Title: Nice Car

Author: sangga

Rating: R

Disclaimer: Hah.

Email:

Archive: Mail me.

Summary: A slip, two souls, no Superman. Chloe/Lex.

Note: Tidbits for Kathe. This is not what I promised you, but a persistent sidestream that wouldn't leave until I gave it a polite exit.

Spoilers: None

Feedback: So thrive my soul.

Nice Car

Stage 1

First things first.

"What about your mobile?"

"My jacket."

She doesn't find the jacket, guesses it was thrown clear of the car. Could be anywhere from here to the top of the embankment. But it's a chance, if they can find it. She files it away and staggers back to him.

"It's gone – I don't know. Somewhere up there, maybe."

She indicates the ridge. He groans.

"Wonderful."

Then he grunts, clutches his midriff. His back rests against the car door. Contrast between his face and the dark paint is scaring her.

"Lex, I think we need to get you to a hospital."

"Wonderful," he gasps again.

He won't meet her eyes.

Stage 2

Hot clear days mean frosty nights. She scans the sky through the trees.

"We need to be out of here by nightfall. It dropped below zero early this morning."

They need to get out of the ravine before nightfall regardless of the weather. She's been watching him. He's not looking that good.

"Sounds great. How exactly do you propose we get out?"

She chews her lip.

"How far can you walk? If we can get to the road…"

"Walk?" He grits his teeth and looks doubtful. "I might be able to walk – I don't know if I can climb."

"And my fireman's carry probably isn't up to it."

"Morbid humour." He grins with his eyes closed. "I can appreciate that."

She chews her lip some more, wishing that this whole deal didn't seem to so obviously depend on her.

Stage 3

She blinks, and it's fuzzy. The whole world is fuzzy. Tinnitus, plus fuzzy…

She squints up at the sky, and realizes she's on her back, on something soft. Fingers work, which is good, and feel leaves and dirt. She's on the ground. She must have been thrown out of the car.

The car. Shit.

She rolls her head experimentally – seems fine, sore but okay – and then rolls over onto her left side. He body complains of mistreatment but she ignores it.

Still can't see the car. She pulls herself up to sitting. Headrush. Whoah. Fuzzy. When the dots clear, she can see it.

The car is vaguely upright, but it's trashed. She checks for smoke – that's what you check for, right? – but if the car is in imminent danger of blowing up or something then she can't see it.

She can't see Lex either. Shit.

Time to get up. Sighing – goodbye nice soft leaves and dirt, hello world – she pushes off with her hands, her left leg tucks underneath her and her right leg…won't.

The pain comes as a delayed reaction. She screams a little, thready and high, and tumbles back onto the ground.

Hello world.

Stage 4

Oh god, I don't think I can do this by myself.

She's only a small person, and she's never pulled an unconscious man out of a car before and he's a dead weight. Normally easier would have been to push him out the driver's side, but this being her life, and with a rock involved, normal and easy don't come into it.

She puts her hands under his armpits and reaches forward to lace them together over his chest. Then she pulls.

There's nothing obstructing his legs, so that's a plus, but the enormous tree branch that juts out of the smashed windscreen has deformed the steering wheel and he's, like, stuck…

She takes a breath. Tries again. Pulls, and he's inching out, lolling and bumping over the stick shift. Her right knee is crying like a little bitch but she bites her lip and blanks it.

Pulling, by inches, and slowly slowly he comes free.

She knows this is not good girl scout, cos she has no idea, his neck could be broken or something, but she doesn't want to leave him there.

One more enormous tug, and she hears her own crescendoing groan, and he's flopping over the passenger seat like a giant fish, slithering out the open door. She grabs for better handholds and cushions his fall the best she can.

His neck can't be broken. She needs him, goddamnit. She can't do this alone.

Stage 5

"If we could climb a little way up we might be able to see the road. Or find your phone. Or –"

"Chloe –"

"Someone might see us. We could wave something – something bright-coloured –"

"Chloe –"

"Well, your clothes are obviously no good, but maybe something out of the car, or my –"

"Chloe."

"What?"

He looks like he's about to say something, then changes his mind. His face pales dramatically and he rolls over the rock he's leaning on and retches onto the ground behind it.

She makes a face. A sympathetic face, but still, a face.

When he rolls back he's wiping his mouth with his hand, grimacing sharply. His eyes are closed.

"Are you okay?"

His voice is almost inaudible.

"I'm fine. Thanks for asking."

She notices something then, hobbles closer, peering at him.

"Lex –"

"What?"

