The Depths We Sink To (Chapter Thirty-Six)

Banner by Bkwurm1

PREVIOUS CHAPTER Well, I'm back with more. I'm done with Quest now, but this is spoiling nothing as this scene did not happen.  


Chapter 36 

All words dried up as she opened the door. Because it was Lex. After this morning, he was the absolute last person she wanted to see. Yet she ran her eyes over him. He looked disheveled and sweaty and his eyes were unfocused. It put her in mind of that night he showed up at her door, after what he did to Pete and... 

"No," she breathed, pulling him in and shutting the door. Was he injured? Clark... She'd left him brooding after that talk and... Had he got it in his head to hurt Lex? "I didn't mean it," she nearly sobbed, running her hands over his head, looking for where he'd been hurt. "I swear, I never wanted..." 

Lex pulled her hands away, pushed her against the door... and kissed her. 

Lex was kissing her and she had no idea what to do. She had to stop this... didn't she? Damn it, she did! She started to free her hands to push him away, then remembered he had stitches. She twisted her head away. "Lex, stop..." 

"No. Please," he breathed against her cheek. "Chloe..." 

"What are you doing here?" she said, firmly pulling away. His hands made as if to grab her, but he only sagged against the door. "Are you drunk?" she sneered. 

He let out a wheeze of laughter and turned, still leaning heavily on the door. "Done with that," he said, yet he was smiling. 

Her stomach dropped at that smile. "Why the hell are you smiling?" she demanded. Lex Luthor smiling wasn't exactly good news these days. 

"Because I know, Chloe." 

"What do you think you know?" she tried to scoff. Something was wrong about him. Like this morning... 

"What you did." He moved toward her, but not steadily. 

Had he found out about Canada? He reached for her again, but she caught his hand, ready to push his drunken ass to the floor if needed... then she stilled, gripping his hand tighter. 

"You're burning up," she gasped. She looked him over, the unfocused eyes, the sweat. He wasn't drunk. And that mania in his eyes this morning... "Lex, you're sick." 

"That's what you always say. You don't mean it." He leaned toward her, but she kept him at arm's length. 

"Christ, you're half delirious." 

"No. It's all so clear now." He smiled again. 

She stared at him, anger and -- damn him -- concern warring inside her. "I hate you for this," she growled, gripping his sleeve and pulling him to the bed. 

"You know that's not true. You wouldn't have done it if you didn't care just a little," she heard him say as she dragged him behind her. 

"Would you shut up?" Whatever fevered nonsense he was on about could wait. "Just let me see." She gripped either side of his shirt and ripped. 

"Hey," he breathed. "Thought you'd take a little more convincing." 

"Shut up," she repeated, ripping at the bandage next. "Damn you," she whispered, staring at his chest, at the shape the stitches and the flesh swelling around them, angry red and yellow... almost green in spots. "I need to..." She stopped herself and backed away, her hands shaking and probably as hot as his skin. Did she call an ambulance or... She shouldn't do it. 

"I know what you do." He stared hard at her and his eyes seemed to clear, as if he was reading her mind. "I know what you did." 

Her own eyes widened. She had the feeling he wasn't talking about her little jaunt to Montreal. "What exactly do you know?" 

"Intercept," he said, huffing out a laugh. "God, I hated you. I hated all of you. Then I saw you, Chloe. I saw you die." 

She shook her head and backed further away, hit the dresser behind her. He'd found out. Of course he had. "Whatever you saw..." 

"I saw you die for me," he said, standing now. "You couldn't have done it, Chloe, not if you didn't..." 

"Lex, you need to get to a hospital," she said, trying to keep her voice calm and even, trying to keep her hands away from him. 

"Not if you didn't love me, too," he finished, holding himself upright against the dresser. 

"I only did it for..." Clark? She couldn't finish that sentence. It wouldn't be true, anyway. She might have still done it, had it been Clark and just anyone else. But not without hesitation. She'd looked at the two of them and known that, between those men, she didn't care if she died. She was still absorbing what he said. Not if you didn't love me, too. It was the "too" that was echoing in her mind as he crumpled against her. She bore his weight and pushed him back to the bed. "This doesn't mean anything," she grunted, letting him fall on it. 

"Wait, don't..." He started to sit up. 

"Oh, just shut up," she growled, ripping his bandage the rest of the way off, then going for the smaller one at his side. "How long has it been since you've seen a doctor." 

"I don't know," he said blearily. "Got cut up." 

"Yes. I'm aware of that," she said tersely, grabbing his hand, ripping at that bandage as well. It didn't look any better than the rest of him. "You're supposed to take antibiotics." 

"I was gonna..." 

"When? On your next hospital visit?" 

