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bantha_foddertitle: a restaurant with white tablecloths
fandom: gotham city / metropolis
disclaimer: i do not own
please do not archive
extended author's notes at the end.
ETA: you know what? i love this fic. i have never been so proud of something i've written ever. this took me months, and i love it SO MUCH. SO MUCH.
***
Chloe's house phone rings, and she answers it before she realises she's never had it connected.
"I need you to do me a favour," says Lex.
She hangs up.
*
She's eating in a second rate diner, flipping through a file. Her contact in the DA's office slipped it to her on his lunch break, and she's trying to finish it and get it back before end of business. It's boring, though, and she sips her coffee. Burns her tongue.
The bell rings, and she doesn't look up even when someone slides into the seat opposite her.
"That seat's taken," she says. Keeps reading.
"Yes," says Lex, and she looks up. "By me."
Chloe makes to move, but before she can, Mercy slides in beside her. Traps her.
She looks at Lex. "I'll yell rape," she threatens.
"It's more attention-grabbing to yell 'fire,' but go ahead," he says. Waves a hand, encompasses the diner. Maybe the world. "There's no-one left to hear."
Chloe looks around the diner. She did not even notice the bell ring when everyone left.
She sighs and leans back.
"Whatever," she says.
*
When he offers her the world, she says yes, but crosses her fingers.
Can't trust a Luthor.
*
The first thing she does is make Lex buy her a subscription to every major paper in America. She wants them delivered in a neat pile to her doorstep every morning.
He parries with a neat pile on his desk every morning, and she can meet him for breakfast. She agrees, assuming the breakfast is not at LexCorp, and is accompanied by coffee. Excellent coffee. The sort he would have to import. The sort he would not be ashamed to serve the President.
He would not be ashamed to serve the President decaf, though, and that is part of his charm.
*
The second thing she does is buy a better lock for the door.
She's not quite ready to find a new apartment. Lex's affections - and influence - can be fleeting.
She knows this from experience.
*
She gets a job offer from The Metropolis Daily. Not quite as prestigious as The Daily Planet, but a step up from slumming it, and this way she doesn't have to see Lois and Clark too often.
It's the little things that show Lex pays attention, and she laughs at the thought. Lex pays attention to everything. If he didn't, he'd be dead, and he's a bastard but she's glad it's him and not Lionel.
She starts in obits, works quickly up through human interest to gossip. She gets stuck there for a while - she hates it, but she knows people who know people and it's easy to get coffee dates with secretaries; easy to exchange notes with personal assistants; easy to flutter eyelashes and show a bit of leg at valets. She's not long at gossip, though, because she's quick to put those same skills into play to get the big things. Corporate takeovers. Mob killings. Superman.
She gives just enough bad press to the business dealings surrounding LexCorp to get a name as a reporter willing to fling dirt at Lex Luthor. She gets invited to dinners and meetings in back rooms, and isn't surprised when scuttlebutt around town has her down as a big player in the scheme to bring down LexCorp.
Lex loves it.
*
After her first front page headline, he cancels daily breakfasts. He replaces it with weekly dinner at Metropolis' most exclusive restaurants.
She stands him up at least three times a month.
She knows he's keeping count, waiting to punish her.
She does not care.
*
She nods at Mercy as she passes through the exterior office. At the open door she pauses, meets Mercy's eyes.
"Hi," she says over her shoulder, towards the interior office.
"Mercy, you may go," responds Lex's voice from within.
Chloe watches as Mercy waits for the elevator. Grins and enters Lex's office. Listens to the ping of the elevator as she locks the door behind her.
She doesn't want Mercy doubling back. She can protect herself better when Mercy isn't around.
"I got the thing," she says casually. Seats herself in the guest chair.
"Good," he says. Folds his laptop closed and rises. "Was there a problem?"
She shakes her head. Bites her thumb at him.
"Chloe," he says, the warning clear in his tone.
"Superman turned up on the scene, but it was nothing." She shrugs one shoulder, and looks away under his stare. "I didn't talk to him or anything." Lex puts a hand under her chin, turns her face towards himself.
"Did you want to?" he asks.
She tugs her chin out of his hand. "Of course I did!" The glare she turns on him is accusing, but he doesn't back down. "He was my best friend, once."
"Once," he repeats. "And now he's everyone's. Get over it, Chloe. Focus on what matters."