She's frowning now and she ignores him, circles around, careful not to trip over his outstretched legs. She's peering behind the rock. He glances up, then looks away tiredly.

"I never thought the regurgitated contents of my stomach could be that interesting."

But she's still looking, face expressionless; then she lowers herself down beside him.

"Lift your shirt."

"What?"

"Jesus, Lex –" She frowns impatiently and reaches out to tug at the material. "Show me. Hurry up."

Baffled, he pulls up his shirt and the dark singlet underneath. His abdomen is smooth, curved, his navel barely peeking over the waistband of his pants. She's not looking at that.

Trying to remember…livid bruising, uh, livid bruising and local swelling indicates…god, she can't remember. This is bad. Shit. This is bad.

She feels like crying, but the hell if she's gonna do it in front of him. She pulls the wrist of her cardigan down over her hand and spits on it. He's looking at her like she might explode at any second.

"What?"

She doesn't look at his eyes. She reaches up with her damp sleeve-end and wipes the blood smear off the side of his mouth. Then she shows him.

Then they look at each other.

Stage 6

"Don't – don't you fucking dare, you fucking asshole –"

She slaps his face. His eyes flutter, eyelashes delicate against the raccoon-rings. She shakes his shoulders.

"Lex, you goddamn good-for-nothing billionaire son-of-a-bitch –"

His breath gasps in his throat. She's hoping he won't puke on her when he wakes up, but at this stage –

"WAKE. UP. Lex – fuck –"

He opens his eyes with a gasp. She can see terror there for a second, then she slaps him again, hard, hating herself.

Stage 7

She's resigned to it already. She wedges her right foot between the two boulders, and nods over at him.

He looks worried.

"You said you've done this before, right?"

"Right." She knows she sounds scared. Suck it up, girl. "Years ago. My ill-fated attempts to make myself more popular. Cheerleader tryouts – can you believe that? I jumped when I should have skipped or something, whacked into Lana, and then – bam."

She has no idea why she's telling him all this. She's procrastinating.

"Mr Fineman popped the knee back in. No sweat."

But she's sweating all the same.

Lex lurches over and sits behind her, with his legs open, and she's sitting in between them. They're both looking at her right leg and her foot in the rock. She hears his voice, low near her face.

"Hurt like fuck, though, huh?"

She wets her lips.

"Yeah." Closes her eyes for a second. "C'mon – let's get this over with."

He braces his feet, reaches forward to put his arms around her middle, under her breasts. Her back is snug against his front. She uses her left leg to lift herself a little, get some strength into the pull. She doesn't want to have to do this more than once.

She says "one, two, three –", then she pulls, and he pulls, and she screams.

Stage 8

"So who do you think did it?"

He shrugs, but it's like he's itching his shoulder. She knows his energy is fading. Keep him talking.

"Gimme your best guess."

He opens his eyes, looking at the sky. Rattles off a list of the usual suspects.

"My father. One of our business associates. Somebody from Metropolis with a grudge. Somebody in town with a grudge. God, I don't know…" His grin seems to be beyond caring. "Maybe my mechanic just hates me."

"Did you ever stiff him on a bill?"

"I think I argued with him over an engine noise once."

"I don't think that counts. Boy-talk about cars doesn't usually boil over into cutting the brake lines."

He looks at her.

"I'm pretty sure this was professional."

"No one in town, then."

"I doubt it. Cutting the brake lines is one thing, but rigging them to cut out over 55 miles per hour is a totally different ball game."

She nods. It's good he's focussing on something.

He bites his lip suddenly, and blinks at her.

"Sorry. Y'know."

"My god. A Luthor, apologising. And me without my camera." She sees his face and quickly corrects. "God, Lex – it's not your fault –"

"I was the one who –"

She flaps a hand.

"Forget it. Really. Let's just concentrate on getting up the next incline."

He sighs then, remembering what they're doing, and starts pulling himself up the tree he's been slumping against. She moves to sling his arm around her shoulder, and thinks that they need to stop resting. Getting up again is the hardest part.

She swears under her breath.

Clark, where the fuck are you?

"What?" He looks around, half-befuddled from pain.

"Nothing."

Stage 9

He staggers against her, and if he falls again now she doesn't think he'll get up.

"Chloe –" He's panting, short tight breaths. "Chloe, I can't –"

"Yes, you can, now come on –"

Don't pass out. Don't you fucking pass out on me.

The thought of dragging him the rest of the way to the road is already making her arms and sore leg ache.

"Uh…christ…"

His voice is hoarse, whimpering. She pulls on his arm over her shoulder and tightens her grip under his armpit.

