The Memoirs

Monday afternoon was a nice, warm mid-April day. And he had never been so glad to get out of his house. Lindy had taken his kitchen over, and Marie had shuffled over, bringing Ariel and the twins to play with Shaney and Eleanor, and Graham was about to lose his mind.

Thank Christ he had a job to go to. The LuthorCorp site was nearly finished, except for the Zeus building. It'd been the last he could get into, because of the dome restoration and Dogwood's artisans in there restoring the columns and the statuary, but they had finally gotten the hell out of dodge, and he was going in there this afternoon, while Lionel was at home in Cobh to take the chance to start the carpeting on the stairs and the entryway.

He looked into the duffel bag beside him and sorted through it, making sure that everything Toni had asked for was in there. Clean clothes, clean underwear, clean socks, a fresh smock, the little flowered makeup case, and he sighed, cranking the car as he eased out around Lindy's wagon and Marie's huge van-tank. He winced as he turned on the radio and it blared out hip-hop, and swore that he was going to throttle Shayla and her friends, because they had been the last ones in the car late Sunday night as they did God only knew what together.

By the time he got to the hospital, he was in a very good mood, all things considered, and smiled as he pushed the door open and headed straight for the counter. "Aye, I need Dr. Braxton please. Tell 'er th'bootler's 'ere t'see 'er."

Rosita Gonzales had been working in the ER for more than ten years. She was well worn, weather beaten, and at 36, a great deal wiser than her female counterparts, even those who were older than herself. She had raised five children by herself, her migrant worker husband having died many years before, and she had raised her babies and done a fine damn well job of it.

And even with all that experience, and her beautiful children, she would still give it up for the handsome Irishman standing in front of her.

Evelyn had had the day off, and Maria's eyebrows rose, a smile gracing her usually pinched face. "Hello, Mr. Senatori. Ms. Braxton is in ER 1... she's setting some bones, if you'd like to see her?" Another big smile.

"Nae, I c'n wait till she's done; wouldnae wan'a distrac'er from th'important business of settin' somebody's arm er leg back'n place. Broke enough of m'own bones and m'brothers' to boot t'know."

Rosita smiled again. "I'm sure she wouldn't mind, Mr. Senatori. I'll take you back there... it has been very long day in ER. Many people have come in… some sick, some hurt. All this construciones, you know? Very busy days these days." Rosita walked around the big receptionists desk and led Graham back down the hall and into the heart of the ER. "Very, very busy. You have to keep safe, and wear your helmet. Helmet and boots. Many nails in feet. Ahh, here she is." She pushed open the swinging door. "Dr. Braxton?"

"Give me a sec, Rosita. Mr. Rubenstein, I'm gonna need you to... there we go. Perfect." Toni rearranged one of the Rubenstein brothers legs better on the table as she continued to smother it with plaster, her friend, Dr. Lee, helping her. "Is it--oh!" Toni grinned at her lover, and winked. "Hey, handsome. Take a seat. Seems Steven here decided it'd be great fun to take a spill down an elevator shaft."

"Aye, and whate'er possessed ye t'do a fool thing like that, Stevie boy?" The man had worked on several of Graham's crews in the past, and he had a healthy respect for the work ethic that seemed to permeate the entire Rubenstein family. "Didna t'ink ye could fly, did ye?"

Steven glared, even if the glare was half felt, and added on to be a crooked grin. "Was testin' God, Misser Senatori. Seein' how far I'd g... ahh!... get." He winced as his leg was jostled, and lay back, taking a deep breath.

"Fell all the way down testing God, and dislocated a lovely shoulder." Toni smiled at him though, in his sling, and continued to smother plaster on the man's already half built cast. She was exhausted, hungry, spent, and she still had another six hours to go. But she couldn't last another minute with the clothes she had on, and she smiled gently at Graham as she continued her work. "How's Shane, Graham?"

"Last I left him? Laughin' his head off with his cousins, and tryin' to keep Ellie from puttin' makeup on him again."

She smiled, warmly. "Good. I take it that Marie and your mother are making a mess of my kitchen already, right?" She continued, slicking on another long strip of plaster.

A very, very loud snort. "I'd nae let that harridan that bore me through my threshhold before Easter nor a day after it. Tis Marie and m'darlin' Lindy that're makin' the mess." He kicked back in the chair and stretched his long legs out. "Brought everythin' ye asked fer."

"Thanks, Graham. I don't think any more patients are going to see me looking like this." Wry grin, a glare at Lee daring him to say something, and she continued. "I got a call from Lionel and Dominic this morning, by the way." Didn't know why the hell she was bringing it up. "They're doing okay... family's fine, your Gran is doing great."

"I thin' ye look fine, lass. Bit worse fer th'tiredness o'it, but ye dunna look bad t'me." Ignored the comment about home entirely. "When ye get home, ye can tell those sisters o'mine t'get out o'the house fer a bit and ye can sleep."

She gave him a look, one that spoke of many things, and set the cast down on the table to smooth it out.

He ducked it, surprisingly skillfully for a man like him. "Ye'll do fine, Stevie lad. Ye got th'best doctor in th'hospital takin' care o'ye."

"Great." Steven grunted and covered his eyes with a thick, strong arm, his skin sallow and pale.

Toni glared at his head, from where he was talking to Steven, and continued about her work, having Lee lift the cast once more to begin a second coat. Plaster always dried very quickly, and she carefully, swiftly, began another layer.

