torched_reporter: (confused)
[personal profile] torched_reporter
It seems like something out of a dream. She can barely remember it, but the reminder of her nocturnal activities whisper to the fringes of her conscious mind. Chloe turns in the bed, hugging her pillow closer to her head. Her eyes remain close and, for a moment, she whimpers for Riley. There’s no one to hold in this bed in Smallville. There isn’t anyone to make these nightmares go away.

It’s dark and she’s driving down an abandoned road. Cornfields flock either side. The moon isn’t out. There is a car up ahead. She’s heading straight for it. The man on the car is on a cell phone. It’s black, it’s fancy: it’s clearly the car of a rich man. She’s in a truck, a big truck that she can’t remember ever purchasing. But it doesn’t matter how she obtained it. She has a goal ahead.

The game of chicken lasts until the very last moment. She won’t move from the tracks. The other car has no choice but to swerve off the road. It spins out of control into a muddy bank. Cornstalks are broken. With an even louder squeal, she stops the truck next to the crashed car. She walks out, slow and determined. Her boots prevent any slipping in the mud.

When she comes to a stop, it’s in front of the crashed car. She peers in through the driver’s side window. A bald head glimmers in the lights. She knows this man. It’s her target. He asks her what she wants and she ignores him. Using the butt of a flashlight, she smashes the window. The target is showered with glass but only has a moment to realize it. The flashlight head is now used to knock him unconscious.

There. That’s what she came for. A small device in the pocket of her jacket. It’s what she needs. She smiles, staring at the unconscious man.

“Thanks Lex.”

The dream is over. When she wakes up, Chloe cannot recall any of it. She yawns, blinking sleepily. It is morning and she’s supposed to meet Clark for coffee. After another yawn, and a stretch, she rolls out of bed. Eyes narrow in on a pair of muddy boots on the floor. She can’t remember how they got there – they’re certainly not Lois’.

Chloe walks over, forgetting all about coffee with Clark. There’s something more going on right now. And she has no idea what.

Date: 2008-03-17 01:02 am (UTC)
hero_farmboy: (caught in the headlights)
From: [personal profile] hero_farmboy
Chloe isn't the most punctual person in the world, but for her to be late for a coffee date is something that worries Clark. Not to mention annoys him, just a little. He has his own work to do. So after checking his watch for the tenth time, and brushing off the waitress at the Talon yet again, he decides enough is enough and makes for the stairs toward Chloe's apartment.

It's the muddy footprints that catch his eye first, leading up the steps, whoever made them obviously ending up entering the apartment. What gets his attention next is that when he tries the handle on the front door, it's not locked.

He knocks and opens it just a few inches. "Chloe?" Catching sight of her crouched on the floor, he steps inside. "Hey, we were supposed to meet for coffee this morning."

Date: 2008-03-17 05:07 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] torch-reporter.livejournal.com
She looks up from the boots to see Clark here. It's kind of unsurprising that he barged right in. And kind of reassuring. With a dismissing shrug towards the boots, Chloe stands. She pushes her bangs out of her eyes and walks over to him.

"Yeah, I'm sorry," Chloe mutters, gesturing towards the bed. "I guess I must have slept in."

It's a lame excuse. But it's the truth.

Date: 2008-03-18 11:56 pm (UTC)
From: [personal profile] hero_farmboy
Clark gives her an odd look. Chloe might run a little late occasionally, but sleep in on a work day? Not a chance.

"After a run in the mud?" He asks in an attempt to keep the mood light and not appear as worried as he's actually getting. Then he peers over his shoulder, looking back out into the hallway laden with muddy footprints. "What, did you forget to wipe your feet?"
Edited Date: 2008-03-18 11:57 pm (UTC)

Date: 2008-03-19 01:13 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] torch-reporter.livejournal.com
She shakes her head, glancing back to the kitchen. It's scary. She can't remember anything again. It's frightening.

"All I remember is I was doing my dishes here at the apartment and then I'm waking up in bed."

Date: 2008-03-19 01:25 am (UTC)
From: [personal profile] hero_farmboy
He follows her gaze toward the kitchen and finally steps all the way inside, closing the door.

"Maybe you were sleepwalking," he suggests. Stranger things have happened.

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Chloe Sullivan

December 2008

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