Chloe wasn't a public crier; hell, she'd never really cried that often in the privacy of her own home (although that had changed somewhat this last year). She supposed that's why her tears were always wept after a night of particularly frightening nightmares. Not usually the weepy sort, she'd reasoned that she was entitled to at least the occasional cry, even if they occurred during moments of unconsciousness. She may not have been like the other girls of her generation - a bubbling mass of teenage angst - but she understood that any sane person needed some sort of outlet for the emotional turmoil that every human suffered from occasionally; even if her turmoil had been slightly minimal this past few days.

So no, Chloe wasn't shocked at all when she woke up to damp eyelashes and wet cheeks.

She was shocked, however, when she felt the soft flesh of a thumb wiping the tears away from beneath her eyes. It wasn't just any thumb - it was Lex Luthor's.

Needless to say, Chloe was speechless. Snapping her eyes open to find a steely-grey pair staring back at her, the blonde was rendered into yet another bout of speechlessness (she wasn't sure she could get anymore speechless than she already was) at the obvious concern shining in his gaze.

Lex was never a big shower of emotions. In fact, his usual calm, collected and I-feel-nothing attitude was one of the main aspects of the boy billionaire that irked Chloe to no end. She was, after all, a reporter; a blatantly nosey one at that, who liked to know what was going on and what people were thinking. It was only logical that a man like Lex would frustrate her, because no one could read him; no one knew what he was thinking or what he was feeling, and if they did it was only because he allowed them to know.

So it was only fair to say that the young blonde was somewhat taken aback by the playboy's blatant display of emotion. He looked - to her amazement - genuinely concerned for her, as if someone had just broken her into thousands of pieces and he was uncertain whether he could piece her back together again or not.

She found this oddly endearing.

Despite being shockingly wide-awake, Lex didn't cease his ministrations, and instead continued, brushing his thumb across her cheekbone and moving to tuck a strand of wayward hair behind her ear.

Chloe swallowed, strangely alien to human comfort, especially coming from Lex Luthor. Tenderness wasn't a word the blonde often associated with him, but even still, the word kept popping up with every second that he spent gazing intensely at her.

If Chloe didn't find it so shockingly strange, she would have found it disconcerting.

"Do you care to share?"

It took the reporter a moment to realise that he was speaking to her, and after finally registering what he had said, she responded with a furrowed brow and a blank look.

"The tears," he clarified. "I'm known for my assholish tendencies, but I don't think I've ever brought a girl to tears before. Not intentionally, anyway." He flashed her a smile at that last comment, and Chloe shook her head in mock annoyance.

"Don't worry," she reassured him, "I'm not suffering from a bout of teenage angst, if that's what you're worried about." He smirked. "It happens occasionally. Nightmares."

"Ah," he said, finally understanding the reason for her unexpected waterworks.

She nodded to herself. "Yup."

"You were having quite the nightmare last night, if I remember." He stared down at her, his gaze uncharacteristically worried. "Are they always so intense?"

"Usually," she sighed, and immediately asked, "I didn't wake you, did I?"

"You did, but I was pretty out of it. I fell straight back to sleep."

"Sorry," she replied sheepishly from beneath the quilt she was buried under. "I'm a terrible sleeping companion."

"I'm inclined to disagree. I think you're a fine sleeping companion."

"Oh?"

"You don't snore, and you don't steal the covers."

"And you consider these good attributes for a sleeping companion to have?"

"I do."

"Well okay then." Chloe grinned and Lex had no choice but to offer his own smile in return. After all, who in their right mind could remain unaffected by such a blinding smile? He may have been a heartless bastard, but he wasn't totally immune. At least he liked to think so.

"So what are your plans for today?" he asked, making no move to get up.

Chloe, it seemed, had the same idea, and opted for yawning loudly and burrowing herself deeper beneath the covers. "Well, I'm meeting an old school friend of mine today at the ice rink. I'm just glad we didn't arrange it for yesterday, otherwise we would've had to wait another God knows how many months 'til we saw each other again." She glanced up at him. "How about you?"

"Just this and that; nothing important. I intend on doing absolutely nothing today."

"Well, I'd invite you along but I have this strange feeling that an afternoon of ice-skating isn't your idea of fun," she teased, grinning mischievously at him.

Lex laughed and said suddenly, "how about I drop you off at the ice-skating rink, run a few errands and then swing by and pick you up again? Does that sound okay?"

Silence wasn't the answer he'd been expecting. She stared up at him, hazel eyes ablaze with curiosity, and Lex knew she'd slipped into reporter mode. Meeting her gaze head on, he waited for her to voice the question she was obviously contemplating asking him.

"Why are you being so nice to me?"

Lex would have been offended if it wasn't for the way she had said it - soft, uncertain and so unlike the Chloe he had come to know. For a moment it made him think, because frankly he wasn't even sure himself. It wasn't like him to offer his services (that sounded dirtier than he cared to admit) to teenage girls, even if he didn't have anything better to do. He found it odd that he was laid here, opposite a woman he hadn't even bothered to seduce and bed, offering to drive her across town and back again because he felt compelled to. Not only that, but he was taking this woman out tonight.

It was a sure sign of insanity.

With a quick glance at her face he realised she was still waiting for an answer. He sighed. "Because despite what people think, I am capable of being nice. Especially when it comes to my friends."

"You--you consider me a friend?" she asked, slightly surprised and clearly showing it.

"Chloe," he replied, mockingly exasperated, "if I didn't consider you a friend, you wouldn't be sharing my bed right now--"

--he inwardly smirked when he saw her blush furiously--

"--and I wouldn't have offered to take you out tonight, or drive you to the ice-rink. Now does that sound like something I'd do for a stranger?"

"Yes?" she offered meekly, and smiled impishly at him. Laughing softly, she said, "I'm sorry, it's just... I never saw this coming, you know? I didn't expect to feel so--so comfortable around you. And that sounds really strange, but I don't know how to explain it. I--"

"I know," he interrupted, "I wasn't expecting it to happen either. But all I can say is - I'm glad it did."

She glanced up at him uncertainly. "Really?"

"Yes, really."

"Oh," she said. "That's--that's good."

Lex couldn't agree more.

---

On the drive to the ice-rink, Chloe was uncharacteristically quiet, and it bothered Lex more than he would have liked.

"Something wrong?" he questioned, glancing over at the silent blonde sat with her head resting against the window of his car. She tilted her head at his words, seemingly aware of his presence but ignoring it in favour of the daze she was currently preoccupied in. He probed further, calling out her name, and was rewarded with a bewildered expression that melted into gentle curiosity.

"Sorry, what?" she said, face scrunched in an obvious display of confusion.

"I asked if something was wrong, but by the look on your face there obviously is."

She blinked. "What? What do you mean? Nothing's wrong," she laughed softly - nervously - and was rewarded with a raised eyebrow and a pointed stare. She sighed, relenting. "Do you want the truth?"

