Path - Episode 1.02: Recoil
Title: Path; Episode 1.02: Recoil
By: Chiriru ( )
Spoilers: Chloe Chronicles; S1-S3 with a slight from Covenant. Sequel to
Genesis, also here at Count: upwards of 9,600
Rating: PG? PG-13?
Disclaim: Don't own what Almiles created; just what I did.
AN: Thanks to Tig, T, Amy, Landa, Stina, Medie and other people who helped me get off my butt and finish this. Again. :P
1.
"You want me to go to Edge City? Isn't that in like, Nebraska?"Lily Meyers rolled her eyes. "No. It's in 'like' Ohio. And when we asked you for employer's assistance, he assured us that you were more than capable for this job, Mr. Tarr. If you aren't, then we could always just let Mr. Church know that."
The man, lean and scruffy, shook his head. Lyle watched from the shadows as Lily circled the twenty-something. The Bishop agency had gone to great strides to push Bill Church to the head of the Midwestern crime circles after Morgan Edge's mysterious disappearance last year and Arthur Hatch's exposure the year before. But if his men couldn't take out a simple high school-er... then they were going to have a problem.
A rather big one, Lyle mused.
"It's nothing," Rick Tarr growled out, eying the room. Lyle doubted the man had seen so much money in one space. "I've just never been to Ohio," the man explained with a slight monotone from his voice. Lyle pegged his intonation as Wisconsin as Lily pointed out the monetary sum.
"We'll play you a quarter now, and your full half upon completion." She pivoted on her heel. "Of course, if this goes well, we might just need to keep the lines of communication between Metropolis and Bludhaven open. If you catch my meaning, "she added leaning down over the table.
Rick's eyes darted down when he spoke. "What kind of time frame are you looking at?"
Lily's eyes connected with Lyle's and she raised an eyebrow. Easier than they'd thought. "As soon as you can get it over with, Patrick."
Elizabeth tapped scan on the radio a few times. The sticky August air didn't feel as bad when it whipped through the open windows of her car. She stepped on the gas and the Alpine's speedometer climbed over seventy as she crossed yet another state line. The hard rock cover blared from her speakers. It wasn't the Beatles but it was better than that Remy Zero crap her daughter apparently had a yen for.
Her cell rang twice as she plugged her head set in.
"What do you want?"
A female rasp answered her in turn. "You need to hurry. His law firm just dispatched a man of dubious legal background on one of LuthorCorp's private jets - it's expected to reach Edge City in an hour."
"Yeah, well," Elizabeth snarled as she past a sign noting seventy miles from her destination, "I've yet to arrive to the end point of this excursion you've sent me on. I've got nothing but your word that she'll be there."
A soft laugh came over the other end. "We've already sent you all you needed to retrieve your daughter, Ms. Lane. Didn't you find your trip to her home town enlightening?"
"No."
"Elizabeth," a new voice, this one soft and tinted with a British accent, "If they get to her first, then there is nothing we can do about it."
She cut across two lanes of traffic as she got onto the exit ramp. "Well, if they get rid of her before I get there, not only will I refuse to pay you back but I'm not going to be able to. So, you'd better stall the hit man if you don't want to deal with having to explain to your head honcho why he has to deal with Lionel Luthor and why I was forced to back out of our arrangement. Of course if you do, that's just fine."
"You're a horrible liar," the rasp retorted. "You keep up your end."
"And we'll keep up ours," the Brit interjected.
He pushed past Lex, angry. It had hurt more than angered him to find that room; to know that Lex had played him and everyone all along. He walked down the steps, three at a time, wanting to be as far from Metropolis and the Luthors as possible.
"I don't warrant a proper goodbye?"
Clark turned to see Chloe on the side walk, looking up, shielding her eyes from the sun. He slowed his pace and approached her.
"Goodbye? Why?"
She snorted. "Lex, and the district attorney, seem to think it's better if Dad and I lay low until the hearing gets underway." She shuffled her feet and his shadow fell across her face. "I guess I get to look into the exciting world of protective custody rather than take that opening at the Ledger this year."
"Oh." He paused for a second. "I was kind of hoping we'd have a summer to just hang out, get back to normal..."
"Me too," she added, drawing her arms around herself. "But I guess not."
Clark nodded, stuffing his hands in his pockets.
Chloe looked up at him, her earrings jangling as a familiar grin crept across her face. "Clark, you're zoning out on me. C'mon, it's not the end of the world -- worse case you'll see me at the trial, best case I'll be back to clean up the Torch next Tuesday." She dropped the jovial tone, "if I'm not, will you...?"
"Yeah," Clark said, making up his mind, as he rubbed her shoulder reassuringly. "I'll take care of it until you come back."
Chloe seemed to accept this, and nodded softly, interlacing her fingers with his other hand. "Thank you."
Clark gave her hand a slight squeeze, before drawing her into a tight hug. "You're welcome," he murmured into her hair.
"...are you even listening?"
Chloe turned her head towards her boss, a guilty smile plastering over her face as she stopped doodling on her calendar.
"I finished the Obituaries half an hour ago, Ms. Brandt and I've gotten your appointment made with your source - a Mr. Sorethroat? - made for two p.m. in the parking lot.," she informed the copy editor of the Edge City Tribune, pulling the folder of corrected articles of the top of her monitor and placing them into Margaret "Peggy" Brandt's open hand.
"That's not what I was talking about, sweetie," Peggy said with a grin as she put the file into her briefcase.
Chloe's smile dropped off her face. She ran her hands though her dark hair (coloring it bleach blonde or even honey gold was a no-no as far as hiding went) attempting to seem nonchalant. "Ooohh?"
"You've got a visitor in my office - try to make it brief."
