Restless Nights (Chapter Four)

Banner by Bkwurm1

FINALLY got this next chapter done.

I’d like to apologize in advance for the info dump you’re about to get. I’ll try to make it as amusing or interesting as possible.

Then we go into an alternate season 9. 

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!
Smoothed by long fingers,
Asleep … tired … or it malingers

Chapter Four

She felt cheated. 

That was Chloe’s first thought upon waking. Maybe it wasn’t the correct first reaction. She knew what had last happened. She’d died. Just like with Lois at the dam, with Lex at the Intercept lab, she’d touched and she’d given her life with no guarantee that it would be returned… only to wake as if nothing had happened.

That wasn’t the part that stung. Using her powers, there was always the gamble this was the last time. But she didn’t desperately want it to be.

Still, each time had her expecting something more from her “death.” After the initial horror, she’d been disappointed to wake in that morgue drawer without having experienced that tunnel or that bright light or that sense of peace that all people who nearly died went on and on about. It was the same when she woke in her own bed to an overly solicitous Clark last year. She’d been no wiser than before.

So, when she registered the beeps of machines and the sunlight behind her eyelids with no deep or unique insight on the human condition, the first thing she felt was cheated.

Still, she hadn’t really died, had she? Not then and not now. Maybe that experience was reserved for those who truly died. And she hadn’t. Not yet. She was almost irritatingly alive – irritating because she was starving, she was stiff all over, and several things were invading her body. 

She could feel something in her wrist and, perhaps more disturbing, in her urethra. Catheter. That was the word for it. She’d never had the pleasure before. She wondered why she had to have the pleasure now. Hadn’t she got through the last two just fine without all the external hardware?

Then again, maybe whoever had her wasn’t aware of that. The idea quickly turned her annoyance to panic.

She sat up with some difficulty, panting and dropping back to her bed twice before she succeeded in pushing down her blankets and staying upright, her head swimming as she looked around. The surroundings did nothing to calm her. This wasn’t Met Gen. It wasn’t even Smallville’s med center. It was too… was homey a word for it?

There were no stiff-backed chairs, but leather recliner and a matching sofa. There weren’t plastic blinds, but deep blue curtains on the window. There was even a little table and chairs with scattered cards and bits of a puzzle and a large TV hung on one wall, even a dart board. She might think someone had plopped a hospital bed in the middle of their rec room.

That was when she started to panic in earnest. Who had her? The last thing she remembered was holding Clark, watching his wounds heal as she faded away in the middle of settling chaos and sirens and military… Was she in a military hospital? It didn’t seem like it. There was too much chaos and mess in the room around her.

She felt frozen, as if chained to this bed, she even felt a pinching at her stomach as she tried to stand. She laid back down again, breathing heavily, straining to keep her head up as she pulled at her hospital gown, seeing not just the catheter, but a wide tube attached to her stomach. “Oh, God!”

“Oh, God!” 

That one wasn't her. She turned to the door at the voice and the clatter that followed, quickly pulling down her gown. She hadn’t known what to expect, but it hadn’t been Bart Allen with a tray of food overturned at his feet and a hand over his eyes.

“I didn’t see anything! I swear!” he yelled. 

“Bart?”

“Okay. I maybe saw a little something, but with all the doodads, it was very medical and clinical and not at all…”

“Bart?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” he yelled, slightly muffled behind his hands. “So you’re… up now?”

“Yes. And all covered up.” She dragged the blankets over her legs, laying back now with genuine relief. She should have known the guys wouldn’t let the government or anything worse cart her off. 

“Hey!” He uncovered his eyes and appeared at the side of the bed. “You’re up!”

“Yes,” she grunted, feeling the annoyance at the damned wires come back along with the relief. Blame her sordid past, but there was something about tubes going in and out of her that would never feel like anything but the deepest invasion.

“But you’re up!” he repeated, wide eyed.

She’d kind of hoped they’d established that. “And kind of starving,” she said, wondering if that would snap him out of repeat. She gestured to the food now-crushed at his feet. It looked like a sandwich. “Is that for me?”

“Uh… That was for me.” He looked behind him, then turned back to her in horror. “I mean, it would be for you if… I mean, I was on watch. And I swear, I only left for a second to get a little snack. I had no idea you’d be up the second I… I… I need to get the others.” He disappeared, then reappeared before her suddenly. “Don’t move! Or do move. Keep moving. Don’t… you know… close your eyes. I’ll be back!”

