Summary: After escaping from her 'safe-house' and Lex's security system, Chloe finds herself in the dingiest bar in Nowhere, USA. Things are looking down for her, until she meets a handsome young man with a killer smile.
Granted, she wasn’t exactly the kind of girl who usually found herself in the dingiest of bars in the middle of Nowhere, USA, but Chloe Sullivan had been having a bad year.Not only had one of her best friends gone MIA, and the other suddenly developed a desire to go to France (and in the process forgotten all about her friends and life in Smallville), but Chloe was also supposedly dead…and that didn’t bode well for her mood.
So that was why she’d escaped the safe-house Lex had had her in all of these months, and stolen one of her security guards’ cars before leaving it by the side of the road after deciding that it could very well be sporting a tracking device--and she’d hitch-hiked from there on.
Thankfully a car with an old woman heading to visit her granddaughter two cities over picked her up on the highway and not some psychopath, and so Chloe had had a nice, safe ride with an overly chatty yet genuinely likable old woman who made her resent the fact that both sets of her grandparents had died before her birth.
After reaching a place she didn’t even know the name of, Chloe used some of the money Lex had left with her at the safe-house and rented a dingy little motel room that’d seen better days--better centuries--and headed down to the rustic bar despite the fact that she was still seventeen. But she could make herself look older, and when the bartender saw her he must have known that she was someone who needed a nice cold drink and a dark corner to forget about life, because he just gave her an understanding smile and her order without asking for an ID...
…which she did have from her last summer in Metropolis. She was great around a computer, so coming up with a fake ID hadn’t been hard at all. Not that she thought she looked anything like a “Lola McKenzie”, but her picture was on the ID, and no one had ever really questioned the name or the date of birth.
She’d been in her corner for a while, cradling her cooled beer, when suddenly someone sat in the seat across from her, interrupting her depressing inner dialog. Her green eyes widened in surprise the second they landed on the handsome, sandy-blonde hunk smirking flirtatiously at her from across the table, and she couldn’t help but wonder for a second if she’d switched bodies with Lana Lang. No one that abnormally gorgeous would've ever realized she was alive--much less come to sit next to her! Well, at least not in Smallville.
“Hey, you looked too pretty to be here all alone, so I decided to come and keep you company.” His smirk grew cheekier and his eyes twinkled with mischief. Oh, this was a bad boy if there ever was one, and Chloe Sullivan didn’t have time for bad guys at all…
…Good thing Chloe Sullivan was dead, huh?
She smiled flirtatiously back at him. “What took you so long?”
His grin broadened. “And here I’d thought you hadn’t even realized I was here.”
“I hadn’t.” She admitted freely, taking a sip of her beer, noticing that he was drinking the same kind.
“Ouch.” He pretended to be hurt. “That hurt me Blondie, right here.” He pounded his heart with that mock-pained expression.
She grinned. “Somehow I don’t find you the kind of person to let a comment hurt you. You look like every part of you is made of…” her green gaze trailed up the half of his body not hidden by the table. “Steel.”
His grin turned salacious as he leaned over the table, eyes dark with promise. “Oh baby, you have no idea.”
She knew she was blushing slightly at what he was implying, but she grinned right back, surprised that she was enjoying this sexually charged encounter they were having.
“So,” he leaned back in his seat. “What’s your name?”
She paused, wondering for a second if he was a clever hitman of Lionel’s, but then discarded that idea nearly immediately. This man only had one goal in mind by chatting her up, and it wasn’t to kill her. But she was still wary to give out any information that might leak out the possibility that Chloe Ann Sullivan hadn’t died that day in the explosion that’d taken place in her house. “Well, the name on my Driver’s License is Lola McKenzie.” The blonde finally announced, letting him know on her own terms that it wasn’t her name, but it was as good as he was going to get.
“You don’t look like a Lola.” He answered with a quirk of his eyebrow, looking amused with her and her anonymity. “Next time, try something else, like Anne. You look more like an Anne.”
She blinked. He was so close it was shocking. “Really?”
“Well, more of an Annie than an Anne, but yeah, I’d say you should get an ID with that name,” he offered as if he was the king of false IDs. Then again, he probably was.
Interest now not only sexual, Chloe leaned forwards against the old, wooden table, trying not to get a splinter in her bare arms. “What name’s on your ID?”
“The name on the credit card I paid this beer with is Dorian Grey.”
And suddenly she was laughing, enjoying this strange man with the quirky humor and the interesting fake name. Just the fact that he hadn’t been caught proved how people just weren’t reading their classics anymore. “Dorian Grey, huh? A little egotistical, are we?”
He seemed vaguely amused that she’d gotten the reference. “Well, what can I say? The guy never grew a day old.”
“Until, of course, he stabbed his own portrait, marred with the ugliness of his sins, and then he died of sudden old age.” Chloe countered, remembering having read that book a year ago.