Chloe nodded in agreement, and slowly rose out of her chair. 'Oh God,' her mental processes filled in. 'This is it, they've found me. Make overs and false names and moving towns be damned, they are here. It's all over. I should of known better than to trust Ron Troupe. So he set me up with a few jobs, so what? God, Chloe. Really. Couldn't stop working for a few months, could you? Noo, you had to press your luck. A lot of good that did you, huh?'
She paused half-way through the bull pen and slipped her hand into her jacket, reaching for the pocket knife inside. Lex had given it to her shortly after she had come to him with Lionel's recorded confession - "Keep it as a last line of defense," he had said. "I hope you don't have to use it, but just in case," he had said. Chloe turned it over in her fingers.
'Maybe if I turn around I could still get out of here before they realize...'
"Move it or loose it!" Peggy called from the other side office. "I don't have all day here."
"Fine!" she hissed under her breath, storming towards the office and slipping the small weapon up the left sleeve of her coat, "but if I die it is so all your fault."
She stomped up to the door in her dress shoes her hand hovering above the knob. 'Well, at least people will remember your name, if only connected to a brutal murder at the Edge City Tribune, but they'll remember it,' she thought hopefully. She threw open the door and stepped inside, closing it behind her. A tall, broad figure stood with her back to her in the darkened office. Her eyes followed him up his shoes, over his trench coat, to the fedora on his head.
She almost laughed at the comically stereotypical hit man look. Instead, she gulped and let the cool metal handle slowly slip into her fingers. The figure pivoted slowly and Chloe tightened her grip her clammy palm. How had the plan failed. The plan had made sense. It was a smart plan. Everyone in town thought that the Sullivan family had died from a gas leak in the home they'd bought not even three months ago. And part of that was truth, Gabe and Chloe Sullivan were gone as far as anyone cared.
"I should of known better than to trust Lex with a plan," she muttered to herself. The figure now facing her quirked an eyebrow and proclaimed he was "hurt." Chloe looked at the familiar face and dropped the blade in her hands. An uncontrolled smile broke out on her face, followed by relieved laughter.
"Nice hat," she snickered.
Lex nodded towards her, deftly retrieving her fallen weapon. "I could say the same about your glasses."
"Hey," she said, putting the knife back in her jacket. "I'm incognito." She adjusted the cat-eyed frames on her face. "It's all part of my secret evil plan to be, oh, not discovered and killed by your father's low-moral lackies." She grinned at his look at her. It was so good, so normalizing to see a recognizable face. She shook her head - her brain wasn't working right. "Why is Forbes' biggest power player meeting with lowly, under aged copy editors in run down cities? I mean, I thought my testimony was a week off still."
"We've run into a problem," Lex said leaning on the desk, hat in hand.
Chloe leaned against the door, locking it. "What kind of problem?"
"The kind that results into your cover being blown. Someone is coming-"
"Clark?" she questioned grinning and warmth oddly rising in her chest. "I don't think you have to worry about him at all." She let a small despondent sigh. "It's not like he can find the broad side of a barn without me - and he practically lives in one."
Lex, grabbed her by her shoulders, shaking her slightly as he spoke. "Chloe. It's not Clark I'm worried about finding you - my father knows where you are." He paused as the thought sunk in. "I've already talked to my contacts at the DA. Harvey agrees that getting you out is the best thing we can do - how long will it take you to clean out the identifying objects from your desk?"
"Uh...five, ten minutes tops," Chloe said dazed. "How did he...? God, I should of never gotten a job."
He ignored her question. "Good. I've already sent people to your apartment to sweep it. Within a half-hour, we should be on our way back to Metropolis. I can hide you in the pent house for a little while at least."
"How long is a little while?" she asked her voice climbing in pitch.
Lex shook his head and put his fedora back on the same jaunty tilt. "As long as it needs to be - I promised you I'd take care you, Chloe, and I'm not backing out because my father incapable of admitting that a high school-er is going to take it all away." He rubbed her shoulder slightly. "Now get your things, we need to go."
"Oh boy. Metropolis. Again. Fun." Chloe held her palms up as she shrugged off his annoyed glare. "Alright, alright, I'm going." She sighed and rolled her eyes as she backed out of the door. "Although, for the record, it's days like these that make me wish I could just click my heels back to reality."
"There's no place like home," Lex monotoned.
2.
"Dr. Westfield?"
Clark pulled himself up to his full height when the bespectacled man paused on his way to his office. To Clark, he didn't look like anything extra special or sinister; he stood just short of six feet with brown hair and brown eyes. He slouched slightly at the shoulders and his eyes weren't quite focused on him, as if his concentration was on some internal monologue instead. Clark struck his hand out to shake, "Clark Kent, Smallville Torch. I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions about what you do here a Nu-Corp."
Dr. Paul seemed to zone out for a second before agreeing, ushering Clark inside his office almost absently. "Come in, come in. Unlike Rebecca, I'd love to talk to the press; especially student press, you know, we're doing some very exciting things here at Nu-Corp now, far more useful products are in testing now for the general public; but things are so slow to turn around after that unfortunate incident about Dr. Jameson's past uhm... extracurriculars? But we're doing some fascinating things here, and well, if we're going to spark interest in keeping this sort of thing then we're going to have to catch them when they're young, right?"
Clark nodded slowly. "Actually, there is something in particular I'd like to ask you about. Or two someones."
"Anything," Dr. Westfield said with a smile, waving his arms wide. His fingers brushed his lamp and it wobbled slightly. "Anything I can help you with. I've got my doctorates in engineering and biochemistry in addition to being a MD so, what every your question is about Nu-Corp's projects, I should have it covered."
"I want to know," he said pulling a copy of Chloe's death certificate as well as one of her old year book photos out and placing them on top of the clutter of the doctor's desk, "Why you signed her death certificate." He pulled out copies of Adam's files, as well. "Or his."
The doctor's mouth snapped shut with a click and he picked up the paperwork. "How did you.."