He nodded, acutely aware that this wasn't the time for snarky comebacks. Chloe quite obviously had something to get off her chest and Lex wasn't about to stop her.

For the umpteenth that day, the playboy was surprised at his own selflessness. He had never really been a big listener, and although he occasionally helped his friend - Clark - with his problems, he wasn't usually one to offer himself as an emotional punching bag for the young and angsty.

He was also well aware he was overreacting. Chloe wasn't the sort to profess openly about how everyday concerns and worries weighed heavy on her shoulders, or how the woes of the world dragged her down into a mindless, angst-ridden, bottomless pit of despair. The blonde may have been many things but a drama queen she was not. Thankfully.

"I honestly don't know," she offered, staring blankly out of the window at the passing landscape.

He hadn't been expecting that answer. If anything he'd been expecting her to mention a certain brown-eyed farmboy and his intense obsession with one Miss Lana Lang; or waiting for her to sigh wistfully and indulge in a deeply spiritual analysis of how the world hated her and how the general population of Smallville was out to ruin her life (which, he realised, she would have every right to do). But no, the blonde beside him, whom he'd always considered to be a grounded, determined young woman who knew exactly what she wanted from life, had replied with an answer that was so uncertain and so confusing that he felt she must be feeling both. Strangely, it bothered him.

"I have this empty feeling in the pit of my stomach," she added, sounding vaguely disconcerted, and trying hard to act like nothing was bothering her, "and I don't know why."

Lex knew differently, and it was then that he tried hard to pinpoint the exact moment when he'd learnt to see straight through her façades. Disappointingly he couldn't, and he was mildly shocked that such a development had occurred in the space of two days. Still, he considered it an advantage in the fact that he had more chance of getting to the bottom of whatever was truly bothering the young reporter.

"Yes, you do," he said firmly, "you just don't want to say it for fear of sounding ridiculous."

She glanced at him sharply. "That's not true. I--"

His pointed stare cut her off and she scowled, swivelling round to face the window again. A pregnant silence filled the air but Lex waited patiently, well aware that Chloe would talk when she was good and ready.

"I was fine this morning," she confessed softly, the coolness of the window pressing against her temple. "I was laughing, having a good time and for once it didn't hurt. But now--now I just feel tired and detached, and I can't seem to care. I feel like the world could go to pot right now and it wouldn't matter at all. And I'm not even afraid by the fact that I could feel like this forever; that I could feel nothing for the rest of my life and no one would give it a second thought." She paused. "I just. don't. care."

Lex peered across at her, brow furrowed with deep concern at the obvious despair emanating from the young woman beside him. Chloe had never been one to undermine her own significance in the world and to hear such a desperate confession spilling from her lips was a definite clue that something wasn't right with the fair-haired reporter. There had to be a reason for her sudden downfall in mood.

"Chloe?"

"Mmmm?" she answered nonchalantly, not even bothering to look at him.

"Your nightmares," he inquired, swinging the car around a particularly sharp bend, "are they usually as bad as they were last night?"

"Yeah, although they're rare. Why?"

"And do you always feel like you're feeling right now after a nightmare? Detached, tired?"

At this point, Chloe had turned to look at him, staring at him curiously as if what he was saying might actually made sense. "Actually, yeah. In fact, I usually end up feeling shitty all day and then burst into the tears while doing something trivial, like making coffee. It's weird." Her forehead creased in deep concentration before she rested her head against the window again. "Guess that explains my mood," she concluded with a sigh.

"Have you ever wondered why you get like that?"

"Not really, no."

"Maybe you should talk to someone about it," he suggested, glancing over at her to gorge her reaction.

"What? You mean like a shrink?" she scoffed. "No, thanks."

"No," Lex countered, "I mean someone like Clark or Lana. Maybe getting things off your chest might help, especially with the nightmares. It's probably the reason why you have them."

"Oh, really," she replied snidely. "I didn't know you were an expert."

"I'm not, but I'm well aware of what you're going through." She snorted. "I know you, Chloe. You're not much of an open person and you have this strange belief that human emotion isn't to be shared or talked about, but to be harboured and locked away. Maybe the nightmares are an outlet for that; your subconscious' way of letting you know that it can't handle that sort of overload. I just figure that talking to someone might be a healthier alternative."

She sighed tiredly and muttered softly, "easier said than done."

"Isn't that always the case?" he answered lightly and was rewarded with a small, albeit reluctant smile from the blonde.

He pulled up just short of the ice-rink and watched as she stepped, heavy-hearted, out of the car. She bent down, poking her head through the open door to gaze at him intently. "I take back what I said earlier," she said.

"Oh?"

"I am in fact suffering from a severe case of teenage angst," she retorted, smiling widely and adding, "see you at four," before disappearing from his line of vision and slamming the door shut.

Lex shook his head, smiling to himself as he shifted the car into gear.

That girl was really something. He'd seen so many sides of the intrepid reporter this past weekend that he felt he already knew her better than most people. He wasn't sure whether he should have felt honoured to have witnessed a part of Chloe that he guessed no one ever had, or saddened by the fact that he was the only person to have witnessed it. Either way, it felt odd, acting as a confidant to Chloe of all people.

But strangely, he found he didn't mind.

---

For reasons unknown to him, Lex Luthor arrived fifteen minutes earlier than he was due.

He ignored the obvious stares as he entered the indoor ice-rink and sat himself on the back row of the wooden stalls lining the edges of the rink.

He spotted Chloe easily among the fair-sized crowd, leaning casually against the side of the rink. She was chatting animatedly with a brown-haired girl - her once best friend, he assumed -, her earlier distress obviously pushed aside by her enthusiasm to reunite whole-heartedly with her companion. Occasionally she pushed herself away from the sides and skated small, lazy circles around the other girl, twirling herself elegantly about the floor, smiling energetically over her shoulder while she flew backwards with a vague but noticeable grace that Lex had never realised she possessed. He'd never really considered Chloe to be a graceful woman; he was almost ashamed to admit that he thought the blonde to be a clumsy person; not in a flustered, I-can't-see-where-I'm-going way, but in a stubborn, I-refuse-to-move-until-something-knocks-me-down way. He'd often assumed that her out-right cynicism and openly-displayed determination would automatically make her a rigid person, both mentally and physically. Whenever the word grace came to mind, he'd always thought of Lana - soft, languid, sweet in the way that only she could pull off. When Lex thought of grace, he thought of weakness; an obvious absence of strength in state of mind and state of body. But today Lex witnessed a different kind of grace, and for the first time in a long time, he was being proved wrong. Chloe's strength became her grace; her undoubted confidence - despite her insecurities - was reflected in the outright trust she invested in her own body, making it dance like she wanted it to dance; spinning her around the ice like she owned it. Instead of the rigidness he had expected, her determination fuelled her and Lex couldn't help but think of fire and passion and life when she moved. It was in that brief five minutes that he witnessed an entirely different kind of grace. And he liked it. Her exuberance and obvious lust for life reminded him yet again that he wasn't as old as he felt, that he was still entitled to feel the same childish excitement she invoked in him. Not once this weekend had he felt guilty about laughing and smiling; wasting his weekend watching mindless movies and indulging in inane conversation. For once, Lex Luthor didn't care and although he should have been mindful of his obvious carelessness, he'd thrown caution to the wind and taken riskier chances than simply choosing to drive over the speed limit. All in all, Lex felt strangely... full; bursting with energy that he prayed would seep out before his whole being exploded under the pressure. Stranger still, the playboy was beginning to realise that he wasn't sure he could handle being empty again.

