Couple(s): Chloe/Lex

Rating: PG-13 for thematic elements

Disclaimer: Everything but the plot belongs to someone other than me.

Feedback: Yes! Constructive criticism and compliments are grand. Flames will be used to keep MR warm in my basement.

Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now

******

It was hard to look at their wedding photo, now that Chloe was aware that Guy had a copy in his possession. Once, it had been her favorite picture of Lex; the silly grin on his glowing face never failed to cheer her up.

With a sad sigh, she gently ran her fingers over the gilded frame. They'd been blissfully happy that day; she'd been naive enough to believe that the joy would never end. Every morning, she still awoke and silently thanked him for choosing her, out of every other girl in the world; the happiness she felt then hadn't changed. Everything else had, however.

Abandoning her laptop--her latest article was giving her trouble, anyway--she gingerly removed the metal backing from the extravagant frame. She gripped the photo between two fingers and dropped it into the garbage can that stood next to her desk.

"Let's see," she whispered, digging through several envelopes of pictures that she kept in her filing cabinet. John and Lena's photos were spread throughout the house; on the walls of the foyer, in Lex's own office, in Chloe's wallet, on their dressers. While her children's smiling faces made her grin, she needed to see her husband when she worked.

There was an envelope labeled simply, 'Lex', which she removed from the drawer. Flipping through the images made her immediately wistful; they weren't all recent. In fact, about half she'd taken during the first few years of their odd courtship.

One in particular--Lex sticking out his tongue at her--caught her attention; she remembered the day she'd snapped it quite well. It was about six months before she left for college, and she'd stopped by one afternoon to surprise him. He'd requested previously that she not visit him during the day--if only to not arouse suspicion from the staff and her father--and she only disobeyed him that day.

She'd crept into his office, digital camera in hand, and said something along the lines of, 'Smile, sexy!' He'd glanced up from some documents, startled. Upon seeing her ready to take his picture, he'd made a face. It was so unexpected, so adorable, that she'd kept the photo.

There was another, from the same day, of him flipping her off. Though the action was meant in jest, Chloe wasn't going to frame that one; leaving it where John and Lena could find it wouldn't be proper.

The very last one made her suck in a breath: Lex was bent over the pool table, ready to make a shot, smirking at her. He'd wanted to teach her how to play pool on that occasion, but she'd been more interested in watching him. *God, he's beautiful* she thought, tracing his face with her fingertip.

Her decision was made; the last picture went into the frame, and she was finally able to get back to work.

******

Nearly a week had gone by since Chloe had begged him to wait, Lex noted. As much as he wanted to splatter Guy's brains all over his house, Lex was going to listen to his wife. As tempted as he was to grab his gun, storm over there, and do in the man who'd violated Chloe, *he was going to listen to his wife*.

He assumed she had a reason for asking him to delay the event; she wouldn't have asked him to hold off otherwise. *Maybe she decided it was morally wrong* He knew that was a possibility, but then reminded himself that she would have told him about having a change of heart.

Whatever the reason, she had wanted him to wait. Being the understanding husband he was, Lex would do just that; though he certainly didn't want to.

******

It occurred to her out of the blue. In fact, she was so thrown off by the realization, that she had to stifle a yelp. Her hands shook as she flipped through her date book, glancing at the prior month. "That's not possible," she muttered. It just *wasn't possible*.

When she made herself focus, she came to the conclusion that it was completely plausible; the timing would have been perfect.

She ran into the bathroom to throw up.

When she was finished, she staggered into the kitchen, where Martha was cooking meals for the next few days. "Martha," she croaked.

Alarmed, the older woman swiveled around. "Chloe, what's wrong?" She took in her friend's pale, clammy skin, and braced herself for the worst.

"If I tell you something, can you swear to keep it private?"

"Even from Lex?"

"Yes," Chloe said firmly.

*What's so awful that even Lex can't know? They tell each other 'everything'!* "I promise."

******

Lex had never watched cartoons when he was a boy; he had never watched much TV, period. Because of that, he got some private joy out of watching Scooby Doo and Flintstones with his children. They were perched on either side of him on the large, plush couch in the upstairs playroom, completely engrossed in the antics of Fred and Barney.

His eyes swept over the room, taking it in with a smirk: toys littered the dark blue carpet, old juice boxes covered the surface of the yellow plastic table that they used for crafts. It was the one room they were allowed the mess-up as much as they wanted, and their parents weren't allowed to say anything.

Turning back to the big-screen TV, he chuckled along with them, marveling; the whole concept of cartoons was so basic that he once wondered why they were so popular. After a few viewings, he figured it out: they didn't require much concentration, and the humor was so simple that almost anyone could find something at which to laugh.

