Title: Somebody Else

Rating: M/NC-17 (explicit content later on will be on my LJ - the link's on my homepage)

Summary: Up and coming reporter Chloe Sullivan, engaged to Jimmy Olsen, sets out after a story and meets a certain billionaire who will drastically change her life. Loosely based on the 40s AU seen in Noir.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Note: In this universe, Chloe never moved to Smallville. Keep in mind also that the social conventions are different in the 40s: women are earning their place as reputable professionals filling the spots left vacant by drafted men (along with being much more open about their sexuality - long live the pin-ups!), but there are still some old-fashioned ideas bouncing around (Chloe is of course a member of the avant-garde). Story title from Vanessa Rojo's song, Somebody Else, performed by Erica Durance in Noir.


Chapter 1. It Don't Mean A Thing (If It Ain't Got That Swing)

May 3rd, 1940

Chloe was running up the stairs of the Daily Planet building - the damn elevator had jammed again, and she could barely feel her feet squashed in her high heeled stompers, let alone keep going as fast as she was in the high waist tight black skirt without breaking a sweat. So much for looking ripe as a cherry for her meeting with Perry - that is if you could call barging in his office with the latest scoop she wanted to screw her nails in a meeting.

This one was a big one, the card up her sleeve that should land her in the ranks of real reporters and no longer have to team up with Jimmy to get on the first page. She'd let Jimmy cover Senator Welsh's visit on his lonesome. Besides, this story that she desperately wanted to tail transcended scandal, blackmail and secrets; the good old senator, on his part, would blurt out some platitudes and, with Lex Luthor's increased shares in the Planetand his support for the established senator, there was a limit to how critically one could report his re-election campaign. The defender of the free press in her roared against corporate media buyouts and mergers, the narrowing focus of the new and the sheer financial irresponsibility of these titanic conglomerates - but with two attempts on her life in the last month, Jimmy had put his foot down and required that for the foreseeable future, she stick to theater reviews and dating tips in her personal column. She wanted to rip his hair out for pulling on her reins, but it was almost impossible to do so with his overly sweet demeanor, his gooey eyes and his "I don't want my finacée to have a scratch on her on the day of the wedding" excuses. So, she'd decided to do what she did best: go behind his back and keep him distracted. If she landed this story, there would be no holding her back, woman or not. With the story that had gotten her into all sorts of trouble last month in her pocket, this one would be icing on the cake. Even panting, she smiled airily as she remembered the delight in Perry's eyes when she had leaked that Ace Chemical was dumping waste into Hob's River near a strand of dream homes on St. Martin Island. Trying to hide his joy, he had mocked her for straying away from her self-imposed role of reporter for the proletariat, but she had cracked his bulldog façade with her usual witty retort: "Even ivory tower vupsters have the right to have babies with ten fingers, ten toes, and two eyeballs!" And it was good to have Perry in her corner; it was the most important puzzle piece for earning widespread respect, for making history - because she had come to think of journalists as the midwives of history.

As she finally arrived at the top of the stairs, she opened the door and stepped in the anteroom to be greeted with the welcoming dulled loud and buzzy sounds of the newsroom and a warm cloud of smoke. Catching her breath and righting her attire in a hurry, she wondered for a moment where she managed to crop up all this energy, what with being the steadfast dame everyone usually depended on. Her life had Cagney and Stanwyck written all over it with the billionaire mogul, the confused damsel (and best friend from college) who chose money over love by marrying said mogul, as well as her sensuous cousin who seemed to have fully embraced underground singing in private lounges and had recently been accumulating mysterious disappearances (making Chloe suspect an affair with one of the rich and dangerous guests of The Talon).

At that moment a reporter stormed towards the elevators and got in, furiously pressing the button to go down, and by some miracle, the machinery obeyed. Chloe barely recoiled from growling - this day was not getting off to a great start; no, she had to remain positive - she needed to be clean and fresh and bouncy to earn Perry's approval for her story. Taking quick steps forward, she passed by the first gate to get in the switchboard room where two female operators were busy plugging in and out answering calls, and Chloe took a moment to appreciate that she was one of the few women who got a job here reporting and not stammering the same phrases all day: "This is the Daily Planet… The City Room? Just a moment, I'll connect you," "Daily Planet… Sports Department? Just a moment…", etc.