"The student press is amazingly resourceful." Clark said, keeping his tone even and measured. "The first thing we're taught is how to use public records," he joked. "It's just typically, the county coroner signs the death certificate. But you've always worked for the private sector - first with LuthorCorp, then Cadmus Labs, now with Nu-Corp. So why would you sign such a thing, Dr. Westfield? How would you have access to either of them?"
The man chuckled. "That's easy," he said scribbling on a piece of paper and holding it up against Chloe's paperwork. "It's not my signature. I've never seen her before in my life," he added, picking up Chloe's photograph in his other hand.
Clark plucked the papers from the man's fingers. The death certificate was small, tiny little quivers on the page splashed by two huge initials. By contrast the man in front of him had hand writing that jutted out and laid nearly horizontal with sharp zigs and zags. "But, why would someone use your name?"
Dr. Westfield ran a finger over the glossy paper, his voice gone distant. "I don't know. Nu-Corp has been under tough scrutiny lately, any thing out of the ordinary, well, we don't need. Corporate power-plays," he added wistfully. He toyed with the paper. "Pretty girl," the doctor commented, running a finger along Chloe's jaw. "Is she yours?"
Clark paused for a second before collecting his files and ripping the photo from the thirty-something's hand. "..No. Just a friend. A good friend." He held up the scrap of paper with the signature. "Do you mind if I keep this?"
"Nope," said Dr. Westfield oddly chipper again, as if Clark hadn't snapped at him a moment prior. Clark nodded and stuck it in his folder before shaking his hand again. "I hope you find her," the older man offered as he opened the door. Clark glanced down into his brown eyes, now shrewd and sharp.
"Me too," he replied. "Thank you for your time."
"What do you mean it's not him?"
"I mean that it wasn't his signature, Pete." Clark said into the phone as he paced in his loft.
Pete snorted, "He could of faked it."
"That's why I gave Chad the mission of getting the sample checked if possible. Even so, the fact that it was signed by him, supposedly, before he was with Nu-Corp or Nu-Corp was in trouble doesn't make much sense."
The phone line was uncharacteristically silent for a moment.
"I shouldn't of left."
Clark sighed. "Pete... "
"I mean it, Clark. If I was there I could-"
"Knowing the truth only put you in danger," Clark reasoned. "I didn't have a clue, and I couldn't save her. Neither could you."
"But maybe we would of figured this out sooner," Pete pointed out. "But I'm already enrolled here and I don't think Mom is going to let me switch back just because one of my best friend died. She already thinks a fresh start is what I need."
"You can't think like that. You've helped more than... I wouldn't of gotten this far without you. ...do you have access to the school?"
Clark could hear the grin through the phone line. "Of course, you are talking to the editor of Mattherson's sport segment. It seemed like a waste to let all of Chloe's forced journalism school be left to squander on a paper that obviously needed them."
"She would be proud," Clark said with a smile. "Maybe you can help out more than you know..."
Elizabeth eased the door open with a squeak and pulled her pick out of the lock; pulling her Beretta out of her waistband, she inched into the room.
And sighed with disappointment.
The hard wood floor creaked under her feet and the ceiling fan whirred above her head. The apartment was empty, stripped bare of everything her daughter could of touched or used. She glared as she walked into the bed room, noticing the mutilated wallboard above the naked mattress.
She ran one manicured nail along the wall before hitting it with her open palm. One of the Luthors had already gotten to her; her contact had failed to specify which - she'd been too cocky with both of them. Elizabeth backed out of the apartment, slowly her shoulders tensing. If it was Lex, there was a good chance she was being tailed. And if it was Lionel, it was a good chance that Chloe was already dead.
"Great," Liz muttered as she began to turn on her heel. A recognizable metal click echoed in the small space as she did so and she pointed her weaponry at the man's larynx.
The man was barely her height with a bad goatee and even worse teeth; his semi-automatic didn't waver as she had pressed the muzzle against his skin. "You ain't no high school-er." He spat out as if she was holding a rubber chicken to his neck instead.
"Obviously," she drew out as she took a step towards him. "Drop your gun." It took her jabbing the metal against his voice box before he dropped it with a glare. Elizabeth kicked it across the room with the heel of her boot. "Who paid you off?" She took another step toward him, forcing him closer against the wall. "I know you arrived in a private jet - the question is: Who. Paid. You. Off." She squeezed down on the trigger, slightly. "It's a very easy question, Mr...?"
His brown eyes flickered, sizing her up. "Tarr," he said, his voice loud and low.
Elizabeth grinned at him, her teeth gleaming. "Who paid you to kill my daughter. Was it Lionel? Or was it Alexander trying to mislead me?"
"Lady, I was ordered to do this, it ain't nothing personal."
She walked him against the refrigerator, and slunk her left hand down into his pockets. "Of course it isn't; that's why you are carrying a role of hundreds in your pocket here." She threw it on the floor. "Oh, and a nice little picture here." She flashed the photograph at him; a dark haired girl reading. "Is this her?"
Tarr said nothing.
"Is this your mark?" she asked, her eyes narrowing into slits. He nodded, barely and she stuffed the photo into the back pocket of her jeans. "Which Luthor hired you? Who did they use to contact you?"
"No Luthor. Some fancy-dancy law firm." His eyes flitted over her. "Chess logo. A lady, about your size. Look, he doesn't like them either." His hand moved up to her right elbow. "In fact, he'd appreciate someone to help get them off his back, if you catch my drift."
Elizabeth backed off of him slightly; her gun still cocked at his neck, and gave him an apprizing look. "It sounds like we've got a little road trip on our hands, doesn't it?"
3.
"Martha, I am so glad you agreed to come down and talk to me today."
Martha nodded slightly under Nell's exuberance. "Well, I have to admit I was a little surprised to get your phone call." She sat herself down at the open table. "I thought Lana had decided to stay in Paris and last she'd mentioned you and Dean were happy in Metropolis."