"Dinna fret," he said, and left his legs stretched out. "Lassie took care o'my arm when I broke it a few weeks ago, and lookit now, good as new." He flexed the joint in question and wiggled his fingers.

"I should have fixed much more than that, but I felt pity on your great lumbering ass at the time." Toni answered, with a glare, and was surprised at the weak sounding laugh from her patient. "Steven, are you okay? Lee, here, take over for me." She handed the cast to her assistant and went around the bed, snapping her gloves off and donning a fresh pair. "here, take your arm down. There we go... you're white as a sheet sweetie." Toni looked up at her nurse. "Get me some warm towels, okay? And some cold water. Steven? Don't pass out on my, honey. You've been strong this long, just hang out a little--....and there he goes." She caught his head before it lolled, and brought the table down, quickly taking the smelling salts from another of her nurses and snapping them under his nose. "Steven? Hey, sweetie. Come on back now. Steven?"

His eyes opened, bloodshot and not at all clear, as he could barely see the doctor, so he just let his eyes close again.

Toni shook her head and spoke to her nurse again. "Give another push of morphine, and lets get a room ready for him. He needs to rest after we set this."

Graham felt a brief surge of pity for the young man. "Aye, Stevie, pull your soddin' ass together an' tell me how yer doin' on the upper floors!" he said firmly, hands on his hips as he stared intimidatingly down at the man.

Steven opened his eyes again, and looked up, hardly able to see much, but his vision cleared, a little bit, and he spoke, softly. "Kay."

Toni glanced up at her boyfriend, then back down, and nodded as she injected the medication into his IV herself. She raised the bed back up, putting the rails up on the cot, and adjusted the nasal oxygen tubes a little bit better around his nose, so he'd be able to take deeper breaths. "There we go. You're doing good, sweetie...broken arm and a broken leg, and this is the first time it affects you. Very proud of you...just keep taking deep breaths. Lee? Is the cast finished?" At the nod from him, she quickly spoke to her nurses, and then down at him. "We're going to take you to your own room in about an hour, okay? You can sleep until then, honey."

"Aye, lad, ye did verra good. Didna mean t'scare ye, but y'needed a clear head t'talk to th'doctors wi'."

Toni nodded at Lee, murmuring instructions to both him and the nurses, and smiled at Graham gently as she shifted her shoulder. "Come on, sweetie. I'll get your cast off while I'm at this whole plaster business. I was hoping I could get you over here, sugar bear." A knowing little glance over her shoulder as she reached the front of the receptionists desk, and grasped Grahams chart, which she'd kept on hand for this very reason. "No one's in the ER… I can take care of you. Come on, sugar."

"Oh, aye. I'd love ye fer th'rest o'yer days, not that I dunna already, if ye could rid me of this abomination!" He shouldered the bag he'd packed all of her things in and followed her. "Yer a true Florence Nightingale, m'darlin."

"Of course I am." She smiled, broadly at him, and twitched one dainty hip as she led him into the third ER room, where the wire cutters and other instruments were always kept. "You know, the last time I used the saw from in here, I was sawing off the end of a pole that got stuck through someone's mid-section. Just so you know."

"I dunna need to hear that." But he sighed, and hoisted his huge bulk up on the table. "The las' time I had one'a these cut offa me, I near fainted from the crackin' o'the plaster."

Her eyes widened, considerably, as she shucked out of her white doctors coat and hung it on a hook by the phones. She tugged up the sleeves of the sweater she'd pulled on over her t-shirt hours ago, and slapped on some gloves. "That's not funny, Graham. I am not hoisting your big ass up off the floor, so lay on down sugar." She smiled, gently. "Just lay on back... lemme get a nurse to help me." She stuck her head out the door. "Hoin? Can you help me?" Toni yelled it to the Korean male nurse working down the hall, and watched him nod and start for her before ducking back into the swinging doors.

"No, t'wasna verra funny a'tall, peelin' m'self up from the floor cause I'd been stubborn enough t'watch." He situated himself on the table and extended his arm. "Dunna think I'll watch ye this time."

"Don't watch, sugar bear." Toni smiled at the orderly and motioned him on the other side of her lover's hulking frame. "There we go... hold on to his shoulder and side, Hoin. Graham... don't watch, baby." She had set up the cast cutters and the special scissors beside her, as well as the oxygen mask just in case, and she set out Graham's arm at the angle she needed.

And began to cut.

The first layer of plaster was cut through with the electric cutter, going just deep enough so that she'd be able to cut the final layer easily with a pair of sheers. She sliced from the hand to the back of his elbow, carefully moving so she wouldn't catch his skin.

"Dunna intend tae." He turned his head to the other side, staring into the chest of the Asian nurse holding him down. He raised his eyes up to the man's slightly amused face. "D'ye know, ye r'mind me a little o'that butler type that Lex has, that my Mama has taken up with. Dunna know why."

Hoin just raised a brow, and let the smile quirk his lips. He knew the much larger man was about to faint, and he just nodded, speaking to him as the good doctor cut. "Enrique Juares? He bowls in my tournaments on the weekend. Really great at the strikes, lemme tell you." A chuckle. "That lady friend of his is sweet. Brought me soup a month ago, when I was feeling sickly."

Toni just watched what she was doing, the cutting goggles over her face, and when she was sure that the cutting was finished, she set the goggles and the electric cutter to the side. The scissors came next, quickly cutting through plaster to get to her poor lovers arm. She could already smell the horrid scent of cast covered arm, but she kept calm, just working steadily. "Hoin? Get me a suture tub, filled with alcohol, okay?"

