Chlark Fanfic: On the Inside, Chapter 1
Are there any Chlarkers left in the Hizzie??? Make some NOIZE!!! :-)
Y'all didn't think I'd forgotten you now, didja? Yes, Clark may be a douche on the show at the moment, but hey - I'm creating my own canon here. So stuff TPTB. Stuff 'em, I say!
Being internetless does have its advantages. For the first time in my life, I have three WIPS on the go. THREE. I can't believe it, but they're all shaping up quite nicely, if I do say so myself.
Here's a new Chlark story; it's my attempt to make sense of the colossal mess currently known as Season 9. Hope y'all like it! I intend to have a banner up for it soon. Unlike with Chlollie, there are no tender Chlark scenes to cap for banners. :-(
Enjoy!
ETA: Massive thanks to the awesomely talented ellashy for letting me use her gorgeous, gorgeous Chlark manip for a banner. I love you, Ella!!! *smishes you*
Title: On The Inside
Author: BabyDee
Pairing: Chlark
Rating: PG13 (for now) ;-)
Warnings: None
Timeline: Post-Failsday through Season 9 eps (Saviour - Crossfire)
Disclaimer: All characters belong to the CW & DC comics.
Summary: Chloe tries to start life anew in another city, but Clark thinks she left her heart in Metropolis.
Feedback: …always welcome. J
Author’s Note: I came up with this idea before Season 9 started airing, and just tweaked a few details here and there to make it work. And the second I heard Daughtry's opening line of a song:
Your life is like a crack in the mirror
Seven years bad luck, it ain't gettin' better now
my first thought was "That's CHLOE!", and I've been listening to that song on a loop ever since, weaving it into the story. :-)
Inspired by the song ‘On the Inside’ by Daughtry
You can move to another town
Hide where you’re sure you won’t be found
But it’s still just you on the inside
You can pretend it’ll be alright
Sell it to yourself, but you know it’s just a lie
Cause it’s still just you on the inside
Chapter 1
“Morning, all,” Chloe Sullivan said cheerily as she strolled into the bullpen and headed straight for the percolator.
“Morning Sadie,” everyone chorused, giving her a brief wave and a quick smile at the daily greeting.
Chloe’s hand trembled slightly on the coffee pot as it always did when her assumed name was called, but if anyone seemed to notice, they didn’t comment on it.
“Is the Chief in yet?” she asked. “I want us to run through some ideas before I get started on the daily grind.”
“Walked in a couple of minutes before you did,” an assistant confirmed. “And there were no half-masticated human remains in sight, so it should be safe to go right in. Emphasis on the word ‘should’.”
Chloe grinned. “Thanks, Ray.” She took a long sip of her coffee before heading for her Editor’s office.
***
Jay B McAllister had a reputation in the news world for being a notoriously difficult-to-please perfectionist, but so far, Chloe had stayed on the right side of her surly Editor-in-Chief. It helped that she was always managed to sniff out the big stories before the competition, and that she was one hundred percent focused on her work as a journalist at the paper.
“Congratulations on yesterday’s article, Ms Bloggett,” McAllister said. “I heard you single-handedly scooped every other news outlet in the city on the PharmaSure scandal. There’s Pulitzer hope for you yet.”
“Thank you, Chief,” she said politely. She had exposed a phoney pharmaceutical company that had been involved in a fake drugs and money laundering operation, and none of the other major papers had even gotten a whiff of the company’s dodgy dealings. Chloe had done all the investigation and digging herself, and as a result, had gotten her paper a most coveted exclusive.
Her boss continued. “You’ve only been with us six months, but it has come to my attention that you’re already being head-hunted by the Post and the Times, correct?”
She gulped. McAllister was a bloodhound in human skin. “Um…I must admit, they’ve both made me some pretty decent offers, but I’m quite happy where I am and I’ve told them that in no uncertain terms.”
“Only the finest for the Gotham Gazette, eh?” McAllister’s eyes twinkled.
“You said it, Chief,” she replied. And it was true; the Gazette was the most prestigious newspaper she could have ever hoped to work for.
The best in Gotham, anyway.
“So what are you working on now?” her Editor asked.
“I’m trying to set up an interview up with entrepreneur Bruce Wayne to discuss his vision for the General Hospital in the wake of the PharmaSure scandal, but he’s a difficult one to pin down.”
“Yeah, good luck with that,” McAllister had chuckled. “Alright, get a move on. There’s work to be done.”
***
Four hours later, and the Bruce Wayne interview was still proving to be as elusive as a pink elephant. Whoever his personal assistant was, she deserved a medal for fielding nosy reporters and their never-ending quest for exclusives.
She munched absently on her neglected sandwich and sighed, pushing her hair over her shoulder and thinking for the umpteenth time that she ought to lop off at least six inches of it to make it a more manageable length. Even after eighteen months of growing it out, she still couldn’t get used to having hair that went beyond her shoulders.