Nell sat across the table for her, still perfectly poised even with her ear to ear grin. "Yes, well, after the whole incident with her friend and going off to France, I had to consider a few thing." She folded her fingers neatly on the table. "I'll be honest with you Martha; Lana missed Smallville. She spent her whole childhood dreaming to get out of Smallville and once she did, she wanted to be home. She's more like me than she wants to believe."
Martha said nothing, taking a large gulp of her coffee instead.
"Anyway, I never did do the whole 'domesticated housewife' very well. Not like you, any rate. However," Nell amended, "I am a mother too; an adopted one, just like yourself and I have a proposition for you."
Blue eyes focused from across the table. "What kind of arrangement are you talking about that requires drawing upon my maternal instincts, Nell?"
"Both Lana and Clark will be flying out of the nest for good, soon. I know that Lana's been trying to go it on her own for a while; she's got her mother's independence. This her last year here; after the past two years... I want to be here. And, I honestly can't sit back and do part time consulting for someone else any longer. I like running my own shops."
"And so, you've come back to town to open the Talon - I know this. If you want me to honor my agreement with Lana, that's fine. Clark will be going off to college soon and it's really very nice of you to offer."
Nell smirked. "I don't simply want your to bake at home and deliver, Martha. I know that you worked for Lionel; what I'm offering certainly isn't that challenging. I want to hire you as a manager."
A mixture of surprise and horror flitted across Martha's face. "What?"
"I told you, this is my last year with Lana as sort of... needing me. My last year to really mother her. I missed out on plenty between all of her shows and all of my business. I want to have enough time to enjoy with her, as a family. Plus with Dean, I can't balance it all. As crazy as it is, I need help. And you are already on the books as a supplier and you're a more than capable business woman. And as you said, the money could help Clark - plus, even after he leaves next year you could have something to keep you busy. Keep you active."
Martha blinked. "You're serious? You are seriously offering me a job."
Nell raised her tea cup to her lips. "Yes."
Lana knocked twice on the glass panel of the doorway. She pulled on the handle and it opened slowly and silently. Clutching the envelope tightly in her hand, she walked up to the counter. While she had never met Brad or Tad or whomever before, she did know that Chloe had seemed to find him an excellent source. And since Clark and Pete were pulling a cross-state computer thing that she freely admitted she had no skill in... she was left with the would-be mortician. After a few seconds, she hit the bell at the countertop several times.
A college student, maybe a little older, walked up to the counter, drying his hands with a paper towel along the way. His dark hair was spiked up and his skin was powdered more than she was. Lana frowned; his eyeliner was better than hers too. His eyes skimmed over her twice and she shifted her weight uneasily. 'What was his name?'
"Lana Lang, I presume?"
"Yes, I.. How did you.. I--" Lana stuttered.
Chad gave her a patronizing look. "Please, I work at the morgue, not Timbuktu. Of course I know who you are. This is Smallville. I'm guessing Clark sent you."
She forced a half-smile on her face. "Right." Lana thrusted the manila envelope forward. "Clark said you'd know what it was about...?"
GothBoy quirked a pierced eyebrow at her as he opened the package. "So Clark didn't tell you about his little visit to Dr. Spaz?"
Lana snorted and pulled a piece of her long hair behind her ear.
"I'll take that as a 'No.' C'mon," he gestured opening up the security doors. "I'll fill you in. Though I was hoping you could explain to me why he steadfastly refuses to see Lex beyond a 'We can't trust him.'"
Lana rolled her eyes as she followed him back though the corridors to the small dark room where she saw a spread of papers on the dark table top and rock music blaring from his laptop. Clark had obviously been giving him paper sorting techniques. 'Or maybe that's Chloe's influence - how to organize a mess by creating even bigger ones.' "I've given up trying to pry things out of Clark," she admitted stuffing her hands into her pockets.
Chad chuckled. "I know the feeling," he retorted as he sat down in his office chair. His black nail tapped one sheet of paper, "Note one signature of Dr. Westfield." He leaned over and pulled up the ripped scrap off the edge of his desk, "Note signature given by the real Dr. Westfield."
"They aren't the same."
He flashed her a thumbs up. "Exactly; So I've been trying to see if I can find a match using the Metropolis PD files and access."
"You can do that?"
"Can do that?" He paused for a second. "Yes. Supposed to? That's a different question."
Lana crouched down next to his chair and shook her head. "Have you found anything yet? I mean, there has to be a lot to sift through, right?"
"Yeah, I called in a few favors I don't have yet. We just have to sit back and wait, which sucks. But, whomever did write it? Wasn't Dr. Paul," he said lifting the papers side by side. "See, even when you are trying to disguise your hand writing, you have tells - like with your T's and your L's. These are completely different. But, I'd wager that it is someone who knows him or even works under him. Or if it is someone else, they've been doing this for a while."
Her dark eyes darted. "How come?"
"Because my friend Matt mentioned several shipments of forms slowly missing. Not enough to make people worry but over time..."
Lana wrapped her arms around her self, chilled in the damp room. "If you stole, say, blank C.o.D's," she murmured.
"Exactly," Chad said, his black lips splitting into a grin. "Fake as many deaths as you want."
"Hey...how hard would it be to run a check on some of the other death certificates? I wonder just how many the good doctor hasn't signed."
Lex looked at the caller id with slight apprehension. He paused a few moments before palming his phone with a sigh. Dent would probably say it was a bad idea; Lex knew it was a bad idea and yet, the nagging feeling of responsibility crept up on him.
"Hi, Dad," he said despondently. "Is there a reason you're calling me?"
"Lex," Lionel said, his voice oddly jubilant. "Last time I checked, a father didn't need a reason to touch base with his only son."
Lex snorted softly. "Revisit your sources, Dad. It's fairly odd to have your father touch base with you from a prison cell, particularly given that I'm fighting to keep you there." He paused momentarily. "Is that why you're calling me? Are you going to try to convince me to drop charges?"