“Think I’d never died before,” she laughed hoarsely as he disappeared, feeling downright cheery now that she knew she was safe. They must have taken her somewhere until she woke. And Bart was okay. He said he was getting the others. Last she knew, the others were alive, if a little worse for battle. And Clark… she healed him and survived. That was good to know. That could come in handy. She’d feel nearly giddy with life if she wasn’t still annoyed at the wires and tubes invading her. 

Still, it wasn’t so bad. In fact, now that she looked around the room, she saw a few things that should have tipped her off before if she’d looked closer. In the corner, there was a pair of thigh-high boots listing to one side that looked like Dinah’s. Just a few feet away, next to that easy chair, was an outlet with a surge protector filled with more plugs than seemed reasonable. Victor’s, she decided. It would explain why that area wasn’t covered in crumbs and crushed chips like the sofa, with a red hoodie hanging off one arm and yet another red hoodie slung over a battered, pink file cabinet across the… Pink file cabinet? It can’t be…

“Isis?” 

It couldn’t be. The walls were worn brick and there was a pink filing cabinet, but that didn’t mean…

She turned fully to the window, something she’d been almost afraid to do, afraid of seeing bare land or a brick wall. The curtains weren’t fully open, but she could swear she saw some of the First Federal building. She knew that view.

Rushed footsteps turned her attention to the doorway. “See? I told you…” Bart slipped on his own sandwich, which would have been hilarious if her mind wasn’t buzzing with confusion.

“You’re awake!” Dinah rushed to her, then seemed to stop herself. “I mean… good for you.”

“Yes. Hi.” Maybe they’d been worried. Hadn’t Clark warned them it could take time for her to revive? Clark… She saw Victor pile in behind Dinah and Bart, then Emil, then Oliver. But she didn’t see Clark. She looked over their faces, which seemed to go between ecstatic and shocked. “Is Clark… Didn’t he…”

“Oh, Clark!” Bart slapped his head and dug in his pocket. “Thanks for reminding me. We were supposed to call him the second…”

“How do you feel?” Victor cut in, moving to her.

“I should ask you,” she said dazedly. So Clark’s okay. “Yesterday, you were missing a cheek.”

“Yester…” He chuckled and slapped lightly at his face. “I’m all patched up.”

She turned to Emil, kind of impressed. “That was quick work.”

Emil looked down. “Actually, it was… I think we need to talk.”

“I guess we do.” She glanced at Dinah, who was actually rubbing her arm, which seemed strange. They got along okay, but they weren’t exactly pals. But Dinah was also touching her with an arm that had previously looked pretty badly broken.

In fact, after everything that happened, no one seemed to have a scratch.

She turned to Emil. “Did I… do some excess healing or are you just that good?”

“Well, it…”

“Would you just listen?” Bart was yelling into his phone. “Chloe’s awake. She… Hey! He hung up.” Bart shrugged and tucked his phone in his pocket. “Probably pissed I made him leave. The guy can only be here so many hours before…”

“So it worked? It really worked? Clark’s…”

“He’s fine,” Bart groaned. “Very much alive, though with how he haunts this room, maybe…”

There was a whoosh of air and Clark was suddenly in the doorway. He pushed past the others. He looked perfect. Not a scratch on him, either.

“Hi,” he said, sort of stilted and awkward.

“Hi,” she answered back, also kind of at a loss as to what to say after what they went through last night… or was it a few nights now? She looked down, her hands twisting in the blankets and she saw something else, something dark blue. She hadn’t noticed it before, tangled up in the covers. Clark’s jacket. Just like the red one he had on right now. Maybe that would have tipped her off right away. She held it out. “I see you got your spares again.” Only Clark would not only buy such a dated jacket in several colors, but replace it when it was damaged. “How do you keep finding these?” 

He moved forward and took it, letting out a harsh breath of a laugh. “I’ve got ways.”

Bart snorted. “Like making Victor scour Ebay.”

“Bart, would you pipe down?” Victor groaned.

“Why? She’s awake! Laugh it up, guys! Make with the jokes and the bubbly.”

Chloe almost agreed. Everyone did look kind of somber. 