He snorted inwardly, somewhat annoyed by the fact that he was over-analysing things more than he usually did. He didn't care to admit that his revelations worried him a little, and instead concentrated on the young blonde who was now skating freely around the rink, her brown-haired friend racing beside her.

He liked her like this, he realised. In Smallville she seemed somewhat... stifled. As they had discussed yesterday, the small town was far too restricting and far too innocent for such an obvious city girl. Here she seemed a lot more willing to loosen up, to push her limits as far as possible. Back home, although considered a little wild and a little wacky, she was far more caution, unaware of her boundaries and strangely afraid of what she might lose if she overstepped them. Simply put, Chloe was unable to expose everything she was - both the good and the bad - for fear that she would be rejected. And to be rejected in Smallville was to be excluded from the tight-knit community that had been the blondes home since her arrival there. Lex knew all too well why she set her own restrictions and he wondered fleetingly how he would come to look upon her when they returned back to the small town, when she was no longer free to be herself. He wondered whether the sadness - the same he had seen today - would still linger in her sharp eyes; whether she would talk to him so openly and admit outright when something was bothering her. Something told him that things would be different, that she'd succumb to the hold that Clark Kent had over her and continue on her journey of self-torture. She'd forget the things they'd joked over, the conversations they had and the little snippets of their life they had reluctantly revealed. He'd go back to his life, back to his empty mansion with its empty possessions which would invoke in him a bland feeling of nothingness that he'd come to expect and accept. She'd return to school and mourn over the simple things that could never be and beat herself up for being the person she never wanted to become. He knew it would happen, and although it saddened him somewhat, he knew he wouldn't do anything about it. He knew this because he was a Luthor. He knew this because she was a Sullivan.

Heaving himself up from the stall he sat on, he warily approached the edge of the ice-rink and waved politely to the blonde when she noticed him. He watched as she said her goodbyes to her friend, embracing the girl affectionately and - from what he could tell - promising her that they'd meet up again the next time she was in Metropolis. He waited awkwardly, his hands buried deep in his pockets as Chloe watched her friend leave the ice-rink. He noticed how the blondes smile visibly dropped, how her shoulders sagged considerably with fatigue and the healthy glow surrounding her vanished. It was a heart-breaking sight; one he would never have noticed hadn't he been paying attention, but Lex was increasingly more aware of Chloe's moods than he had been two days ago. Strangely he found himself wondering how long she'd had to carry such a heavy burden. She'd certainly mastered the art of well-placed façades and feigned happiness, and that worried him somewhat. He'd come to learn that Chloe Sullivan, whatever she was feeling, felt whole-heartedly, whether she was miserable, excited or outright joyous. Chloe never did things by halves, even when it came to her own heartache. It still didn't change the fact that she refused to acknowledge, nevermind discuss it.

For the life of him, Lex couldn't figure out why this bothered

Letting out a low breathe of annoyance, he looked up to notice Chloe skating across the short distance towards him. Lips tilted up in a half smile, she said, "you know, I think you just gave my friend a coronary."

Lex offered her hand and pulled her up the slippery step onto the platform. He cocked an eyebrow and settled down on the bench beside her, absently watching her unlace her skates.

"She was all but ready to fling herself at you, but I told her boy-billionaires such as yourself are strictly off-limits, except to young feisty blondes with an unhealthy addiction to Ben and Jerry's." She smirked, and pulled a sneaker over her socked foot.

"Did she take it well?" he joked.

"Actually," Chloe started, turning to look at him, face impassive and mockingly serious, "she was quite understanding. In fact she told me to tell you that you have good taste."

Chloe beamed up at him and Lex smiled, rising from the bench as the young reporter slung her bag over her shoulder. She followed behind him as he made his way out of the skating rink. "I'm afraid," Lex said, feigning exasperation and pausing for effect.

The blondes face fell for a split second--

"--she maybe right."

--back came the hundred-watt smile and Chloe was once again glowing, her earlier fatigue forgotten in light of their playful banter. She marched happily through the open doors, towards his car and peered at him from over the roof. "I don't mean to be a nuisance, but--"

"--you're not a nuisance--"

"--can we please stop off at my hotel? My cars still there and I need it to drive back in the morning."

Lex slipped into the car, Chloe following close behind him, and with a flick of his wrist he fired up the engine and peeled out of the parking lot. "Anything for the lady."

---

After a quick change of mind, the duo found themselves sat in a quiet corner of a nearby café, munching lightly on an overflowing sandwich and sipping contently on chocolate milkshake - for Chloe - and a coffee - for Lex, who had looked mildly surprised when the waitress had informed him that they only served standard coffee.

From there they ventured on to Chloe's hotel (or what had been Chloe's hotel) where the blonde left Lex to pick up her own car, following close behind him and parking it in the garage that housed the playboys array of cars.

By this time it was fast approaching six, and opting to spend a lazy evening dressing for the night out Lex had promised her, the blonde found herself buried beneath a mound of bubbles, the tangy scent of tangerines filling the air as she bathed.

The young Luthor was elsewhere, probably catching a moments peace, Chloe guessed. She didn't really care right at this minute. She was far too comfortable, relaxing contently in Lex's oversized bath tub, one of her favourite CDs playing faintly in the background and a glass of ice-cold apple juice cradled in her hand. This was heaven. Simply. heaven. If the blonde had her way, she'd stay here all night. She had a good book sat on the floor beside her, a large bowl piled high with strawberries, and a tantalizing box of chocolates waiting for her. There was nothing else she could possibly need, except maybe a masseur to massage her aching shoulders. It really was hard work doing nothing for two days.

She sighed, restrained the need to purr and downed her glass of apple juice. Glancing at the clock on the far wall she noted it was time to get a move on, and reluctantly stepped out of the tub, grabbing a large terry-cloth towel and wrapping it around her dripping form. She stretched lavishly, deemed herself well and truly pampered and proceeded to polish herself up for the evening ahead.

---

Almost two hours later, the blonde finally strode out of the bathroom, her chin confidently high, her strides purposeful and relaxed. She was smiling to herself, her painted lips tilted up, her glitter-dusted cheeks rounding with the simple act. Gone was the misery that had shrouded her earlier this morning, and she vaguely wondered why she'd felt so low anyway. She'd had a fantastic, eventful weekend, and tonight was going to be just as good, if not better.