"Lex, Lex, Lex." Lionel said chidingly. "I called to tell you to have the staff know to prepare my room in the East Wing. I was thinking that when this whole charade is over, we could use some quality time. Together. As a family. To repair this...rift between us."
Lex bit down on the inside of his lip. "That's a pretty big assumption."
The familiar half chuckle crackled across the phone line. "I'll see you tomorrow, Lex. Don't forget about the room - oh, and remind them to let it air out for a week prior. I've had my fill of stale air for the past few months; I don't need more of it in my own house."
"Sure, Dad." Lex's voice took on a patronizing air as he leaned back in his chair. "I don't suppose there are any other requests you'd like to make while you are at it?"
"No, son, just open up my room. I'm afraid I've gotten a chance to catch up on my reading this summer. I can't seem to recall, did you read Kyd at Excelsior?"
"No," Lex monotoned, glancing at his wrist.
"Pity," Lionel sneered. "He makes some excellent observations on human nature. When I get back, I'll help you recognize them."
4.
Bill Church looked up appraisingly. The woman in front of him was slim, dark hair and dark eyes to match with a smirk barely suppressed at the left corner of her mouth. He rolled his cigar between an thumb and fore finger slowly, tapping it on the side of his ash tray. Rick stood behind her chair, his eye swollen shut. Tarr had been a good man; did the work, didn't complain. Bill liked him, and that was a rare thing in this business.
Liking people had gotten his father killed last year. Not that the old bastard didn't have it coming; in fact, his old man had toughed longer than many had thought possible. But dangling alliances had been his downfall, and Bill Church didn't want to meet the same gory end.
Especially since Rick had violated the basic rule of their entire organization - they never, ever come to us.
Yet, come she had, toting a small hand gun and his best hit man who was supposed to be in Ohio. Central City was definitely NOT Ohio.
"Let me get this straight," he asked her, tapping his cigar lightly again. "You want me to help you find someone." The smirk tugged higher on the side of her face. "Someone who, as I understand, my associates want dead. Now, tell me, why would I want to do a thing like that?"
Her smile was bordering between sweet and rancid. "Because, your man's hit is worth far more alive than dead. To both of us." Bill cocked an eyebrow, as she continued. "Rick told me a legal firm approached him. Given what he said, I believe it was the Bishop Brothers - Bludhaven based if I'm correct. How much do you follow the news, Mr. Church?"
"Enough."
"Then you know that they are leading the defense for Lionel Luthor's upcoming murder trial." She turned her head quickly, flipping her long hair over her shoulder. "The defense hired you to clean up the job that his FBI cronies couldn't - to knock off the prosecutions' lead witness. And what can I say Billy - I can call you Billy, right? - you fell for it."
"So, you beat up my man and you drive three states back to come and see me. What do you want me to do?"
She rolled her shoulders languidly. "See, I've done my homework on you Billy. Your dad and Lionel Luthor were friends, and Lionel hung him out to dry. I just want to know why you'd let the man who screwed over your inheritance of the Metropolis districts off the hook." She leaned over the table, her scooped neck tank gaping in all the right areas. "The girl your man was after was my daughter, and far bigger fish than the Bishop Brothers are after what she knows. You found her once, you help me find her again. You help me with this Billy, and I'll cut you in on the biggest deal you've ever seen."
"So, I'm not finding anything about Dr. Westfield here, Pete," Clark patronized clicking slowly thought the back files of the Nu-Corp website. Clark's eyes flitted over pages of personnel files, searching for the name. "It's like he was never in the system." Clark pushed himself back from Chloe's old desk slowly. Every turn was a dead end.
"I'm not getting anything at LuthorCorp either," Pete's voice claimed through the static.
Clark absently clicked through more hidden files on the Nu-Corp mainframe. Documents on Tina Greer and Greg Arkin popped up, along with financial statements about Jameson, and odd inter office memos. He ran a hand through his hard, dragging is slowly down his face to rub at his eyes, his voice catching slightly. "What are we going to do Pete?"
"...What are you talking about, man? We're going to find her - just like you've been trying all summer."
"Her testimony is in a few days...I don't..." Clark drifted off mid-sentence, his eyes pausing on a name midway though the list. "I don't think we can..." 'Daniel Dabney -why is that familiar?' He backed up scanning Jameson's employee list - Daniel Dabney. He clicked back to the reports, scrolling down at the bottom of each one.
Chief Lab Tech: Daniel Dabney. Research control analysis: Daniel Dabney. Head of Sedimentary Research: Daniel Dabney.
"Clark, you're not backing down no-"
"Pete - do you have any... 'Daniel Dabney's in your files?"
"Uh, hold on..." Clark tapped his fingers on the desk repeatedly. "No," his voice crackled dejectedly. "Why?"
Clark sighed deeply. "I just thought I had something, that was all. ...Sorry Pete. I'm just frustrated. I've looked for months and I can't find her. And I know she's out there, but... all we get are dead ends. And Lionel Luthor is going to get away with it. And I can't do a thing about it."
"We'll find her," Pete reasoned.
"I know," Clark rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I just... Maybe I should go to Lex."
"Clark!"
"I know Pete, believe me. More than anyone else, I know. But you said it yourself - Lex needs Chloe right now."
"Even so," Pete said, a hard edge cutting through the phone line. "You guys aren't friends anymore; who says he's going to help you?"
Clark hung his head. "I don't know. I'll think of something. I have to. I can't let Lionel get away with it, Pete. I can't."
"Sweetheart, you're being irrational." Gabe grinned at her, hoisting his suitcase as he bounded out of the federal SUV. Gravel crunched underneath his dress shoes as he headed towards the porch. "We're absolutely fine; you'll see."
