Summary: Clark & Chloe get the scoop.
A/N: First of all, another apology for taking so long with this chapter. It seems that I always leave Chloe & Clark's adventure for the end and get so busy in my personal life that it gets put on the back burner. Secondly, I would like to say, for those that like my normal length of chapters, I'm sorry this one is longer. I thought that I could end their adventure faster, but the characters decided to get a little mouthy. But what can you do?
Chloe had to contain her excitement. She'd been so afraid that this issue would have no pathos in it. Just cafeteria food, the obligatory Luthor article, her report on the fashion show, and the rest of the standard school paper fodder. Oh, she just knew that this was going to be something big.One of the men had obviously stolen the other's designs. The question was who?
"You have the camera, right Clark?" She was following in his wake. It was so much easier to be a path clearing machine when you were 6'4". She wished he'd stop apologizing to everyone so they could make better time.
"Yes, Chloe…" His voice was starting to get that "yes, dear" quality. She knew she was dragging him into another mess, but this was too good to pass up.
"It'll be worth it when we find them, Clark." Chloe nodded her head assuredly. "What we have here is a classic case of fashion espionage. Now we just need to discover who's been doing the stealing… Mr. Jones or Jason Mudd…"
"Have you ever wondered why we never call Jason Mudd 'Mr. Mudd'?"
"Don't get sidetracked, Clark. Can you see them?"
"They disappeared a few minutes ago. I have no idea where they are."
"Do you know what door they went through?"
Clark sighed. "What am I? Blind? Of course I do."
"Good. Just get me there as soon as you can." Chloe smiled. It was so nice to be able to boss this boy around sometimes. As long as your requests were mostly reasonable, he went along with them. It was like he realized that she would do it without him if she had to and he hung around to make sure she didn't get in too much trouble. Other than his tendency to keep secrets for no apparent reason, he really was the ideal friend and sidekick. It didn't take them long to get across the room. I guess being polite really can move people out of your way easier than shoving your way through… Chloe scooted around Clark and pressed her ear against the door. All she could hear was like the sound of the theater. "Clark, we have to get in there!" She tried the handle. "Darn, it's locked!"
Clark looked at her quizzically. "Let me try."
"What? You think I don't know how to open a stupid door?" Chloe's eyes flashed and her hands were defiantly placed on her hips.
Clark rolled his eyes and sighed. Gently, but firmly, he moved her aside. "Chloe, it's not that you don't know how to open a door, but this is an old building and this part is hardly ever used. The door could be jammed." He grunted and she thought she heard a sound like metal snapping, but the door swung open, so she didn't waste the time complaining. Backstage, it seemed to still be in a permanent state of chaos. Dressers were running around, looking for incidentals that tended to "accidentally" go home with models. Models were arguing with each other about personal effects. Handlers stood on the side of the room on the phone, booking further assignments for their clients. Clark and Chloe were totally invisible to these self-centered people.
"Do you see Jason or Mr. Jones?" Chloe whispered. There were times when being petite was a real pain.
Clark's eyes roamed over the room. "Nope. But there's a set of stairs on the other side of the room. Probably goes to the other balcony…"
"That has possibilities. OK, road clearer, get to work!"
Clark chuckled and did as he was bid. Before too long, they were at the stairs and headed up. When they came to a fork in the stairs, Clark grimaced. "I'd totally forgotten about this! Should we take the left one first?"
A growl came from deep within Chloe. When will he get that I'm not some helpless miss ala old Lana and that I can take care of myself? "Clark, you take the left road, I'll take the right."
"Chloe, I know you can take care of yourself, but what if you get caught?"
"So what? I'll get in trouble 'cause I got lost in the old movie theater." She shrugged eloquently, her disregard for both the possibility of getting caught and any threatening consequences written in every line of her face and body. She nudged him toward his assigned stairs. "Now get moving… And don't pretend you looked everywhere and come trailing after me. I want to know what's going on." With that, she turned from her friend and headed toward her set of stairs without a backward glance… totally assured of his resignation to follow her directions. She had trained those boys for years and they knew perfectly well how she'd react if they acted like He-Men around her.
