Title: Breaking Chloe Sullivan

Summary: Her strength is intriguing him, her fire captivating him, but can she survive his interest? Lex decides it's time to find out, what exactly will it take to break Chloe Sullivan?

Shipping: Chlark Chlex mostly Chlark

Major Characters: Chloe Clark Lex

Author's Note: Okay it's been a long time since I've posted anything, but it's finally here, the story I've been planning for almost two years. After all the little plot bunnies in my head converged into one big one that pounded on me mercilessly until I gave in, I wrote some of it. Hope you like it, let me know.

Ch. 1 I Should Be Crying

He wasn't sure why he had this over powering urge to test limits. His limits and every one else's. It was just a need that he had, to see how far normal people could go until they reached their limit, and then see if he could surpass them. More than curiosity, it was an obsession, and it consumed him. If he ever actually tried to analyze this aspect of his personality, and those moments were few and far between, he decided it was the outcome of his upbringing. It was exactly what his father had done to him, so, he supposed, he was learning by example. But he refused to admit he was anything like his father, so he ignored that fact.The latest target of this obsession was younger than others, he'd never meddled in someone else's life with such extent, but when the opportunity presented itself, who was he to pass it up. She, yes the subject of his current muse was a woman...or maybe a girl, was already primed and ready. It started the day of the twisters...

She should have known it was too good to be true, of course it was, how could she have been so stupid! Sitting in the passenger seat next to her dad, Chloe looked out the window, willing herself not to cry, not in front of her dad. She could see him out of the corner of her eye, glancing over at her every so often, that patented parental look of concern wrinkling his forehead. When she'd called he had interrogated gently, asking all of the necessary questions, "Are you okay?" and "What happened?" being among the first.

Chloe, being Chloe, had come up with satisfactory answers, enough to pass the initial test. But her dad was more perceptive than most, and keeping her pain a secret from him had never been easy. However, this time it was extremely important that he not know anything. So she'd told him that Clark had to go and check on his parents, that he'd told her to stay there and be safe, and that he'd called her and said his parents were okay but needed help. She was a reporter after all; stories were her job, even if, normally, they weren't fiction.

The truth was far more painful, and would raise unwanted questions. The truth was that Clark had disappeared, without a word. The truth was that he had gone to save Lana. The truth was that, once again, Clark had chosen Lana over her. The truth was that her fairy tale had disintegrated with one lousy announcement. The truth was that her chance with Clark had been blown away with the tornadoes. The truth was that she was moving to Metropolis next week, leaving Clark. The truth was that she was in love with him, and would give anything for him to feel the same way about her. The truth was that that would never happen. The truth hurt, but the truth was all she had.

Wind battered the car from seemingly every direction; her dad's hands gripped the steering wheel tight to keep control of their car. Chloe watched as trees struggled to stay grounded, the strength of their roots being tested. Most of them would succeed and remain safely in their homes, only slightly worse for wear. But Chloe had no choice, she was being ripped from what had been her home, and taken back to where she came from. Well, she thought wryly, at least she wouldn't be in Clark's way anymore, now he can feel free to go after Lana like he really wants to. Maybe things would be better this way... and even as she thought it, she knew it wasn't true.

"Chloe honey, are you okay?" Her father's quiet voice broke into her thoughts, and she blinked away tears before turning to look at him.

"Yeah Dad, I'm fine, it just sucks that the dance was cancelled." Throwing in a wide smile to be safe, she turned to look at him just in time to see the tree branch flying at the side window.

"Dad!" Her scream echoed through the car as her dad turned and saw the branch, turned back and looked at her. It was like someone pressed the mute button, Chloe couldn't hear anything, not her scream, not the wind buffeting the car from outside, not the static from the radio. Everything was happening in slow motion, she saw every single piece of glass as the window shattered, saw her dad's head get hit and slammed towards her. The car spun out as her dad lost control, and her world consisted of just the inside of the car...her reality was the warm blood spattering on her face. Then their car hit a tree, her head was thrown sideways, and everything went black as it slammed into the window.