Chloe felt the dread mounting in the center of her chest. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong; she couldn't quite put her finger on it. Maybe that it was so still out here. Maybe it was that they were just barely out of town. Maybe it was the way the agents had grinned and nodded at her. She tried to open her mouth to question, to vocalize what was wrong but nothing came.
The door slipped closed behind her.
Nothing happened.
She set her bag down; her father spread his hands wide as he did the same. She could see tension drain from his eyes slowly as he walked towards her and rubbed her reassuringly on the back. Chloe grinned. Her father was right. She was paranoid for no good reason.
When her father opened the door to get the bags left, forgotten on the porch; that's when the singed smell hit her in slow wafts followed by a fast growing roar. Her father's hands shoved her down and out as she clenched her eyes.
'A bomb' she though some tiny part screaming that her instincts were right; that something was wrong.
Her body was hit by waves of heat licking at her skin, shards of wood and glass hitting her on deadly trajectories. The roar screamed in her ears and she felt the solid platform fall away as she went forward. The force sent her arching back and when she squinted she could see azure sky and jet black smoke. Her thoughts flooded her senses, over riding the pain shooting up her legs, across her face.
'Clark will come. Clark always comes.'
Gravity claimed her easily and she clenched her eyes shut as she twisted in midair. Chloe didn't have enough time to panic as she skidded along the gravel of the sidewalk, stones tearing at her cheeks. She opened her eyes enough to spot a well-known dark head lying feet away from her, slowly slipping away under the raining debris before she closed them, her worry temporarily subsiding.
Oxygen flooded her lungs as she sat up in bed. Lex's lavender sheets fell away from her sweaty form and she fain her fingers through her long, darker hair and along her cheek that had long since healed.
Chloe padded to the bathroom, splashing cool water on her face. Glancing up in the mirror, she noted the dark circles under her eyes, the waxy pale color of her skin. She picked at her hair. And grimaced at the slight.
"God, I need a hair cut," she said her voice seemingly unnaturally loud in the empty, silent pent house. She shivered at the sound and pulled one thin, fallen strap of her nightgown up over her shoulder.
Chloe hadn't seen her father since that day, nor anyone else she'd known priorly besides one. Even Lex had gone on radio silence since he felt the need to fly her out of Edge City after a tense and answerless helicopter ride.
All of his answers were "soon" and had been for months. It was getting down to the wire, only two days now, and she was getting a little stir-crazy. She pulled a blanket from the foot of her bed and wrapped it around her like a cloak as walked to turn on the television in the bedroom. Not much was on at three am but...
A soft shuffle, accentuated by the stillness of the apartment lingered outside the pocket doors hiding the elevator. Panic surged through her veins and she pulled the blanked up tighter around her and dove as quietly as possible under the bed. In theory, she was supposed to hide in the space under the floor of the pantry in the kitchen if anyone came in without calling her cell first; but the kitchen was fifty feet away and she simply didn't have the time.
The contemporary design of his bed didn't leave her much space to crawl under, but the bed curtain at least seemed to hang low and straight after she did. Chloe pulled herself as far back against the wall as she could, the blanket still wrapped tightly around her body. Accompanying her were some old (slightly dirty to her dissatisfaction) clothes and she'd never been more happy for Lex's lack of janitorial staff in her life.
The footsteps that entered the room were quiet stealthy, and Chloe tried not to breathe at all. The fringed of her cream blanket hung over her bangs, trying to tickle her nose. Hushed whispers soon came up and the sound of glass breaking as sneakered feet walked around the bed, opening the closet.
"Someone's been staying here," a guy chuckled near the dresser Lex had told her to use. A woman, near the closet laughed.
"Alexander is a Luthor, Rick - that's practically standard operandi with them." She paused; throwing things on the ground, thousands in Armani fell on the bed and on the floor. Chloe gulped and stared at the ground in concentration, trying to calm her racing heart. She heard a small click, and sneakers crunching over glass. "There is nothing here. Bruce, John - anything?"
Muffled shots of 'no' filtered thought the walls. 'Please leave,' she though touching her forehead to the floor. 'You don't want to look under the bed. You want' to leave. Please, please, please. Leave. LEAVE.'
The first male - Rick or Rich or something - spoke up. He lingered over by her dresser some more, the music of the jewelry box her Aunt Teresa gave her when she was ten, lilting up into the air. "How much more time do we have?"
The woman groaned lightly, as she walked around absently. Chloe could hear the clattering moving out towards the living room. "About three more minutes before LuthorCorp's 'formidable' security comes up. Though the prodigal son is in town for that merge talk with Wayne Industries - we should probably go."
The laughter and crunching of their shoes grew slowly quieter but Chloe didn't move a muscle. She laid flat against the slowly warming flooring, shivering slightly under her blanket when new, more forceful foot prints stormed in. His voice was worried, calling out loudly in the dinning room first, then the living area before making it into the bedroom. She shuddered, gulping air down once she realized it was really him and stuck a hand out from under the bed skirt.
He pulled her up forcefully, his blue eyes worried and his hands planting themselves on her shoulders. She pulled the woven blanket tight around her, and pulled up her pesky strap again. She sniffled lightly, her hands shaking. The mirror on her music box was broken, her bits and pieces of odd adornments were strewn across the top of the dresser
"Chloe," he repeated, turning her chin towards him and staring in her eyes. "Are you, okay?"
She nodded quickly. "Yeah," she said her voice breaking off in a sob as she flung her arms around him. "I'm okay, Lex."
5.
"You must be Dean," Martha surmised, holding out her hand.
The man in front of her nodded, gripping her hand firmly. "Martha... Kent?" he asked, seeking confirmation. "Nell's in the theatre making sure the new instillation goes according to plan - just through those doors."
Martha smiled slightly and walked around the counter to the back of the coffee shop. Nell stood, hands on her hips, looking out at the progress as the old seats of the theatre were removed. She was chatting with a bottled-redhead in whispered tones when she approached.