A 15-year old office boy who was sitting at a table by the switchboards bending over a crossword puzzle looked up when a reporter came out of the City Room, clanging the gate behind him.

"What's a seven-letter word for -?" he asked the reporter.

"Don't ask me!" the man interrupted. "If I knew any seven-letter words, I'd be something better than a reporter!" he concluded before running to the anteroom when he caught the glimpse of an elevator going down, leaving the office boy to return to his crosswords.

"Hey Skinny," Chloe greeted the 15-year old, walking up to him.

The boy looked up and beamed at her. "Miss Sullivan! I got your coffee ready for you!" he said, his smile growing even wider. Chloe took the cup he was offering and ruffled his hair in thanks, effectively bringing the blood to his cheeks, before making her way to one of the switchboard operators.

"Hello, Maisie."

The woman looked up and offered her a warm smile: "Hey, Chloe! Planning on getting that second big story anytime soon?"

"You know it. Sooner than you think!"

"That's our girl! You show the pants in that room how far charm and brains wrapped in a skirt can carry you."

Chloe chuckled at that, her confidence and mood soaring a bit higher with their support. "Tell me, is the lord of the universe in yet?"

"He is - and in a very bad humor. I think somebody stole one of his crown jewels. Shall I announce you?"

"No, don't worry about it - I'll blow my own trumpet."


She made her way to the iron-grilled gate leading into the City Room, and started to push it open, but suddenly, one of her male co-workers that had just gotten in behind her sprang forward and opened it for her.

"Thanks, Johnny," she said, already knowing who it was because he always arrived around this time, right after her, as she turned her face upwards to look at him. He was a dashing young crime reporter striving to get his first international reporting job as a foreign correspondent in Europe to cover Hitler's rise.*

"Anything for you, sweetheart. Decided to leave the fiancé at the altar yet?"

Chloe smiled sweetly at him: "You sound like a broken record, Johnny. You're gonna have to come up with better lines if you want to whisk me away to the land of war."

"Well, I'll try and gum up the whole works to convince you to divorce him when I come back a hero, if you have made the mistake of marrying him," he answered lightly.

"Holy mackerel! So now, you're munching at the divorce plate before I'm even married. Don't you know that a divorce makes a lady lose faith in herself? It almost gives her a feeling that she wasn't wanted."'

"Nonsense. You've got the old-fashioned idea that marriage is something that lasts forever - till death do you part. Why, a marriage doesn't mean anything nowadays. It's only a few words mumbled over you by a priest or a judge. We've got something between us nothing can change."

"Is that so?" Chloe inquired, now freely giggling at his antics. "And what exactly is it that is so immovable between us? Other that your customary, albeit clumsy morning gallantry at these gates here?"

"Well, I for one acknowledge your thrill of the chase, and am willing to bring you along for the ride," he half-whispered flirtatiously, punctuating his message with a wink. "But, since you mentioned my mild-manners, should I not get some reward on their account?"

Chloe rolled her eyes good-naturedly before laying a kiss on his cheek and walking through the gates, leaving him staring after her to the sound of the office boy's whistles. As she trekked through the buzzing and long newsroom, her spirits now definitely uplifted, she greeted and was greeted by several. A delivery boy almost ran her over with his cart, profusely mumbling excuses before seeing it was his Chloeliciou, as he liked to call her, after which she reminded him half-heartedly that it was Miss Sullivan, and took the letter he gave her to pass on to Jimmy. Continuing on her way down the room, she hit the head of one of the reporters completely absorbed in his work with the telegraph, ensuing a loud protest before he recognized her as well, and she left him with a : "Live a little, Victor." Passing a middle-aged woman, almost an Edna May Oliver type, who was seated at her desk pounding out copy and smoking a cigarette, she stopped in her tracks and came to slap her on the back.

"Hello, Beatrice. How's Advice to the Lovelorn?"

"Chloe! I'll be a monkey's uncle! Why aren't you already in there harassing Perry? On second thought, maybe you should go wake up that fiancé of yours. He's face planted on his desk. You sure he hasn't been crawling at the lounges of late?"