"Daddy?" John began, for once not sounding upset.

"Hmm?" Lex couldn't tear his eyes from the screen; he feared he was becoming addicted to animated children's television.

"I'm glad you decided to hang out with us."

That was enough to distract him. He hugged them closer, gave them forehead kisses. "So am I. I love you two, you know."

"Daddy, be quiet!" Lena hissed. "'The Jetsons' is starting!"

"Yes, ma'am," he shot back. All conversation--sappy or otherwise--was cut off when George Jetson himself appeared.

For the first time since the incident with Guy, Lex let himself fully enjoy a moment. *It's the simple things,* he decided, listening to John and Lena laugh.

He knew that, once he left the room, he'd have to deal with the harshness of reality; that didn't concern him just then, however; he was more focused on what Jane Jetson was going to say to her son Elroy when she heard what he'd done at school.

******

Martha rubbed Chloe's back through her red silk shirt, frowning. "Are you absolutely sure?"

Chloe's face was buried in her hands, though she refused to cry. "Yes."

"You have to tell Lex."

Looking up for a moment, she shook her head rapidly. "No."

Martha took a deep breath. "Trust me, Clo; as your husband, he has to know, regardless of what you choose to do. Come on, let's go sit in the dining room." She guided her friend to a chair, forgetting about her cooking, then sat herself down.

"I can't tell him!" Chloe insisted anxiously. "There are some things that he's better off not finding out. I can have it taken care of in the next day or so; he won't know."

*There must be a reason why she's so adamant about this...* "Why don't you want to tell him?"

A sigh filtered through Chloe's lips, and she pounded her fist against the table. "Because I've put him through enough. This is my problem, for me to deal with. You can't say anything to anyone, okay, Martha? I'm sorry to rely on you like this, but..." She trailed off when Lex and their children ambled into the room.

"Hey, ladies," Lex said with a truly happy smile. He rested his hands on the back of Chloe's chair, leaning over to kiss her. "What are you up to?"

The women exchanged a look, and Chloe's eyes narrowed. "Talking about girl stuff. How did it go upstairs?" She pasted a falsely cheerful smile on her own mouth, not wanting to concern John and Lena.

"It was fine," he returned lightly, sauntering into the kitchen for some water.

John climbed onto his mother's lap, Lena onto Martha's. "You should watch TV with us sometime, Mommy," John suggested, kissing her cheek quickly. "It's real fun, 'specially with Daddy. He likes the Flintstones."

Lex stepped back into the room, glass in hand, and straddled another chair. "Yeah, Clo, you should. I don't suppose we could convince you, Martha," he teased, his eyes sparkling.

She laughed, absently playing with her hair. "Well, it's been years since I've watched cartoons--Clark was more into physical activities than marathon TV viewing--but I guess it could be fun."

Chloe tuned out the conversation around her and studied her husband. He was grinning, looking happier than she'd seen him for weeks. *He's finally letting himself relax; I can't ruin that by telling him. Like I said, I've put him through enough.*

His eyes found hers for a second; he gave her a private smile, which she forced herself to return. She loved him more than anything, but there was no way she could burden him with her discovery; he had plenty to worry about at the plant, and he'd already fretted about her well-being enough.

"I'm going to go upstairs," she announced quickly.

Lex frowned quizzically. "Okay, babe."

Only after she was safely behind the closed door of the master bedroom did she let herself cry.

******

It wasn't as though Guy had nothing do; there were always other students to tutor, and he frequently drove by Luthor Manor, just to cheer himself up. Still, he found it incredibly difficult to stick to the rough plan he'd devised; after another three days, he and his rifle would go visit Lex. Luckily for Guy, he knew when Chloe left to drop off articles at the Ledger; that way she wouldn't be able to stop him.

*Soon, my dear. Soon we'll be together*

******

Martha obviously knew what was bothering Chloe; when Lex asked her, she'd fabricated some story about a stressful time at the paper. He noted that Martha had never lied well. *Whenever Clo has a tough time at work, she channels her stress into a scathing piece.* He smiled to himself, recalling several scathing editorials Chloe had done for Smallville High's paper, *The Torch*.

The lights in the bedroom were off, the gauzy curtains closed. She wasn't asleep, however; she was sitting against the headboard, with her knees pulled to her chest. He was definitely concerned then; she would have been sleeping, were she sick.

"Sweetheart, what is it?" he whispered, sitting and enveloping her in his embrace. "Tell me what's wrong."

Pressing her face against his shoulder, she fought back tears. "I'm pregnant, Lex."

Judging from the fright in her voice, he knew the child wasn't his.