"Martha," Nell exclaimed, walking over to her. "I didn't expect you to get back to me so soon. Uhm, Martha, you know Sheila Barton..."
She shook the extended hand nodding, "The PTA; the Shelbrook Museum-"
"Historical Society," Sheila corrected, with a smile. "I've got to run over there actually - we're getting the clippings on loan today so I need to make sure Bobby gets the right ones. I'll catch up with you later, Nell. Nice seeing you too, Martha."
Nell threw Martha a knowing smirk. "There is this whole production over at the Museum in a couple weeks about the meteor shower of 1989; maybe you'd like to help or even talk-"
"I'll think about," she detoured, knowing Nell's form of roping people in. "Actually, Jonathan and I were talking about your offer the other night..."
"And?" Nell prodded.
"Well," Martha started, "Running the farm is a lot of work..."
Nell smiled, "It wouldn't have to be a lot of hours - just a few nights a week and mostly helping out with the book keeping. You know, I thought Dean would have to be better at it than I was, but no."
"Okay- a trial basis. that's it. If Jonathan needs me back at the farm, you understand then that's where I'm going to be."
"Perfectly."
"I'm probably going to regret this," Martha added as an aside.
Nell grinned again and shook her head. "Now, about the Historical Society..."
Clark was waiting in the office when he got back. Lex breezed in with a side long glare towards his visitor, setting his brief case down on his desk. Chloe had been a mess, and the penthouse was torn apart. She was safe; that was the important thing Dent had emphasized during the recess. She also was guarded by with an additional three guards and several replacements for those who hadn't been as lucky as she had been last night, of which Lex had emphasized to his prosecutor. 'Safe' was a relative term. He shot another sidelong look to his 'guest' and rubbed at his temples.
"Now is not a good time, Clark."
"Look, I know about Chloe." Clark raged. "I know that you need her for your case and I know she's set up to testify tomorrow; what game are you pulling here, Lex?"
Lex continued setting his files on the desk, the activity serving to hide his flinch. "I wasn't aware we were on speaking terms; I believe your exact words were 'this friendship is over' if I recall correctly." He pivoted on his heel, "Have you changed your mind?" He paused a moment, met with silence. "Well then, I don't think there is anything to say. I trust you know your way out."
"This isn't about me, and you know it," Clark snarled in response. "This about Chloe and whatever game you pulled her into in order to beat your father in your convoluted little war with him."
"Chloe got herself involved, a fact you've conveniently let slip your mind."
Clark glared down, his lips pursed. "You promised to protect her."
"And you of all people should know how my father operates, Clark!" Lex ran a hand over his head, his voice dropping. "I know she was your friend Clark. She was mine too." He ignored the indignant snort. "I know you're grieving..."
"Chloe isn't dead!"
"Clark, anger and denial are perfectly normal responses to loosing someone you cared about-"
The teenager's jaw jutted out. "I don't believe this. There isn't any proof that she was even in that house, and you know it."
"- but you've got to accept that Chloe isn't coming back. Now, I know some specialists in Metropolis if you need some help coming to terms with the reality of the situation. I'd be willing to give their cards, if you're interested."
Clark's stared at him, his face hard and disbelieving, before striding out of the room in a huff.
She threw the newspaper on the table, foot tapping. "This isn't what I paid for."
Bill Church rolled his shoulders languidly. "You provided the address - Tarr went. The fact that you were wrong, isn't my fault."
"Breaking and entering into LuthorCorp wasn't on the agenda." Lily Meyers tossed her red hair behind her shoulder. "My firm paid a lot of money for you to take care of a problem - one you've failed to neutralize." Her foot continued tapping. "And instead your buffoon destroys an apartment."
"Rick just though he'd cover all the bases - the girl wasn't there Lily."
Her red shellacked nails tapped on the table. "We had an agreement, me and you."
"Plans change, babe," he retorted, reaching into his coat for a cigar. He glanced up to her snarling face. "C'mon now Lil," he commented standing up and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "We checked her apartment, her job, her old house, everywhere. She's disappeared," he emphasized as he started walking with her towards the exit. "So either, she's not going to testify because we scared her off or Lex Luthor has learned some of his old man's tricks. Now, I know what you're thinking. You're thinking 'Bill, this could get me fired.'"
Lily's eyes flashed. "Not exactly."
"And even if it does," he steam rolled, "I want you to know that I have an opening, specifically, for you in this organization." He opened the door. "Unless of course things still go your way tomorrow. Either way, you'll be back," he added, pushing her out.
Slowly, sarcastic clapping started after the metal door shut with a clang. Bill looked over to the bar. Elizabeth grinned. "Good show."
"Don't make me regret it, Lane," he said reaching for his lighter.
Elizabeth just smiled wider. "You won't."
Chad looked at the files in-front of him. When Sullivan had started pulling together her Wall, she'd started hitting him up for information. He hadn't thought much of it; he came from Grandville and no one there much took the whole "meteor transformations" seriously either so finding someone who thought along the same lines was a blessing. When they had jointly found some cases which were practically irrefutable, he'd made copies of the reports for himself.
Illegal, yes, but less time consuming than scrolling through the Metropolis files or waiting for his friends in Grandville and Metropolis to finish searches of their own. He'd first pulled out the files shortly after Lana had left a week ago. He'd found Westfield's name scrawled on Adam Knight's record; that wasn't knew or damning information. Chad pulled the print out of names from his friend Matthew in Grandville had emailed him today. Twenty three names in the last nine months looked up at him, followed by seventeen from Zack in Metropolis from the email on his computer; Forty deaths, possibly faked, in under a year. Despite the rumors to the contrary, Chad had no desire to go grave digging to check if Clark Kent's suspicions were correct.
His fingers flew over the buttons of his cell phone, the number familiar. He waited through the tail tone until the automated message blipped in his ear.
