His mother always told him that nightmares were more frequent when the body was sick. Lex was especially watchful over Chloe, ready to wake her up whether her fever had broke or not, simply because of that bit of information.
For an hour, now, he'd been watching Chloe lie in hospital pajamas, unconscious and pale, but somehow her face hadn't lost any of its charm.
Lex's tongue kept finding its way to the stiff material that stitched the cut Chloe had inflicted on his lip; Tracing it idly . . . It was a bad habit and might have slowed healing, but at the moment he was occupied with something else. The topical ointment the hospital had provided him with took away the dull throbbing pain, but it didn't stop the swelling or the bruising. Lex was a sight with his swollen lip. He would have smiled at the thought of how he'd earned the battle wound. Having never thought of Chloe as a femme fatale, himself, he found it a bit funny to be on the receiving end of her fury.
---------------------------------------------
Eyes fluttering open like a butterfly's erratically moving wings, Chloe looked around groggily. It dawned on her suddenly that she wasn't at home in her bed. The sheets were stiff and the room smelled like antiseptic. Her head ached with a dull pain like she'd hit it hard on her crown, but it was from the oxygen she'd been deprived of during the time her throat had been constricted. Slowly, her vision returned to being as sharp as her wit.
The windowsill let light stream in, but a silhouette stood in the way of the rays of light. It was a beautiful basket of oranges and reds accented by green ferns. The first thing that came to her mind was that Lex Luthor had put her in the hospital and was guilted into giving her a marvelous flower arrangement.
She remembered nothing of her quest for the truth.
But . . . On a chair, returned without thought by Lex Luthor himself, was Chloe's backpack, and inside her backpack was a very vital page giving dirty details on LuthorCorp. Not knowing this, Chloe decided to take a nice, long nap.
---------------------------------------------
It was a beautiful coincidence that Chloe Sullivan should be discharged from the hospital on a Friday afternoon feeling perfectly fine. It was a mystery to her, though, why Lex Luthor should schedule a coffee date with her at the Beanery.
Whatever the reason, she was curious as to what happened in those twenty-four hours of television snow. Of all people, she was the least likely to miss an episode of The Chloe Show, and that disturbed her. She was responsible for her actions and she thought that she should know what they were. That was reasonable enough, wasn't it?
Any date, friendly or otherwise, required a decent appearance at the very least. That meant Chloe needed to take more than a hospital grade sponge bath.
The questions that pestered and poked at every corner of her mind eased up the moment she started to lather up her hair. By the time she'd stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself up in a fluffy, fabric-softened towel, Chloe had peace of mind and a smile on her face that could only have come from not smelling like heart monitor adhesive.
Setting her barely damp self on her bed, she decided to air-dry while looking over notes she'd been taking for an article. She pulled her light-load backpack onto the bed with her and unzipped the main pocket. Her face was a mess of confusion and frustration; Whatever she'd done in those twenty-four hours, one of the things she'd done was unload her notes on one specific project.
Her anger with her other, herbally enhanced self, though, subsided when she noticed a paper. It was wrinkled from travel and even torn just slightly in a few spots, but at a glimpse she could see that it was on authentic LuthorCorp stationary. Budding like a flower, a smile slowly developed on her face. She had something.
Quickly snatching the paper out of her bag, she tucked her knees up to her chest and began to read.
---------------------------------------------
Lex was seated already, sipping a latte and occasionally checking his watch. He wasn't sure whether Chloe was usually punctual or not, but she struck him as very businesslike. Well, when she was Chloe, that is...
---------------------------------------------
This wasn't right. A million doubts and fears filled Chloe's mind. She wasn't sure whether to believe the paper or not. Slowly, she exhaled, though it did anything but calm her down.
Determinedly, she made a mental list of the facts.
LuthorCorp had printed this file. LuthorCorp created this severely harmful pesticide. Farmers frequently use pesticide. Smallville is a farm town. She was in Smallville. In her head, Chloe was screaming, but outside she was staring blankly at that suspicious, wrinkled sheet of paper. It was still only a piece of the big, ugly pie.
What was the right thing to do? What could she do? What could she do that wouldn't be covered up? For the first time since junior high, Chloe Sullivan gnawed on her fingernails with the nervousness of a small rodent hiding from a large bird of prey.
Inadvertently, her eyes fell on her kitchsy Felix the Cat wall clock. She gasped loudly, letting the leaflet of paper drift to the floor as a feather might, as she hopped to her feet. Chloe was fifteen minutes late and still only clad in her fluffy towel. Desperately, she dug through her closet to get herself put together in a conspiracy-masking outfit. Oddly enough, she had no trouble picturing the look she needed to achieve. That was just her way.