"Just call the hospital. I don't want you to..." 

"What's the point now? You damn well know. You're f*cking here!" She yanked him further up on the bed and placed her shaking hand on his chest. "I hate you for this." 

"Then don't..." 

"God! Shut up!" He must have known she'd do it. Must have known she wouldn't be able to help it. And, damn her, she couldn't. She knew very well that she could call an ambulance, but he was right here and that scar... She didn't want to think of him going through the rest of his life with that scar when she could make it go away. Her hands shook as she placed them more firmly against him. He cried out, then, as if in pain. 

"Stop!" 

She ignored him and pressed harder as she knew he wouldn't be in pain for long. His eyes rolled back in his head, then closed. She supposed it was just as well. He didn't need to see this. 

She grunted at the pain and closed her eyes at the light. Did it always hurt this much? Somehow, this felt worse. It burned on her chest, on her side, her right hand... She could feel the pain, the fever, the infection roaring through her blood now and she whimpered as she tried to keep taking it... It was a hell of a lot of pain to take all at once. But she was fine. She held herself upright. She was fine. She'd be just... 

****************** 

Lex opened his eyes and vaguely wondered if he'd been drinking again with the garish bright blue ceiling and the weight of a woman over him, the smell of... Chloe. 

He looked down to find her slumped against his chest. So that... happened. 

"Chloe?" He shook her, but she didn't move. "F*ck!" He moved her off him, surprised at how easy it was, surprised that every movement wasn't agony after these last days of... He knelt up, looking down at his chest. A bandage hung off drunkenly, but besides that, there was nothing except stitches falling away like lint. He turned her over. She was red and sweating and... glowing? "No, no, no," he breathed. He could see it on her hands, under her blouse. He ripped at it, saw the red marks stark against her flesh, yet glowing. "Jesus, Chloe..." 

He rushed to her bathroom, looking around frantically. What the hell was he supposed to do? He grabbed a towel off the edge of the tub and turned on the faucet. 

He barely remembered getting here. It was a wonder he'd gotten here in one piece. He'd been half crazed with no sleep, no food, and the God damned stupidity he only now saw clearly of spending two days running around the globe, replacing antibiotics with pain killers. And now she was infected with more than meteors and it was his f*cking fault. 

He moved back to her with the wet towel, pulling up her bra and placing it against her chest. He wasn't even sure if this was helping, but she was shaking and sweating and... 

"Damn it, Chloe." He hadn't seen what happened after in that video. What did his father do? Had she gone to the hospital? He hadn't seen records. Then again, he hadn't been looking. "Okay," he breathed, wiping her sodden hair off her forehead as she groaned. "You'll be okay. I'll call an ambulance." He patted his pockets. No phone. He started to look for hers when she gripped his hand... 

"No," she said, so quietly he could barely hear it. 

"Chloe?" He leaned down. 

"No... hospital," she said faintly. "It goes away." 

He stared down at her, doubtful. "Not this." 

"Just wait. Please... It stops. It's not so bad now." 

"Damn it," he growled, then stood, ripping off the rest of his bandage, then his jacket as he was as drenched with sweat as she was. He had to do something. He moved to the kitchen and ripped open her freezer. Ice maybe. That might help. He rifled through the cabinets until he found a bowl large enough and dumped the ice in. 

By the time he moved back to her bed with the bowl of ice water and a clean washcloth, her eyes were open. She was staring at the ceiling and, thankfully, no longer glowing. But he could see the red marks on her chest. "Tell me that goes away," he said angrily, setting the bowl down. 

She didn't answer, just nodded. 

He sat on the side of the bed and pulled her upright, trying to be gentle, possibly failing as he yanked at her blouse. 

"Stop it," she grunted, trying to pull away. 

"Let's not get all maidenly now. I've seen you glow." She sagged against him and he peeled her blouse off more gently. "For the record, I didn't come here for this." 

"For the record," he heard her say faintly, even a little bitterly. "Not a reporter anymore... You saw to that... Assh*le." 

At least her petty name-calling was a good sign. He laid her back and went for the rest. Her clothes were soaked through. So were his, but that could wait. He wrung out the cloth and pulled the now hot, wet towel away, wincing at the marks. "I didn't come here for this," he repeated, brushing the cloth over that shape, that awful shape. Was it fading? If he was a praying man, he'd pray now that she wouldn't have to wear that mark. But it was fading, little by little. 

"Sure you didn't," she said, eyes closed and voice thick. "You found out just what kind of a freak I am and thought you'd skip one of your weekly hospital..." 

"You know that's not true," he said gently, dipping the cloth in again and moving it to her forehead. 