"Like you and your stupid plans?" She stands up and suddenly they're face to face.
"My stupid plans?" He advances on her, and she takes a step backward, and another, until she is caught between Lex and his desk. "My stupid plans are all that stand between us and that alien, Chloe."
"He was my friend!" she protests again.
"He kept secrets from you," he responds evenly. Places a hand on each side of her. Boxes her in. "Never trusted you. Never believed in you."
"You keep secrets from me."
He leans forward, breath hot on her ear. "I don't," he says. "Chloe, I trust you." He kisses her earlobe. Puts a hand on her hip. Pushes her against the desk.
She grabs his collar and pulls him closer. Closer. Closer still.
Kisses him.
"Lex," she breathes. He pushes her skirt up, fumbles with his belt. She grins, because billionaires don't fumble. They are cool, and calm, and collected, but when he's inside her she pulls him flush against her body and he moans.
Times like these, she wishes she carried a recording device.
*
Lois calls. "Chloe," she says, as Chloe slips intricate earrings on. "We thought you'd like to come to dinner with us."
"Can't," says Chloe, mouth muffled by the strap of the shoe dangling from her mouth. "Busy."
"You don't know when," protests Lois.
Chloe sighs. "Okay," she says. "But I'm picking the place. And the time."
"Clark!" calls Lois, hand not quite muffling the phone. "Chloe said yes!"
Chloe rolls her eyes at her reflection and searches for her mascara. Not like Clark couldn't hear the entire conversation from half a world away.
She pauses.
She wonders if Lois knows.
*
When she passes Lex later that night at some function or other, she doesn't tell him about Lois' call.
In public, they are not those kinds of people.
*
She forgets to tell him in private, too.
They're not those kinds of people.
*
Lois kisses her cheek. "Are you sure we can't drop you home?"
"No," says Chloe, and grins. "I like walking. Keeps me young."
Lois laughs, and squeezes her hand. "Okay," she says.
"Chloe," says Clark in farewell, and it is the first time he has said her name all night.
Clark knows.
As Clark and Lois round the corner in the distance looking for their car - Clark and Lois are young, fresh, impetuous, and don't frequent establishments with valets - a limo pulls up beside her. The door opens before it comes to a complete stop, and Chloe does not have to look once to know who it is.
She slides in and pulls the door shut.
"Have fun?" Lex asks, and over his shoulder through the back windscreen she meets Clark's eyes.
Lex turns. "Ah," he says mildly, and waves.
He turns back and moves so she can no longer see Clark.
"Have fun?" he repeats.
"Yeah," she spits. "It was great."
*
Stop it, says the note she finds slipped under her balcony door.
She lives on the fifth floor.
He's a criminal, she reads, and thinks it's a little unsubtle, even for Clark.
She lets go, and watches the paper float on the breeze.
She'll take her chances.
*
Lex looks up from his computer as Chloe shuts the door behind herself. "I want you to go to Gotham City," he says, and leans back in his chair. Lifts a hand to his chin.
She grins. "Bruce Wayne a threat?" she asks. "Or are you worried Batman's going to take you down?"
"I'm not afraid of Bruce," he says. "I've seen him with his pants around his ankles." He pauses.
"And?" Chloe stands beside his desk; looks down at him.
"I'd like you to do the same." He pushes a CD across to her. She doesn't touch the disk.
"I'm not a whore, Lex," she says.
"So don't fuck him," he replies. Bends back to his screen. "Fly commercial." Looks back up at her. "Don't look like you're mine."
"Convenient that I'm not," she snaps.
She takes the disk with her.
*
Chloe flies first class.
She keeps the receipts. She'll bill Lex for it later.
*
Two suits, hanging lonely in the closet. Dingy motel room, cockroaches on the floor and heating that doesn't work. Coffee for breakfast. Chats with hot dog sellers, establishing contacts and patterns.
This is familiar, she thinks, bitterly.
*
The Wayne Building casts a shadow over the Gotham Plaza as she strides through it. She stares up at the building, raises a hand to block the sun glaring behind it. It's more attractive than the LexCorp Building; more care has obviously been taken with the architecture, and it shows. The classic style, compared to LexCorp's more post-modern approach to design, demonstrates the difference in organisational technique.
She tries the words out in her head, tastes them on her tongue and imagines them on the page.