"Clark, this is Chad. I need you to call me, pronto. I know you are focused on the trial but I've got some things here that I think you need to see. Uhm, call me as soon as you get back from Metropolis - I don't know how much Sullivan knew about what was going on, but i-it appears that another visit to our favored physician is in order."
6.
"Hey! I should of known you'd be here."
Clark turned at the familiar voice, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Lana," he acknowledged, "I was just...uh."
"Woolgathering?" she offered, leaning back on her heel. "Don't worry about it." She made a display of smoothing down her grey skirt. "So, how did you get in? Last I heard, you and Lex weren't talking to one another."
Clark grinned sheepishly, tapping the clip hanging from his sport jacket. "Chloe was friends with the county clerk, I sort of used my pull to get a press pass. It felt wrong trying to glean details from the news, like if she was here then I'd be so." He nodded absently.
"I'm sure, where ever she is, that she's filled with an influx of pride and had no idea why," Lana grinned. "Dean had a friend who testified about the damage yesterday; I kind of nagged to come along. I just can't believe Lionel Luthor's going to get away with it."
"He might not," Clark rationalized, his eyes scanning the hallways. "I mean, Chloe's voice recording and transcripts still exists. She was on the serum which is known and documented; it might be enough... if they haven't paid of the jury."
Lana sighed and put her hand on his elbow. "It will be okay, Clark."
He offered her a half smile. "It's just frustrating. They are in there all but calling her an 'Ex-Chloe' and there is nothing saying that's she's dead. But no one seems to know where she is." He sighed and hung his head.
Lana turned to watch people start to plow into the courtroom. "We should probably head back."
"Yeah."
Harvey Dent stood up confidently. "The prosecution calls Chloe Sullivan to the stand."
Clark shifted in on the bench; Lana's seats were in the back of the room, but it was better than standing in the doorways. It was hot, stuffy, and cramped. He suspected that they weren't the only party with a vested interest who had eeked in when they really, probably should of stayed out. Lana paused fanning herself with a folded brochure catching his gaze. Either Pete's on going theory about Lex saving her was right or...
Lily rolled her eyes. "Objection your honor - the state already tried to claim that my client was responsible for this woman's death when all testimony from FBI Agent Ramirez as well as from Sheriff Adams point to an accident. The girl is either dead or missing from what has already been determined as shoddy work by the FBI, we ask that the district attorney's office stop making mockery of this court by calling forth witnesses which lack the ability to share their testimony with the court."
Lana flinched. Over the course of the past three hours, he'd heard it more and more in different terms. Deceased, demised, eradicated, obliterated, parted, passed, terminated. It didn't make it true, but it wasn't exactly an easy thing to hear. 'I swear, I'm no longer making jokes about killing people,' she thought to herself, flapping her paper impromptu fan twice.
"Your honor, Ms. Meyers, Mr. Manning," Harvey Dent started, talking loudly over the footsteps in the courthouse, "I believe if you check the transcripts, all the state provided was a tangible, monetary link between your client and those agents who were supposed to ensure Ms. Sullivan's safety. As for my witness, I do believe the rumors of her death have been greatly exaggerated."
Clark's heart leapt up suddenly at the confirmation, turning to gaze at the isle half-way through the speech to see a figure being guided in through the side door. The clothing was expensive, tailored, and neutral. The hair was longer, and curled under. Clark starting grinning and he couldn't stop, not even when he felt Lana tense beside him and clench his hand in a death grip. Despite all that, there was no mistaking the nose or the timed beat of her walk or the happy gleam in her bright green eyes as she stood next to the witness stand.
"Do you swear to tell the whole truth, the full truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you god?" the bailiff asked, her freshly-manicured hand on the Bible. She nodded as her eyes scanned the crowd. Her mouth twitched into a small smile when she spotted him.
Her eyes never moved from his as she spoke.
"I do."
Elizabeth stood back near the doors of the court house, leaning up against one the the huge Greek columns decorating the front of the building. Reporters hung in flocks around the lead prosecutor, camera's flashing as a din of questions poured around him. He was talking easily, charming the lot of them. Her dark eyes skimmed over across the steps.
Chloe stood, not quite balanced on her high heels, talking to an over-weight balding man. Her fingers played upon her palm as she explained something, her eyes lighting up as he gave a quick nod before rattling off another question. Chloe quirked an eyebrow, and paused a second before repeating in kind, her nose crinkling up as she did. Elizabeth curled her lip in disgust at the scene - what a vulture.
"Good job, kiddo!" Elizabeth heard him call as she started walking over, a bright bubbly laugh erupting from her daughter.
Fingers clamped on her shoulder, keeping her feet planted on the marble floor. "Liz." She smirked briefly.
"Excellently played, Alexander." She cocked her chin just lightly in his direction. "Maybe you've learned something from me, after all." Chloe hugged a young dark haired girl enthusiastically, the pair of them wobbling on their pumps. ".. do you mind? I'd kind of like to see my daughter." She asked, turning to face him.
"Actually, I do," he remarked, removing his hand. "I know you didn't divorce from Gabe; I know you bought a house in Smallville. And I know that you've been visiting my father since he was incarcerated despite your new found animosity towards him."
"Am I supposed to be threatened that you did some research on me, Alexander?" she asked, a laugh coloring her tone. Her attention was drawn back when a happy squeel rang across the steps. Elizabeth turned to see Chloe hugging the farm boy, her arms around his neck and feet clear off the ground. "I am just as much of her legal guardian as Gabriel is - joint custody saw to that. He's coming home in a week, though I suppose you know that too."
His breath played upon her neck. "Liz, I don't know where you've been for the past two years, but you've not been around for either of them for a long time."
She turned her irritated eyes towards him. "So?"
"Leave them alone," he advised before stepping around her and down the steps to the awaiting throng.
to be continued...
song list
thrice - elenore rigby, beatles cover (liz's driving scene)
emm gryner - summerlong (courthouse reunion/ lex & liz)