Chloe tossed the rest of her sandwich in the bin, dusted her hands off on a napkin and headed to the ladies’ room to reapply her make-up. The double doors swung shut behind her and she went to stand in front of the mirror.
As always, the reflection looking back at her was a little jarring. Gone were her blonde short locks, replaced with a lengthy hairstyle in honey‑kissed brown that she was quite fond of, even though not exactly used to. Her hazel-green eyes were covered with coloured contact lenses that rendered them chocolate brown, and her usually fair complexion was a few shades darker than normal, thanks to a gentle spray tan.
She barely recognised herself. And that was the way she wanted it. Lois would say, “You’re an Autumn now, and you need to embrace it.” Or at least, that what she would say if she knew where she was, and what she looked like.
But she’d put everything from her old life behind her now. Stoically she applied her make-up, taking care to avoid the brighter colours of the Spring palate that she used to favour when she still went by the name Chloe Sullivan.
***
“Sally, has my UPS package arrived yet?” she asked a passing colleague as she returned to her desk.
The young intern named Sally shook her head. “No sign of the courier, Sadie. Sorry,” she replied.
“Super speedy delivery, my ass,” she muttered under her breath. “He’s a sweetheart, but I swear, Cliff gets later and later with every delivery. He must be moonlighting as a stripper, or something.”
“Well, he’s certainly hot enough to make the grade,” Sally chuckled. “And those UPS shorts do flatter his buns, I must say.”
Chloe laughed in agreement, and returned to her work.
Half an hour and several cups of coffee later, Chloe was tapping away at her keyboard when she heard Sally say, “Who, Sadie? She’s over there, at her desk.”
Finally, it appeared that her errant courier had decided to grace her with his presence. Thin-lipped, Chloe didn’t bother to look up as steady footsteps approached her desk and stopped.
“Took you long enough,” she murmured, typing with one hand and sipping coffee with the other. “What have you been doing all morning, retrieving dollar bills from your sparkly red hotpants?”
“Hello, Chloe.”
Her heart thudded to a stop at the sound of her old name, spoken so softly that only she could hear in a voice she knew as well as her own. Shaking, she swallowed the mouthful of coffee and slowly put the cup down with trembling hands.
She took several unsteady breaths, and after what felt like an eternity, slowly lifted her gaze and looked into a pair of sea-green eyes. She got to her feet and stared into a face that had haunted her dreams for the last year and a half.
“Clark?” she whispered.
***
Chapter 2...
Y'all didn't think I'd forgotten you now, didja? Yes, Clark may be a douche on the show at the moment, but hey - I'm creating my own canon here. So stuff TPTB. Stuff 'em, I say!
Being internetless does have its advantages. For the first time in my life, I have three WIPS on the go. THREE. I can't believe it, but they're all shaping up quite nicely, if I do say so myself.
Here's a new Chlark story; it's my attempt to make sense of the colossal mess currently known as Season 9. Hope y'all like it! I intend to have a banner up for it soon. Unlike with Chlollie, there are no tender Chlark scenes to cap for banners. :-(
Enjoy!
ETA: Massive thanks to the awesomely talented ellashy for letting me use her gorgeous, gorgeous Chlark manip for a banner. I love you, Ella!!! *smishes you*
Title: On The Inside
Author: BabyDee
Pairing: Chlark
Rating: PG13 (for now) ;-)
Warnings: None
Timeline: Post-Failsday through Season 9 eps (Saviour - Crossfire)
Disclaimer: All characters belong to the CW & DC comics.
Summary: Chloe tries to start life anew in another city, but Clark thinks she left her heart in Metropolis.
Feedback: …always welcome. J
Author’s Note: I came up with this idea before Season 9 started airing, and just tweaked a few details here and there to make it work. And the second I heard Daughtry's opening line of a song:
Your life is like a crack in the mirror
Seven years bad luck, it ain't gettin' better now
my first thought was "That's CHLOE!", and I've been listening to that song on a loop ever since, weaving it into the story. :-)
Inspired by the song ‘On the Inside’ by Daughtry
You can move to another town
Hide where you’re sure you won’t be found
But it’s still just you on the inside
You can pretend it’ll be alright
Sell it to yourself, but you know it’s just a lie
Cause it’s still just you on the inside
Chapter 1
“Morning, all,” Chloe Sullivan said cheerily as she strolled into the bullpen and headed straight for the percolator.
“Morning Sadie,” everyone chorused, giving her a brief wave and a quick smile at the daily greeting.
Chloe’s hand trembled slightly on the coffee pot as it always did when her assumed name was called, but if anyone seemed to notice, they didn’t comment on it.
“Is the Chief in yet?” she asked. “I want us to run through some ideas before I get started on the daily grind.”