For an hour, now, he'd been watching Chloe lie in hospital pajamas, unconscious and pale, but somehow her face hadn't lost any of its charm.
Lex's tongue kept finding its way to the stiff material that stitched the cut Chloe had inflicted on his lip; Tracing it idly . . . It was a bad habit and might have slowed healing, but at the moment he was occupied with something else. The topical ointment the hospital had provided him with took away the dull throbbing pain, but it didn't stop the swelling or the bruising. Lex was a sight with his swollen lip. He would have smiled at the thought of how he'd earned the battle wound. Having never thought of Chloe as a femme fatale, himself, he found it a bit funny to be on the receiving end of her fury.
---------------------------------------------
Eyes fluttering open like a butterfly's erratically moving wings, Chloe looked around groggily. It dawned on her suddenly that she wasn't at home in her bed. The sheets were stiff and the room smelled like antiseptic. Her head ached with a dull pain like she'd hit it hard on her crown, but it was from the oxygen she'd been deprived of during the time her throat had been constricted. Slowly, her vision returned to being as sharp as her wit.
The windowsill let light stream in, but a silhouette stood in the way of the rays of light. It was a beautiful basket of oranges and reds accented by green ferns. The first thing that came to her mind was that Lex Luthor had put her in the hospital and was guilted into giving her a marvelous flower arrangement.
She remembered nothing of her quest for the truth.
But . . . On a chair, returned without thought by Lex Luthor himself, was Chloe's backpack, and inside her backpack was a very vital page giving dirty details on LuthorCorp. Not knowing this, Chloe decided to take a nice, long nap.
---------------------------------------------
It was a beautiful coincidence that Chloe Sullivan should be discharged from the hospital on a Friday afternoon feeling perfectly fine. It was a mystery to her, though, why Lex Luthor should schedule a coffee date with her at the Beanery.
Whatever the reason, she was curious as to what happened in those twenty-four hours of television snow. Of all people, she was the least likely to miss an episode of The Chloe Show, and that disturbed her. She was responsible for her actions and she thought that she should know what they were. That was reasonable enough, wasn't it?
Any date, friendly or otherwise, required a decent appearance at the very least. That meant Chloe needed to take more than a hospital grade sponge bath.
The questions that pestered and poked at every corner of her mind eased up the moment she started to lather up her hair. By the time she'd stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself up in a fluffy, fabric-softened towel, Chloe had peace of mind and a smile on her face that could only have come from not smelling like heart monitor adhesive.
Setting her barely damp self on her bed, she decided to air-dry while looking over notes she'd been taking for an article. She pulled her light-load backpack onto the bed with her and unzipped the main pocket. Her face was a mess of confusion and frustration; Whatever she'd done in those twenty-four hours, one of the things she'd done was unload her notes on one specific project.
Her anger with her other, herbally enhanced self, though, subsided when she noticed a paper. It was wrinkled from travel and even torn just slightly in a few spots, but at a glimpse she could see that it was on authentic LuthorCorp stationary. Budding like a flower, a smile slowly developed on her face. She had something.
Quickly snatching the paper out of her bag, she tucked her knees up to her chest and began to read.
---------------------------------------------
Lex was seated already, sipping a latte and occasionally checking his watch. He wasn't sure whether Chloe was usually punctual or not, but she struck him as very businesslike. Well, when she was Chloe, that is...
---------------------------------------------
This wasn't right. A million doubts and fears filled Chloe's mind. She wasn't sure whether to believe the paper or not. Slowly, she exhaled, though it did anything but calm her down.
Determinedly, she made a mental list of the facts.
LuthorCorp had printed this file. LuthorCorp created this severely harmful pesticide. Farmers frequently use pesticide. Smallville is a farm town. She was in Smallville. In her head, Chloe was screaming, but outside she was staring blankly at that suspicious, wrinkled sheet of paper. It was still only a piece of the big, ugly pie.
What was the right thing to do? What could she do? What could she do that wouldn't be covered up? For the first time since junior high, Chloe Sullivan gnawed on her fingernails with the nervousness of a small rodent hiding from a large bird of prey.
Inadvertently, her eyes fell on her kitchsy Felix the Cat wall clock. She gasped loudly, letting the leaflet of paper drift to the floor as a feather might, as she hopped to her feet. Chloe was fifteen minutes late and still only clad in her fluffy towel. Desperately, she dug through her closet to get herself put together in a conspiracy-masking outfit. Oddly enough, she had no trouble picturing the look she needed to achieve. That was just her way.