“There’s time for that later,” Oliver said, stepping forward. “I think she needs answers first.”

She kind of agreed with that, too. She cleared her throat. “Where am I? I mean, I see the Federal, but it's lower down.” She gestured weakly to the window. “Did you guys rent space in the same building as Isis?” And did all the offices have pink file cabinets? She thought that was just a Lana thing.

Oliver pursed his lips. “You could say that. Yeah.”

She started to sit up. “How did you get all this here so quickly?”

“Uh… Wait, let me.” Dinah pulled up a remote and her bed back started rising.

“Thanks,” she said blearily. “But what’s with all the wires?” No one was answering. They were all just looking at each other and her. “I really don’t need all this…” She tried to pull at one electrode on her wrist and Emil rushed forward. 

“Why don’t you let me take care of that in a minute. We…” He looked at the others. “We need to talk.”

“So you said.” She looked at the others, all just gaping. “What’s with all the long faces? I’m okay. I woke up.”

Bart scoffed loudly. “Yeah. Like three months later.”

“Bart!” Victor hissed.

Emil glanced at her almost sheepishly. “Like I said, we…”

“Need to talk,” she finished, feeling a little woozy. “Well, I’m already sitting down.” She was trying to decide if she’d faint when the decision was pretty much taken out of her hands.

****************************

Tess stared at the mock-ups on her desk, glad at least one decision was hers alone. “Run with the Mayor on front, Luthorcorp on page two with a small teaser in front,” she said quickly before she could second-guess herself. She wasn’t sure certain parties would agree, but it was her decision in the end.

The Planet could take a balanced approach, she’d decided months ago. It would just make things seem more credible if the information got to the public, bit by tantalizing bit. It wasn’t time to be obvious.

Still, she wondered what he’d have to say. If anyone had bothered to ask her three months ago what Lex Luthor might think of her work, she’d have told them she really didn’t care. She almost wished it was true now. But that night changed everything…

“Open your eyes.”

She didn’t want to. She wasn’t sure she could. How much did she drink?

“I didn’t hit you that hard. Wake up.”

Just two drinks. The good stuff, too. It shouldn’t leave her head pounding like this. Tess groaned and rolled over… or tried to. Her body wouldn’t go. Maybe it was more than one drink. She’d had the strangest dreams, after all. She could still hear his voice now.

“Wake up and I’ll consider untying one hand. Just one, though. Wouldn’t want you running off the rails any more than you already have.”

She opened her eyes. But she didn’t look at him.

“Or starting some kind of Heaven’s Gate of your very own. I was actually betting on that for a while. How sad.”

“So it’s true,” she said hoarsely as she finally turned to look at him, though not fully. Her hands were bound above her head.

“That’s a vague statement.” Lex sat on one side of the bed, tapping a rolled up newspaper against his hand. “If you mean worshipping at either the altar of someone who’s called The Red-Blue Blur or a glowing ball of light is pathetic , then yes. That’s true.”

“You’re…”

“Or maybe you’re talking about the stellar job you’ve done running my company into the ground.”

“It can’t be.”

“Oh, it can. I read it right here in the paper you waste all your time at. Shares are at an all-time low, but that’s what happens when you get in bed with Queen. You’d think he’d have disappointed you enough all those other times you got in bed, if rumors are to be…”

“I’ve gone crazy.”

“I know,” Lex said, his voice a mockery of sadness. “I’m trying to decide if there’s hope for you.”

“You’re dead.”

“Yes.” He chuckled. “Twice in one year. I think that’s my personal best.”

“They found your remains. There was no way…”

“They found remains genetically identical to mine,” Lex said impatiently. “You’ve had access to all my files, all my journals. Do you honestly think I don’t have a few spares lying around?”

She took a shuddering breath. “Spares?” The idea was repulsive, sickening…

“Shit,” Lex growled, leaning over to untie one hand. “Now don’t try anything,” he said before rushing away and back, shoving her onto her side.

Tess wasn’t sure if she could sit up, let alone “try anything,” but there was a moment, while retching into and ruining the antique wastebasket she’d hand-picked to match the climbing ivy carved into her bed post, that she considered wrenching her free arm upwards and shoving her vomit right in his face. He’d been alive. Not only that, he’d been laughing at her, reducing all her work to some sad joke.

