The Depths We Sink To (Chapter Two)

Still spoiling Persona. This is in the aftermath of Bizzaro!Clark saying he and Lana were leaving.

Chapter Two

I wasn't gonna say anything until it was official, but after Lana and I tie up a few loose ends, we're leaving Smallville...together.

Leaving Smallville.

Leaving.

"Chloe, I'm totally swamped, here. I was wondering if you're done lunch, if you could... Chloe?"

"Huh?"

Megan was leaning into her, peering at her. "You okay?"

"Fine." She blinked at Megan, then at the basement around her. 

"Oh, good," she said breathily. She transferred the stack of papers to her other arm. "Not that I'm not totally grateful you helped before, but I was wondering if you could help me again. Apparently, Luthor has sent down word that he now wants these filed, not alphabetically, but in order of experience, from pro down to high school intern material and..."

How did she get here? She hardly remembered the drive back. She must have been on some kind of auto-pilot, her mind too took up with the end of everything that meant anything to her. First, her workplace was invaded by a Luthor and now... Something had changed in Clark. He'd said he was leaving, smiled as if this was nothing but good news. Smiled disinterestedly at her. As if she no longer mattered.

"...and we all know it's total bullshit. He's making us all jump through hoops so he has an excuse to fire more of us. I totally know it and I'm totally freaking out."

"I don't matter," she said dully, hardly hearing anything else but the echo of that thought.

"Chloe?" Megan was staring at her again. "Are you sure you're okay?"

She tried to speak, but she couldn't. She managed a weak nod.

Megan took her by the arm, leading her to the break room. "Maybe you need some coffee."

"Yes. Coffee," she whispered.

"And don't worry about me. Got this totally covered. Um... Unless you can get some time to help, in which case I totally don't." She smiled weakly and rushed off.

She turned to the shelves above the counter, waiting for her eyes to focus. She was not going to cry now. She'd managed a long drive without crying and she wouldn't do it now. She'd wait until tonight. When she was alone. She'd obviously have to get used to being alone.

"Bit of a long lunch, don't you think?"

She closed her eyes and breathed deep before turning. "I had a personal errand," she said to Lex Luthor, lounging against the doorway. A man eating a donut at the table quickly dropped the rest and rushed out past him. "I'll obviously be staying late tonight. I figured I should get it out of the way." She tilted her head. "I hope that's not a problem."

"Not at all. But I'd appreciate some notice next time." 

So you can follow me? Not a chance. "Duly noted."

He looked past her. "That coffee fresh?"

She turned away and grabbed her mug from the shelf. "Probably sludge compared to the coffee upstairs. I'm sure you'd prefer that coffee. They'd probably serve it to you in a crystal mug."

"I'm sure they would." He was at her side, taking one of the styrofoam cups stacked on the counter. "But I could have that coffee whenever I wanted. I prefer tasting something... different." 

"Slumming it? How quaint." She poured her own with shaking hands. She couldn't take his innuendo, not on top of everything.

"I woudn't exactly call it that." He held the styrofoam cup in front of her. "Do you mind?"

She clenched the coffee pot, reluctantly bypassing his hand and pouring into the cup instead. He was baiting her and she wouldn't rise to it. She knew where it led, where it had led them that night.

"Thank you."

She didn't say "You're welcome." He was not welcome. She just concentrated on pouring some powdered creamer into her own cup, mixing it quickly. The sooner she could get out of here, the less chance of her doing something stupid. Her hand froze mid-stir as she felt him behind her. 

"Any sugar for me? For the coffee, I mean."

One hand clenched on her mug as the other reached up, grabbing the box of sugar packets. She turned and held it out to him, but he didn't take it. He only moved closer, reaching... past her.

"I'm sorry," he said, close, but not touching her. "I actually wanted the artificial sweetener." His hand came back with the pink box, though he didn't move away. "They say it's just like the real thing." He looked down at his box, then the one still in her hand. He reached to her side and placed it on the counter. "Never mind. I'd rather have what you've got."