“But he tried to make up for his sins.” The stranger argued back, smirking.
“But why? Because he was truly sorry? You and I both know that that’s not true.” Chloe had a feeling he was enjoying riling her a bit, and she enjoyed his efforts. It’d been a long time since Lex had visited her in her confinement, a long time since she’d had someone to debate with.
“He was a ladies’ man.” ‘Dorian’ changed tactics.
“He was also a men’s man.” Chloe couldn’t hide her large grin at the look of horror that crossed his features at that revelation. Obviously he’d only been told the story of Dorian Grey in passing and hadn’t studied the book in detail, like her.
“No, no I’m not!” She was laughing again. The blush on his face, and his expression, were just priceless! “While they don’t ever truly come out and say it, it’s implied throughout the whole book that he likes both men and females, I mean, even his name came from the Dorians, an ancient Hellenic tribe.” He raised an eyebrow. She continued on. “Robert Mighall once suggested that that could have been Oscar Wilde—the writer of the book—hinting at a connection to “Greek love”, which is actually a euphemism for the homoerotism that was accepted as everyday in ancient Greece.”
Her captive audience shifted uncomfortably in his seat and looked a little green. “Yeah, fine, the ancient Greeks were real open-minded, that doesn’t prove that Dorian Grey was--.”
“Basil, the painter who was infatuated with Dorian, once asked why Dorian’s ‘friendship is so fatal to young men’, commenting on the ‘shame and sorrow’ that the father of one of the disgraced boys displayed.” Chloe interrupted, enjoying seeing the handsome guy in front of her squirm a little in his seat. “Dorian only destroyed those men when he became ‘intimate’ with them, which clearly suggests that the ‘friendship’ between Dorian and the men in question became more than simply platonic.” Her companion cleared his throat and took a swing at the beer in his hands, not looking at her yet listening. Chloe took that as a silent cue for her to continue, that while he was embarrassed he was also interested. “The shame associated with these was bipartite…”
“In English that would be?”
“Divided in two.” She quickly explained. “One, the families of the boys were upset that their sons may have indulged in a homosexual relationship with Dorian Grey. Two, they also felt ashamed that they had lost their place in society now that their names had been sullied.”
He was silent for a moment. “I have got to get a new ID.”
Chloe grinned broadly, finishing off her beer and placing the empty container on the table. “So, ‘Dorian Grey’--.”
“No, don’t call me that.” He shook his head, protesting. “Call me anything else.”
“Like what?” She asked, so amused she knew it showed.
“I don’t know.” He frowned, sighed, a little exasperated. “Call me Bob.”
“Bob?” She raised her eyebrow as she looked him over. He couldn’t be serious, right? The sexy, golden-tanned sex-god sitting in front of her looked so unlike a ‘Bob’ that she couldn’t help but find it wrong to call him that. “No, I refuse to call you Bob.”
His exasperation was returning to amusement as he too finished his drink and signaled for another before returning his whole attention on her. “What do you want to call me then?”
She paused. “I don’t know, but if I got to choose, I guess I’d go with something else. Something, I don’t know…something that just isn’t Bob.”
He chuckled slightly and reached for the cold beer brought him by a waitress twice his age wearing less clothes than a woman her age and size should. “So, Lola, what’s the history behind your name?” “
I just really liked Lola Bunny.” Chloe offered innocently.
He nearly spat out his sip of beer, looking at her lecherously. And damn if it wasn’t hot. “I always liked her too.”
And suddenly that zing of sexual awareness that Chloe had never felt with anyone else returned in a second as they stared at each other in the eyes, hers widening and his darkening, as they both realized and accepted their chemistry. The blonde couldn’t understand, she’d never considered herself much of a sexual being (then again, getting constantly ignored for someone else would do that to you) but this nameless stranger made her feel like Tyra Banks and Cindy Crawford had nothing on her. And she liked that feeling.
“So, despite how clichéd this might sound,” he took another swig of his beer. “What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?”
She snorted. “Yep, that was clichéd.” Stealing his beer, Chloe took a sip of it before returning it, enjoying the way his eyes kept darkening as they rested on her. “But to answer your question, I just needed to get away from life for a bit, you know? There were certain pressures at home that I needed to escape, if only for the night. I rented a room in the motel and walked over here to try and get rid of my stress.”
“It’s not safe for a woman to be out alone at night, especially not in a shit-hole like this one…nor to tell a guy whose name she doesn’t even know where she’s staying.” His eyes were worried as he looked at her. “She’s definitely not safe if she’s as pretty as you are” Anyone else delivering that line would have sounded somewhat creepy, and yet it did something for Chloe. Maybe it was the beer talking, maybe it was the fact that he was the first really good looking guy that’d given her a second look, maybe it was the fact that she was sick of being the good girl when it came to relationships. Whatever it was…it made her say what’d been in the back of her mind since he’d last spoken.
