Flimsy Excuses

Chloe Sullivan was at her wits' end. She had to finish an article for The Torch, edit four articles that had been turned in late, lay the whole thing out, print it, and distribute it. By 7:00 a.m. the next morning. She would probably be at The Torch office until at least 9:00 p.m.; she had already asked Clark to bring her a sandwich or something around dinner time. "Surprise me," she had said when he asked what she wanted, waving him out the door dismissively. She was harried and operating on way too little sleep and every single nerve was on edge. She loved it.

She had just clicked on a link to download the last file she needed for her article when there was a knock on the open office door. She whirled around in her chair so swiftly and haphazardly that she almost knocked over her cappuccino. She gasped as she grabbed it, then released her breath in a sigh of relief. She looked up to see Lex Luthor standing in the doorway.

Talk about surprises, she thought. Although, come to think of it, Lex had been stopping by pretty regularly lately. She frowned slightly as she tried to remember the reasons for his previous visits. A lot of them had been rather flimsy….

"Is this a bad time?" he asked.

"What?" she said, coming back from her thoughts and finding herself surprised again that he was standing there. "Oh, no," she said, shaking her head to clear it. "Not at all. I always have time for one of the biggest donors to the school."

His genial expression faltered for half a moment, but no longer. "As my father always says," he said, "money clears a lot of schedules."

"I didn't mean…."

He made a dismissive motion and took a few steps into the room. "What are you doing here this late on a Friday afternoon?"

Chloe glanced at the clock on her computer. "It's not even 5:30 yet," she said. "And on the day before we go to press? It isn't late until at least four hours from now."

"Still," he said, "I should think you'd have something better to do with your Friday nights."

She rolled her eyes. "You're the only one who thinks so," she said. "Anyway, you're not exactly the asocial type, and yet here you are."

"'Asocial,'" said Lex, nodding appreciatively at her word choice. "Most people would say 'antisocial.'"

"'Antisocial' is for lunatics and homicidal maniacs," said Chloe, resizing a photo for the front page. She flashed him a quick grin. "You're not either of those."

"Yet," said Lex, grinning back.

She laughed and stood up from her desk, stretching slightly and blinking rapidly. Her eyes were drying out from staring at her computer screen for so long. "And to what do I owe the honor of this visit?"

"'Honor,'" said Lex, with a mock shiver. "And I'm not even wearing a tie."

"Pleasure, then," she amended.

"Much better," he said. "Actually, I was looking for Clark. Is he around?"

Chloe looked at him incredulously. "Clark? Around The Torch? This late on a Friday afternoon?"

"You said it wasn't late."

"Well, yeah, not unless you have a social life."

"I thought The Torch was your life, Chloe."

"For better or for worse," she sighed.

"So…Clark is…."

"Out with Lana," said Chloe. "Or following Lana. Or thinking about Lana. He's out doing something Lana-related, I'm sure. He and half the other guys in this town."

"I'm really tuned in to other people's emotions," said Lex, "so it probably won't shock you to hear that I sense some small amount of bitterness here."

"Oh, I…I didn't mean it to come out like that," said Chloe. "That is, I didn't mean it to come out. Don't pay any attention to me; I'm always a little edgy the night before we go to press."

"Anything you want to talk about?"

"Not really," she said. "Lana's practically perfect in every way, and any guy with eyes in his head would have to be an idiot not to want to be with her. What's to discuss?"

Lex leaned against a file cabinet. "You know," he said, "I used to be extremely self-conscious about being bald. I thought it would make people think I was weak. I thought they would pity me, never be able to see past the lack of hair to think of me as a functioning person. I thought women would find me unattractive…."

Chloe snorted. "I don't think that's proved to be a problem."

"No," he said, taking another step towards her to emphasize his point, "no, in a lot of ways just being bald has actually made me stronger, because I've had to fight for the recognition I know I deserve. Funny how we can't see ourselves as others see us, isn't it?"