"Aye, Enrique, that's his name. Didn't know the little fella bowled." Rolled his eyes. "Doesna surprise me, though." A deep sigh. "Tha' woman isna sweet. Not if yer related t'her, which I have th'misfortune of bein'. She's a banshee, she is."

"Mmm." Hoin, quietly amused, carefully filled the tub full of water and rubbing alcohol, making sure to make the water a little stronger than usual, so Graham would keep his masculinity and not faint. "Here we are, Doctor."

"Thank you, sweetie. Bring it on the tray there… there we go. Roll it around here... there we are. Okay, sugar?" Toni winced, keeping the cast together carefully. "I'm going to take the cast apart and inspect your arm, okay? And then I'll wash it with alcohol, and probably some soap and water. Okay hun?"

Graham just nodded, though his skin was a shade paler than usual. "Aye, darlin'. Do what ye hafta; this old man c'n take it."

"I'm sure you can, sugar." Toni answered, though she said it gently, soothingly, as she carefully peeled the cast open. The scent wasn't as bad as some of the ones she usually got and she pushed past it, gently cracking the cast in half, and tugging it from each side of his arm so she could inspect it. It was pale, a little bit withered from being cocooned in a cast so long, and she began to poke and prod carefully.

"Aye, I can feel that, y'know," he protested.

"Duh. That's the good thing." A smirk.

He rolled his eyes as she prodded him. "An' the bad t'ing?"

"There isn't, that I can see. You do have what's left of a popsicle stick left by your elbow," A snort of laughter caught in her throat at that, though, cause damn that was funny. "And some lint caught by your wrist, but everything seems to have healed beautifully. No bruises I can see." She gently, very gently, lifted his arm, and carefully set it in the hot water. The tub had a gradual incline for these sorts of things, and she carefully washed his skin, little by little, with the alcohol and water...and then with soap and water, getting the filminess off of his skin.

Graham's stomach lurched and rolled as the newly-denuded skin was dunked in the water, and his complexion went from pale to green. "I'd fergot how mucha this I hate," he grunted out as he tried to keep what was left of that morning's breakfast in his belly.

"Shhh. Take deep breaths, honey... your face looks like Shaney's dinner last night. Hoin, go ahead and put the oxygen mask on him please." She watched from the corner of her eye as the orderly did as he was told, and carefully washed Graham's arm without jostling it. The hot water would hopefully relax the tense muscles, and she dried his arm very carefully and slowly as she pulled it from the tub. "Okay... we're gonna flex it, really slow, okay?"

"Aye, I'm breathin'," he groused, but didn't argue when the mask was strapped into place over his nose and mouth, and he started to flex his fingers and his wrist for her. "An' if I breathe any more, I'm goin' t'be sick."

"No, you're not." Toni chided gently, as her fingers followed his to help. "There we go. Flex very gently, very slowly, sweetheart."

"Aye, I am." He gritted his teeth, and still managed to roll his eyes as he was doing it. "Darlin', if I flex it any slower, I won't be flexin' at all."

"Sure you will." Amused smile, as she touched his hand. "let go now. Let me move them." She pressed his fingers in, the joints popping only mildly shocking as she did it, and held each finger for ten seconds, to let the muscles stretch.

Graham let go of his muscles, letting her move them in her doctorly way, and his exhaled breaths fogged up the little oxygen mask as he sighed. "Ye dinna know how long I've been dyin' to crack that bloody knuckle."

Toni grinned down at him, though it was gently and distractedly, as she moved, carefully rotating the heeled wrist side to side, seeing how deep the swelling was, and how far he could turn it. "Of course. I saw you, yesterday, trying to do it."

"It's been nigh two months that I've no been able ta'--good CHRIST woman, it doesna bend that way!" he bellowed sharply.

She mmmed, quietly, clicking her tongue as she shifted his wrist, holding it bent that way for a moment and moving it back and forth. "Any sharp pain?"

A very evil glare as he snapped the mask off. "Nae, I'm just bellowin' at ye fer my bloody health!"

"Graham." Her voice was very quiet, but very serious. "Is there any sharp pain?"

"NO," he said firmly. "But it hurts when ye bend it back, and it didna go that way a'fore it was broke!"

She nodded, thinking quietly as she watched her work, and bent it back very gently. "Yes it did, sweetie. I'm going to press back... tell me if there's any sharp pain." She moved, pressing his hand back gently, against the resistance of muscle.

"It isna sharp, no, but it doesna feel good. And if ye do it 'gain, I may have t'hurt ye fer it."

Toni snorted, but she wasn't amused. "You may have some tendon damage, sweetie. I don't think its too serious… I'm going to get some X-rays ordered, mmkay? You may have to wear a brace, until the full damage heels. You had a pretty bad break, though it seems the bone has heeled. Everything's rotating and moving just fine." She touched his arm, carefully, feeling for the tendons, and rubbing against each one gently. "Tell me if any of this hurts."

It didn't at first, but when she hit the flexor tendon, he let out a yelp. "AYE!"

Toni winced, and nodded, pulling her finger up. "Yeah, sweetie. I hate to break this to you... I'm going to see if its just swelling, but if not, we're going to have a few options. Depending on the severity of the damage, we may need to go in and see what's wrong, because the x-rays can only so much. However...if its just swelling pressing down on the tendon itself, all you'll need is a brace for another month or so."