Maybe it was the nightmares, she decided. Maybe Lex was right and it was time she started sharing her misery.

Ha, yeah right.

She didn't care anyway, because right now she felt positively elated.

She was a sight, and she knew it, though her outfit was simple, a subdued version of her usually wacky attire. Dark jeans, so dark they were almost black, hugged the length of her legs tightly, resting snugly against her back side and coming to an end where her exposed stomach started. It was a moderate amount of exposure, of course, a pale slice of flesh that peeked out from beneath her thin-strapped, burgundy tank-top; a top that bunched her breasts up beneath her, modestly covered by a thin, dark-red shirt that cut off at the elbows and fastened with two buttons across her ribs. A tasteful cleavage peered out at her when she lowered her eyes and Chloe was satisfyingly proud. She'd even gone for a darker look, her eyes now dusted the same colour as her top, a thin streak of black across her lids. Her cheeks glittered darkly, a blend of dusky red and white, and her lips were painted a bronze tint that flared into a deep mahogany when she moved. Yes, she looked a sight. And she was pretty sure Lex would agree.

Lex, of course, was no where to be seen.

She stood, bewildered, in the bathroom doorway, twiddling one of the buttons of her shirt between her fingers. Brow furrowed, she strode across the expanse of the room, towards the door at the far end and peered out into the empty hallways that stretched out at each side of her. Turning around again, she glanced across the room, as if certain that any minute now Lex was going to pop up from behind the bar or the couch and surprise her with one of his secretive smiles.

He didn't. All that greeted her was an empty, silent room. The fire crackled loudly in the fireplace, the flames casting an orange hue across the walls and the ceiling. It was eerie, in a cheesy movie sort of way.

"Ready, Miss Sullivan?"

Instant reaction: she swore.

"Shit!"

She swivelled around sharply to find Lex leant lazily against the doorframe, staring her at her pointedly, his eyebrow raised in a smug salute. He looked far too innocent for a man who had just scared her out of the very top she'd spent ten minutes struggling into.

Bastard.

"Yes, Mr Luthor," she retorted sharply, her sarcastic tongue emphasizing his surname. "I'm ready."

Obviously so was Lex, and what a picture he made. He'd gone for the traditional, classical look that every guy could get away with - black and white. But for the life of her Chloe couldn't figure out why he pulled it off better than anyone else she'd ever known. She'd seen him in a suit so many times before, but not like this, without a tie, his white shirt unbuttoned at the cuffs and the collar, offering her a glimpse of his smooth chest. He looked relaxed, at ease and comfortable, with his hands buried in his black pants, his shoulder resting against the wood of the doorframe.

He looked positively edible.

Chloe's stomach growled, and she looked away, surprisingly flustered. Her cheeks burned and now it felt as if she could feel the glittery-powder upon them. Thank God Lex couldn't spot the difference.

"So where are you taking me?" Chloe questioned suddenly, stepping through the doorway, listening to the soft steps of his shoes behind her.

"Just a little hot-spot in the centre of town," he replied vaguely, his car keys jingling in his hand.

She turned back to stare at him. "Is that it? That's all you're going to tell me?" the blonde questioned, shooting the young Luthor an annoyed look.

He grinned, replied with a smug, "yes", and overtook the reporter, disappearing through the door of his apartment.

Chloe stood still, shaking her head at his antics and followed him out of the door and down to the garage where her carriage awaited her.

It was going to be an eventful night, there was no doubt about that.

---

Lex's idea of a little hot-spot was a large glamorous venue that was brimming with A-list celebrities, filthy rich businessmen - and women - and even the odd Royal here and there.

Needless to say Chloe was nearly thrown off her feet when she walked into the club, filled with masses of people that had more power in their pinky finger than she could ever dream of. She was no starry-eyed teen with delusions of fame and fortune, but even Chloe had to be impressed. Some of the most important people were here, flocking the dance floor, crowding the bars that lined the walls, and seducing wide-eyed starlets and actors-to-be into the VIP area. This was a place that every teen dreamed of.

But Chloe was far from dreamy. In fact she was now out-and-out depressed because she didn't want to be here. She didn't want to be stood next to Jennifer Aniston, didn't want to see how the young actress looked far more stunning than she did, in an ordinary pair of blue-denim jeans and a casual top, or how her hair was the embodiment of perfection that even Chloe-the-cynic dreamed of.

She was no fool. The blonde didn't aspire to be every actress that strutted her stuff on the screen, or the models that strutted their stuff on the catwalks. She was quite happy with her body, with the way she looked, but even she was known to wonder why Jennifer Aniston could pull off the casual, under-dressed look while she looked not even half the picture after two hours in the bathroom.

Just. great. She was never going to be able to relax now.

But after two glasses of champagne (of which Lex had firmly disapproved of) and a quick chat with a fast-rising starlet, she was more at ease. These people were no different, she realised. Just richer, more famous. She had no problems when she was with Lex, and he was probably one of the richest here and probably the most famous. She had no doubts that he'd still be in the papers when people were standing around, scratching their heads and saying, "Jennifer who?"

So with a little Dutch courage to spur her on, Chloe found herself on the dance floor, embedded firmly between a mass of movie stars, politicians and singers. The music wasn't what it had been the Friday night she'd found herself in Lex's apartment, but it was enough. The beat was strong enough to cause the blood to pump frantically through her veins. The pulse thrummed across her skin and she closed her eyes, savouring the vibrations that wiggled their way from head to toe. A smile spread far and wide across her perspiring face and she was content, happy again to be back in this trance. Nothing was more satisfying. Not. even. sex.

And with that simple thought an image of a blue-eyed playboy flashed across the back of her eyelids, unexpected but vivid nonetheless. Chloe would have fallen flat on her face if it weren't for the heaving masses about her, that threw her across the dance floor but never actually allowed her to fall. Her eyes snapped open, her mouth went dry and the beat in her veins trailed off, leaving only a dull, creeping heat that she was certain was colouring her cheeks once again.

That had been a shock. She wouldn't deny the fact that she considered Lex to be handsome, attractive in his own mysterious way. He had a sensuality not many his age had and although it fascinated Chloe, it had never really fascinated Chloe. But here he was, popping up at the first mention of sex (figuratively speaking, of course) and the young reporter was more than stunned - she was confused.

When had this happened? Because to her knowledge she was sure she only considered Lex a friend, one who had been generous enough to pamper her for the last few days. But it had never been more, and she was sure of it. There had been no strong desire to kiss him, no distant fantasies of a love affair that could never be. No, none of that, but here she was now and somehow Lex had found a way into a sentence alongside sex.

It was absurd, and Chloe had to say it to believe it.

"I want to have sex with Lex Luthor."

It was low, under her breathe, but it was enough and it sent Chloe reeling across the dance floor and over to the bar. Lex was elsewhere, playing the gentleman as ever and indulging in conversation with an ex-girlfriend of his, a politician's daughter he'd known when he was living in Metropolis.