"That's so cold." She squeezed her eyes shut harder against the dripping water and he pulled away. But she gripped his hand. "Don't stop." He chuckled lightly and ran it down her neck. "Don't laugh, either. Hate you." 

"No, you don't. Or you wouldn't have done it all... Is it three times now?" 

"It's not like it's a big deal. I heal. Probably quicker than you." 

"Wasn't aware we were competing," he said softly, moving the cloth just a little slower across her chest. "I didn't want you to heal me." 

"Then why did you come?" She started to cover herself. 

"If it bothers you that much you're naked..." He stilled her hands, grabbing a sheet crumpled at the foot of the bed. She was kind of a slob, for all her preaching at him to do his own dishes. He found himself smiling . 

"Why did you come here?" she repeated as he pulled it over her chest. "What did you think I'd do? Just let you..." 

"I wasn't thinking. I just had to see you after I saw that feed..." 

"Intercept," she said, thickly, trying to sit up. 

He shook his head and pressed her gently down. "Not yet." 

"I want some water." 

"I'll get it." He stood.

She stared at him, pained, but laid back down. "That was all supposed to be erased," he heard her say as he moved out. 

"Luckily, I can afford technicians capable of reversing that," he called out, filling a glass. 

"Luckily for who?" he heard her groan as he moved back to her. 

He had to laugh just a little. "Luckily for everyone, considering what I thought before I..." He stopped, arrested by her open laptop and Olsen's pictures from the cave. 

"I'm helping Jimmy with his article," she said loudly. He turned. She was up, pulling the sheet around her and stumbling toward him. 

"Damn it, Chloe!" He rushed to her and gripped her arm before he remembered to be gentle. 

"I'm fine. It's going away. I..." 

He sat her down and thrust the glass into her hand. "Calm the hell down," he said, annoyed at her stubbornness, annoyed at her mention of Jimmy, annoyed that he'd come here for nothing. Regardless of what she did for him, she was with Olsen now. She choose that. "I saw the footage," he said, moving to a chair and sinking into it tiredly, "and I might have read a little too much into it." 

She swallowed hard, then brought the glass down slowly, adjusting her sheet with her other hand. "Like what?" 

He shook his head. "It doesn't matter." He looked down at his chest. "Thanks for this, I suppose." 

"Say it." 

He glanced up. "What exactly do you expect me to say?" he asked her bent head. 

"You said it before. You said you thought I loved you... too," she added softly. She met his eyes, then. "So... what does that mean?" 

"You know what it means," he said softly. "I think we're both a little too old to be playing coy." 

"Maybe you are," she said, her eyes steady on his. "So why won't you say it?" 

"I practically did. If you expect me to..." 

"God!" She leaned over and practically slammed the glass down on her nightstand. "It's like pulling teeth with you!" 

"I said I..." 

"I even remember, before you put me in hiding, I had to be infected with... truth breath before you'd admit you were human like the rest of us, that you needed anything but your precious power and money!" 

"Calm the hell..." 

"Stop telling me to calm down. You calm down! Are you even happy, Lex? Has any of it made you happy?" She stood, the sheet falling slightly. "How many times do you have to do the same damned things before you realize it's not working?" 

He stood, pulling the sheet around her. "Sit down before you get yourself..." 

"I told you! I'm healing!" 

"And I told you I love you!" he yelled. "Practically! So... shut up about it." 

She gaped up at him, holding onto the sheet. 

He backed away, as surprised as she was. He'd said it. And to her. To the last person he wanted to have that kind of power over him. Yet she didn't look satisfied. Her eyes were filling... 

"I wish you hadn't said it," she gasped. 

"Believe me," he said, dazed, "I feel the same..." 

"You say this now. You say this after everything... How dare you!" Her palm connected with his face and he drew back. "How do you do this? How do I let you?" 

"Stop it..." 

"I want to hate you," she sobbed as he grasped her wrists. "I want to hate you so much. Why don't you let me? You..." 

He kissed her, then. Because he didn't have to hear her say it. She'd damn well showed him. Maybe all along. Why else would she want to save a sad bastard like him? 

She kept pushing him, kept trying to hit him, but her lips were moving against his, her hips were straining toward his. She barely even hurt him when he released one hand to pull the sheet from between them. 

"What does this mean?" she said against his lips, her voice almost panicked. "What do we do?" 

"We leave," he said. It was the only answer. Just as soon as he took care of the Traveler, as soon as he knew there would be a standing world... "We'll go away." He pulled back slightly, lifted her against him, let the both of them fall to the bed. "Say you'll go." 

"I can't..." 

"Yes, you can. What's here for you? What's here for either of us?" 