Two Days Later

She was conscious of a throbbing pain, and at first that was it. It was extremely tempting to just fade away, back into the abyss she had come from, but there was something that kept her here, barely on the edge of consciousness. And if she was any judge, it was the way her hand was being held by two other large hands that felt like none other than Clark Kent's. So now, the temptation was different, stay like this and just relish the feel of his strong, warm hands, or open her eyes and get to see him, but possibly have him move his hands. Oh, choices, choices. Then again, she did want to ask about her dad.

Her eyes opened slowly, and took even longer to focus. There he was, his head resting on the edge of her hospital bed, his eyes closed, obviously exhausted. She moved her hand slightly, so she was now gripping his as well, and he woke up. The smile that lit his face was worth the pain coming from her leg, and the headache she knew was hiding behind whatever medications they had her on. "Hi," she whispered. "Hey Chloe, how are you feeling? You had me-us worried sick!" Chloe noticed the me, and it made her smile. "I'm fine," she replied, and then she took a breath and asked the question Clark had been dreading. "Where's my dad?"

It was in the way the smile left his face, it was in his eyes and the way they couldn't meet hers. The realization washed over her in waves, and each one made it a little harder to breathe, a little harder to accept. "Chloe, I'm...he...you don't remember?" That question was the one that made Chloe feel as if she'd been punched in the gut by a train. Remember? She was supposed to remember?

Clark was helpless, he didn't know what to say, or what to do. "No! Clark don't, you can't mean... he can't be! I just saw him! He was just... no... this can't be possible! It can't be! What am I supposed to remember!" Chloe was overcome with a pain that threatened to suffocate her and she didn't register the moniters around her starting to beep wildly. She didn't register the nurses coming in and injecting something into her IV. All she saw was Clark's face, and those eyes were all she held onto, even as her vision went fuzzy, even as her struggles and screams quieted. Clark barely heard her whisper a plea so desperate it was breaking his heart, "Don't leave me..."

One Day Later

When he first saw her she was in a hospital room, she was sleeping quietly, obviously on medication. Her face was bruised, her eye swollen and bandaged, her lips drawn and pale. Golden hair spilled back from her face and washed over the pillow, a sharp contrast. But it wasn't any of this that had caught his attention, it was the boy sitting next to her. Clark Kent. As Lex watched, hidden in the shadows on the other side of the glass, Clark got up and turned away from Chloe, running his hands through his hair in a frustrated manner.

Now, if nothing else had happened, he would have left, because it wasn't interesting, but what happened next intrigued him. Chloe opened her eyes. This was an act that, by itself, was insignificant, but coupled with what she did next, was odd. She turned and looked at Clark, and even from a distance Lex could see her feelings for him shining in her eyes. But when Clark turned back around, Chloe quickly closed her eyes and went back to feigning sleep. Lex smiled, his interest captured, and as he walked down the hall to visit his father, he couldn't help but wonder about Chloe.

Chloe had been awake for what seemed like countless hours. But she couldn't open her eyes, she wasn't ready yet, wasn't ready to face the world. If her eyes were closed she could pretend it had never happened, that none of it had ever happened and her life hadn't been torn into pieces. So she kept her eyes closed for who knows how long, and then everyone else except Clark had left. Pete, Lana, and even Mrs. Kent had come to visit, but Clark had stayed through them all, and after they left, he had come closer.

At first it was just touches, innocent and gentle, holding her hand, brushing the hair back from her face, kissing her forehead. Simple things, but they meant the world to Chloe, his touch was her anchor to this world. Every now and again he would get up, and she would sneak a glance, not aware of what she was doing really, still foggy from the medications. But she just liked to look at him, and when he started to talk, she liked to listen. He talked about how the town was torn apart, told her it was three days after the accident, and told her they still hadn't found his dad. He talked about a lot of things but avoided the obvious, like the Spring Formal, and the fact that her dad was dead.