The blonde ordered three shots of tequila, informed the bartender that Lex would cover the bill (he'd told her the same thing the moment they'd walked in) and proceeded to knock back two shots, one after the other. She took the last over to a large couch just a few steps up from the dance floor and heaved herself down, cradling the glass in her hands.

She didn't need this - the confusion, the doubts. Chloe knew that she didn't feel for Lex like she should have done when considering to have sex with someone. She didn't love him and there wasn't an intense attraction between them. It was just simply a fact. Chloe Sullivan wanted to have sex with Lex Luthor.

Maybe it was just to sate her curiosity, to see if Lex was the lover she expected him to be. Or maybe she just wanted to test her theory, to see if dancing was far better than sex. It would be a fascinating experiment she was sure, but one Lex would never even think of participating in. He didn't like minors drinking, God forbid what he'd say if she proposed sex.

With a disgruntled sigh she knocked back the last shot and lay her head down on the soft cushion of the couch behind her. She wouldn't think about this anymore. It wasn't even an issue and the moment she got back to Smallville things would change anyway. She'd be back to mooning over Clark, because despite her promises that she wouldn't, she could never help it. Either way, thoughts of having sex with the young Luthor would be the farthest from her mind when they returned home.

She hoped so, anyway.

The proverbial icing on her already crumbling cake came when Lex popped up beside her and settled himself down on the couch. She didn't turn to look at him, merely wondered why she wasn't drunk yet. Two glasses of champagne and three tequila shots ought to have done it for anybody, nevermind a light-weight blonde who drank no more than three times a year.

She huffed inwardly, tilted her head towards Lex and said, "I'm not drunk, why is that?"

Lex gazed at her pointedly, a small smile curving the edges of his mouth. "You are drunk, Chloe."

"I'm not," she protested, brow furrowed. "I've had so much to drink and I'm not even tipsy."

Lex's smile grew into a smug smirk that irked her.

"Stand up," he said suddenly, and rose from the couch, offering his hand out to her. She stared at it from a brief second, then took it. He pulled her up from the couch and as he did so, the floor fell away from beneath her and the dark club around her tilted on its axis.

She stumbled, grasping Lex's forearms to steady her and whispered softly, "whoa".

She heard his gentle laughter but she was ignoring him, instead peering over his shoulder at the dance floor just below them. She loved being drunk (she finally admitted to herself that she was indeed drunk). She loved how everything seemed brighter, sharper, the music and the chatter more pronounced. It was a pleasant sensation, until you reached the point where your stomach contents were no longer agreeing to stay put. That was the time to start worrying.

But for now Chloe had nothing to worry about. She laughed along with Lex and took an unsteady step back from him. His hand remained planted on her hip, steadying her as she went and with another grin, she circled around him, heading for the dance floor. She didn't expect him to follow, and she was right. He was stood shaking his head in amusement when she turned back to smile at him. By the time she reached the dance floor he was sat comfortably on the couch, watching her.

---

He watched her dance dizzily across the floor beneath him, her earlier discomfort forgotten in light of alcohol and music. He was happy to see her unwinding. It wasn't like Chloe to be intimidated by other people, even if they were celebrities. Chloe took crap from no one and he found that it was one of the many aspects of her that he liked. To see her let loose among this particular crowd was a refreshing spectacle, one he wouldn't be forgetting anytime soon.

He guessed Chloe wouldn't remember this particular night in the morning, when she woke up to a head full of cotton wool and an unsteady stomach. It was a pity really. He'd wanted to show her a good night, a night she would remember. But by the looks of it it was going to be a good night she'd never remember, if the amount of alcohol she'd thrown back had anything to do with it.

Lex could have stayed like this, just watching her, enjoying her freedom and her exuberance. But even so late in the night there was always old friends that wished to greet him, ex-girlfriends who were curious to know how long he was in Metropolis for. The couch he sat on never remained empty and the occupants never stopped talking, but all the while he kept one eye firmly on the blonde. He was reminded of the Friday night previous, when he'd caught her form out of the corner of his eye, mildly shocked to find her in Metropolis, and more shocked to find her in that club. And not half an hour later had he scooped her unconscious form from the floor and drove her back to his apartment.

How things had changed since then. A comfortable friendship had settled upon them and Lex had grown more and more intrigued by this young beauty. He just hoped that when morning came and they were forced to return to Smallville, she wouldn't forget about the person she had become this weekend. Because here she was the real Chloe, the Chloe she should have been and still had a chance to be, and more than anything Lex didn't want to see that chance go to waste.

---

The night sailed on, and Chloe remained firmly rooted to the dance floor, even when she saw Lex step gracefully down the small stairway to stand at the bar opposite her. He leant lazily against one of the columns, conversing with a beautiful red-head tailored in a suit that Chloe would have traded her soul for. Occasionally he would shoot her an amused look and she'd offer her own in return, honouring him with a one-of-kind Sullivan smile.

Not that it was anything compared to that of the beauty stood next to him, but it didn't concern Chloe too much. Hell, she was too far gone to care.

It was probably the reason why, after half an hour of exchanging looks, that the young reporter found herself sauntering across the crowded dance floor and over towards the bar, where she casually and fearlessly pressed her lips against Lex's.

She blamed the alcohol and the adrenaline, but whoever's fault it was didn't change the fact that she had been dying to kiss the young Luthor since her mind-blowing epiphany a few hours before.

Obviously Lex hadn't shared the same mind-blowing experience because not a split second after she'd covered his mouth with her own was he pushing her off, grasping her forearms between his hands and tearing her away from him. Shocking blue eyes met hers and Chloe clamped her eyes shut, seeing the same blue shoot across the back of her eyelids like electricity. Suddenly she was sober, so very sober and all she wanted was to be elsewhere, anywhere but here. She wanted to be back home, back in Smallville, in her safe little town with her safe little life where thoughts of Lex had never entered her mind and stolen kisses were merely a nightmare.

God, she felt sick. And she just wanted to run. She wanted to tear herself from Lex's arms, jump in her car and drive back home. But she couldn't drive, she'd drunk too much, and her car was back at Lex's apartment.

It didn't stop her running though.

Casting a terrified look at Lex, she turned wild-eyed to see the red-head staring at her in bemusement. She didn't give it a second thought. Instead she was running, pushing her way through the throngs of people, down the flight of stairs to the doorway and out into the chilly air of Metropolis, all the while the sound of Lex calling her name echoing behind her.

Strong-willed or not, Chloe wasn't one to favour rejection. She'd fought her way past the despair of falling in love with her best friend and she'd come out on top. Not to say that she never mourned what could have been, but she'd left her angst-ridden days behind long ago, having realised that the Chloe she had become wasn't the Chloe she'd wanted to be. So she'd changed that and she'd vowed that she would never succumb to the same heartache again.