She shakes her head. She'll never be a lifestyle reporter, but maybe she can pass for one long enough to escape Batman's notice.
The Bat Man doesn't need to know that Lex is casing Gotham.
*
She's in a crappy diner drinking a crappy coffee, and dismisses the busboy with a glance as he wipes down the table beside her. The coffee's lukewarm, and there's no sugar, and for a brief second she misses the cafes where she got tiny cookies with her latte, and she had to fight with Clark to pay the cheque.
Her informant is late, and she glances at her watch as a breeze brushes past her. The stupid diner is drafty, and she shivers. Pushes the regrets out of her head. The door twitches open, and she looks over at the door for a second. Notes the white guy in a black jacket. Trendy sun glasses. She thinks that he's a bit too high class for the diner.
When she looks back down at her coffee, there's a slip of paper under her mug. She looks up, looks down. Peers under her table, and looks carefully at the people sitting around her. Gingerly she unfolds the note. She reads, He's not coming.
She crumples up the paper and throws it into her coffee. Stands to leave.
The note's unsigned, but she knows who sent it.
Bastard.
*
She books into the Gotham Hotel. Uses the LexCorp credit card. Batman knows who she is. By the time she's signed her name, he probably knows where she is.
She's lived in a town owned by one man before. She knows what to do.
When the porter drops her bags in her room, she tips him a twenty and stops to smell the flowers.
Welcome to Gotham, the note says under the Wayne Enterprises logo. She's not really surprised.
A town owned by two men.
*
It's a matter of hours, a tedious waiting game, before she wrangles an invitation to the next bash at Wayne Manor. She shops whilst she waits for contacts; purchases a dress in light hues of red and brown and some shoes and a fantastic new purse. Texts Lex details of her purchases, and laughs at his reply.
When she returns to the hotel, there's an envelope waiting at reception. "With compliments, Ms Sullivan," oozes the clerk, and she smiles at him.
A charity gala, and she knows the dress she picked is just perfect for Gotham City.
*
"Miss Sullivan," says the butler at the door, "may I take your coat?"
She turns: takes in the elegant dinner settings and the chandeliers from the ceiling. Wayne Manor reflects an aura Lex honestly can't match, and she worries about passing for wealthy. She turns back to the butler and passes him her coat, but before she can ask how he knows her name, the ceiling caves in, and The Riddler cackles.
Chloe grins.
This game, she knows how to play.
*
Lex plays the recording again.
"There's a reporter from The Metropolis Daily in town," says one voice. Dark and gravelly, and he knows who it is.
"You want me to find out who?" asks another, and he'd know that voice in the dark. Clark sounds exactly the same, and Lex wonders how his old friend ever thought he could disguise himself.
"Her name is Chloe Sullivan," continues the Bat.
There's a pause. "Ahh," breathes Clark.
"Should she be in my town, Superman?" demands the Bat, and Lex grins. Batman sounds as impatient as ever, and that could work.
"Don't worry," says Clark calmly, but Lex can hear the worry in his voice. "I'll take care of it."
"Tell Luthor to stop dropping spies in my town," grinds out the Bat, and then there's nothing but the soft sound of Clark's breathing before he too hangs up.
How did he know? Lex wonders, but drops the thought quickly. He's always shown a little too much fondness for Chloe. He's not surprised a man like Batman figured it out.
He plays the recording again.
*
Chloe starts slumming it. It's a familiar routine: newspaper vendors and men in seedy bars in the middle of the day, happy to talk to a pretty girl, or one who buys them beer. Nights she shows a bit of leg and dresses up pretty to get into the high society functions.
She sees the same people, night and day.
When the ceiling crashes in, or the tanks roll through the door, she takes pictures and makes notes, and her hotel room never gets cleaned because it's a shrine to Gotham City.
*
"Miss Sullivan," says Bruce Wayne. "I'm Bruce Wayne."
Chloe smiles at him.
"Please," she says. "Call me Chloe."
She knows who he is.
*
Her phone rings. She looks at the caller ID. "Mister Luthor," she says cheerfully. "Coming to check up on me?"
"I'm considering it," he rumbles down the phone. "Are you making progress?"
She looks at the photos and clippings and hand-scrawled notes stuck to her walls. "Of a sort," she replies, and does not feel guilty.
"I don't pay you to admire criminals," he says, and she thinks he's losing his touch.
"Yes, you do," she snaps back, and smiles into the silence.