Her dad was dead... A part of her felt empty as this thought resounded in her head over and over again. She wanted to break down and cry, she wanted Clark's arms around her, supporting her. She knew there should be this unbearable pain...but it was as if she'd skipped over that part completely. There was nothing, just this terrible numbness that overtook and consumed her completely. For awhile it was as if she had escaped reality, and she relished this feeling, just floating in and out of consciousness, in her own world, in a dream, her dream.

Then the medications began to wear off, and pain coursing through her body brought her sharply back to the world as it existed in real life. So she focused on the physical, and gained control of herself, making sure that there would be no tears and no breaking down, before she allowed herself to open her eyes. There was Clark, his head cradled in his arms, resting just next to her uninjured leg. Unable to stop herself, Chloe reached out a hand, and gently carressed his thick hair. He awoke slowly, stubbornly, but when his eyes found hers and he saw her soft smile, Clark lifted his head and took her hand in both of his.

"Hi," he said softly, smiling back at her, gently rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb.

"Hi," she whispered back. She let her smile fade as another second passed and the pain increased. Attempting to shift her weight, she winced when her leg reminded her that it was indeed injured. Clark's face clouded with worry, his eyes darkening.

"Chloe are you okay? Do you need some more pain meds?" Even as Chloe shook her head, Clark was reaching for her IV, and turning a little knob on the tube attatched to her hand. Immediately she felt it, and couldn't decide if she was relieved or angry. But as Clark looked at her with all of that concern in his worried eyes, she couldn't be mad. Clark opened his mouth and began a sentence that Chloe couldn't bear to finish hearing, "Chloe I'm so sorry abou-"

"No Clark! It's okay...I'm okay." She smiled again for him, attempting to be reassuring. "Clark just promise me something?"

"Anything Chlo'," he replied. Her vision was fading around the edges but at the last second she changed what she was going to say.

"Tell you what, you go find your dad, I'm not going anywhere, I'll tell you when he's safe okay?" Clark just looked at her, astonished that she could still have the strength to care so much about others when she was having to deal with so much. He kissed her hair, whispered that he'd be back soon, and left after she'd fallen back asleep.

Two Weeks Later

Today was the funeral. Funeral... The word still sounded so foreign, it was as if her mind hadn't yet caught up with her body, or with the rest of the world for that matter. She still felt so disconnected, as if she was watching someone else in the mirror, getting ready to go to someone else's dad's funeral. Everything had been automatic, pulling on her simple black dress, putting in earrings, putting on her mother's ring, and now putting on her make up. Foundation, cover up, blush, eye liner, eye shadow, mascara, and lip gloss. For today she'd chosen to be simple, simple dress, simple shoes, simple hair, simple jewelry, simple make up. It just seemed right for some reason, her dad wouldn't have wanted anything fancy.

These past two weeks had been like living in a dream, or a nightmare. Tomorrow she was going back to school, for the first time, and it was going to be hard to deal with even more sympathy than she was already going to get today. It had been decided that she would live with the Kents until a suitable foster family had been found, which it had, and she would be leaving to live with them tomorrow as well. Foster family... more foreign words, and just something else she wasn't allowing to sink in. They'd found Clark's dad, and her and Clark had talked about the dance, about why he'd left her. She'd pulled out every excuse in the book, including "pulling the friend card" as Pete had so eloquently put it, to avoid an actual conversation that would involve him digging until she broke down and admitted how much it had hurt to be abandoned.

The Kents had been amazing these past two weeks, especially Clark, who was always there if she needed him. Which she had of course, but she hadn't told him that, because if she depended on him now, what would happen to her when he wasn't there? Looking at herself in the mirror, Chloe took a deep breath. Just breathe Chloe, just breathe, you can do this. One last look and she was out the door and down the stairs, her hand trailing gently down the banister. Clark was waiting for her at the bottom, and the sight of him in a tux was enough to make her heart beat just a little bit faster.

"Wow, Chloe you look... amazing..."