At the top of the stairs she found herself faced with three door options. This is too easy! She smiled evilly. She was going to get her story and chances were good that she could finagle dinner out of Clark. Opening the first door, she was faced with an old projector room crammed full of Nell's old belongings. The second door had been nailed shut and painted over years ago. That left only one option.
As she headed toward the third door, Chloe started to feel nervous. Something wasn't right. Angry voices sounded ahead of her. Well, I know I'm on the right track… Her steps slowed further and further. Something's wrong. I should have brought Clark. She shook her head at her timidity. She squared her shoulders and walked straight up to the door. Grasping the handle, she flung the door open.
"You little bastard!" Mr. Jones screamed. "I own you!"
"You've been living off my ideas for years, Jones," Jason growled threateningly… or as threatening as he could with a lisp and higher than normally pitched voice.
"I started you in this business. I gave you all those contacts…" Mr. Jones's face had turned an alarming shade of puce. "You've ruined me!" He pulled something out of his suit pocket that gleamed in the dark.
"What are you doing, Jonesy?" Jason stumbled backward.
What is he so afraid of? Chloe thought uneasily. A gun wouldn't sparkle like that. She edged into the room for a closer look.
"What I should have done when you threatened to leave me five years ago," roared Mr. Jones and a shot rang out. Jason crumpled to the ground, a crimson stain spreading over the breast of his white linen suite.
Chloe gasped. "Mr. Jones?"
He twirled around and Chloe was made aware (if she hadn't realized it already) of the small jeweled gun he held in his hand. "Ah, Miss Sullivan," he purred. "I should have known you would come snooping where you weren't wanted."
He came toward her and she cursed her thoughtlessness for leaving the safety of the doorway. With two strides, he had blocked off her only entrance. Her gaze was transfixed on the gaudy but deadly weapon before her. "What have you done, Mr. Jones? Why would you kill Jason for stealing your ideas?"
A shrill laugh escaped Mr. Jones and a maniacal look glared from his eyes. "My ideas? My dear girl, I haven't had a good idea in nearly a decade. Why else would 50 percentof the town dress in plaid?"
"For its user-friendly pattern and durability?" Chloe quipped.
His eyes narrowed and without another word, his finger tightened on the trigger. Chloe, maybe this isn't the time for your snarkiness…Chloe closed her eyes, knowing that not even Clark could possibly save her now. She heard a click… and then another. Her face contorted in a semi-permanent flinch, she cracked one eye open. His hand kept pulling the trigger and his face was grimacing in fury. "Damn stupid glitzy one-shot Hollywood guns!" he shouted.
"Look, Mr. Jones. You don't want to hurt anyone, do you? No, you don't. So I'll just get out of your way." She eased herself along the front of the balcony, trying for the middle aisle so she could bolt out of the room.
"Miss Sullivan, after one murder, do you really think I'd even hesitate to commit another? It's not like I loved you like I did Jason." His eyes flickered to the mound of flesh and clothes.
"You loved…? Were you having an affair with Jason Mudd?" Chloe was incredulous. They had to be at least 25 years apart in age.
"Oh, not for a long time, but when he was younger… Oh, yes. I loved that boy to distraction. And the money his creations brought in. I had never seen his equal." Tears welled in the madman's eyes.
"Then why did you shoot him?"
"When he left, he said that, as a parting gift and in gratitude for all I'd done for him, he would continue to supply his designs to me before anyone else for a small percentage of the profits. And he swore he'd never come back to Smallville to expose me. Dirty rotten slut liar!" Chloe was shocked when as what she could have sworn was the most refined man in Smallville (sans the Luthors) spat upon his dead ex-lover. When his gaze returned to her, she knew she was in deep trouble.
"Clark!" she screamed, praying that he'd finished his search as easily as she had and was already heading their way.