“Walked in a couple of minutes before you did,” an assistant confirmed. “And there were no half-masticated human remains in sight, so it should be safe to go right in. Emphasis on the word ‘should’.”
Chloe grinned. “Thanks, Ray.” She took a long sip of her coffee before heading for her Editor’s office.
***
Jay B McAllister had a reputation in the news world for being a notoriously difficult-to-please perfectionist, but so far, Chloe had stayed on the right side of her surly Editor-in-Chief. It helped that she was always managed to sniff out the big stories before the competition, and that she was one hundred percent focused on her work as a journalist at the paper.
“Congratulations on yesterday’s article, Ms Bloggett,” McAllister said. “I heard you single-handedly scooped every other news outlet in the city on the PharmaSure scandal. There’s Pulitzer hope for you yet.”
“Thank you, Chief,” she said politely. She had exposed a phoney pharmaceutical company that had been involved in a fake drugs and money laundering operation, and none of the other major papers had even gotten a whiff of the company’s dodgy dealings. Chloe had done all the investigation and digging herself, and as a result, had gotten her paper a most coveted exclusive.
Her boss continued. “You’ve only been with us six months, but it has come to my attention that you’re already being head-hunted by the Post and the Times, correct?”
She gulped. McAllister was a bloodhound in human skin. “Um…I must admit, they’ve both made me some pretty decent offers, but I’m quite happy where I am and I’ve told them that in no uncertain terms.”
“Only the finest for the Gotham Gazette, eh?” McAllister’s eyes twinkled.
“You said it, Chief,” she replied. And it was true; the Gazette was the most prestigious newspaper she could have ever hoped to work for.
The best in Gotham, anyway.
“So what are you working on now?” her Editor asked.
“I’m trying to set up an interview up with entrepreneur Bruce Wayne to discuss his vision for the General Hospital in the wake of the PharmaSure scandal, but he’s a difficult one to pin down.”
“Yeah, good luck with that,” McAllister had chuckled. “Alright, get a move on. There’s work to be done.”
***
Four hours later, and the Bruce Wayne interview was still proving to be as elusive as a pink elephant. Whoever his personal assistant was, she deserved a medal for fielding nosy reporters and their never-ending quest for exclusives.
She munched absently on her neglected sandwich and sighed, pushing her hair over her shoulder and thinking for the umpteenth time that she ought to lop off at least six inches of it to make it a more manageable length. Even after eighteen months of growing it out, she still couldn’t get used to having hair that went beyond her shoulders.
Chloe tossed the rest of her sandwich in the bin, dusted her hands off on a napkin and headed to the ladies’ room to reapply her make-up. The double doors swung shut behind her and she went to stand in front of the mirror.
As always, the reflection looking back at her was a little jarring. Gone were her blonde short locks, replaced with a lengthy hairstyle in honey‑kissed brown that she was quite fond of, even though not exactly used to. Her hazel-green eyes were covered with coloured contact lenses that rendered them chocolate brown, and her usually fair complexion was a few shades darker than normal, thanks to a gentle spray tan.
She barely recognised herself. And that was the way she wanted it. Lois would say, “You’re an Autumn now, and you need to embrace it.” Or at least, that what she would say if she knew where she was, and what she looked like.
But she’d put everything from her old life behind her now. Stoically she applied her make-up, taking care to avoid the brighter colours of the Spring palate that she used to favour when she still went by the name Chloe Sullivan.
***
“Sally, has my UPS package arrived yet?” she asked a passing colleague as she returned to her desk.
The young intern named Sally shook her head. “No sign of the courier, Sadie. Sorry,” she replied.
“Super speedy delivery, my ass,” she muttered under her breath. “He’s a sweetheart, but I swear, Cliff gets later and later with every delivery. He must be moonlighting as a stripper, or something.”
“Well, he’s certainly hot enough to make the grade,” Sally chuckled. “And those UPS shorts do flatter his buns, I must say.”
Chloe laughed in agreement, and returned to her work.
Half an hour and several cups of coffee later, Chloe was tapping away at her keyboard when she heard Sally say, “Who, Sadie? She’s over there, at her desk.”
Finally, it appeared that her errant courier had decided to grace her with his presence. Thin-lipped, Chloe didn’t bother to look up as steady footsteps approached her desk and stopped.
“Took you long enough,” she murmured, typing with one hand and sipping coffee with the other. “What have you been doing all morning, retrieving dollar bills from your sparkly red hotpants?”
“Hello, Chloe.”
Her heart thudded to a stop at the sound of her old name, spoken so softly that only she could hear in a voice she knew as well as her own. Shaking, she swallowed the mouthful of coffee and slowly put the cup down with trembling hands.
She took several unsteady breaths, and after what felt like an eternity, slowly lifted her gaze and looked into a pair of sea-green eyes. She got to her feet and stared into a face that had haunted her dreams for the last year and a half.
“Clark?” she whispered.
***
Chapter 2...