"Thanks Clark, you don't look so bad yourself." The smile and the witty banter was reflex, as was the flutter of butterflies in her stomach as he reached out to brush a hand across her cheek. Chloe unconsciously leaned into his touch, and Clark took notice.

"Are you okay Chloe?" Am I okay? Clark I'm going to my dad's funeral, of course I'm not okay.

"Yeah, Clark, I'm fine," she said, smiling a little for him. He dropped his hand, but the sympathy was there in his eyes, and Chloe couldn't bear to look at it anymore. So she turned and headed out the door, not looking back, but feeling Clark's gaze on her. Lifting her chin and gritting her teeth, Chloe got into the Kent's truck, giving Jonathan and Martha a small smile but avoiding their eyes.

The entire ride and the entire service, Chloe could feel the sympathy, the pity, oozing off of everyone. And she hated it. She hated that people felt sorry for her, because now, poor little Chloe had no family. Everyone knew she had no mother, although no one knew why, and now her dad was dead. Her dad was dead... It still hadn't sunk in all the way yet, that he wasn't coming back, that he wasn't going to ever be there for her ever again, that now she was alone...

The minister said a lovely eulogy, or at least that's what people told her, Chloe didn't really hear much of it. When they lowered his casket she felt something inside of her tighten, harden maybe, but she wasn't sure what it was. All she knew is that she should be crying, that's what people did at funerals right? I should be crying... So why wasn't she? The fact that she wasn't crying made her want to cry, but she didn't. She shook hands with a lot of people, and automatically said thank you when they offered their condolences. But mostly she was lost inside her own mind, and the people were a blur. All but one, and that was Clark. He never left her side, and after the service, when it was time to head to the reception, he took her hand and led her to the truck. It was as if he read her, knowing that without guidance she'd be lost, and she wouldn't know what to do. Chloe didn't look at him, but her hand gripped his tightly, a small acknowledgement of his presence there with her. She clung to his hand desperately on the ride to the Luthor mansion, which was where the reception was being held. Lex had volunteered his luxurious home for the occasion, saying it was the least he could do for such a great employee

He watched her walk in the room, followed closely by none other than Clark Kent. This amused as well as frustrated Lex, because, before the night was through, he was going to have to get Ms. Sullivan alone, and with Clark as her own personal guard dog, it wouldn't be very easy. He had watched her, all throughout the funeral, and was amazed to find that not one tear ever trailed a path down her cheek. She was beautiful, angelic with her golden halo and pale skin. But it was the way she carried herself, the way she emanated strength and resolve from her every pore, this was what had him hooked. So he'd decided to test her, he had yet to decide where that testing might lead, and to what extent he would pursue the experiment, but he did know that Chloe's life could easily be manipulated at this point. He would test her to her limits, just to see how much it would take for her to break. She seemed strong, but after what Lex had planned, she would break, he was sure.

It was already wearing on her. Others may not have looked as closely as him, and they may have been fooled by the smile and the dry eyes. But he looked, really looked, and he wasn't fooled by anything. There were dark circles under her eyes, carefully concealed by make up of course, but still there. Then there was the way she gripped Clark's hand in that white-knuckled grip, as if she was hanging on for her life, or her sanity. Just little things, but they were the only indicators Lex needed to decide that she was ready for this experiment to begin, she could go either way now, and he intended for her direction to be under his control.

In the end however, Lex didn't have to do anything to get her alone, Chloe did it all by herself. He watched out of the corner of his eye while he was talking to some of the guests, watched while she excused herself from by Clark's side, and watched as she headed out the back door. Patiently, he waited a few moments before following her lead and excusing himself. Glancing over his shoulder as he went, he discreetly took the same route, sure that he knew where Chloe had gone. So he walked down the hall a ways and then paused in front of a half open door. He listened, expecting to hear sobs from within, but as time went on he realized Chloe had sorely disappointed him. Soundlessly, he pushed the door open, and took in the scene that unfolded before him.