A dark growl as he set up and pulled the mask off. "Aye, and if it is somethin' serious, that's all the more I have t'beat m'brother's skull in fer when he gets back."

She rose a glare up at him, though it was distracted as she touched and moved. Even as she did, the dark purple of bruising came up around the area of the tendon damage, and she gently stroked her thumb across it to see it a little more clearly. "As soon as the tension was brought off the tendon, its started to swell."

"An' t'a common man like me, is tha' th'good or th'bad thing?"

"Good. Because it shows there isn't permanent damage." She murmured, and pulled her stool closer, so she could inspect the wrist. "How well can you bend your elbow?"

Graham bent his elbow just fine, though he winced at the last. "Aye, I can bend it, but if I pull it up sharp, I feel it."

"You should, the tendons connected to the rest of the elbow. Alright... let's get you down to X-Ray. There's barely anyone here today, so I can take you myself." She nodded at the orderly, and climbed to her feet. "We've got to get you in a wheel chair, sweetie. We've had too many people fall flat on their ass after this, and... Hoin, I need 315 milligrams of T3 as well, please, and a cup of water. Thank you, dear. Okay, Graham," Toni rose and went to one of the many, many drawers and shelves lining the ER walls and sorted through until she found a strapable harness, to keep Graham's elbow and arm immobile. "Lets get this on you, until we get to X-Ray."

"Yer not strappin' me in that contraption, Toni Braxton," Graham grunted. "I'll agree wi'ye as far as the wheelchair, but her no' strappin' me down."

"Just to keep your arm immobile. Stop being a baby." She helped him sit up a little more, carefully close in case he swayed, and strapped it on quickly, the Velcro giving way with loud rips as she got him into it. She kept his arm as carefully close as it could be, and made sure everything was Velcro'd together before helping him down. "Come on, to the wheelchair you go."

"Dammit, woman!" Graham reached over to the Velcro and started unfastening it just as fast as she had fastened it. "I told ye, I'm no'wearin' t'thing!"

Toni calmly reattached them. "I'm your doctor, dear, and you'll do as I advice you to do." Toni pushed the break on the wheel chair down, and carefully helped her poor, mountainous boyfriend into it. "Here we go." Hoin handed him the medication, and Toni waited for him to take it as she snapped her gloves off and reached for his chart.

Graham just growled again, sitting sullenly in the chair until he was presented with his medication, and took it with complete ill grace, tossing the plastic cup into the trash can and glaring back at his girlfriend under dark, stormy brows.

"You can stop sulking, sweetie." Toni answered without looking up as she signed the paperwork on the chart.

"I'm no' sulking."

"If your lip was sticking out anymore, sugar bear, I might step on it."

He didn't answer that, just growled loudly.

- = - = -

The paint on the canvas was thick, oily and wet. A soft, horse haired brush was stroking over the canvas easily, fluidly, and beneath the sticky paints, mixing and coloring in on itself, a picture was being done. A huge field of lilac flowers, the trees hanging thick and overgrown, cascaded over the hilltop. The sky, enormous, blue, with thick white clouds and singing birds, lay beyond the beautiful place, and as Chloe painted, carefully, she knew she'd add a single, dark haired figure in the center of the photo, against the largest tree.

It was, after all, her dream.

For two nights in a row Chloe had dreamed of an enormous hill, lush with purple flowers, overlooking an astonishing, beautiful view. A crystal clear lake, hundreds of trees and birds, with little bumble bees flying along in search of heavy flowers rich with bounty.

Whenever the person in her dream, slouched over the lilacs, wept bitterly, she felt the pang in her heart as if it were her own pain.

And last night, like the night before, she's awoken before she could see the crying man's face, and had instantly come to get it on paper. The paper hadn't been sufficient, her rich vocabulary not deep enough to capture her dream.

So here she'd been, since she'd woken up, painting. She didn't have to go to school until at least Wednesday, doctors orders, so she didn't have to worry about stopping. She just painted, working a big dinner into her schedule as she worked, and though she burned her biscuits, she finished cooking supper and awaited the men in her life to come home.

Whitney was the first to come home, because he got off early at the store. In a way, it still felt like his mother and father were there, because Uncle Morty fussed over him just as much, making sure he left in time to go home, eat, do his homework, and get some sleep. He half-heartedly wondered if his uncle knew about the baby or not, but part of him didn't care. He was just... glad to leave the store, because he hated it. Hated every shelf, every tile, every light bulb. Blamed it, for killing his father, but loved it all the more because it was the only thing he had left.

The old house was now on the market, and Lex had helped him pick out a realtor to handle it. He'd been tempted to hand the whole caboodle over to Lex anyway, but the other man had insisted Whitney handle this himself, with Lex only as an advisor. Which made sense, legally, but emotionally? Not at all.

He'd been avoiding pretty much everyone since he'd woke up that morning. Thanking God the mansion was so big, he'd managed to skulk out of the house before anyone had noticed him. He'd sat in the back of all his classes, paying absolute attention to the teachers so he had none to spare for Clark, Pete, or Shayla, had avoided lunch altogether in favor going to the deserted weight room and working out, and had avoided people after school by heading straight for work and burying himself in the back office, inventorying the stock that arrived this morning for Graham's latest order, and separating the boxes from the store's inventory.

Now, he was on the way home--to the Sullivan house, anyway--and he wished briefly that he was already moved out, because then? He could continue avoiding everyone.

