print this story!

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.

His House
by Drusilla Lance

She went to his house and walked up the cold, granite stairs. She opened his door without ringing the bell, thanks to the key that he gave her a few months ago. She walked down the darkened halls until she reached his room, where she could smell him.

She knew shouldn't have been there without permission, but she needed the familiar comfort the old Scottish castle provided. Some of her best memories were there, even though it was now empty.

She took off her clothes and put on his robe. She tied it snugly around her, enjoying the feel of the silk against her skin. She started going through his drawers and found his cologne. She always loved the way it smelled. Even when he wasn't wearing it, he still smelled like it. She sprayed some on her, wanting the scent to fill her nostrils until her nose wouldn't work anymore.

Next she went down into his den and found his CDs. He had a whole grand collection of what seemed like a thousand different albums. They ranged from classical to rock to Celtic. She pulled out one of his favorites. She slipped it into the player and tracked it to the song he had played while he had purposed to her. It was the most romantic thing she had ever experienced. She blushes at the memory.

She knew she shouldn't stay long, even though he wouldn't be home soon. He would never return to his palace in Smallville. A tear began to well up in her upon thinking that thought.

She opened up a cupboard where he usually kept his incense. He didn't use it except for special occasions. Special occasions being anytime she came over to see him, in which case, he used them almost everyday.

She took the incense back upstairs into the bathroom. He had a giant, antique looking tub in which she absolutely loved. She scattered the incense around the room and began to burn it, allowing the smell to trigger happy memories, just like his cologne did. She ran a warm bath for herself when she realized she left the CD player running. Had the device been smaller, she would have dragged it upstairs where she could listen to the music as she laid in a hot tub of bubbles.

She turned off the CD player and noticed a letter that sat on his desk. She opened it and began to read it.

Hello, Love.

~Chloe

The letter was sealed with a kiss of lipstick. Her kiss. Her writing. She had sent the letter to him the night before he left. He never made it to their rendezvous.

She clutched the letter to her chest and tears began to fall. "You never kept that date, my love," she said out loud. "But I shall...tonight."

She placed the letter back down on his desk and went back up to take her bath. After relishing in the bubbles and incense, she went back into his spacious room and laid in his bed. The silky sheets were just as she remembered. She fell asleep and stayed all afternoon.

The church bells rang throughout the city of Metropolis, signalling it was midnight. And as she had promised, Chloe kept her date. She walked through the cemetery. The grass had light dew on in from the sprinklers. All the headstones were kept in picturesque order. Flowers lined the walkways. It looked more like a park than it did a resting ground for the dead.

She stopped at a particular headstone. It was larger than the rest and had a nice glisten to it. It was only a week old. She read the name that had been engraved for time and all eternity in it. Lex Luthor. He had died just a week ago, which was two weeks before they were set to be married. The strains of planning a royal wedding were beginning to take the toll on the both of them. She thought they needed a romantic break. She set their little picnic under the stars for midnight.

He never made it.

He was on his way to meet her out at Chandler's Field when another driver had fallen asleep at the wheel at the exact moment he was passing by. The crash was bad. Neither of them survived.

His headstone was more of a memorial than a normal headstone. It was so large. She stood before it, wearing the dress that he absolutely loved most on her. She had her make-up and hair done perfectly. She looked like one of those goddesses from Greek mythology. He loved mythology, and quoted it often.

She began to talk to the headstone, almost as if he was standing right before her. "It's been difficult...living without you, that is." Tears began to stream down her cheeks. "I...I don't know if I can go on living without you much longer...I know it's only been a week, but it's been so hard.

"They say..." She sniffled. "They say that you're going to go to Hell for the things you've done in your past. They also say, that...one goes to Hell for committing suicide. If that's the case, then..." Her bottom lip began to quiver as more tears fell and she bean to sob, her make-up beginning to smudge. "Then I hope you are in Hell, because Hell can't be that bad if we're together."

The crying girl pulls out a crystalline bottle filled with a red liquid. Potassium Cyanide mixed with some of Lex' favorite wine. She opened it and downed it like a shot of whiskey. She fell onto her knees and cradled herself up against the headstone as she waited for the poison to take it's effect.

"So forgive me, love, if I cry in your shower. So forgive me, love, for the salt in your bed. So forgive me, love, if I cry all afternoon."