Chloe sighted lowly, before asking: "Point of information: what does a girl do on waking her fiancé and sending him off on a story so she can drag her own weight for a more important one?"

The older woman smiled coyly: "My advice is duck and cross with your right."

Laughing, Chloe moved on and made a turn instead of continuing down to the end of the room where was located the editor's office. Finding herself in front of Jimmy's desk, she saw that he was indeed taking a nap. If only he would be less reticent of sharing the load, he would not have that problem, but it was time to give him a push and transfer some of her positive energy. She tapped loudly on the desk, right by his ear, making him jump in his seat. He looked at her half-dazed, still not fully awake.

"Sleeping on the job… What's the big idea?"

"I don't… I can't…" he mumbled, disoriented.

"I don't? I can't? What's gotten into you, Jimmy Olsen? The whole town is hopping with the senator's visit, and you're on the first train to dreamland. Now, I didn't take a job tagging along with just anyone. I picked the best, I tell you. The best. The Daily Planet's never seen a reporter like you and I plan on keeping it that way."

On that ending note to her exhorted speech, she turned around and a solid large body bumped right into her, making her spill her coffee on her blouse: Fantastic, she thought. Just when things were looking up.

"Oh! Jeez! I'm sorry. Miss Sullivan, we haven't even met yet, and already, I've ruined your blouse," the man with big squared glasses bumbled awkwardly, picking up his dropped papers and pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket. He started wiping her blouse with it, trying his best to clean the coffee off her white blouse without touching her, but he was miserably failing at both as he directly pressed his hands against her breasts. Chloe observed him amusedly with raised eyebrows, entertained by his blatant discomfort, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw that Jimmy wasn't faring any better, barely containing his laughter. "This is very… um, Clark Kent. With a "K", Kent. I'm Clark Kent," the man finished lamely, pushing the glasses up his nose.

Chloe granted him one of her warmest smiles to reassure him, finding his gentleness very enticing and his awkwardness endearing. "Chloe Sullivan, and it's quite all right."

Clark nodded imperceptibly and Chloe watched him as he slowly walked away towards his desk, where he started typing quietly, unlike his desk partner who was almost demolishing the typewriter in his zeal.

"What's with the glasses?" asked Jimmy mockingly, getting up and walking up behind her to put his hands around her waist.

She turned around to address him, and seeing the time on her wrist watch, decided there was no time for small talk or caresses. She pulled out of his arms, drew the letter she had taken for him out of the waistband of her skirt, and laid it on his desk.

"Special delivery from the mailroom." When his phone rang, and he was still standing there, entranced, looking at her as if she had just caught the moon for him by hand-delivering a letter, she decided to wake him up so she could get back on her own schedule: "So what, I'm supposed to answer your phone now, too?"

At that, Jimmy shook himself and, smiling sheepishly, sat back in his seat to pick up the telephone receiver: "Hello? Olsen here."

Satisfied, Chloe swiftly reached the main aisle and made it to the end, pausing before the frosted glass partition which separated the Editor in Chief's office from the rest of the newsroom. As she opened the door, she found Perry shaving with an electric razor and Louie, who from her knowledge, worked nighttime at the casino, holding a mirror up in front of him.

"A little more round the chin, Boss," Louie instructed.

As Chloe let the door close behind her, the sound echoed in the room, and Perry, without looking up, grunted: "What do you want?"

"Why, I'm surprised, Mr. White. That's no way to talk to your favorite up and coming reporter. She did, after all, deliver you one of the biggest stories of the year just last month. Beat the whole country to the scoop."

Perry met her eyes then, and grinned at her snarky greeting: "Hello, Sullivan!"

"Hello, Perry. Hi, Louie - how's the slot machine king?"

"Oh, I ain't doing that any more," Louie announced proudly. "I'm retired. I'm one of you fellas now - a newspaper man."

"Editorials?" she asked politely.

"Get going, Louie," Perry cut in. "I got company".

Suddenly, the door flew as Grant Gabriel, the City Editor, flushed and breathless, busted in, desperately yelling Perry's name.