“You probably have a concussion,” he said, setting the wastebasket on the floor and backing away, just her luck. “I’m sure you know by now they’re manageable without a doctor. Either way, my personal physician’s tied up and I don’t think I’ll risk taking you to a hospital.”

“Spares,” she gasped, spitting hard. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean I have several contingency plans… or clones, if you want to put it crassly.” He picked up a glass from her dresser and gave it a sniff. “I see you’ve been helping yourself. Little pointer -- limit your drinking. I probably spent most of my last two years here half-bombed and I think it showed.”

“Project Ares. Model 503,” she breathed, trying to sit up with one wrist still tied as it came together. Lana Lang had taken an inanimate clone called Model 503 from Reeves Dam and blew it up. “You pulled a Lana.” She shook her head. “But the project was destroyed. How did you…”

He set the glass down. “Do you seriously think I’m so hard up that I’d pull tips from the Lana Lang playbook? And a little dam burst didn’t stop Project Ares dead. The research survived.” He sighed and sat on the window seat. “Some of it went into Prometheus, some into a more tightly focused Gemini.”

“So the body they found…”

“Clone.”

“So you did pull a Lana.”

“No. Would you keep up?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Maybe if you stop treating me like an idiot and answer.”

“It’s hard to help. I have watched you this year and idiot might actually be a nice way of putting it.”

“I have been the only thing keeping your work and your company going.” She pulled at the other rope and managed to sit up, despite her swimming head. “You want to talk about going off the rails? What about your petty little schemes?”

He shook his head. “Clone.”

“Is that your answer for everything? Hiring a certified lunatic to blow me up at the…”

“Clone,” he said tiredly. “Do you think I’d do something so obvious?”

She scoffed. “What about using meteor rock bomb just to cockblock Clark and Lana?”

“Clone. But I have to say I almost approved. At least the thing put a clean end to that painful little farce.”

She stared hard at him. “And a clone implanted spyware in my eyes?”

Lex held her stare. “Now that, I did. I also took away the crystal you were incompetently investigating. Then you went and blocked me and look how everything’s gone to shit? It’s obvious I need to keep you in check.”

She dropped her gaze, too tired and confused to even be angry anymore. “You know what? I don’t care anymore. Declare yourself alive. Take everything over if I’ve done such a shit job. I never asked for any of this.”

“That’s not what’s going to happen. I think you have potential, Tess Mercer. Do you seriously think I would have left you in charge over Matthews if I didn’t? Though I’d say you got a little too competitive at the end.”

“It was self-defense. He was…”

“Yes. Kicked to death in self-defense. Listen, I understand.” His tone was almost gentle. “Getting dropped into this mess makes you crazy. But this time, we’ll work together. This time, we’ll do it right.”

“This time?” She shook her head. “I’m done.”

“That’s one option. I could untie you and let you walk away with a nice severance package for time served and a tight non-disclosure agreement.”

“I’m supposed to believe that? You’d probably have me killed before I…”

“Not you. That might be true of almost anyone else, but not you.”

She stared hard at him, but he didn’t so much as twitch. “Why?”

“Just listen. You won’t want to leave once you know everything. This time, it will be different.”

“Why?” she asked again. “What have you done?”

“It's not what I've done. It's what I have. We won’t be left floundering with only half the information. We’ll have answers.”

“You mean the orb?”

“Forget the orb,” he sneered. “I’m not touching that with a ten foot pole and neither should you. Do you even realize what you almost did?”

“No,” she said, finally loosening that last knot enough to sit up straighter. “You talk about floundering with half the answers... What the hell did you do with the orb?”

“It’s in a safe place. They won’t be released.”

“They who?”

“Who.” He chuckled. “That’s kind of fitting. Did you ever read that Dr. Suess book with the Elephant and the Whos?”

“Yes,” she growled. She’d had the thought herself, but she was not in the mood to sit here and laugh with Lex Luthor about great minds thinking alike while still tied to her own damned bed… or was that his? Everything here was his, really. “Just get on with it,” she said impatiently. She didn’t care what he said, just that he finished so she could leave if he truly would let her. She was sick of being surrounded by Luthor trappings.