Hadn't seen Chloe since that Saturday, and didn't want to. He'd been a complete jackass and he knew it, and he couldn't bring himself to apologize yet, even though he wanted to. He just sighed, peered through the screen door, saw the kitchen full of food, and shook his head. Christ. He was going to have to deal with her, because unless he suddenly developed Clark's speed? No way he could get past her to the stairway.

What Whitney didn't know, which Chloe would think later as his saving grace, was that she was so involved with her paints she hadn't heard anything. Her dad, many years before, had let her use a part of the dining room, as long as she opened a window and kept everything clean and neat, to paint. The floor was tile so it wasn't hard to clean, and Chloe enjoyed her work all the more for it. Her easel, an old pass-me-down she found at a thrift store, was her greatest treasure, and she used it now, duck taped to the wall so it wouldn't moved, and looked down at her easel for another color.

He couldn't see what she was doing in the corner, but it wasn't hard to figure out, what with the rich smell of oil sliding out the windows and carried on the breeze. He opened the door, as silently as he could, wincing when the hinges squeaked and swearing to himself that as soon as he could, he was going to attack that door hinge with the first can of WD-40 that he could get his hands on.

Chloe stopped for a moment, her brush in the light purple she'd made just a while ago, and glanced up. Only one person would be skulking around, but if he didn't want to say anything, that was fine with her.

But... it could be a burglar.

Fuck.

"Hello?"

"Hey. It's just me," Whitney said quietly. "I don't want to interrupt; I'm just going to go upstairs and take a shower."

Her brows came together. "Its cool." Fine. Hide behind the staircase. Ass. "I'll just be in here... your plate is sitting there on the counter, if you want to take it upstairs to eat after, or whatever."

"I'll come back and get it after my shower." Liar, liar, pants on fire, Whitney thought to himself.

Sure, you will. "That's fine." That's all she said, too, as she settled back on the stool, her tummy aching softly from her aching back, but she paid it little mind as she started to paint again, giving the light colored lilacs in the painting definition.

"It's pretty," he said quietly again, as he headed up the stairs. "You should show it to Clark and Lex." But by that time, he'd disappeared all the way upstairs.

She looked up at the stairs and gave a very quiet sigh, just… shaking her head before she continued to add the color to the flowers. She was almost finished, almost, and she added a few more highlights here and there, before rising to her feet. The rest would dry, and she'd finish tomorrow. For now? She went into the kitchen and got Whitney's plate, sliding it into the microwave to warm.

Whitney listened to Chloe moving around downstairs, sitting at the top of the staircase. He'd paused in the process of peeling his shirt off, and had plunked his butt on the top of the stairs to listen to her. The quiet scrape of brush on canvas, the squelch of paint on palette and then on brush bristles, the steady inhales and exhales of her breathing. The soft whoosh of the breeze that wafted in through the windows, and the little scuffle of feet against the floor. All mundane little noises that he'd never listened to before, and he heard them all now. Realized he would be hearing them for the rest of his life, and he was suddenly terrified and gratified all at once.

Felt even more like a jackass than he already did, pulled himself to his feet, and padded down the hallway to the shower.

Chloe finished microwaving the food, and because she knew that Whitney had no intention of coming back down for the rest of the light, set three biscuits--the second batch of course--on his plate, a fork, knife, and napkin, and filled a tall cup with grape soda. She set all of it on a little tray and walked up the steps, sliding into the room he was using as his own. The shower was running, his clothes were thrown on the bed, and she took a minute to sort it out, putting what needed to be cleaned in the dirty clothes hamper, and the rest of the clothes folded, carefully, on the corner of the bed. She took out clothes, because he always forgot, laying out a house shirt and boxer shorts, on the bed. And just because she was that way, she folded the blankets back, set the remote for the TV on the bedside table, and left.

She went across the hall to her own bedroom and quickly pushed out of her paint striped clothes. She'd showered after she'd cooked an hour or two ago, so all she did was pin up her wet hair, and look at herself in the mirror. The same old Chloe stood before her, only not at all at the same time. The same head strong, independent girl was there, but she was wiser, older, and she couldn't picture herself of yesteryear, getting into fights with Clark over really dumb shit.

Now she had her baby, who had swollen her belly and her breasts, and even if Whitney wasn't ready for a kid... she wouldn't go through baby mama drama. She'd raise her baby to be the best little guy he could be, and she glanced across her room, where all the new things had been stacked in their boxes. Crib, blankets, hundreds of outfits spilling out of her spare closet, bouncer, high chair. It was all there, all she needed, plus the things Dominic had given her as a gift... at least four months worth of diapers, formula, baby powder, socks, underwear, and all sorts of things. She guessed he was just ecstatic over his baby, but she appreciated everything he and Lionel had done for her.

In the shower, Whitney had his head resting against the hard plastic of the shower stall and he was letting the warm water run over his back and shoulders. Parts of his body still ached from where Lex had pummeled him, and it had only been compounded by his time in the weight room and the lifting, toting, and stacking at the store. He groaned softly as he shifted in the shower, groin still sore to the touch from Lex's well-aimed knee. He finally got out of the shower, once he was clean, and toweled himself off. Didn't know if Mr. Sullivan had gotten home during the shower or not, and tied the towel around his waist for the five steps it took to get to his bedroom and shut the door.

First thing he noticed was that the untidy pile of dirty clothes were gone from beside the door, and that there was a stack of laundry folded on the edge of his bed. Then he noticed the food, the clothes laid out for him, the turned down bed, and he growled. Goddammit to every hell in the world. He wadded up the wet towel and hurled it at the door, where it landed with a muffled thump as it skidded down the door.