"I'm busy, Grant," he said gruffly, annoyed at the distractions and lack of privacy, as he had caught on the gleam in Chloe's eyes that had him on the edge of his seat to find out what needle in a haystack she intended to pull out this time.

"Well, you're not too busy to know that the Governor hasn't signed that reprieve!"

"What?" Perry exclaimed, dropping his razor.

"And that means," Grant continued more firmly, glad to have grasped his attention, "Dr. Emil Hamilton dies tomorrow morning and makes a sucker out of us!"

"You're crazy. Where's Bernstein?"

"He's on my phone. He just called me."

"They can't do that to me!" he yelled, furiously grabbing the phone on his desk. "Give me that call on Grant's wire!" he all but barked at the operator. "Hello, Carl? Where's the Governor? What do you mean, you can't locate him? Carl, you know what this means. We're the only paper in town defending Hamilton and if he hangs tomorrow we're washed up!" he yelled in the receiver, casting an angry glance at Chloe, who had surreptitiously had a strong hand in getting him to back Hamilton, because she had sensed a set up, and thought that, with a bit more time, they could build a defence. "Find the Governor and when you find him tell him we want that reprieve!... Tell him I elected him and I can have him impeached! Sure, you can do it, Carl - I know you can. I always said you were the greatest reporter in the country and now you can prove it. Get going! Attaboy!" he finished, hanging up, and turned to Grant. "The greatest reporter in the country!" he repeated sarcastically. "First I gotta tell him what news to get! Gotta tell him how to get it! Then I gotta write it for him afterward! Now if you were a decent City Editor -"

"Don't blame me," Grant interrupted his tirade. "I'm City Editor in name only. You do all the hiring around here."

"Yeah!? Well, I do the firing, too," Perry retorted, not missing a beat. "Remember that, Grant, and keep a civil tongue in your head."

"Well, if you boys are done yelling about business instead of conducting it, would you pardon if I had a little tête-à-tête with Perry?"

"Well - But I gotta -," they started simultaneously, looking at Perry.

"Scram, you guys," he ordered inflexibly.

They exchanged a knowing glance, as it had not escaped their notice that the young woman who was on the brink of launching her career as a star reporter at the Planet had recently become a soft spot for their "as tough as old boots" editor in chief, and started to head out. Chloe eyed Perry regalingly as he sat back down, and crossed his hands on the desk, glancing at her expectantly. Walking up to his desk, she asked: "Mind if I sit down?", but sunk down in the chair, crossing her legs, without waiting for the response.

Grant and Louie, noting the exchange, cast an interested look back and lingered on the doorstep a second, prompting Perry to raise his voice a few decibels - an exploit, really: "I said scram!" to which they closed the door hurriedly.
"You won't miss anything," Chloe yelled through the door impishly. "You'll probably be able to hear him just as well outside as here." Turning her face back to Perry, she asked: "May I have a cigarette, please?" Perry reached into his pocket, extracted a cigarette and tossed it on the desk, watching patiently (which was a very rare occurrence) as Chloe reached for it. "Thanks," she said. "A match?" she continued with the hint of a smile on her lips, knowing that he was exerting restraint not to burst as he waited to see what she would lay on the table, but unable to resist toying with him a little. She found it fascinating that it was within her power to evoke such behavior from Perry "the Bulldog" White - but, if she was honest with herself, she wasn't sure how to get him to go along with her unconventional angle. She watched as he delved into his pockets again, came up with a matchbox, and tossed it to her. Catching it deftly, she struck the match alight.

"So?" he pressed.

Chloe finished lighting her cigarette, took a puff, and fanned out the match. "So what?"

"You know what," he answered slyly. "What Santa are you gonna defrock next?"

"Ah… Deception. Yes, I'm quite familiar with it, Boss. It's nothing new to any of us, you taught me that. From the moment we discover Santa's true identity, we taste deception - the sugary sweet coating that hides the mustard filling. Billboards, posters, commercials, lie equals buy, and it fuels our society. Hell, our country is cashing in on the war abroad. Every infrastructure, everything that emerges will be stained with blood; we're painting our future red."