And now, tonight, she realised that heartache wasn't an option, it simply was. Such blatant rejection was a bruise to her ego, and even that could cause the strongest of women - and men - to run, if not to defend themselves but to protect their ego from further bashing. It was instinctive and it was instinct that drove her through the streets of Metropolis tonight.

A sob escaped her, tiny and dry. Inwardly she wept, not because of Lex's outright rejection of her (though it had hurt more than she'd expected it to), but for the easy friendship she'd torn apart in one foolish act. The humor of the past weekend, the fun they'd shared and the comfort they'd relished in had been tarnished and Chloe couldn't help but feel as though something vital had been lost. And she was to blame for it. In one evening she'd twisted their perfect weekend into a lifetime of regrets, and not because she'd fallen for the young Luthor, but because she'd acted on simple attraction, truly believing in her drunken haze that Lex would have no obvious reason to turn her down.

How wrong she'd been. How very, very wrong.

Chloe finally slowed and finding herself in unknown territory, she was slightly relieved to see Lex's car pull up beside her. There was no point in running anymore. She knew she'd have to face him sometime, because for one, she had nowhere to sleep tonight, and two, her car was at his apartment. Maybe if she was lucky they wouldn't discuss her recent lapse in judgement and he'd leave her to sleep the embarrassment off, leaving her refreshed enough to drive straight home in the morning. There was no way in hell she was staying any longer than she had to.

Despite her decision to confront Lex like the strong-willed woman she was, Chloe still didn't get in the car. She wanted to walk for a while, wanted to drink in the bitter, winter air and clear her head of the drunken haze clouding it. She quite enjoyed the cold wind against her heated skin, feeling it rush across her face, her cheeks, and down her neck and chest. It was refreshing.

Chloe cocked her head as she heard the sound of footsteps approaching, and turned to see Lex strolling beside her, hands buried firmly in his pockets. He still looked good, with his collar and cuffs unbuttoned, his shirt blowing in the light wind, and his face possessed the same passive look she hadn't seen since early Saturday. She hated it.

"Never thought of you as a runner, Chloe," he stated softly, breaking the whistling silence.

That hurt. Something inside Chloe twisted, because now he not only thought of her as a fool, but a coward. And if there was one thing Chloe was not, it was a coward. Didn't he understand that in a period of one evening she'd been thrown into a whirlwind of confusion? That an unexpected attraction had flared up out of no where, and even worse, only on one side? She was a teenager, for God's sake. A seventeen-year-old woman who had grown up too fast, was the poster-child for walking clichés and had currently grown a fondness for bald billionaires who were way out of her league and way out of her age range. It was enough to make any teenager turn tail and run. But she hadn't done it out of corwardness. She had done it because there was no explanation, and as a reporter-in-waiting, this had terrified Chloe. Her life was all about explanations, about reason and logic, and tonight all that had flown out of the window. It left her uncertain and a little shaken.

"If this bothers you," she started blankly, "I can stay at a motel for the night. I don't really mind. Might be best anyway, considering--"

"--stop it. It doesn't suit you," he replied sharply, pulling her to a halt and turning her to look at him.

"What doesn't?"

"Cowardice."

Chloe glared at him, arms folded angrily over her chest. "I'm not a coward! I--"

"--of course not. That's why I've just had to follow you six blocks in my car," he retorted casually.

She let out a low, shaky breath and ran a tired hand down her face. "Lets just go home," she said quietly, suddenly feeling fatigued, drained. She turned back to where she saw Lex's car parked a little way down the street and headed towards it, aware of Lex following close behind. She slipped into the car, turning her body towards the window as he slid in beside her, and watched in silence as the lights of the city slipped by unnoticed.

Chloe just wanted to go home.

---

The drive back to Lex's apartment had been devoid of conversation, which was how Chloe had wanted it.

Now they were finally home and Chloe stepped solemnly out of the car, her shoulders sagged as if she alone bore the weight of the world upon them, and she trudged tiredly up to the front door where she waited silently for Lex to unlock it.

The mornings hangover was arriving early, and the once drunken haze that had clouded her mind - and her judgement - was settling down to a dull throb that twisted her vision and made everything around her look slightly surreal. She was more clear-headed than she had been earlier - Lex's blatant rejection of her had sobered her up more than she would have liked - but she still felt slightly tipsy, still felt the distant loss of control when it came to instructing her body to do the simplest of things. Like blinking. Chloe was pretty sure she'd been staring at the hard panel of the front door for a while now, and she was feeling a little dry-eyed. She was also very much aware of Lex watching her. He'd obviously unlocked the door while she'd wondered off into a mindless day-dream, and now he was waiting patiently for her to enter the apartment first.

Lex Luthor, ever the gentleman. Snort.

Gripping her forearms between crossed hands to try and hide the tiny trembles of her limbs, she stepped through into the apartment. She headed straight towards the bedroom but as she passed the kitchen she heard Lex talking to her.

"--get you a coffee, or a hot chocolate?"

She turned to face him. "What?" she questioned, confused, and then she shook her head, forehead creased in bewilderment. "No. No, thanks," she replied absently and turned back towards the bedroom just as Lex disappeared in the kitchen.

Once there Chloe power-walked her still buzzing body to the bathroom and locked the door, leaning her head against the cool wood to calm the whirlwind in her head. After a second she scrambled to the shower and twisted the dial until ice-cold water pounded down into the small, glass cubicle. With that she hastily stripped off her clothes and jumped straight in, hissing as the needles of freezing water stabbed into her.

After a brief minute had passed the temperature became bearable, and Chloe stood stock-still under the powerful stream, willing the water to wash off the filthy layer of shame that covered her, and knowing, beneath the drunken haze, that it would never be that simple. Such a thing would not disappear down the drain along with the mascara-black water, no matter how much she willed it so, and it was unfortunately a fact of life that she would have to live with that shame until time dulled the memory, or erased it completely.

Sometimes Chloe despised the universe and it's twisted logic.

---

When the young blonde reluctantly left the bathroom nearly an hour later, she was surprised to find that Lex wasn't in bed. In fact, he wasn't even in the room. This irked Chloe, because she had just spent the last forty-five minutes under a freezing cold shower in hopes that Lex would retire to bed in her absence, and thereby allow her to avoid the awkward conversation she knew would come.

It didn't matter. She always had a back-up, a plan B - if he wasn't going to feign sleep in order to save her any further embarrassment, then she would. Simple as that.

Still feeling slightly childish from the alcohol she had consumed, Chloe scrambled to the bed like a frightened cat and hastily dove under the covers, leaning over to switch the light off. She drew in a sharp breathe and held it, listening intently for the sound of Lex's footsteps, and finally, satisfied that she had not been caught in the middle of her devious plan, she turned her back to the door and settled herself down.

---

Meanwhile, Lex Luthor was sat silently at the kitchen table, nursing a cup of fresh coffee and staring absently at the hard surface as if he could shatter it with his mind alone. His face was blank, a passive mask that successfully concealed the deep-set concentration behind his eyes.