"Okay," he says, "but hurry up." There is a pause. "And don't try on any masks."
She laughs.
*
Bruce is late for dates and meetings; he is covered in bruises and scrapes that she tries to kiss better. One evening he has trouble walking. "From the latest incident with those criminals," he brushes it away, but she thinks there is more truth to the matter than he is willing to admit.
*
She gets held hostage by Catwoman. This is not an accident.
*
"Catwoman," says Batman, one arm reaching out. "Let Miss Sullivan go."
"Are you serious?" Catwoman shakes her head. "Let go of a LuthorCorp spy? I thought you would be all over this one, Batman." The way she spits the Bat Man's name confuses Chloe, but she distracts herself with things to say, to Catwoman, to Batman. To Lex when he finds out what she's done.
To Clark, if he comes to her rescue, which would not surprise her.
Catwoman ties Chloe to a post, wrapped round and round with a whip, and lunges at Batman. She produces another whip from somewhere, and Chloe wonders how they do it: hide gadgets inside their skin-tight suits. She considers asking Clark for tips, but remembers they don't talk like that any more.
Or ever, but whatever.
"Miss Sullivan," breathes a voice behind her, and the hot, sticky stench of fish and Penguin drifts across her face. "I'm so very happy to see you."
"Oh?" she says, and for the first time, Chloe is afraid.
"Delighted, in fact." Chloe tilts her head and tries to keep him in her sight, but he ducks behind her and pushes her face back to watch the fighting. "Aren't they lovely?" the Penguin says, as he trails a flipper down her back. "Distracting, some might say."
He snips the whip and runs, and Chloe is picked up and carried along behind him.
"Over the edge!" he cries, and Chloe is falling, falling five, ten, fifteen metres, before a sudden stop and she finds herself clinging to Batman's arms as he hangs from the rooftop.
"Are you okay?" he asks, and she looks up into the sky to see Superman bearing down on them, before he detours and picks up the Penguin.
"Put me down," she says.
*
She sits on the roof; leans against the Bat Signal, newspaper in her lap. Superman Captures Penguin! the headline says. In smaller print she reads, After a record ninety-three days free in Gotham, the Penguin has been returned to his watery cell in the Arkham Asylum.
"Chloe," says Batman from the darkness, and Chloe knows exactly who Batman is. He's much better at this game than Clark is, but Chloe is better. "They can be rehabilitated."
She turns away.
*
The phone rings, and Chloe reaches a hand towards it. "This had better be important," she mumbles.
"Ms Sullivan, this is your six a-m wake up call." The guy on the other end of the phone is awfully perky, and Chloe thinks she's misheard.
"I don't remember asking for a wake up call," she says. "But I was pretty drunk."
"You have a flight in three hours, Ms Sullivan."
Chloe thinks she might feel a little sick, and hangs up. She closes her eyes again, and lets herself regret Bruce for just a second. He'd probably not have been so controlling, but then, she thinks, he'd never have let her get away with so much.
There is a knock at her hotel room door, and when she opens it, a cheery young woman pushes a cart in, and the smell of freshly brewed coffee follows her in. "We hope you enjoyed your stay with us, Ms Sullivan," says the girl, and Chloe waves her off.
Chloe pours herself a coffee, and takes a bite from a croissant, before she reaches for the note thrown haphazardly onto the cart. I miss you, she reads, and she thinks it might be the most open Lex has ever been in his life.
She wonders if he's telling the truth.
*
She gets on the plane.
*
"I know Bruce Wayne's secret," Chloe says.
Lex nods, silently. He considers what this means.
"I'm going to run for president," Lex offers in exchange.
"I know," Chloe replies. She leans towards him, and he holds her still, his lips on her forehead. He breathes her in, and she kisses him. He kisses her in return.
He'll never let her leave.
===
I owe a lot to Kathe for this, particularly to her The Lines We Amend.
Also, to Sloane, who always holds my hand. And asks for porn.
The Last Time
by Marie Howe
The last time we had dinner together in a restaurant
with white tablecloths, he leaned forward
and took my two hands in his hands and said,
I'm going to die soon. I want you to know that.
And I said, I think I do know.
And he said, What surprises me is that you don't.
And I said, I do. And he said, What?
And I said, Know that you're going to die.
And he said, No, I mean know that you are.
fandom: gotham city / metropolis
disclaimer: i do not own
please do not archive
extended author's notes at the end.