"Cut to the chase, Sullivan," he interrupted her deliberate rant, rising from his seat, and starting toward her, as he burlesqued her lyrical speech: "I know very well you can walk me through the aisles of deceit, and take stock of what's in store. Now, what do you got?" he asked once again, sliding down in the seat beside her.

"Well, do you know that one of your reporters, that Jason Biedelman guy, fabricates stories and plagiarizes small-town reporters?"

"Great Caesar's ghost!" Perry shouted in horror, eyes widened, but he quickly caught himself to deviate her attempt to veer him off course for a bit longer. He knew Chloe was enjoying her game, but underneath his superficial irritation, he felt a surge of pride in her; the kid had spunk, and he realized he had begun to think of her as if she was his own daughter. "Fired as of tomorrow. This is where you broach the important part, kid, if you don't want to share his fate."

"Hey!" she let out, falsely outraged. "I'll have you know I could have been one of them small-town reporters. Big or small, doesn't matter - they're equally important."

Perry just stared her down, now remaining silent, refusing to give her anymore incentive. She smirked at his change in strategy, and decided to throw him a bone: "It's not about deception."

"Not about deception?" he repeated after her, uncomprehending. "Now, that's a nice thing to say. Newsflash, Sullivan, everything in this business is about deception: the unjust and the corrupt."

Chloe sat up excitedly, finally removing the lid she had put on the fire in her eyes so that it would only be a dimmer, detectable for Perry, but not for most of the men surrounding her. "That's just it, Perry! What I got is above and beyond the unjust and the corrupt. It's about hope, not deception. It's about justice and truth."

"Back up, kid. I'm a smart cookie, but I don't follow."

"Fine, I'll spell it out for you, Grandpa," she said without malice. She got up so as not to start bouncing in the chair, and once her finished cigarette was extinguished, started pacing in front of her interlocutor. "You remember how there have been numerous reports of stolen artifacts from museums and some second-hand accounts of theft from wealthy families all across the country?"

"Yes, but we're still in the deception territory, kid. I don't see bandits giving me hope."

"Step on the brakes, Boss. I'm just getting started. The last of those incidents took place here in Metropolis, two days ago. If I remember correctly, a witness mentioned seeing a dark-hooded figure climbing out of a window of the Vanderbilts' home, holding something shiny in his hands." She cast a look at Perry, and seeing that his expression remained one of confusion, she pressed on a bit faster and in a more clipped tone: "Don't you see the big picture, here? All of the stolen goods from the rich and filthy went unreported to the police by the victims. Now, that just smells fishy, i.e. the shiny stuff was probably bought on the black market. So, I did some more digging, and you wouldn't believe what mine I stumbled in. Every time there's such a theft, there is a mysterious, anonymous charity donation that pops up in the same city the very next day. And, I checked on all the museum holdings that were missing: they were unlawfully acquired and all returned to their rightful owners. We got ourselves a flesh and blood modern day Robin Hood!" she finished triumphantly, stopping to face her editor with a dazzling smile.

Perry stared at her unblinkingly for a few seconds, and then exploded into an earth-shattering laughter that made the girl slinging coffee who was passing in front of the office outside drop everything in her hands. Chloe froze and, with each passing moment watching him fail to rein in his hilarity, grew more and more offended. "Well?" she asked pointedly, when he quieted down and took a few deep breaths.

"I don't even want to know how many laws you broke to gather the information it took to cook up that story. I'm sorry, Sullivan, but if you wanted to publish fantasy stories, you should have taken a job down at The Inquisitor."

"Come on, Boss," she tried in a soft pleading voice, making goo-goo eyes at him and pushing her lips together in an almost irresistible pout.

"No," he said seriously. "You've got nothing, kid! And your pitch is absolutely ridiculous. What's next? Aliens walking among us! No, no, no. You're in the grown-ups' court now. If you want to stay there, stick to real, hard-core, critical journalism."

"Perry, I know I'm more or less new in this sandbox, but I don't understand why it's so how hard to believe that there are people out there working in the shadows to bring some good in this world?"

"Because of reality, Sullivan! Take a look at what's happening outside your ivory tower. There's a World War going on, massive genocide even, of which we can only fathom the extent."