Chloe was sitting against the far wall, partially blocked from his view by the bed that occupied most of the room. Her knees were drawn up to her chest, and with her arms wrapped around them, and her head down, she was the picture of defeat. But Lex suspected it wouldn't be that easy, and he stepped into the room. As if she felt his presence, Chloe's head flew up, and her surpisingly dry eyes locked with his.

"Mr. Luthor!" she exclaimed, stumbling to her feet. As she stood in front of him, her hair slightly mussed, her simple black dress hugging her curves, and her mouth open in surprise, Lex forgot that she was only fifteen.

"Lex please, Ms. Sullivan," he replied smoothly, taking a step toward her and purposefully shutting the door behind him.

"Okay," she said softly, "but only as long as you promise to call me Chloe."

"I believe we have an agreement then." He was still walking slowly towards her and now he stopped, only one step away. Choosing his next words carefully he looked at her hard. "Chloe, I won't insult you by asking if you're okay, but I will offer my help with anything you need." She looked up at him, her eyes a turmoil of emotions, surpise, gratitude, and something else that seemed like suspicion.

"Thank you Lex, that means a lot." Her tone was soft, and a small smile found its way to his lips without his permission. He wondered about it, but let it be so as to put Chloe at ease.

"I know it must be hard, I lost my mother when I was only twelve. And I must say, you're being remarkably strong for someone who's been through what you have." Lex could see it in her face, her expression was more trusting, she was now connecting to him, and that bond was cemented by his compliment. She was falling for this hook, line, and sinker, to borrow the euphemism.

"I'm sorry Lex, for your mother, I'm sure she loved you more than you know...you must miss her." Chloe's innocent observation caught Lex off guard, as did the caring tone in her voice, and the sympathy on her face. How could she offer this to him at a time like this? How could she read him so well? Lex didn't know what to say, for once all he could do was nod and look away from that expression on her beautiful face.

"Well I should get back, Clark might be getting worried." She sighed, but she smiled as she went past him, reaching out to give his arm a reasurring squeeze. Chloe walked out the door and Lex could do nothing but watch her go in something similar to awe or admiration, and a smirk graced his lips. How strong was this girl? That she could offer him comfort for his loss in the midst of hers was something he hadn't expected. Maybe this experiment of his would be something worth pursuing further than he'd originally intended...

A Few Hours Later

Clark watched as Chloe walked up his stairs, to his forfeited room. Her head was up, her steps were resolute, and for all outward appearances, she seemed perfectly fine. But he knew better, he knew her better. He could see it in the way she climbed the stairs, each step taking more of an effort than the last. He had seen it in her eyes as she said good night, a type of tiredness that wasn't normally there. They were just little things, signals that few, maybe only him, could pick up, but they were there just the same. Everything inside him was screaming to follow her as she shut the door, its latch quietly clicking into place. Because he knew something was wrong, he knew Chloe needed him, even if she wouldn't admit it, if she couldn't admit it. He rested his hand on the banister, and hung his head, still peering up the stairs from beneath thick lashes, at where Chloe had just been.

His parents had already gone to bed, but Clark wasn't even contemplating sleep yet, and he was sure Chloe wasn't either. But did she want his comfort? Did she want him to hold her? Resisting the urge to wrap his arms around her and never let go had taken all of his will power for the entire day. She had been so strong, never shedding a single tear, never letting a single crack show through that armor of hers. Still, he'd known, she was broken. He just wanted to take her pain away, and he didn't want her to feel like she had to be strong. Someone was there for her to fall into, she didn't need to handle this on her own, he was there and he was going to let her know it.

Chloe set her purse down on Clark's desk, and she turned to look out the window. She couldn't feel the wind as it whipped through the trees just on the other side of the glass... and she couldn't feel her hurt, on the other side of the wall she'd built. But it was cracking, it was breaking, and try as she might she wasn't sure it would hold for much longer. The day had been hard, anyone knew that, but to hide all of this hurt, even from herself, had been exhausting. Resting her forehead against the cool glass, Chloe took a deep breath. Come on Chloe, pull it together, you can do this, just breathe...there you go, just breathe.