"Yeah," said Chloe, her forehead pulling into a frown of concentration again. "Funny."

Lex looked down at that frown of concentration and realized that the fact that he had to tilt his head down to meet her eyes meant that he was standing too close to her. He didn't move. She seemed to sway slightly where she stood, as if unsure of herself, but she held her ground. He opened his mouth to speak….

The computer beeped, and Chloe rushed back to it. "I don't have time for this," she said, leaning over the desk to open the file that had just downloaded.

"Of course," he said. "I should go."

"We could talk about it later," said Chloe, tossing the comment over her shoulder off-handedly. "Maybe over coffee at the Talon?"

Lex smiled. "Is this an interview or a date?" As her face flushed, all the warning klaxons in Lex's head began shrieking. Too far; it's gone too far. Everything he had been telling himself for the past few months—everything about how he wasn't flirting; and how she wouldn't take it as flirting even if he were flirting (which he wasn't), because he would be so subtle about it; and how even if she thought he was flirting (which he absolutely wasn't), she would just brush him off anyway, because she'd realize that she could have her pick of men and for someone like Chloe, Lex Luthor would be near the bottom of her list—all of that was suddenly revealed for what it was: hollow and meaningless. Because he had been flirting. And he had wanted her to notice. Now it looked as though she had—and if his flirting had been anywhere near as transparent as her expression right now, he had been grossly deluding himself about his capacity for subtlety.

He came back to the moment and found that the silence was dragging on. How long had it been? Five seconds? Five minutes? It was hard to tell.

He had to say something, but he wasn't sure what to say. All he knew was that it couldn't be the truth. Even if it weren't for the fact that she was underage, he already liked her too much to let her get involved with someone like him.

"I can't say I'm not flattered," said Lex, and as he said it he knew he shouldn't even have admitted that much, "but you're…"—beautiful? funny? intelligent? off-limits?—"…young. I'm sorry." He turned to leave.

"I don't think of myself as young," she protested.

He stayed where he was, facing away from her, but he turned his head back towards her ever so slightly as he said, almost too quietly for her to hear, "But you are."

"Okay, whatever," she said, moving quickly to place herself between him and the door, "but you're no Methuselah yourself."

"Chloe," he snapped, his eyes sparking dangerously, "youth has nothing to do with years."

"I know you haven't been the poster child for moderation, but that's…."

"In the past?" he interrupted, and laughed mirthlessly. "You have no idea."

"I believe people can change," she persisted. "I believe you've changed."

"Do you?" he asked. "I'm not sure that I do."

"Not sure of which?"

"Chloe, you're too young to understand," he repeated. Seeing her about to protest again, he continued, "Too young in the way that years have nothing to do with. I hope you always will be."

"I could be good for you," she said, evidently without thinking, and evidently stopping herself from cringing by a near-herculean effort.

He grew distant, professional, closed off. "I wish I could say the same. As it is…."

"It's okay, Lex," said Chloe. "Really. I…I don't know what I was thinking. With Clark and Lana…and then…. It's hard being alone sometimes. It confuses you. It…." She saw his thoughtful expression and broke off with a nervous laugh. "And this isn't helping at all. Sorry. Just…just forget I ever said anything."

"Deal," he said, knowing from long experience that this was exactly the sort of conversation none of the participants ever forgot. "And for what it's worth…."

"No, no," she said. "Please, no pity." She walked back to her desk, sat down, and began reading over the recently downloaded file.

He stood studying her. Too long. She looked up at him inquisitively, suddenly a reporter again.

"Lex," she said, "the door is behind you." He could hear the humor creeping back into her voice as she added, "Or was there still something you wanted?"

He forced a polite smile and turned to leave, trying to remember his original reason for stopping by, and trying to stop himself from imagining a reality in which Chloe Sullivan was as truthful and persistent in her affection for him as she had always been in her affection for Clark Kent.

He knew she was right about one thing: being alone for too long could certainly confuse you.