Chloe glanced up at the dull thud and let her brows furrow. Obviously still in a fine fettle, but it didn't bother her too much as she carefully unsnapped her bra, and winced. Her breasts were tender, painful with the weight of water in them, and she sighed, looking down at her tummy and giving it a soft rub. "You suck, baby. But that's okay, I love you anyway. Come on… lets get some warm clothes." She walked into her closet and looked up at the stack of t-shirts on the shelf, and pulled one down, Mickey Mouse on the front, as well as digging out a sports bra from her dresser drawer. She dressed, leaving her shorts off for the moment as she stretched out, cozily, on her bed for a moment.

She was tired. Hadn't done much today, but the weekend… it had been full of activity.

She grew tired of laying in the next moment and sat up again. It was nearly seven...her dad had called about some meeting, and he'd be late. She might even get to watch some TV, before her dad started harassing her to lay down.

Not that she minded, not at all. She loved her dad, even if he was nuts.

Whitney got dressed, in the clothes laid out for him, crammed the clean clothes into the dresser drawers, not caring where they went as long as they were out of sight. (Sadly, this is how Kel puts her clothes away too, just FYI) Next he dropped the towel into the hamper by the dresser, moved the tray over to the small desk under the window, threw himself on the bed, flipped quickly and restlessly through the channels before pushing back off the bed and storming across the hall, pounding on Chloe's bedroom door so hard it was shaking the door frame.

Chloe glanced up, startled. "What?"

"Open the fucking door!" he bellowed.

She glared, darkly, at the door, though she was more shocked than anything. "Its not locked."

He took that as an invitation and slammed the door open. "What the hell do you think you're doing, acting like a fucking maid? Jesus, Chloe, are you trying to hurt yourself?"

One pale eyebrow came up, as she sat there, in her oversized Mickey shirt, Friends on her TV. Just... stared at him. "I'm sorry?"

"You! You're cleaning up my fucking room, you're bringing my food up, you're turning my bed down, for chrissakes! I all but expected a fucking mint on the pillow! Why are you doing this? Christ! You don't NEED to be doing physical activity like that, it's not good for you OR the baby to work like that!!!"

Okay. So… she cooked him dinner, fixed his room, put some clothes out for him, and he was still going to yell?

No.

She turned her head and watched the TV again, ignoring him, pointedly.

He stalked across the room and planted his body between her bed and the TV. "Seriously? If you don't want the baby? Tell me. Cause this? No. Ain't gonna work." His hands went to his hips. "Yes, I'm grateful. Thank you. Don't do it again. Baby or not, I'll throw you over my fucking knee, because you're not going to keep stressing yourself out!"

Well, that was it. "Me? Me, not want the baby, Whitney? What in the fuck are you talking about? Have you not taken a look around my bedroom?" She motioned her hands out to all the baby bags and stuff waiting to be pulled out and put together. "You aren't going to do anything to me, Whitney. I'm not stressing myself out, I was just fixing your things so you wouldn't have to do them later. And please, do stop cursing at me."

"Yes, I have!" Frustrated sigh. "I'm capable of picking my own clothes up and stuffing them in the hamper when I get tired of falling over them! You shouldn't be bending down, back, or over to pick shit up off the floor like that!!"

Chloe's eyebrows furrowed at him. "Let me worry about what I can and cannot do, Whitney."

"The hell!" he exploded.

Chloe just looked at him, evenly. "I'm not an invalid. I made dinner, vacuumed, cleaned the bathrooms and painted for most of the day. I'm fine. Its good for me to move around. I can't stay laying down somewhere all day, Whitney." Evenly, calmly said. "You haven't been here all weekend, and neither has my dad. Shay helped me while she was here, but I spent most of yesterday alone. I'm not in a pile, dead, am I?" Her glare was fierce. "I can take care of myself, and I know when I need to slow down. So just... shut up."

"No, goddammit. I'm not going to shut up." He stalked closer to the bed. "Christ, Chloe, are you trying to kill yourself? I don't care what you think, I don't care how well you gauge what you're feeling, because YOU'VE NEARLY DIED ON ME ONCE!" The last was bellowed. "I'm not going to have it happen again, understand?"

"Like you'd even care!" She yelled back, realizing how snotty she sounded but not giving a royal shit. "You can't even talk to me, Whitney! You can't tell me how you feel, you can't... you won't do anything but yell at me."

"If you'd take care of yourself and fucking listen to me, then I wouldn't have to yell at you!!! I can't do anything else, I'm trying to take care of you, and you won't fucking listen to a goddamned thing I say!"

"I can take care of myself, Whitney. Its you that you can't take care of." Chloe answered back, and looked back down at the remote in her lap. She tugged her blankets up, feeling naked without any pants on, and glared at him. "You have to take care of you, because you don't."

"No, I have to take care of you," Whitney reiterated. "It's what I do. It's who I am and you are all I've got left. I have to take care of you, I'm not going to lose you, and if you don't like it, or you don't get it... well... fuck you then."

Chloe's eyes widened, a pang in her heart at his words. "I'm not all you've got left. You can take care of me, But I can take care of me. And you know what, Whitney? Fuck you too."

"Yeah, you are all I have left. My family? Dead. Lana? Dead. Clark and Lex's baby? Dead. Everyone that I care about fucking dies." He slammed the door on his way out.