"Listen, Boss. When I decided to become a journalist, I made a promise to myself that I would report what I uncovered, come hell or high water. To the Devil the repercussions, self-interests, sideline scoffers! I would put the truth into type every time the words 'By Chloe Sullivan' ran beneath a headline. And I fulfilled that promise, and will not refrain from doing it just because of sceptics that -"

The telephone rang then, and Perry rose to his feet to answer, cutting her monologue short: "Hold it, kid!" Since her story was void, he needed to send her on another one she would probably strangle him for, and he was currently ruminating a way to con her into it.

Chloe puffed out air like an angry mare as she watched him reach for the receiver. "Hello… Yeah… What? Tom? Well, what can I do for you?" On the other side of the line, Grant was seated at his desk, talking into the phone: "What's the matter with you? Are you drunk? This is Grant, not Tom!"

Perry ignored him, and made a show of looking strikingly disappointed and panicked: "Tom! You can't do that to me! Not today, of all days! Jumping Jehosophat! Oh, no, Tom… Well, I suppose so… All right. If you have to, you have to." He hung up, and turned to Chloe: "How do you like that? Everything happens to me - with 365 days in the year - this has to be the day."

"What's the matter?" Chloe inquired, trying for patience.

"Tom."

"Dead?" she deadpanned.

"Not yet. Might just as well be. The only man on the paper who can write this - and his wife picks this morning to have a baby!"

"Tom?" she laughed outright at the false indignation on Perry's face. "Well, after all, he didn't do it on purpose, did he?"

"I don't care whether he did or not. He's supposed to be covering the Oliver Queen interview," he explained, pulling out the two-day old edition of the newspaper where an article announced the billionaire's return in town. "The man grants one once in a blue moon, and there Tom is - waiting at the hospital! Is there no sense of honor left in this country?"

Chloe rolled her eyes, wanting to get back to the issue at hand: "Well, haven't you got anybody else?"

"No… But, wait a minute. Wait a minute. I know just the person for it," he finally made his point, staring at her significantly.

"Don't mock, Perry! You want me to throw my time away buttering up some rich ladies' man to squeeze some boring story out of him? Listen, you bumble-headed big daddy, I didn't sign up for this. You know I won't hold back on doing the dirty stuff. Peeking through keyholes - running after fire engines - walking people up in the middle of the night to ask them if they think Hitler's going to bring the war here - stealing pictures off old ladies of their daughters that got chased by apemen! I'm not gonna use my ladylike attributes for a story that isn't worth it. Now, I'm telling you, I'm gonna get this one whether -"

"What were you when you came here two years ago?" he interrupted her, ignoring what she was saying. "A little college girl from a School of Journalism! I took a little doll-faced mugg -"

"You wouldn't have taken me if I hadn't been doll-faced?"

"Well of course I would. But, you gotta admit, it was a nice bonus. I thought it would be a novelty to have a face around here a man could look at without shuddering. You're a newspaper man, I know it, but don't deny you're a woman. Perfect bait for Queen."

"You can't sell me that, Perry."

"You're not afraid, are you?" he challenged, baiting her.

"Afraid? I should say not!"

"All right then, come on and go get this paragon."

"Don't you think the engagement ring will put him off?" she tried desperately, grasping at straws.

"Of course not, he's Oliver Queen. The ball-and-chain will turn him on even more. He won't know what bit him once your teeth come out!"

"Perry -"

"What is it, Sullivan? Will beating your gums with a famous beefcake put you behind the 8 ball with your kind and sweet and considerate fiancé?" he egged on tauntingly, knowing she was done for.

"Fine, but I'm gonna serve you Robin Hood on a silver platter, no matter what insignificant big cheese you send me after."

"Sure you are," he grumbled disbelievingly, chuckling. "Now scram!", he yelled, reaching for the phone that rang once more.


*In reference to Johnny Jones (Joel McCrea) in Foreign Correspondent (1940)
Note: Chloe's entrance in the newsroom and some parts of her exchange with Perry are reminiscent of the opening scene of what I consider one of Howard Hawks' best screwball comedies, His Girl Friday (1940). Comments, questions, insults? All are equally welcome :)