ETA: you know what? i love this fic. i have never been so proud of something i've written ever. this took me months, and i love it SO MUCH. SO MUCH.
***
Chloe's house phone rings, and she answers it before she realises she's never had it connected.
"I need you to do me a favour," says Lex.
She hangs up.
*
She's eating in a second rate diner, flipping through a file. Her contact in the DA's office slipped it to her on his lunch break, and she's trying to finish it and get it back before end of business. It's boring, though, and she sips her coffee. Burns her tongue.
The bell rings, and she doesn't look up even when someone slides into the seat opposite her.
"That seat's taken," she says. Keeps reading.
"Yes," says Lex, and she looks up. "By me."
Chloe makes to move, but before she can, Mercy slides in beside her. Traps her.
She looks at Lex. "I'll yell rape," she threatens.
"It's more attention-grabbing to yell 'fire,' but go ahead," he says. Waves a hand, encompasses the diner. Maybe the world. "There's no-one left to hear."
Chloe looks around the diner. She did not even notice the bell ring when everyone left.
She sighs and leans back.
"Whatever," she says.
*
When he offers her the world, she says yes, but crosses her fingers.
Can't trust a Luthor.
*
The first thing she does is make Lex buy her a subscription to every major paper in America. She wants them delivered in a neat pile to her doorstep every morning.
He parries with a neat pile on his desk every morning, and she can meet him for breakfast. She agrees, assuming the breakfast is not at LexCorp, and is accompanied by coffee. Excellent coffee. The sort he would have to import. The sort he would not be ashamed to serve the President.
He would not be ashamed to serve the President decaf, though, and that is part of his charm.
*
The second thing she does is buy a better lock for the door.
She's not quite ready to find a new apartment. Lex's affections - and influence - can be fleeting.
She knows this from experience.
*
She gets a job offer from The Metropolis Daily. Not quite as prestigious as The Daily Planet, but a step up from slumming it, and this way she doesn't have to see Lois and Clark too often.
It's the little things that show Lex pays attention, and she laughs at the thought. Lex pays attention to everything. If he didn't, he'd be dead, and he's a bastard but she's glad it's him and not Lionel.
She starts in obits, works quickly up through human interest to gossip. She gets stuck there for a while - she hates it, but she knows people who know people and it's easy to get coffee dates with secretaries; easy to exchange notes with personal assistants; easy to flutter eyelashes and show a bit of leg at valets. She's not long at gossip, though, because she's quick to put those same skills into play to get the big things. Corporate takeovers. Mob killings. Superman.
She gives just enough bad press to the business dealings surrounding LexCorp to get a name as a reporter willing to fling dirt at Lex Luthor. She gets invited to dinners and meetings in back rooms, and isn't surprised when scuttlebutt around town has her down as a big player in the scheme to bring down LexCorp.
Lex loves it.
*
After her first front page headline, he cancels daily breakfasts. He replaces it with weekly dinner at Metropolis' most exclusive restaurants.
She stands him up at least three times a month.
She knows he's keeping count, waiting to punish her.
She does not care.
*
She nods at Mercy as she passes through the exterior office. At the open door she pauses, meets Mercy's eyes.
"Hi," she says over her shoulder, towards the interior office.
"Mercy, you may go," responds Lex's voice from within.
Chloe watches as Mercy waits for the elevator. Grins and enters Lex's office. Listens to the ping of the elevator as she locks the door behind her.
She doesn't want Mercy doubling back. She can protect herself better when Mercy isn't around.
"I got the thing," she says casually. Seats herself in the guest chair.
"Good," he says. Folds his laptop closed and rises. "Was there a problem?"
She shakes her head. Bites her thumb at him.
"Chloe," he says, the warning clear in his tone.
"Superman turned up on the scene, but it was nothing." She shrugs one shoulder, and looks away under his stare. "I didn't talk to him or anything." Lex puts a hand under her chin, turns her face towards himself.
"Did you want to?" he asks.
She tugs her chin out of his hand. "Of course I did!" The glare she turns on him is accusing, but he doesn't back down. "He was my best friend, once."
"Once," he repeats. "And now he's everyone's. Get over it, Chloe. Focus on what matters."
"Like you and your stupid plans?" She stands up and suddenly they're face to face.