She slammed her mug on the counter beside her and moved past him. She was letting him get to her and she couldn't do that, not if she wanted to stay, keep the Planet afloat until she could find a way to get him out. A sexual harassment suit might be one way, but she knew it would just roll off him with his money and power. Besides that, everything he was doing was not exactly that. Every calculated moment could be taken as completely innocent if she didn't know better. If this was months ago, if she'd never slept with him, her reaction might be mild annoyance instead of this clenching and churning and... crying.

She quickly ducked into the supply room, letting the tears fall just for now. She moved further in, her breaths coming out in tiny gasps. "Clark..." She pulled the scarf from her pocket and unwrapped it, staring at the shield. She'd only meant to hold it for him until he seemed more himself. Then she'd talked to Lana... to him. Lana was right, in a way. She had been holding on all these years. At the back of her mind, there was always that hope that he would look at her again, see her for what she was. What she'd always been to him. But now... It wasn't just that he was with Lana. It was who he seemed to have become. Maybe she should let go. Maybe she needed to. Maybe for good. She wasn't sure if she wanted to hold on to a Clark who grabbed her, hurt her, told her he was leaving with a smile -- as if it would do anything but destroy her.

She heard the door behind her and quickly stuffed the scarf and shield behind a large box of paper.

"Hiding out, Sullivan?"

Lex again. She quickly swiped one hand under her eyes and grabbed a box of staples. "Just needed these," she said, not turning.

The door closed, but he wasn't gone. She just didn't have that kind of luck today. "Long lunches, extended stays in the supply closet... What's an employer to think?"

"You can think what you want, Luthor." She almost wished he'd fire her now. She could crawl into bed and forget this day, this life. She turned, jumping slightly to find him so close behind her. She wondered what he'd pretend to reach for this time.

"I'm trying to decide," he said, raising an eyebrow.

She clutched her staples and stood her ground. She was done running away. "Decide what?"

"What I want to think. I don't want to think a bright, young girl would just shirk her duties. I just wonder what's behind all the running off. And didn't Clark stop by? Why exactly..."

Her staples dropped to the floor as her hands grasped his lapels, pulling him down, smashing her lips against his. There was only a muffled gasp before he was pushing right back. The metal shelf swayed behind her and she pushed back harder, pushing him toward the glazed door as his tongue tangled with hers. Glazed door. Someone could see. She hardly cared. After a day like this, she wanted to feel something besides agony. But she cared just enough to push him to the wall at the side instead, pressing him against it, tasting him. He tasted like coffee and cigars. Probably from his meeting, rich men smoking cubans and griping about the bottom line.

Rich man. Boss. Even as her mind screamed these words at her, she pushed them away. She needed to feel. But he wasn't doing anything. She couldn't carry this. He had to do it. He had to... She took his hands, moved them to her hips. They moved up instead and she moaned into his mouth, but they passed her breasts. They moved to her shoulders and pushed her away.

"No," she breathed. "Don't... Just please..." She squeezed her eyes shut, but a tear slipped past anyway.

He stared hard at her. "What's wrong with you?"

She opened her eyes, felt the tear tricking down her cheek to her chin. She didn't care anymore. Let him see her cry. Let averyone see it. As long as she could feel something better... She worked her hand between them and cupped the front of his pants. 

He was hard. Very much so. She'd been concentrating so hard on the idea that he was only torturing her. She'd only been thinking of her own reactions to him all this time, her fear of her own reactions, but now she wondered... Was he this hard every time? Around her? For her?


"Does it matter?" she asked.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. "Not really," he said through clenched teeth before leaning into her.

He brushed so lightly against her lips, grasping her waist, pulling her to him even as her hand still worked between them. One hand left her waist and she dimly registered the click of a lock. "Yes," she gasped. "Now."

"God," he breathed into her mouth. "Chloe..."

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