Turning from the window, Chloe sat down on Clark's bed. Mechanically, she took off her shoes, the buckles no less difficult than they had been when she bought them. Then, she stood up, and reached behind her back to unzip her dress. Slipping it off, she hung it back on it's hanger and slung it over the chair in front of the mirror. Her eyes met their reflections in the glass, but she couldn't bear to look at her face, because she knew it should be streaked with tears. She walked back to the door, and she flipped the light switch. There, now she couldn't see.

Chloe walked across the room to Clark's closet, and closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply, burying her face in his clothes...they smelled like him. A mixture of the farm, Martha's fabric softener, Clark's Axe, and just so Clark that it made her feel like he was there. Oh how she wished he was... Chloe get a grip, seriously girl you're losing it. But she took one of his plaid, flannel shirts anyways... Unhooking her bra, she let it fall to the floor, and she took his shirt off the bed, slipping it over her shoulders. It fell midway down her thighs, and would suffice to sleep in, it might be the only way she could sleep.

Crawling into bed, pulling the covers up to her chin, was all she could manage. Closing her eyes was a different story...if she closed them it would come back, this nightmare she was living in. If she closed her eyes she'd see him...flashes of that time she was supposed to remember, flashes of her dad, of blood, of death. So she kept them open, and she stared at the wall, trying not to think.

She saw the light flash on the wall as she heard the door creak open softly, and saw the light disappear as it was closed with just as much care. For a minute there was nothing, but Chloe could hear him breathing, and she could feel his indecision. But then there was the movement of the bed, and the draft of cold air as he lifted the covers and climbed in with her. Then there was the strength of his arms as he pulled her to him, and the warmth of his body as she turned to bury her face in his chest. Clutching fistfuls of his T-shirt, feeling his legs entwined with hers, feeling his arms around her, and feeling his hands on her back as he held her close...that was how Chloe drifted off to sleep. Because she felt safe, because he protected her against the nightmares, because she wasn't alone...

Clark knew now, that coming up here was the right choice, that Chloe had needed him. She may act like she was strong, but here, holding desperately to him, she was just as weak as the rest of the human race. He could feel it in the way she was curling into his chest, in the way she welcomed his arms around her. Her breathing had slowed, so he figured she was sleeping, but he had no intention of drifting off without first enjoying this. There was a certain...intimacy in the way they were arranged, and it wasn't unnoticed by Clark.

She was so small, fitting into his arms like she was meant to be there. Her short, shapely, bare legs were entwined with his own flannel pajama clad legs and the feeling was new to him. Then there was the way her body was pressed to his, and while he was sure it was him warming her cold body, there was a heat between them, and he could only imagine what it would be like if there was no fabric between them. But he didn't linger on these thoughts, instead his focus moved upward, to her warm breath on his neck, to the softness of her hair between his fingers. He knew she hadn't been sleeping much lately, and he hoped this helped even a little.

It was so...indescribable, this person that Chloe was. Not one tear today, and he'd been watching, oh had he been watching. Something deep inside him had stirred as he watched her today...as he held her hand, trying to give her comfort and apparently unneeded strength. Her expression had been so guarded, her stance set so as to not allude to inner turmoil of any kind. She had been hard, and yet, strangely, beautiful...a concrete angel. Now, he looked down at her face, so soft and careless in it's expression. Her grip on his shirt had relaxed, her hands resting gently against his chest. He reached down, brushing hair out of her eyes, and his hand lingered, caressing the skin on her face. She was so different now, not weak necessarily, it was almost as if she was made of glass. Feeling as if she could break, he held her gently and was once again amazed at this friend of his. So beautiful in her strength...so beautiful in her fragility...how could she be both at once? Clark let the question go, choosing instead, to just let himself relax, and hold her tight as he drifted off to sleep.

Author's Note: You'd better review! Or there will be dire conseqences!