"My stupid plans?" He advances on her, and she takes a step backward, and another, until she is caught between Lex and his desk. "My stupid plans are all that stand between us and that alien, Chloe."
"He was my friend!" she protests again.
"He kept secrets from you," he responds evenly. Places a hand on each side of her. Boxes her in. "Never trusted you. Never believed in you."
"You keep secrets from me."
He leans forward, breath hot on her ear. "I don't," he says. "Chloe, I trust you." He kisses her earlobe. Puts a hand on her hip. Pushes her against the desk.
She grabs his collar and pulls him closer. Closer. Closer still.
Kisses him.
"Lex," she breathes. He pushes her skirt up, fumbles with his belt. She grins, because billionaires don't fumble. They are cool, and calm, and collected, but when he's inside her she pulls him flush against her body and he moans.
Times like these, she wishes she carried a recording device.
*
Lois calls. "Chloe," she says, as Chloe slips intricate earrings on. "We thought you'd like to come to dinner with us."
"Can't," says Chloe, mouth muffled by the strap of the shoe dangling from her mouth. "Busy."
"You don't know when," protests Lois.
Chloe sighs. "Okay," she says. "But I'm picking the place. And the time."
"Clark!" calls Lois, hand not quite muffling the phone. "Chloe said yes!"
Chloe rolls her eyes at her reflection and searches for her mascara. Not like Clark couldn't hear the entire conversation from half a world away.
She pauses.
She wonders if Lois knows.
*
When she passes Lex later that night at some function or other, she doesn't tell him about Lois' call.
In public, they are not those kinds of people.
*
She forgets to tell him in private, too.
They're not those kinds of people.
*
Lois kisses her cheek. "Are you sure we can't drop you home?"
"No," says Chloe, and grins. "I like walking. Keeps me young."
Lois laughs, and squeezes her hand. "Okay," she says.
"Chloe," says Clark in farewell, and it is the first time he has said her name all night.
Clark knows.
As Clark and Lois round the corner in the distance looking for their car - Clark and Lois are young, fresh, impetuous, and don't frequent establishments with valets - a limo pulls up beside her. The door opens before it comes to a complete stop, and Chloe does not have to look once to know who it is.
She slides in and pulls the door shut.
"Have fun?" Lex asks, and over his shoulder through the back windscreen she meets Clark's eyes.
Lex turns. "Ah," he says mildly, and waves.
He turns back and moves so she can no longer see Clark.
"Have fun?" he repeats.
"Yeah," she spits. "It was great."
*
Stop it, says the note she finds slipped under her balcony door.
She lives on the fifth floor.
He's a criminal, she reads, and thinks it's a little unsubtle, even for Clark.
She lets go, and watches the paper float on the breeze.
She'll take her chances.
*
Lex looks up from his computer as Chloe shuts the door behind herself. "I want you to go to Gotham City," he says, and leans back in his chair. Lifts a hand to his chin.
She grins. "Bruce Wayne a threat?" she asks. "Or are you worried Batman's going to take you down?"
"I'm not afraid of Bruce," he says. "I've seen him with his pants around his ankles." He pauses.
"And?" Chloe stands beside his desk; looks down at him.
"I'd like you to do the same." He pushes a CD across to her. She doesn't touch the disk.
"I'm not a whore, Lex," she says.
"So don't fuck him," he replies. Bends back to his screen. "Fly commercial." Looks back up at her. "Don't look like you're mine."
"Convenient that I'm not," she snaps.
She takes the disk with her.
*
Chloe flies first class.
She keeps the receipts. She'll bill Lex for it later.
*
Two suits, hanging lonely in the closet. Dingy motel room, cockroaches on the floor and heating that doesn't work. Coffee for breakfast. Chats with hot dog sellers, establishing contacts and patterns.
This is familiar, she thinks, bitterly.
*
The Wayne Building casts a shadow over the Gotham Plaza as she strides through it. She stares up at the building, raises a hand to block the sun glaring behind it. It's more attractive than the LexCorp Building; more care has obviously been taken with the architecture, and it shows. The classic style, compared to LexCorp's more post-modern approach to design, demonstrates the difference in organisational technique.
She tries the words out in her head, tastes them on her tongue and imagines them on the page.
She shakes her head. She'll never be a lifestyle reporter, but maybe she can pass for one long enough to escape Batman's notice.
The Bat Man doesn't need to know that Lex is casing Gotham.