"Lex, I know you're hurting, but –"

His head is drooping down and he makes a torn gagging sound. She looks away as he spits his own blood onto the ground near her feet.

Wrong approach. Give him something, something to work with.

"Come on, you weak fuck," she growls in frustration, and pulls him up hard.

"Shut up," he whispers at the dirt.

She stares, then pulls him up again, and ignores his gasping.

"Lex, you goddamn pathetic piece of shit…"

Now she's got it.

"…didn't your father teach you anything? I mean, it's just about crappy manufacturing, isn't it? Cos if he could see you now, I know he'd be telling you that there's no way that a miserable gutless weakling like you could have possibly come from the Luthor side of the –"

"Just shut up," he hisses.

" – I mean, do you think he could ever treat you like a real son? When he fucked you over the last time, you just rolled over and took it –"

"Shut up," he groans.

"- He'll grind you into the dust, Lex, and then he'll spit and move on. And if you don't have the balls to –"

"Will you shut the fuck up?" he roars, and struggles away from her, and they stare at each other for a second before he moves, keeps on moving, like he'll crawl on his hands and knees if he has to.

She swallows hard and maintains the momentum.

Stage 10

She sits on the chair next to the bed, her leg strapped up stiff in front of her, and watches where the tubes burrow in and out of him. A nurse comes to take her back to her room, but she makes enough noise that the woman leaves, probably seeking reinforcements.

She sits still and watches his face, almost indistinguishable from the colour of the sheets. She starts crying, but it takes her a while to realize it because of all the drugs.

Stage 11

She jolts in her seat and braces both her hands on the dashboard and her feet against the curve of the floor.

He's looking at her with quick tight sideways glances, but he can't really take his eyes off the road. The slow steady decline has the car picking up speed. Trees and underbrush and guard railing flash by so fast it's almost subliminal.

"Are you ready?"

He has to speak loud. She turns her head to look at him and not the oncoming landscape.

"God. I think so."

He acknowledges by easing the wheel over, and she jerks and cries out as the side of the car makes terrifyingly noisy contact with the railing, the friction sending up sparks as the metal squeals. But it might help to slow them down.

He does it just as long as he dares, then backs off a little, then tries again. And then the whole thing fucks up, because the car starts jerking around, and he can't keep it together, and then they start fishtailing, his grip on the wheel tightening, whitening, like when pilots go into a tailspin they can't pull out of, and she thinks ohfuck ohfuck ohfuck, and then the stark details of the local flora come up closer, tree bark and flying leaves and soil and branches, all together in a maelstrom mess, and it takes about two seconds, and then a huge slam as something rips through the windscreen and she screams and

Stage 12

When she comes out of the soft faraway land of blackness and no major physical trauma, she finds she's lying in his lap, and she wonders if it's because he's being chivalrous or whether he just didn't have the energy to move.

"Welcome back."

She blinks, and feels immediately embarrassed.

"Thanks." She puts some energy into it and lifts herself up.

"How's the leg?"

"Let's see…" She bites down hard and tries her knee. It's incredibly painful, but it works. "Better, now it's no longer dislocated."

"Good."

She looks at him.

"And how do you feel?"

He shrugs, then winces.

"Like my ribs came to life and are trying to eat me," he admits. "So now what?"

She looks around at the wreckage, the trees, the state they're both in. She sighs.

"That's an excellent question."

Stage 13

She hangs up the plant's office phone.

"Shit."

"Is there a problem?"

"Well - no – " She reneges. "Well – yes. Clark's gone to town to drop off some mail for his dad, so I have no way of getting home."

He collects his jacket over one arm, and stares at her for a second. Then he sighs and shrugs.

"I'll drive you. Come on."

She races to pack up her stuff and catch up with him on the stairs.

"Why the gracious huffy?"

"Pardon?"

"Well, I appreciate the lift, but you seemed –" She stops at the sight of the car. "Wow."

He grins ruefully.

"Yeah."

"Is it –"

"New. Yes." He smoothes a hand over the bonnet as he goes to the driver's side, regards her speculatively. "You ever drive in a Porsche before?"

She raises one eyebrow.

"Well, what do you think?"

"Hm." He tilts his head at her. "I was going to take it off the town roads, let it out a little, but…"

"…but now you're driving me home in the Slow For Children zone. I see."

She looks at him. He just waits. Then she shrugs, and puts a finger on the black finish.

"Well…" She chews her lip and squints. Then she grins. "It really is a very nice car."

His smile spreads slowly, deepens, and lights up his eyes.

Fin