“Well, maybe what I need tonight is a roommate.”
“Christo.” When she only raised an eyebrow at that, he grinned. -- Chloe couldn’t remember much of what’d happened after that except that they’d stayed in the bar for about a half an hour later, talking, their flirtations growing more and more sexual until he’d gotten up, paid for their bill with his credit card--which she knew very well really wasn’t his--and he’d pulled her outside with him and against the side of the building in a kiss so savage, so brutal that it seemed to bind her to him in a way she couldn’t understand. She didn’t really remember how they’d gotten to the motel, to her room, but somehow they’d made it there in one piece and she hadn’t cared about the dingy little room, was only grateful that it’d had a bed…and walls, and a carpeted floor--along with other areas which they inaugurated as their mouths and bodies fused as one. It’d been her first time, but despite the fact that she had nothing to compare it to, Chloe knew that she’d been gifted with a rare, dynamic and incredibly earth-shattering experience that would be hard to ever top. He’d been hard and aggressive, soft and tender. His extremes were as potent as his desire as he worshipped her body, making her feel so alive, and then he’d taken her in an animalistic way that burnt her from within and made her see stars at the back of her eyes. They’d been so exhausted by the time they’d finally finished that they’d only managed to collapse on the bed before passing out, and Chloe had awoken alone in the motel room, feeling cheap and stupid…
That is, she felt cheap and stupid until she’d looked to her right and seen the note on the night table with his unique necklace resting upon it. Curious, she picked up the necklace, the note, and read it. In it he’d said that he’d gotten a call from his father, that he needed his help, and had had to leave immediately, but that he’d wanted to leave her his necklace ‘for protection’. She smiled slightly to herself. She’d never heard of guys giving the girls they’d had one night stands with a gift—but still, she was relatively new to this. Looking at the obviously masculine necklace, she flipped over the pendant and noticed some symbols carved into the back. They looked as if they’d been carved in manually and she wondered curiously what the symbols meant. I’m going to have to look them up on the Internet.
Shaking her head, Chloe put on the necklace and got up from the bed, continuing to read the note. He’d meant to leave his number, but the pen he was writing on had been slowly running out of ink, and before he could finish it’d run out--it was obvious. He’d tried and tried but it hadn’t written.
Fate. Chloe decided. Don’t mess with fate. If I was supposed to call him his number would be written there in easily readable writing.
Sighing, trying to push back the stab of disappointment, Chloe barely had had time to bathe and change her clothes before there was a knock at her door. She’d gone to the peephole warily, and then winced when she saw who was on the other side of the door. Opening it, she gave him her best ‘I’m innocent’ look. “Hi Lex.”
“Don’t ‘hi Lex’ me!” He growled at her, storming inside of the dingy little room. “Do you know how worried I’ve been? Why the hell would you do this?” Lex Luthor, her protector, ran his hands over his bald head in an effort to calm down. “We’ll discuss this later at the safe-house. Come on, you aren’t safe here.”
She’d sighed and followed him, listened to him as he’d ranted, apologized, and kept the nameless stranger and their mind-blowing experience together a secret close to her heart…
…or she did…until a couple of months later when she realized that his necklace hadn’t been the only thing her nameless lover had left with her…
Nine Months Later
“He’s so cute!” Lois Lane, Chloe’s cousin and best friend, announced as she stood with Clark next to Chloe’s bedside, as the blonde held the currently sleeping bundle in her arms. “I usually can’t stand children, but this one is an adorable little munchkin! And, plus, seeing as I am the Godmother…”
Clark and Chloe shared smiles at Lois acting so unlike herself.
“How are you feeling, Chlo?” Clark asked, a little worried. He’d only realized that she was alive a couple of hours ago, when he and Lois had saved her from one of Lionel’s assassins, realized she was pregnant, and about to give birth thanks to the stress of the attack coupled with the fact that she was only a couple of days away from her due date.
“Fine.” Chloe smiled back at him. “Tired—but fine.”
“Well, he looks like his father.” Lois announced after giving the child a look-over. “He’s bald and everything.”
Both Clark and Chloe choked on their saliva.
Chloe turned to her cousin immediately. “No. Lex is not his father.”
Lois blinked. “Really? Then, uh, who is?”
Chloe paused, looking down at her baby boy. “I—I don’t want to talk about that right now.” How would Clark and Lois look at her if they knew that she didn’t even know the name of her baby’s daddy?
“So,” Clark finally broke the awkward silence that’d befallen the group. “What’re you going to name him?”
Chloe suddenly grinned, looking up at her child’s Godfather and Godmother, knowing deep down inside that they were always going to be there for her, and that everything was going to be fine. “Definitely not Bob.”