“Well, imagine if the Whos were a bunch of powerful aliens from a long-dead planet. Think Clark Kent, but with a brain and military training.” He shrugged. “It’s just one theory of many, half-corroborated by Lionel’s time scribbling in symbols. But I believe a part of that civilization was preserved in an altered state.”

“And you destroyed it?”

“I’d never do something like that. Who knows if they might come in handy? I contained it using blue meteor rock. I wasn’t even sure it would work. Glad it did, though, or this planet would be overrun. I prefer to keep things simple these days.”

“Says the man with multiple clones.”

“Touché. Really, only one was viable. The rest are… I guess you could call them organ donors. Not two brain cells to rub together. I’ll keep them that way. I’ve learned my lesson after this year.”

“I’m still not sure I believe that. Matthews was working for you.”

“He was working for my clone. He was just too stupid to know it. When he went off to find me, he found it, practically dead and trying to steal my technology to save itself. It seemed to think it was better at being me than I was. I was locked up for two days before my idiot scientists figured it out.” He sighed and shrugged. “To be honest, I just let it happen after that. I figured it would get itself killed at some point. And, though I was already declared dead, thanks to you, I thought it was best certain parties had proof. I guess losing the Prometheus suit was the price to pay for a nice, legitimate death.”

“So the suit was for you.”

He shrugged. “It was just a project, another fail-safe. I wasn’t sure I’d make use of it. I wasn’t even sure it would work until Lana hijacked the whole thing. Still, it wouldn’t have been satisfying, in the end. What’s the point of controlling freaks when you become one? I’d much rather win my own way.”

“You’re a dead man hiding in the shadows. How is that winning?”

“I’m not alone now,” he said, moving toward her and untying her other wrist. “You can leave now, but I don’t think you want to.”

She stood, glancing between him and the door. She supposed she could leave now. Despite his manipulation and spying, something told her he meant it when he said he wouldn’t hurt her.

She finally sat. “What exactly is your plan?” she asked, because he was right. Even though so much in her screamed that this was enough already, she couldn’t get away. She couldn’t be part of something that changed her world and then… nothing.

He smiled. “We have work to do.”

Still, even though she was a willing captive as she listened, she felt trapped.

**************

Tess pushed the penthouse button and typed in the code.

She didn’t answer to him. She told herself that over and over as she took the long elevator ride to his apartment. She wasn’t going there some form of approval from him. Just to check in as his partner, not his subordinate.

She tapped a fingernail against the mirrored back wall, annoyed with him and, damn it, herself. She could say they were a team all she wanted. So could he. That didn’t make it so. 

He’d put it so eloquently that night. She could continue as the public face of Luthorcorp and enjoy its supposed benefits. He would stay in the shadows. Really, he had the worse end, the way he explained it. He couldn’t even enjoy the fruits of his labor and she could. Wasn’t that a fair enough trade for a few unanswered questions?

It wasn’t, really. She wasn’t in this for the perks. The expensive clothes and gourmet food had lost appeal long before he showed up again. She wanted answers. She wanted in all the way. He said she wasn’t ready. Not yet. And she kept swallowing her anger.

Wasn’t she better than this? 

Yet every time she was tempted to explode or demand or just walk away, she couldn’t bear the idea. And that, she worried, was about more than this secret world. That was about him. She could barely understand it, but there was this connection, something she’d felt from the first time she met him. She almost hated it, had dismissed it as a silly crush or some form of hero worship, so beneath the woman she wanted to be.

Damn it, she was over all that. This was just about the cause, the truth. She’d get it all in time. There was no shame in being patient. It didn’t mean…

She straightened as the doors opened on his apartment. He could afford to hide in slightly better shadows now. For him, it had been a year of sleeping on laboratory couches and in trashy motels, living on what little he’d had socked away under the name Alexander Thorul, most of which had gone to pay for Gemini 2.0 and Prometheus. Sometimes it almost made her feel sorry for him. Then she remembered he’d also used her as his personal two-way mirror all that time and pity died a quick death.

Still, wary as their team up was, she respected him.

“I told you front page.”

Just not enough to do his bidding without question. 

“And I decided against it,” she said calmly, moving past him to the bar as he put the evening edition down and stood. “Luthorcorp owns the Daily Planet and everyone knows it.”