*
She's in a crappy diner drinking a crappy coffee, and dismisses the busboy with a glance as he wipes down the table beside her. The coffee's lukewarm, and there's no sugar, and for a brief second she misses the cafes where she got tiny cookies with her latte, and she had to fight with Clark to pay the cheque.
Her informant is late, and she glances at her watch as a breeze brushes past her. The stupid diner is drafty, and she shivers. Pushes the regrets out of her head. The door twitches open, and she looks over at the door for a second. Notes the white guy in a black jacket. Trendy sun glasses. She thinks that he's a bit too high class for the diner.
When she looks back down at her coffee, there's a slip of paper under her mug. She looks up, looks down. Peers under her table, and looks carefully at the people sitting around her. Gingerly she unfolds the note. She reads, He's not coming.
She crumples up the paper and throws it into her coffee. Stands to leave.
The note's unsigned, but she knows who sent it.
Bastard.
*
She books into the Gotham Hotel. Uses the LexCorp credit card. Batman knows who she is. By the time she's signed her name, he probably knows where she is.
She's lived in a town owned by one man before. She knows what to do.
When the porter drops her bags in her room, she tips him a twenty and stops to smell the flowers.
Welcome to Gotham, the note says under the Wayne Enterprises logo. She's not really surprised.
A town owned by two men.
*
It's a matter of hours, a tedious waiting game, before she wrangles an invitation to the next bash at Wayne Manor. She shops whilst she waits for contacts; purchases a dress in light hues of red and brown and some shoes and a fantastic new purse. Texts Lex details of her purchases, and laughs at his reply.
When she returns to the hotel, there's an envelope waiting at reception. "With compliments, Ms Sullivan," oozes the clerk, and she smiles at him.
A charity gala, and she knows the dress she picked is just perfect for Gotham City.
*
"Miss Sullivan," says the butler at the door, "may I take your coat?"
She turns: takes in the elegant dinner settings and the chandeliers from the ceiling. Wayne Manor reflects an aura Lex honestly can't match, and she worries about passing for wealthy. She turns back to the butler and passes him her coat, but before she can ask how he knows her name, the ceiling caves in, and The Riddler cackles.
Chloe grins.
This game, she knows how to play.
*
Lex plays the recording again.
"There's a reporter from The Metropolis Daily in town," says one voice. Dark and gravelly, and he knows who it is.
"You want me to find out who?" asks another, and he'd know that voice in the dark. Clark sounds exactly the same, and Lex wonders how his old friend ever thought he could disguise himself.
"Her name is Chloe Sullivan," continues the Bat.
There's a pause. "Ahh," breathes Clark.
"Should she be in my town, Superman?" demands the Bat, and Lex grins. Batman sounds as impatient as ever, and that could work.
"Don't worry," says Clark calmly, but Lex can hear the worry in his voice. "I'll take care of it."
"Tell Luthor to stop dropping spies in my town," grinds out the Bat, and then there's nothing but the soft sound of Clark's breathing before he too hangs up.
How did he know? Lex wonders, but drops the thought quickly. He's always shown a little too much fondness for Chloe. He's not surprised a man like Batman figured it out.
He plays the recording again.
*
Chloe starts slumming it. It's a familiar routine: newspaper vendors and men in seedy bars in the middle of the day, happy to talk to a pretty girl, or one who buys them beer. Nights she shows a bit of leg and dresses up pretty to get into the high society functions.
She sees the same people, night and day.
When the ceiling crashes in, or the tanks roll through the door, she takes pictures and makes notes, and her hotel room never gets cleaned because it's a shrine to Gotham City.
*
"Miss Sullivan," says Bruce Wayne. "I'm Bruce Wayne."
Chloe smiles at him.
"Please," she says. "Call me Chloe."
She knows who he is.
*
Her phone rings. She looks at the caller ID. "Mister Luthor," she says cheerfully. "Coming to check up on me?"
"I'm considering it," he rumbles down the phone. "Are you making progress?"
She looks at the photos and clippings and hand-scrawled notes stuck to her walls. "Of a sort," she replies, and does not feel guilty.
"I don't pay you to admire criminals," he says, and she thinks he's losing his touch.
"Yes, you do," she snaps back, and smiles into the silence.
"Okay," he says, "but hurry up." There is a pause. "And don't try on any masks."
She laughs.
