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Disclaimer: Smallville and all related elements, characters and indicia © Tollin-Robbins Productions and Warner Bros. Television, 2002. All Rights Reserved. All characters and situations—save those created by the authors for use solely on this website—are copyright Tollin-Robbins Productions and Warner Bros. Television. Superman created by Jerry Siegel and Joe Schuster.

Of Security Bubbles and Raspberry Cappuccino
by Maddie

Her father always said she was cursed with an overactive imagination, and in the darkness of her corner booth, the disc seemed to glow with a tainted light. Sitting on the table in front of her, the small square of plastic molded in outrageous fluorescent green, seemed to radiate an intangible aura only she could see. If there were a color for guilt, it pretty much had to be floppy disc chartreuse. Only a man with a tremendously guilty mind could have possibly created such a color. And yet it suited how unclean she felt, like something that had been vomited up from the depths of a truly putrid soul.

Gingerly, she picked up the disc; turned it over in her hand, checking for the tenth time to make sure the disc was locked. It should be locked, she thought to herself, in a vault, with an impenetrable steel shell, far from prying eyes, and little girl reporters who don't keep their promises. She lay the disc down on the table again, positioning it precisely in front of her, its edges exactly parallel to the edge of the table. Biting the lip she'd already chewed until it was raw, she reached for her now cold cup of coffee, and not for the first time, asked herself why? Why had she broken a promise and betrayed a trust? Was it simply the need to know what was unknown or hidden, to question, to investigate? More important, was it worth the price of friendship? With one slender finger she pushed the disc a few inches away, as though distancing herself from the only physical manifestation of her irresponsible act would distance her from the overpowering feeling of guilt.

"They usually work better when inserted in the proper disc drive." The voice intruding on her current round of mental self-flagellation held more than a hint of sarcasm.

Chloe started and looked up. Standing next to her, hands deep in the trouser pockets of an immaculately tailored smoke gray suit, stood the last person in Smallville she expected to see in The Beanery this particular evening.

"Lex Luthor," Chloe responded, making sure to add enough inflection to her voice to echo the sarcasm in his, hoping he didn't notice how quickly she whisked the disc into her backpack. "It's not good to be seen patronizing the competition is it? Not on grand opening night of your new business venture. I thought you would be at The Talon hob-nobbing with the Langs and Kents and Fordhams and other good denizens of Smallville." With an impulsive quirk she made sure she emphasized 'good' uncertain whether she was trying to snipe at Lex or herself. "Or don't Luthors hob-nob?"

Lex nodded, slowly shrugging his shoulders, "I'm sure that's not what we call it, but the social operation remains the same."

"So why aren't you?"

"Is that a journalistic question, or just an 'I'm curious' question?"

"Both."

"Well, then, to answer both. I have made an obligatory appearance at the Talon, wished Lana and Nell my best, greeted the few patrons," Lex paused imperceptibly, "who weren't engaged in conversation and quietly took my leave."

Chloe snorted. "Is the ever suave and charismatic Lex Luthor trying to tell me that no one would talk to him?" The half of Chloe's brain that was supposed to be responsible for rational thought wanted to kick the half that was currently in charge of her mouth. Why were all her internal defenses suddenly on high alert? Was she so insecure she would crumble if he even hinted he knew she was concealing something? Perhaps, she would, she thought, because Lex Luthor was the one person in Smallville who could probably see through her, and find out what she was hiding on that miserable disc.

"Let's just say," Lex said quietly, taking his hands out of his pockets and leaning against the edge of her table, "that there was a certain 'undercurrent' at The Talon. My impeccable business sense told me, Lana and Nell needed to establish themselves as proprietors. And they needed to do it without my presence."

"Undercurrent?" Chloe snickered. "As in, some folks in this quaint little cowless cowtown are really pissed because of what happened out at the Kent farm. They hold you directly responsible and were not going to spend their money at The Talon if there was a Luthor any where near the place."

"Now that does sound like a journalistic question."

Chloe opened her mouth to respond, when she realized that Lex's tone had been anything but antagonistic. Much to her surprise she realized he sounded tired, no, exhausted. For the first time since he had interrupted her reverie, she turned off the patented Chloe Sullivan automated, high security defense bubble, and really looked at him. He slowly straightened and was watching her, a taut expression on his face that reminded her of how her mother had looked near the end when she had been in pain and pretended she wasn't. Was it her imagination, or did he just sway slightly, as though his balance was off.

"Are you all right?" she questioned.

"I'm a bit stiff," he answered.

"I'm flattered." The moment the words slipped out of her mouth Chloe wanted to bite them back. She mentally chastising herself again for reading sexual innuendo into almost anything Lex Luthor said. To his credit, Lex pretended he had not understood her meaning. Chloe had always prided herself on being more mature than her freshman classmates, but suddenly she felt very childish. She had certainly forgotten anything she had ever learned about manners. Gesturing to the seat across from her she said in a friendlier tone, "How about having a seat, and we'll maybe start this conversation over again."

Lex grinned slightly, and eased himself into the booth across from her. Did Chloe really hear him sigh and why was he moving like her great-grandmother on a 'bad lumbago day'?

Lex gestured to her now completely ice-cold cup of coffee. "Why don't we start by letting me buy you something hot. To drink, Miss Sullivan." He clarified his statement before she had time for another snappy and terribly stupid reply.

Chloe wondered if she was that obvious, or if he got the same reaction from everyone. She had to admit that, even though she wasn't sure she liked Lex Luthor, he did have a terribly seductive quality about him. No, she chastised herself, don't go there.