“Which is exactly why…”

“Which is exactly why it would look suspicious,” she said over him as she uncapped the good scotch. “A Luthorcorp funded study on the connection between meta-humans and madness isn’t front page news, anyhow.”

“The people need to be convinced,” he said, right behind her.

“They will be, but not by bombarding them. I gave it page two and that’s as far as it gets until I have something headline worthy.” She poured just one finger. She liked a clear head around him. “Besides, most people that go to the trouble of buying the paper read the whole thing. These are frugal times. Best to let it seep into their minds without spoon-feeding them the idea.” She turned and lifted her glass.

“Interesting,” he said, plucking the glass from her hand. “Thanks for that.”

She gritted her teeth and turned to pour herself another, refusing to be goaded. It was an unpleasant side of him she was just getting to know – childish taunting. “My drink or my superior judgment?”

“Maybe both if it works.” He pulled out a chair and sat down at the dining table. He looked tired. It made her wonder what the hell he did all day, not that he’d tell her. She knew he was spearheading the strangely above-board Luthorcorp studies, but that wouldn’t take all his time.

“People don’t like being treated like idiots.” She took a long sip and let that sink in.

He chuckled. “Still sulking?”

“Not at all,” she said dryly as she took a seat across from him. “I hope you never tell me anything. I just love the mystery of it all.”

“I told you. When you’re…”

“Ready. I know,” she gritted. “What the hell are you waiting for? I think I’ve proved my loyalty by now.”

“Call me paranoid,” he said with a strange smile. 

“I’d call you worse,” she muttered.

“But I remember a girl,” he went on, ignoring her, “who worshiped a glowing ball and sang the praises of Clark Kent and tried to merge my company with the guy who made my life hell in school and…”

“And that’s all over. And stop calling me a girl. It’s demeaning.”

“Aw, poor kid.” He chuckled. “You want a pat on the head? Treat?”

“Keep going. I can feel my loyalty just draining away with every…”

“No. Seriously. I’ll call Alessa.”

“Again?” 

He picked up his phone. “They don’t deliver, but they will if you add a good tip in advance. I’m starving.”

“You have food here.” And a discreet chef and maid service that took care of it all every Tuesday and Friday. She should know. She’d made the arrangements. Yet every time she came over, he was starving. She wondered if he’d come out and say he didn’t want to eat alone. Just once. “What is it? Not as interesting if you already have it? If that isn’t just you in a nutsh…”

“Do you want something or not?”

She sighed and stretched. She’d stay. She always did. “Fine. Something light. I don’t care what?”

“Ham in cream sauce it is.” He smirked as he dialed. “Good thinking today, though. You’re more subtle than I’d be, but I’m beginning to think that’s not such a bad thing. Yes. How is your salmon today?” 

She stared into her drink as he paced and ordered, trying not to feel pleased… and failing. There was that confusing connection again. She felt it most when he was sort of… She didn’t want to say sweet, but sometimes he was close to it – complimenting her, refusing to admit that he didn’t want to eat alone. 

She wiped off her smile. She needed to check these feelings. She didn’t want to end up a sad little minion with a hopeless crush again. Or was she still there, even now?

***************************

“Dinner for Madames,” Bart said, putting down a tray with a flourish. It had a mushroom swiss burger and fries for Dinah and, for Chloe, applesauce, a banana, and dry toast. 

She’d just finished the grand tour. When she’d seen all the familiar surroundings, she’d assumed the gang had just set up shop in some office in the Isis building. She didn’t know Oliver bought the whole damned thing. They’d spent three months turning a handful of offices and a sandwich shop into a headquarters complete with a medical bay, a war room, a lounge, a technology lab, and sleeping quarters. It was all pretty impressive, but she’d been much more excited to see the converted sandwich shop they were calling the commissary after what she now knew was three months on a feeding tube. 

Then Emil told her the only things she could eat.

“Thanks, Sweetness.” Dinah beamed up at Bart.

“Hey!” Oliver slapped the table, looking annoyed at Dinah, then turned sharply to Bart. “Why don’t you ever make me anything?”

Bart shrugged. “You’re not a hot chick with flirtatious nicknames?”

“He sure isn’t, Babycakes.” Dinah winked at Bart as he moved back into the kitchen. 