"Mr. Kent won't be able to help you, dearie." He lunged toward her, his pudgy hands finding their way around her neck.
Chloe's eyes rounded in fright and she would have kneed him in the groin had his momentum not pushed her straight over the railing. His hands released her throat and she just managed to hang onto the railing. But when his falling, searching hands found their way around her ankle, she thought her arms were going to rip out of their sockets.
"Ah, Miss Sullivan… You saved me." Irony dripped from his tone. "I should have considered… Pull us up, you daft girl!"
His weight was unbearable to Chloe and she knew she wasn't going to make it. "Clark!" she shouted, knowing that he could never make it there in time. "Forget it, Mr. Jones. We're done for," she laughed, shocked at how insane she sounded.
"What do you mean? I demand you pull us up?" He struggled around below her, his every movement causing her joints to creak alarmingly.
"How in the world do you expect me to pull your fat butt out of this fire? I'm not even sure I could pull myself up even without you."
Silence reigned below her. "So this is it, is it?"
"Must you always state the obvious?"
"I always assumed I would go out in either a drug induced coma or something equally dramatic."
"You don't think falling to your death is dramatic? What kind of psycho are you?" She kicked her free leg beneath her. "You stupid twit! You have to pretend to be some sort of genius," she punctuated each exclamation with a kick to his head, chest or whatever was available.
"Chloe!" Clark shouted, miraculously appearing in the doorway.
"Clark!" Chloe's eyes rounded at the sound of his blessed voice. "Clark, over here!"
His face peered over the balcony and his strong hand closed over hers just as they were beginning to slip. "Hang on, Chloe. I've got you!"
"I didn't think you were going to make it," she gasped. The pain was almost unbearable. "So now you have your wish, Mr. Jones. You're getting pulled to safety and now you'll go to jail."
A scandalized gasp came below her. "Jail? I can't go to jail?"
As Clark laboriously inched them toward safety, Chloe sneered at her own personal 250 pound ankle leach. "Oh, don't pretend you're not thrilled. You'll just love being someone's girlfriend!"
"No!" came a scream and suddenly Chloe was flying over the rail and landed flat on top of Clark. They looked at each other in shock and hurried to the edge.
Chloe shuddered and Clark enfolded her in his arms. Broken on the chairs below them lay Mr. Jones… with a peculiarly satisfied smile on his face. Chloe took a deep breath. "Just what he wanted." She looked down. "Are you happy, Mr. Jones? Well, I suppose we should call the sheriff." She looked up and smiled at Clark. "Thanks for ignoring my obviously hormonal demands that you stay away."
Clark smiled at her. "Chloe, I've known you for a long time. I just made sure that I checked everything as fast as I could and came back this way. Otherwise I'd never hear the end of it."
"Oh, yeah? Well, just for that, you get to buy me dinner after we're grilled by the police." She smiled at his shocked look. "Listen Clark, I'm not totally heartless, but I haven't eaten since breakfast to make sure I could fit into my dress. I'm starving!"
A/N: Since my last posting, I have received a lot of reviews. Since this is the second to the last chapter, I just wanted to thank everyone for their warm responses. I really think it helps people be a better writer when you give them your feedback… I appreciate it even more when it's given in a positive manner. Thanks again.
Now to some specifics… TheDieHard - Well, all I can say is you are the best. You have graced me with many a supportive and appreciative review and it is so fabulous! In fact, in our conversations, I have come up with a new Smallville twist. I think you're going to like it. It's going to take awhile though… Lots of literary effort is in the works for me! If you're dying to know what it is…? Well, ask and you may receive! I don't have a specific favorite Discworld novel, but having them do something more in conjunction with it… Well, let's just say that will probably be something nice in the works.
Spikesdoll, thank you so much! Your last review was after Chapter 16. I really hope you like the rest of it.
Shadowborne, you are very astute. I had just read Night Watch and thought Ventinari was so right about that. Grey is a much better color for camo then black!