***************************** 

She stared at him, unable to answer that. So she gripped his neck, pulled him to meet her lips again. What was here for her? She had no job. She had no... Jimmy. She had him, didn't she? And she hated herself for it, but the thought of him only made her grip Lex harder. Because he never made her feel this. Never made her feel anything close to this need. Clark? He needed her. The thought of leaving him nearly made her stop... 

Then Lex's lips moved to her neck, down her chest. His eyes met hers as his lips trailed softly, almost reverently over the marks that were now barely visible. She couldn't help feeling that Lex needed her more. And Clark... Somewhere inside, she knew he'd never stand on his own two feet if she stayed perpetually behind him, propping him up. As for her? She'd stay there, always behind. Listening to him tell her how much he needed her, believing he meant it, feelings perpetually muddled as she told herself that his thanks was enough, just seeing him happy was enough, that the uneven, nebulous mass of feelings between them would ever be enough. 

She gasped, Clark disappearing from her mind as Lex moved lower, lips tracing a heated path over her hipbone and her thigh until... 

"Yes," she moaned. She'd missed this, every bit of this, every way he knew to touch her. Did she really think she could live the rest of her life without this? 

She opened her legs further, groped blindly down her body, clutched at his head as his lips and tongue worked at her. Why was it him? Why was he the one, the only one, who made her feel this way? Made her forget everything else? Every reason this was wrong? 

One hand flew out, twisted in the sheet, clawed at it until it pulled from the corner, as if she wanted to get away. Maybe she did. Or maybe she just wished she wanted to. Regardless, the rest of her was writhing under him, straining for release. His hands clutched at her thighs, holding her down for it, never stopping, never slowing until every sensation shrank to just the spot where the slightly rough pad of his tongue circled and flicked, like he was taking everything, reducing her to just this. Sometimes it was nearly scary, the way he could take her over. 

Her head thrashed from side to side as she gripped the sheet, gripped his head, tried to hold onto herself. But it was useless and her back arched off the bed as sparks raced all over her body and a hoarse moan tore itself from her throat. 

She collapsed, staring hazily at the ceiling until he blocked it out, rising up over her, licking his lips before they touched hers again. And she belatedly told herself this shouldn't have happened, but... Her mind started clicking to life again, remembering his words. They'd go away. What was so wrong about that? Wasn't it even for the best? He'd stop his quest. She'd stop floundering in desperate search of a new dream. They could be happy. Everyone would be safe. Was that so wrong? 

She stopped him. "I'll go," she breathed, a hand on either side of his face. "We'll go." 

He stared down at her, gray eyes squinting in what seemed like the beginnings of a smile. "Soon. Yes." 

"Tonight?" she whispered. It had to be tonight. 

He didn't answer and, when he slipped inside her, she sort of forgot the question. "Chloe." He said her name on a strangled groan as he pressed further in. She could feel her walls still fluttering and squeezing around him, still almost embarrassingly wet. "Chloe." He whispered it as his head fell to her shoulder. "Chloe..." 

She jolted as he began moving in earnest, almost ready to push him away before she remembered she was current on her birth control, had wanted to be ready for Jimmy if... She let out a breathy sob of guilt and pleasure as she realized how deeply she was betraying him. But it was over, wasn't it? Wasn't she finished pretending her life was enough? Maybe he'd be happier. Maybe she wouldn't even be happy, away from all she knew. In fact, she was damned sure everyone she knew would tell her she wouldn't be. But she was in this now. 

She clutched at Lex's shoulders, holding him to her. She wouldn't look back. She'd take that chance. She slid her knees up over his hips, biting open mouthed at his shoulder as he moved inside her. He breathed her name harshly again as she began pushing up from underneath him. No real leverage, but it was enough to make him move faster, shove in harder, pushing her body upwards until she could feel her head hanging off the bed. 

She reached out blindly for the nightstand, trying to brace herself against it until he stopped, gripping her hand and pulling it down, kneeling and pulling her up with him until she straddled his legs, until he sunk even deeper inside. They both gasped, then, clutching each other, pushing against each other with an almost sloppy lack of finesse. Somehow, it still made her blood sing, made his eyes darken nearly to black. She kept her own eyes locked on his, feeling unable to speak now, but holding his in silent promise. She'd be enough for him. She'd give him everything he was afraid to say he wanted. All he had to do was take it. 

"Lex..." She choked out his name, not even sure what she was starting to say, just needing to know he was with her on this. That she could be enough for him. 

One hand clutched her tighter as the other squeezed between their bodies and she wanted to tell him that wasn't what she needed, but her body certainly had no objections. And she was ready, so ready by now that it only took two quick, wet circles of his thumb before she sobbed out her release, squeezing him inside her as he jerked upward with one last gasp of her name. 

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

More to come soon.