“He is really getting good,” she said to Chloe. “Who knew all that eating would pay off like this?”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Chloe grudgingly took a bite of toast. She supposed Emil was right, putting her on such a bland diet, but it annoyed her, as did the lack of information. You fall into a dead faint one time…

“You know, I’m probably entitled to half of that.” Oliver moved to take a fry.

Dinah slapped his hand away. “We’re not married.”

“Yeah, but…”

“And last I checked, we weren’t exclusive or using all those labels you can't stand, so…”

“Baby, it’s not like…”

“Oh, go away and let me eat.”

Oliver huffed and moved off to one of the other tables, where Victor and Clark seemed to be having a deep conversation, eyes sliding to Chloe now and again. 

“See how he is?” Dinah rolled her eyes. 

Chloe tore her eyes from Clark. “Who? Oliver?”

“Yeah. It’s like I was telling you…”

“Telling me?” No one had told her much, thinking she was going to lose consciousness again. 

“Oh, yeah. You couldn’t hear. We were all kind of hoping you could.” Dinah shrugged and nudged her plate to Chloe. “You can have some fries. I won’t tell the Doc.”

“Thanks,” Chloe said dazedly, checking to make sure Emil wasn’t around before she shoved one in her mouth. “Oh, God!” She thought it felt good when she had her first sip of water, but to eat a fry… “I think I want to get fat,” she sighed. “Just as soon as I get to eat again.” She frowned and shifted in her wheelchair. “Actually, I feel kind of fat already. What’s Emil putting in those tubes?”

“Oh, you’re fine. Maybe you even lost weight.”

“I doubt it.” She’d insisted on at least putting some underwear under her gown when they finally de-tubed her and let her out of bed and they felt sort of binding. 

“Well… Emil will probably give you the whole once-over. I’m sure you’ll be fine. Anyway, there’s a gym in the basement. We’ll check it out tomorrow.”

“Sounds like… fun,” Chloe lied. She hadn’t been an exercise nut even when out of a wheelchair. Maybe she’d have to learn to like it. Lois had always bugged her to…

“The Doc says you might have a little muscle loss going. We’ll get you pumped up. Maybe we’ll be gym buddies.” Dinah reached across to squeeze her hand.

“Uh…”

“I’m being too buddied up, aren’t I? Is this weird for you?”

Chloe wasn’t sure if it was rude to say yes. But Dinah had been a little familiar for someone she’d only met a few times. “Of course not.”

“Don’t lie. I know. I’m kind of ahead of you. See, you and I have actually become pretty tight.” Dinah slathered ketchup on her fries. “You just can’t help it, after all the time we spend together.”

“Really?”

“Sure. I change your gowns, read you all the gossip, do your nails.”

Chloe glanced down at her nails. “I was wondering about that.”

“Hot pink not your shade?”

“I don’t know. I never really did my nails before. Always… chipping them on a keyboard or… “

“That’s why you do a clear coat last of all. Don’t worry. I’ll show you the ropes. We’re practically besties.”

Chloe laughed. “I have to catch up, I guess.”

“Definitely. We even talk about our love lives.”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “My end might have been kind of silent regardless.” 

“You might think that,” Dinah said, staring closely at her before turning her attention back to her food. “Anyway, you have been the best listener ever.”

“Well, I must have found hidden talents in a coma.”

“I hear people do.” Dinah smiled as Bart came back out with his own tray. “Got any hot sauce, Darling?”

He sped out and appeared a moment later with a tiny bottle for her. “Just for you.”

“Thanks, my pint-sized… pineapple. You’re the best.”

"You're running out of nicknames." Bart chuckled and sat down. 

"Only because I've used so many for you... Pookie. See? That's new."

Bart snorted. “So why aren’t you ditching that green giant? I’ll have you know I can not only cook, but prevent whiplash.”

“I’m hardly even with him,” Dinah mumbled around a mouthful.

“Sure you’re not.” Bart winked at Chloe. “Same goes for you, Babydoll, as always. Anything for you.” He slipped her a shaker. “Little cinnamon on that mush? I got the hook up.”

Chloe laughed and took it, but set it down. Those fries had smelled amazing, but once the hot sauce and ketchup was introduced to the plate, the whole thing was putting her off eating altogether. 

Bart nodded to Clark, Victor, and Oliver, all talking rather intensely. “What’s that? The grown-ups table? Hey!” Bart announced loudly. “I just want everyone to know that we are having awesomely important talks that we will not tell anyone about, too!”