Chloe looked up as he slammed the door out, and heaved a quiet, shaking sigh as she rose and pulled her shorts on with little difficulty. She opened the door and followed him, though her screaming words had kind of just… gone. "Clark and Lex aren't dead. I'm not dead. Our baby isn't dead. I'm not all you have left, Whitney, not at all." She said, quietly, from her doorway.

"Yeah, you're not. The baby's not. Why the hell do you think I'm trying so fucking hard to keep you alive? Huh? Because I don't want you to fucking die on me, okay? I don't. And if you don't stop pushing yourself, you're going to. You are, the baby is, and I will be alone."

"I'm not going to die, Whitney." She looked at him, for a long moment, the long line of his back, the tension in his muscles, and some of her anger drained away. "I mean, eventually, yeah. But I've got Clark, Lex, and you to protect me. I'm not going to die, Whitney, and neither is our son."

"Yeah, right. You won't even listen to a fucking thing I ask you, Chloe. How the hell do you expect me to protect you if you won't listen to me? Fuck." He ran his fingers through his spiky bangs, making them stand up even more. "Yeah, I know, you're proud and you're stubborn, and I wouldn't change that for anything, but Christ on a cross, Chloe, you've got to fucking listen."

"I'm not a child, Whitney." Chloe answered back, carefully, calmly. "You're not my father. I've been through a lot of stuff, too, and I'm not some dim witted, barely conscious little girl with her head stuck up her ass. You don't have to tell me what to do, Whitney, for me to know to do it." Her head tipped. "I know what's right for me, and what's not. I chose you, didn't I? I chose Lex and Clark, didn't I? I know what's right for me."

He just shrugged. "Fine, you know what the fuck you're doing. Why the hell you need me then? No fucking clue." He slammed the door to his bedroom shut and turned on the stereo loud enough to drown out any talking.

"I need you to love me." She whispered, softly at the door, and as her chin trembled and the first tears spilled down her cheeks, she turned into her own room, and closed the door behind her.

He dialed through the stations, trying to find something that he wanted to listen to, couldn't find a fucking thing that didn't upset him more, and finally turned it off with a wrench of the dial and threw himself down in front of his computer instead. When he turned it on, the first thing that came up was his screensaver, an animated one of the Smallville Crow throwing a football, and when the screensaver clicked off, the last program he'd been working with came up.

The beautiful pictures of Chloe, naked in her bed, that he was in the process of turning into a painting. Wide brushstrokes had hidden her features on the layer he was working on, more strokes had turned her hair into deeper rippling waves than usual, streaming past her shoulders, and shadows had plumped the curves of her hips and her breasts, swelling them both invitingly as the area between her legs was untouched, and waiting for his airbrushing.

He saved the document carefully, and just stared at the half-finished painting in his program. A few half-hearted strokes with his airbrush tool, and he deepened her skin tone just a shade, to give her a pearly tan, and he sighed. Saved the new work he'd done, turned the screen off again, and sat back. He wouldn't cry, but he rubbed his hands over his face as he looked at the plate of food sitting on the desk and cooling. Most of his favorite dishes, and he shook his head again. "Goddammit." He got up from the computer and went to his closet, and pulled out a small metal box. He opened it carefully, and pulled out his mother's jewelry box. There were quite a few pieces in the box, but what Whitney wanted was buried at the bottom. His large, sometimes ungraceful fingers untangled the gold filigree chain and the charm on it. He'd bought it for her a few years ago for mother's day, when the Birthstone babies had been all the rage, and once it was untangled, he stared at it as he cradled it in his palm. "Mother," it said across the top, and across the bottom was a half-circle of wire, that could be unfastened to add charms to it. The one on there now was him, his birth month, and he carefully tucked the rest of the jewelry away and closed the lock box before tucking it back in his closet. He closed his hand around the necklace, and walked across the hall, knocking on the closed door so he could apologize.

Chloe looked up. She was crying, into the tissues in her hand, on her bed. She didn't say anything, just cleaning her face quickly, as quickly as she could, mopping her nose and eyes carefully and taking in a heavy, shaking breath to control herself. She would most certainly not let anyone see her cry... in fact, the only person who had was Shay, the very person on the phone right now. "I have to go." She whispered into it and hung up, before climbing to her feet, straightening her shoulders, and clearing her throat. "You can come in."

Whitney stuck his head in the door. "I just... I want to apologize."

"You don't even know what you're apologizing for. You just don't want me to make your life a living hell." Chloe answered back, tucking long locks out of her eyes and sitting down on the bed again, where Will and Grace was on.

"You'd be surprised." He shuffled the rest of the way in, and held out his hand. "I want to apologize first for what I said about you not wanting the baby. I know you're going to be a great Mom."

She took his hand, because she wasn't angry at him. Just... sad. She didn't say anything, just shrugged. "I know that. I think you have yet to realize it."

He opened his hand as she took it, and let his mother's necklace fall into her hand, without a word. Then, "You'd be surprised," he said again.

She looked down at the lovely, thin gold chain in her hand, and her heart caught as she looked at it. She'd seen this necklace on Whitney's mom's neck more than once, and she gently touched the tiny pendant, her throat bobbing. "Whitney..."

"You're going to be a Mom. You need one of these," he said softly. "I couldn't think of anyone else I'd rather give this to." He closed her hands around it, then picked it up and moved behind her, so he could fasten it at the back of her neck. "It's me on there right now, but as soon as our son's born, I'll get you one for his birth month."