He hadn't moved from the kitchen since they'd walked through the front door over an hour ago. Tonight's events had thrown him - Chloe's actions had come as a surprise, and Lex wasn't big on surprises. Not many things could shock the young Luthor, but tonight Chloe had succeeded in doing just that and Lex wasn't sure how to handle it, because up until now, the young blonde had never given any indication that she was attracted to him. They'd shared an interesting weekend together and as far as he was aware there had been no flirting on her side (or his), no conversations packed with innuendoes (the talk concerning the sleeping arrangements didn't count) and no obvious signs of attraction. So why had she been dancing the night away one minute and kissing him the next? It didn't make sense, it was illogical, and Chloe was the most logical person Lex had ever met. Her logic may have been a little... skewed at times, but it was logic nonetheless.

So why on God's earth had she kissed him?

Lex hadn't dared to ask, and that's why he had kept his comments to himself. That and he truly hated watching Chloe squirm.

But he had to ask now. He had to know the reason, to discover the Chloe-like logic behind her actions. Maybe if he heard her out, listened to her explanation then he could better get his head around it and move on. He didn't fancy spending the night contemplating this little turn in events because frankly, Lex Luthor and sleepless nights didn't mix well.

Rising from his chair Lex stepped towards the sink in which he poured his full mug of coffee. Anymore and he would be up all night, Chloe-dilemma or no.

He headed out of the kitchen and down the hall, all the while hoping that Chloe hadn't fallen asleep already. He had been in the kitchen for over an hour and he wouldn't have blamed her for conking out after such an eventful night. But Lex truly needed to talk to her before he woke in the morning to find an empty bed and Chloe's car gone. Yes, he knew her well enough to know that as soon as the sun rose she'd be out of there as fast as her reporter legs could take her. And when Chloe ran, she ran.

Unfortunately, as Lex approached the bedroom, he noticed there was no light on, which was a sure sign that Chloe was in fact asleep. Then, suddenly, he paused a few steps from the door and with his hands buried in his pockets, he listened intently to the soft rustling of bed covers and barely audible sighs coming from the room. Chloe wasn't asleep, she was restless, and Lex knew exactly how she felt.

He stepped silently into the room and immediately her tossing and turning ceased and the sighs of frustration died. Lex remained quiet, well aware that she was feigning sleep in an attempt to sidetrack the conversation that was sure to come.

Lex slid out of his trousers and shirt soundlessly, and slipped beneath the black, silk sheets. He lay still, wide awake, listening.

Silence. Nothing but the uneven breathing of the girl that lay rigid beside him.

"Chloe--" he started, but she cut him off with a soft, firm, "don't".

He turned slightly and placed a gentle hand on arm in an attempt to turn her to face him. He found the bare skin of her arm cold, almost freezing, and he could feel the small tremors of her limb beneath his hand.

"Chloe," he tried again, and this time she didn't interrupt. "We're not going to talk about this. I just want to know why."

Nothing. She refused to look at him and she refused to answer. He stared at her intently, waiting, and then he turned around again so he was laid on his back, his hands folded behind his head.

Minutes passed before Chloe broke the silence. "I'll probably be gone by the time you wake up," she said blankly, her voice a bare whisper. "So I'll say thank you now. For the weekend - it was fun."

She sounded detached, distant, and Lex found it strangely disconcerting. The warmth between them had suddenly iced over and Chloe was no longer the wacky blonde he had come to know this weekend. She was cold, formal, like she had been on the night he'd found her in the club. He wouldn't have minded so much if he hadn't just spent two days learning more and more about the young reporter. But he had spent two days doing just that and after discovering that he did indeed enjoy the friendship that had bloomed between he and the teenager, he found he disliked the riff that had so suddenly materialised between them. It was frustrating.

"I'm assuming this is the point where we go our separate ways and we forget this ever happened?" Lex drawled.

Silence, and then a small, timid voice whispered, "yes", into the darkness.

And suddenly Lex was angry; angry at her and for her, and it pushed his body upright in bed. "For chrissake, Chloe!" he gritted out, and grasped her cold, trembling arms with his hands and pulled her bodily up, forcing her to face him, to talk to him... to listen to him. For a split second her eyes widened and she paled slightly in the liquid darkness. His outburst had surprised her, and if he were honest with himself, it had surprised him too. Lex prided himself on self-control and he saved any pent-up anger and frustration for the battles that mattered. But here he was, angry at a teenage blonde who was trembling beneath his hands, her cold, cold flesh causing goosebumps to rise up on his own.

For reasons unknown to him, Chloe Sullivan had gotten under his skin.

"Don't you dare play the self-pity card. That's not your deal and you know it," he scolded her, still holding her body firmly in place with his hands. "You want to wallow? Fine, do it. But don't expect the sympathy vote from me, because that's the last thing you'll be getting. This doesn't suit you, you know? This whole woe-is-me bullshit, and that's exactly the kind of shit you'll try to pull when we get back to Smallville. And I, for one, refuse to sit back and watch you dig your own grave." He paused, moving his face closer to her own so he could look her straight in the eye. Then, slowly, quietly, he said, "he doesn't want you, Chloe. He wants Lana; it's always been Lana. The sooner you learn that, the better."

He flinched inwardly when he saw her face pale another shade and her eyes glistened with fresh tears. She swallowed and a choked sob escaped her chest despite her obvious attempts to restrain it. She was doing well in the tears department - none had yet to fall free from her shining orbs.

He hadn't meant to be so cruel, but he knew it was necessary. Chloe Sullivan needed a wake-up call, she needed to stop worrying about what-ifs and if-onlys and focus on the what-nexts. Only then would she reach her full potential, and only then would she become the Chloe Sullivan she was meant to be. Unfortunately Lex had had to resort to the hard way, because the easy way had obviously not worked.

"Are you done?" Chloe questioned brokenly, eyes downcast because she couldn't stand to see the anger in the hard lines of Lex�s face.

He heard the soft rattling of constrained sobs against her ribcage.

She was trying to pull herself out of his grip but Lex wasn't finished yet, and Chloe would hear him out whether she liked it or not.

"No," he answered her, "I'm not done. You need to hear this, Chloe. Contrary to popular belief I'm not just a bastard because I can be, I am because I need to be. I'm just trying to make you see that he isn't worth your time. He doesn't deserve your devotion. Do you understand me? You give him more than any best friend should and you love him more than is needed. But you're worth more than that, Chloe. You deserve the same devotion and Clark just can't give that to you. You have to understand that. You shouldn't settle with being second best, and that's all you'll ever be in his eyes."

He watched her, noticed a single tear slip free and slide down her cheek, and he followed the trail with flat, grey eyes. It was a heartbreaking sight, that single tear that was worth more than an ocean of them. He traced it with the pad of his thumb and wiped it from the pale flesh of her jawline.

She wasn't paying attention. She was staring off at some point beyond him, her gaze focused on nothing in particular.

"Why are you bringing this up now? Why tonight?" he heard her ask softly, never looking up from her point of concentration.