“Pipe down,” Victor called out. “You know all this.”

Chloe caught Clark’s eye. “I don’t.”

“You will,” he said, kind of gravely, holding her stare. “I promise.” He looked away.

She turned back to the others, feeling annoyance creep in. She understood the bland diet. She even understood the agonizingly slow trickle of information. But she didn’t understand Clark right now. There was a time when he’d hug her as soon as look at her after something like this. Now, after three months in a coma, he hadn’t so much as squeezed her hand. Not that she was entitled to it or anything. Maybe he was still angry.

“Come on, Doll.” Bart nudged her bowl to her. “Soup’s on. Get it while it’s… lightly chilled.”

“I’m actually not that hungry now.”

“Worst words in the world,” Bart gasped. “Listen, I know it’s not the best. But you get through this week and I will whip you up some meals that’ll make you…”

“Please don’t,” Chloe cut in. “I think I put on a few already.”

“Impossible. You’re as svelte as ever, Mon Petit. Eat up.”

“I really don’t want to. Not just now.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to.”

She looked up as Emil came in.

“The long-term gastric feeding tube might have affected your appetite, but your stomach needs to become accustomed to light foods so you can return to a normal diet.”

Bart nudged her. “What he said.”

“You’ll also need to drink plenty of water even if you don’t feel particularly thirsty and I’d like you to take these.” He sat down and handed her a small cup of pills. 

“What are they?”

“Just various supplements. Vitamin D, C, calcium, folic acid.”

She stared at it. “I never took that one before.”

“Best to start now. I’ll also give you leave to do some light walking tomorrow to alleviate some bed sores, which shouldn’t be too bad. But try to get in just a little cardio. Dinah’s been exercising you almost daily herself, but muscle atrophy is nearly unavoidable.”

She glanced at Dinah. “Uh… Thanks for the exercise.”

Dinah smiled. “No problem.”

“For the record,” Bart piped up, “I also volunteered.”

“But I didn’t let any of these animals cop a feel,” Dinah said with a wink.

Chloe laughed, suddenly reminded of Lois. She might actually like Dinah if she got to know her. Lois… “Okay. I can do all of that. But someone really needs to…”

“Fill you in,” Oliver cut in, pulling up a chair. “I know.”

“Well, I was actually…”

“We’re trying to keep everything light,” Victor said, pulling up another. "We don't want to overload you."

“Hey,” Bart grumbled, “no one said you nerds could sit at the cool table.”

“The first thing you need to know,” Victor said, ignoring him. “Is that everyone is more or less safe.”

“More or less?”

“Jimmy is…”

“Jimmy!” she gasped. She hadn’t even thought of him. How awful was that?

“He’s alright. He’s healing,” Oliver said quickly. He looked around at the rest of them. “That’s all you need to know for now.”

“Okay,” she breathed. “Good. Okay. And what about… Davis?” She felt strange saying his name, even stranger when Clark approached the table with shuttered eyes. 

“I’m sure he’s fine, too. The last we saw, he was… perfectly safe.”

“And John?” She hadn’t seen him since that night, when he’d been bleeding profusely. He wasn’t here.

“He’s… away,” Oliver said carefully, "on a special project."

“Yes. Good. Then everyone’s safe.” Maybe that was all she needed to know for now. “Well, I’m going to have to call Lois and at least explain…”

“Chloe…” Clark moved closer to the table, but didn’t take a seat. “We can’t do that.”

“You guys, if anyone gets secret-keeping, it’s me. But if it’s been three months, then she needs to be told something. She’s probably been worried sick.” 

Everyone seemed to start looking around at everyone else.

“What? Did you guys tell her anything?”

There was a long silence before Clark finally spoke. “No, we couldn’t.” He took a deep breath. “Chloe, I’m so sorry.” His eyes stayed on hers for the longest time yet. “We can’t find her.”

To her credit, she didn’t swoon.

CHAPTER FIVE

Sorry for all the info dumping I did. There’s more to come, but this was getting long already.


Still checking off my patron’s requests…

Most of the actions of Season 8 Lex were of a clone? Check.

Tess and Lex team up? Check.

Watchtower replaced with a revamped Isis? Check.