*
Bruce is late for dates and meetings; he is covered in bruises and scrapes that she tries to kiss better. One evening he has trouble walking. "From the latest incident with those criminals," he brushes it away, but she thinks there is more truth to the matter than he is willing to admit.
*
She gets held hostage by Catwoman. This is not an accident.
*
"Catwoman," says Batman, one arm reaching out. "Let Miss Sullivan go."
"Are you serious?" Catwoman shakes her head. "Let go of a LuthorCorp spy? I thought you would be all over this one, Batman." The way she spits the Bat Man's name confuses Chloe, but she distracts herself with things to say, to Catwoman, to Batman. To Lex when he finds out what she's done.
To Clark, if he comes to her rescue, which would not surprise her.
Catwoman ties Chloe to a post, wrapped round and round with a whip, and lunges at Batman. She produces another whip from somewhere, and Chloe wonders how they do it: hide gadgets inside their skin-tight suits. She considers asking Clark for tips, but remembers they don't talk like that any more.
Or ever, but whatever.
"Miss Sullivan," breathes a voice behind her, and the hot, sticky stench of fish and Penguin drifts across her face. "I'm so very happy to see you."
"Oh?" she says, and for the first time, Chloe is afraid.
"Delighted, in fact." Chloe tilts her head and tries to keep him in her sight, but he ducks behind her and pushes her face back to watch the fighting. "Aren't they lovely?" the Penguin says, as he trails a flipper down her back. "Distracting, some might say."
He snips the whip and runs, and Chloe is picked up and carried along behind him.
"Over the edge!" he cries, and Chloe is falling, falling five, ten, fifteen metres, before a sudden stop and she finds herself clinging to Batman's arms as he hangs from the rooftop.
"Are you okay?" he asks, and she looks up into the sky to see Superman bearing down on them, before he detours and picks up the Penguin.
"Put me down," she says.
*
She sits on the roof; leans against the Bat Signal, newspaper in her lap. Superman Captures Penguin! the headline says. In smaller print she reads, After a record ninety-three days free in Gotham, the Penguin has been returned to his watery cell in the Arkham Asylum.
"Chloe," says Batman from the darkness, and Chloe knows exactly who Batman is. He's much better at this game than Clark is, but Chloe is better. "They can be rehabilitated."
She turns away.
*
The phone rings, and Chloe reaches a hand towards it. "This had better be important," she mumbles.
"Ms Sullivan, this is your six a-m wake up call." The guy on the other end of the phone is awfully perky, and Chloe thinks she's misheard.
"I don't remember asking for a wake up call," she says. "But I was pretty drunk."
"You have a flight in three hours, Ms Sullivan."
Chloe thinks she might feel a little sick, and hangs up. She closes her eyes again, and lets herself regret Bruce for just a second. He'd probably not have been so controlling, but then, she thinks, he'd never have let her get away with so much.
There is a knock at her hotel room door, and when she opens it, a cheery young woman pushes a cart in, and the smell of freshly brewed coffee follows her in. "We hope you enjoyed your stay with us, Ms Sullivan," says the girl, and Chloe waves her off.
Chloe pours herself a coffee, and takes a bite from a croissant, before she reaches for the note thrown haphazardly onto the cart. I miss you, she reads, and she thinks it might be the most open Lex has ever been in his life.
She wonders if he's telling the truth.
*
She gets on the plane.
*
"I know Bruce Wayne's secret," Chloe says.
Lex nods, silently. He considers what this means.
"I'm going to run for president," Lex offers in exchange.
"I know," Chloe replies. She leans towards him, and he holds her still, his lips on her forehead. He breathes her in, and she kisses him. He kisses her in return.
He'll never let her leave.
===
I owe a lot to Kathe for this, particularly to her The Lines We Amend.
Also, to Sloane, who always holds my hand. And asks for porn.
The Last Time
by Marie Howe
The last time we had dinner together in a restaurant
with white tablecloths, he leaned forward
and took my two hands in his hands and said,
I'm going to die soon. I want you to know that.
And I said, I think I do know.
And he said, What surprises me is that you don't.
And I said, I do. And he said, What?
And I said, Know that you're going to die.
And he said, No, I mean know that you are.
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(no subject)
Date: 2005-10-14 09:01 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-10-14 05:25 pm (UTC)I'm glad you enjoyed this. Thank you so much for commenting.