Her throat tightened and she closed her eyes, moving what wasn't up in the bun out of the way, for Whitney's gentle hands. "Whitney… it was your mom's. I can't... I mean.." She looked down at it, quietly, throat tight.

"Yes, you can. Because you're going to be a great Mom, just like she was." His fingers fastened the little clasp at the back of her neck, and let it fall down her chest. "There."

She looked up at him, and took his hand, softly, tugging him down to sit next to her. "I don't want to fight. I don't want you thinking I'm an idiot. I'm not… I can handle my own. I just need you to be here for me, Whitney, and let me be there for you, no matter what."

"I don't want to fight with you either. I just... get overprotective sometimes. And I'm sorry." He brushed his fingers over her cheek, and sighed softly. "I don't mean to yell at you. And I don't think you're an idiot. I just... worry. I worry more than I should, but it's only because I love you so much." His fingers moved to stroke gently through her hair. "And I'm sorry about this weekend too... that's usually not how I react to things, and I just... I'm sorry."

That he said it said a lot about him, and Chloe squeezed his fingers, gently in her hand. "All I wanted to hear is that you loved me. I don't care about the other stuff." She reached up and wrapped her arms around his big neck, holding him close to her body and hugging, tightly. "I know you react better than that, but its too soon after your mom. I understand, baby. I just love you. I don't want you… and Lex... to... you know."

Whitney returned the hug tightly, but carefully. "He kicked my ass, you know."

"I could tell. You're not walking right... I thought he'd either nailed you or fucked you. I'm sensing the former." A wince. "Are you okay?"

"Definitely the former. He was getting the best of me, so I decided to hit him in the knee with my nuts." He grunted. "Fucker's got a sharp knee, for all his boniness." Then he gave a little grin. "I'll be all right, yeah. It's just, lookie no touchie."

She winced, but there was a smile on her lips as she pulled back. "Well...come on. Let's go watch some TV in your room... I'll get you some ice. Swollen?"

"No, no ice. Ice and dick? Not a good match. They're not swelled that much anymore, just... a leeeeeetle on the painful side."

Her dimples deepened, without her being able to help it. "Lex was trained by a Navy SEAL, Whitney, babe. You should have known better than to try him." She rose from her bed, her favorite stuffed puppy in her arms, and took his hand. "Come on. TV, and maybe some ice cream?"

"Lemme guess. Ms. Bird's a SEAL in disguise?" He grunted again as he got up and hugged her close. "TV, ice cream, yeah. That sounds good. Then I'll show you what I've been working on on the computer."

"No... Lionel's chauffer is." Chloe smirked. "You know, that huge blond guy we see skulking around sometimes? That's him. He was a SEAL for like, years, before he retired or something." Her lips quirked again. "Though Ms. Bird could kick your ass in a New York minute. Plus, you know, Whitney, all the scars Lex's got come from something, hun." She grinned up at him and squeezed his waist gently. "Okay, sounds wonderful."

"The fucking driver's a SEAL? Christ. Next thing you'll tell me is that Enrique's a black belt." Then, when she commented about Lex's scars, Whitney stuck his tongue out at her. "Smartass."

"Well? I mean, he's got all these wicked looking scars… you never thought where they might be from?" Her lips twitched, and her eyebrow rose as she reached forward and accepted the stuck out tongue into her mouth, kissing him warmly, but deeply.

"No, I n--mmuph." The rest of his answer was muffled by her kiss, and his hand slid to the small of her back, supporting and rubbing gently as they kissed, his other arm coming around to tug the puppy out of her arm so he could pull her the rest of the way against his chest.

Chloe wrapped her arms around his neck again, up high over his shoulders, to pull him deeper, warmer, her mouth slanting as she pressed in close. This was what kissing between them once was, months ago, before all of their pain started, and she smiled into the deep kiss as she attempted for a breath.

Whitney murmured a little negative noise and breathed in deeply through his nose, and expelled the breath gently into Chloe's mouth so she didn't have to break away, and kept his arms around her tightly.

Chloe swallowed it in one gulp and purred, deeply in her chest, like she were some jungle cat, or worse, Clark. But she didn't care, because she just kept on kissing him, the only hindrance keeping from pressing in tight was the slight lump of her forming belly. She grinned into Whitney's lips again, kissing them once, twice, gently, and sighed quietly.

"Mmmmmm."

Whitney finally let go of her, panting slightly, and rested his forehead against hers. "You're lucky, you know."

"Mmm?" She murmured, nipping at his lips, tracing them with her tongue.

"My crotch is saying some seriously bad things to me for even attempting to think of using them. Otherwise? Doctor's orders or not, we'd be getting closer and clothesless."

Her lips spread even more, eyelids falling softly as her cheeks flushed, and she gently rubbed the hard pebbles on her lovers chest, gently. "Me too. But… as much as I adore you, and want you inside... I'm not ready yet. I even know. I don't think I could handle it, baby." She gently pressed her mouth to his jaw. "We've been abstinent for two months… we can handle another one."

"Yeah, I know we can." He pressed his lips to her temple, letting soft kisses fall there as he tucked the stuffed animal back in her arms.

She smiled up at him, broadly, and took his hand. "Doesn't mean I won't jack you off soon as you heal." She muttered, eyes twinkling as they crossed the hall to Whitney's bedroom.

Whitney just grunted, and gave his lover a very evil look. "One of these days? I'm going to get you back for that." He squeezed her fingers gently and followed her into his bedroom.

 

-fin-

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