He released his grip on her arms, but this time she didn't try to escape him. She remained where she was, still and silent, waiting for his answer.

"Because you kissed me tonight," he said simply, and he noticed her blanch visibly. "And I think you did it to prove a point. I think you did it to prove to yourself that you didn't need Clark, that there was a possibility that someone else could a part of your life the way he is."

She laughed quietly, nervously, and tilting her face up to look up at him, she said, "you're wrong." She dropped her chin a little and shook her head sadly. "You're so wrong," she repeated in a whisper, as if she were talking to herself, as if she believed no one would understand if she said it out loud.

Lex sighed tiredly and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Chloe--"

"--you know what, Lex? Ignore me. You're right," she cut in, her voice suddenly wary. "I kissed you to prove a point, and obviously it didn't work out." She turned away from him then and crawled out of bed. She slipped out of her pyjama bottoms, not giving a damn that Lex now had a full view of her lace, black panties. She slipped on the trousers she'd been wearing a few hours previous, and just as she was slipping her tank top off, she heard Lex ask, "what are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" she retorted sharply. "I'm going home."

"Chloe, it's nearly three o'clock in the morning."

Off went one top, on went another. "I refuse to share a fuckin' bed with you until morning."

"You've been drinking, you can't--"

"--I'm perfectly sober, thank you. Believe it or not alcohol isn't the problem tonight."

Lex slipped out of the bed as Chloe came around the side, now fully dressed and moving to grab her suitcase from its position near the chair. The young Luthor blocked her path and stood directly in front of her, his young, lithe body bare, save a pair of Lex-like, silk boxers. Chloe couldn't help but gaze appreciatively, momentarily forgetting that she hated him right now.

"I'm not letting you drive home like this," he informed her firmly.

Chloe rolled her eyes. "Tough shit. You haven't really got a say in the matter," she replied, stepping around him and heading for the door.

"Fine. I'm coming with you."

The blonde turned sharply to see Lex pulling a pair of trousers on, and with wide eyes she said, "what?"

"I'm coming with you," he repeated blankly. He pulled his white shirt back on and buttoned the first few buttons, leaving his pale chest exposed.

"I don't think so," she said, shaking her head vigorously.

"Tough shit. You haven't really got a say in the matter." She scowled at his choice in words. "You'll have to give me a lift in your car. I came in the helicopter and it won't be back here until morning."

"Oh hell no!" Chloe responded vehemently. "I can't even share a bed with you right now, nevermind a car! I'm going alone--"

"--you either get back into bed or I get in the car. Your choice, Chloe."

She glared at him angrily, silently seething as he stared at her patiently, and then with a fierce "fine" she swivelled sharply and stormed out of the apartment. She strode out into the cold, Metropolitan air and dumped her suitcase carelessly into the boot, slamming the hood down hard. She was steaming as she jerked the car door open and settled herself into the drivers seat, and she took a steady gulp of air to quell the rising anger. She exhaled, and her breath billowed out into an icy cloud of smoke.

Just as she was slipping the key into the ignition, the side door opened, letting in a rush of winter air, and Lex Luthor slipped gracefully in beside her, a black jacket now covering his sheer white shirt. He turned to glance at her and she offered him a fiery look that spoke volumes: she was not happy.

"Lex," she started, but the young Luthor shook his head, indicating that it was not up for discussion.

"If we head off now, we should make it back before dawn," he suggested, turning his head to stare out of the windscreen at the Metropolitan lights.

Finally realising that Lex wouldn't be moving anytime soon, she sighed in defeat and twisted the key, thankful to hear the engine purr to life despite the frosty weather. She pulled out of the garage and out into the street, and turned to glance briefly at the boy billionaire.

"We're not gonna talk. You got that?" she declared firmly, softly. "You've already presumed the reasons for tonight's little fiasco, so we'll leave it at that, shall we?"

Lex looked at her, and Chloe forced herself to keep her eyes on the road, to feign disinterest.

"No," he said simply.

She glared at him, blood boiling dangerously close to the surface. "I don't give a shit what you want, Lex. We're not talking about this, and if you have a problem with that then you can get the fuck out of my car," she seethed.

Lex merely glanced at her pointedly. "Have I hit a nerve, Chloe?" he taunted, and he watched her hands tighten on the steering wheel, the harsh white of her knuckles visible in the darkness of the car.

"Don't you dar--"

"Dare what? Don't dare to point out that right now you're acting like a six-year-old child? I'm sorry, Chloe, but I don't give a shit about your temper-tantrums. You need to realise that not everything is about you and your actions, despite what you think may think."

Now suddenly more furious than Chloe could ever remember being, she jerked the car off of the road and skidded to halt at the side. She couldn't trust herself to drive right now, couldn't trust her hands to remain firmly on the steering wheel and not around Lex's neck.

She turned towards him, disdainful eyes searching him out in the darkness. "And you need to realise that not everything is about Clark fuckin' Kent," she countered fiercely, tiny hands clawing the soft material of the car seat. "Did you ever stop to think that maybe tonight was about more than farmboy?"

Nothing, just silence. He was just staring at her in that cool, collected way that Chloe had come to hate.

"No," she huffed, turning to face forwards in her seat again, "of course you didn't." She folded her arms agitatedly over her chest and tilted her head to stare out of her side window into the inky blackness outside. The only light came from the singular road lamp that stood a little way up from them, which cast an ugly orange glow across the landscape. Chloe hated it, because suddenly she felt stranded and isolated. She was out of her depth here, sat in her car with an irritatingly calm Lex Luthor tearing into her for no logical reason whatsoever. She wasn't on her own turf now, she was in the middle of nowhere and she couldn't simply walk away or force Lex to get out of the car. Well, she could, but she wasn't sure she could be that cruel, even if the young Luthor's comments were beginning to sting a little.

For the second time that night, Chloe Sullivan fought back tears. Right at this moment she hated Lex intensely for the ease in which he manipulated her and played with her emotions like they were a fine, string instrument. She was a strong woman, a woman in control, that was only hurt when she let herself be hurt, and now the man sat beside her, whom she had only truly known for two days, had torn the control from her unwilling hands, and had used it against her.

And there was nothing she could do about it. Nothing she could say or do to knock him down a peg, because he honestly believed he was right. He was so much older than her, and believed himself to be wiser, and no seventeen-year-old - even if they were Chloe Sullivan - could change the young Luthor's mind once it was made up. She'd tried several times tonight, to no avail, and now she was just simply tired. Now she just wanted to go home.

Noting that the boy billionaire wasn't about to say anything anytime soon, she said softly, "you'll have to drive. I'm tired." She unbuckled her seat belt and opened her door, giving Lex no chance to protest. She stepped out and around the side, not bothering to look up at him when he passed her on his way to the drivers seat. She just rubbed at her eyes, massaging the light wetness into her skin, and slumped into the car where Lex was already waiting, hand on the ignition key.