"I hear they have a new Raspberry Cappuccino," Lex said, once again breaking into her mental monologue.

Chloe wrinkled her nose in a gesture of disgust. "Well, if its anything like the French Vanilla Amaretto they concocted last week, I think I'll stick with plain, hot and black."

"Ah, a connoisseur of the simple." Lex said as he got the waitress' attention. Not a difficult task when they were the only people in The Beanery.

"So tell me, Miss Sullivan, why haven't you dropped in on the grand opening? Your friends are all there. Clark, Lana, Pete."

Chloe resisted the urge to squirm. Should she go for the truth and tell him she couldn't face her best friend, because she'd just been snooping into his past after saying she wouldn't. Would Lex Luthor understand that? Probably, if she were to believe the rampant rumors about the man. "I feel like I should remain loyal to the past." In more ways than one, she thought. Loyal to my 'past' friendship with Clark, instead of trying to discover exactly what maneuvering led to his adoption..

"Be careful," Lex said softly, "the past has a way of coming back to bite you."

That time Chloe did squirm, and bit her lower lip. Could he read her mind? Had some prescient gift allowed him to divine what she thought she had so secretively stored on her precious green floppy? Had Clark told him she'd been delving into his, Clark's, past? It was already obvious Lex didn't trust her. Yes, she was just a kid to him, but she was still a reporter, and even she was experienced enough to know how important PR was to a family like the Luthors. The right news could make, the wrong news break, fortunes as great as theirs.

As her eyes met Lex's, expecting an accusatory look, she was stunned to find sadness in his intense gaze. Then she silently cursed herself for being six kinds of idiot. She was so wrapped up in her own sense of guilt, she never realized that his last comment was not meant for her at all. He was talking about himself. His past, some hidden secret tying him to Club Zero, had come back to bite him in ways she might never understand. Maybe his mood, and the pain he pretended wasn't there, had something to do with the fourteen hour disappearing act he had pulled off the other day. She'd helped Clark track him down, but Clark never did tell her what he'd found when he found Lex. She desperately wanted to ask Lex, knew he would probably shut her down completely, but opened her mouth anyway.

She was never so sorry to sit up and smell the coffee, literally, as their waitress placed two steaming cups on the table in front of them. The rich smell of dark Colombian select rose from her own cup. It figured, Lex's idea of 'plain, hot and black' was a lot richer than hers. And was that a hint of Raspberry she smelled? She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, savoring the aroma.

When she opened her eyes again she realized the moment had passed. Lex Luthor, cool and in control, was back. His face had regained the regally haughty mask she assumed he reserved for business rivals and most of the unfortunate denizens of Smallville. The crack in the veneer she had glimpsed seconds before was mended, her window of opportunity closed. If she were ever going to find out what happened to Lex during those fourteen hours, she was going to have to ask Clark, assuming he knew.

Not wanting to give up, she was about to forge ahead and ask him anyway, when she heard the muted ringing of a cell phone. The ring blared in the silence of the coffee shop. At first the sound didn't register as belonging to her, then Lex shrugged and mouthed, "Not mine." Hauling her backpack up on to the table, Chloe quickly dumped its contents in a mad scramble for her phone.

"Hello," she said breathlessly.

"Chloe?" Clark's voice on the other end sounded hesitant. "We wondered when you'd be here. The band is warming up."

"Oh," Chloe glanced at Lex. She admitted she was reluctant to join Clark wanting more than anything to continue to question Lex.

"Chloe?" the voice asked again.

"I'll...I'll be right there, Clark." Chloe slowly shut down the phone and began scooping her belongings back into her backpack.

"I guess everyone is waiting on me," she said feeling the overpowering need to apologize for and defend her need to leave. "I'm sorry I couldn't say to finish my coffee. Clark is getting impatient. Must be past his bed time or something."

Lex half smiled and nodded his understanding. Chloe jumped up from the table, slinging her bag over her shoulder and turning her back.

"Miss Sullivan," Lex said softly.

Chloe turned to face him. "Yeah?"

"Don't forget this."

Held between the slender, well manicured fingers of his left hand, was her floppy disk. Chloe's heart stopped. She would never have noticed it was missing until long after Lex had had the opportunity to examine its contents. She turned and took the disc calmly from his fingertips. "English homework," she said. It was half true.

"Good night, Miss Sullivan."

"Good night, Mr. Luthor." With those words Chloe quickly turned to leave.

As Chloe left The Beanery she couldn't resist the urge to look back into the dimly lit interior at it sole customer. Lex was little more than a gray shadow in the darkened booth they had shared. She watched, waiting for him to leave, but he didn't move. Instead he remained almost motionless. With his left hand he absently rotated the cup in front of him. Was it a trick of the shadows and soft lights, or had his carefully tended, emotionless mask slipped once again now that no one would see. The perpetual outcast, haunted by past indiscretions she could only imagine both his own and his father's, he looked so alone. She had often wondered what Clark saw in his friendship with Lex. Perhaps, Clark just saw past the mask. Perhaps, Clark saw something good, not just the sins of his father. Chloe wondered if she could ever accept anyone with such open honesty, or if she would always feel compelled to ferret out every grain of dirt on everyone she knew. Reaching into her pocket she felt the cool plastic of the floppy disc. In her imagination it burned her fingertips. Was Lex trying to warn her when he said the past might come back to bite her, or was he simple talking about himself? Was she destined to someday be the solitary soul in darkened coffee shop of her own making? She pulled the disc from her pocket and looked at it once more. Under the fluorescent glare of the street lamp, it wasn't so awfully green.