any hitman or reader. He saw her for her and he loved her entirely. There was nobody to hold, nobody to cry on the shoulder of, nobody to tell her that she'd be okay, that they were proud of her. With all of her success and attention, she was still alone, still overlooked in the place she wanted filled most.

And then he walked into her life.

"How many death threats is that?" came a deep voice from in front of her.

Attention intently on her computer, she lifted a brow without looking up. "I lost count somewhere around one hundred and twelve." She shrugged. "Not everyone can be a fan."

He snorted. "That's one way to look at it."

"And the other is that I'm stirring up things that should just be left alone to further the decay of Gotham," she replied in a monotone voice as if she'd heard it a few too many times. "What's a visit to the hospital once a week compared to a better life for an entire city?"

"Are you always so altruistic?"

She smiled slightly. "Maybe you caught me on a good day."

"Your good days have lasted four years it would seem."

Her lips pursed in an amused half-smile "Longer than anyone expected, I'm sure."

"What are you working on now? A mysterious plot to take down Gotham's elite?"

She chuckled. "Actually... I'm looking for a good recipe to make myself dinner tonight. I'm fed up with take-out and I'm planning to get out of the office before midnight, for once."

"Italian is always good," he suggested.

She shook her head. "The closest I'll get to Italian is a frozen pizza."

"Then why don't you let me take you out?"

That got her attention. Her eyes turned from the computer and rose to stare at the man in front of her. Well, that hadn't been anywhere near who she expected. "Bruce Wayne, in my office... Where's the gossip columnist when you want to boost sales?"

His mouth curved. "Dinner, Miss Sullivan? I'd be honored if you joined me."

She lifted a brow, leaning back in her chair. "Do you often take out strange and dangerous reporters?"

"This would be a first," he admitted, his expression amused.

There were butterflies in her stomach that she purposely told to stop moving. This was not how she'd seen her evening going. Half cooked something or other that didn't look nearly as good as the recipe assured her was on her list for dinner. She'd try watching TV or reading a book, but she'd end up back at her laptop, her trusted companion through these brutal years. But nowhere in her night, or any night to be honest, had she seen a dinner date with Bruce Wayne? Playboy billionaire with a charming grin that made her knees weak even as she sat completely at ease. And he really wasn't the kind of man she should be considering; his reputation spoke volumes of just where dinner would lead and end.

But... Four years was a long time and her bed was sadly entirely too empty and cold.

"First huh?" She rose from her seat. "Who am I to disappoint?" She took her jacket, only mildly surprised when he helped her put it on, his hands brushing warmly against her neck. As she turned, catching his eyes, she lost her breath; so dark and intense and directed at her... They left the building and she didn't bother trying to banish the excited clenching of her stomach and a woozy feeling in her mind; he was worth it.

It began there, but never ended. Maybe she hadn't faded into oblivion as she'd thought. Someone still had eyes open and directed right at her and over the years, she'd know that he always saw her, just what she'd always wanted and needed and Bruce Wayne had provided it.