A Thirst for Knowledge

Chapter Three


“You broke up with Jimmy.”

Chloe looked up from the papers she was reading to see Clark sliding into the chair next to her. She could already tell that this was one of those Clark talks that was going to grate on her nerves. If he’d had half the mind for strategy that Lex had he would have stopped at the counter and picked up a cup of coffee on his way over so that she could at least try to focus on his generosity as her annoyance began to mount.

She loved Clark. Not only was he a good man, but he’d been her best friend for years. But Chloe had never been blind to his flair for pomposity…well, she hadn’t been blind to it for a long time. When he was at his worst she tried to remember that it wasn’t because he was a jerk. Clark was simply the product of his environment. Small towns often bred small minds. It was one of the reasons that she always felt so out of place despite the years she’d lived there.

On the other hand, Chloe tried to bear in mind that big city living came with a set of irritants all its own – cynicism, brashness, a smart mouth – and Clark probably suffered her silently as often as she suffered him.

“Am I the only person on the planet that didn’t have me and Jimmy halfway down the aisle? Clark, I hadn’t seen Jimmy in years. We met again, under extreme stress, went out a few times and I wasn’t sure that it was working out so I told him I thought we should cool off the dating for a while.”

Which was the truth, but not all of it. The fact is that when Clark was going off to face Zod, Chloe had played out an adolescent fantasy and planted a kiss on Clark the likes of which he’d probably never experienced. But then the world hadn’t had the courtesy to end and she was left with the prospect of major awkwardness between her and her best friend. So she’d done what and rational person would have done – she grabbed the first guy who showed some interested in her and played that they were on the verge of couplehood.

It didn’t speak highly of the brightness of Clark’s bulb that he honestly believed that, in the middle of the epic destruction of Metropolis, she’d stopped to enhance her love life. Honestly, it wasn’t as if relationship concerns had been her main priority up until then, so why on earth was it so easy to believe that she’d set aside her worry for her best friend, her fear for her life, and her belief that the human race was on the brink of enslavement to make a love connection.

But whatever the reasons she had for letting Clark believe that she and Jimmy were an item, she certainly didn’t intend to lead the young photographer on. Jimmy Olson was a truly nice guy and she didn’t want to hurt him. So when she saw that, for him, their casual dates were taking on some deeper significance, she decided that it was only fair to put an end to things before they got out of hand. Years of being emotionally toyed with by someone she’d desperately wanted left her sensitive to the same plight in others. She wouldn’t let Jimmy go through what she had, and so, mercifully in her opinion, she had put an end to things quickly.

“So, this doesn’t have anything to do with Lex?”

Chloe’s brows pulled together as she tried to decipher the meaning behind Clark’s words. Finally realizing that she wasn’t quite sure she’d even want to understand the peculiar way in which his mind worked she decided just to ask what the hell he was talking about.

“Lex? Why would I break up with Jimmy because of Lex?”

Clark shrugged, but there was censure in his gaze as his eyes met hers.

“I know that you talked to him the other day.”

Smallville was…well, small. She’d known that word would reach Clark about her meeting with Lex sooner or later and she’d expected some sort of inquisition on the subject. But this? It was just bizarre.

“You think that I broke up with Jimmy because I had a cup of coffee with Lex? Are you feeling alright, Clark?”

“I just – I don’t know what to think, Chloe. You’ve seen how Lex has been lately. Probably always was and I just never let myself see it. He’s not a good guy and that’s just not going to change. I know that you think so, too, so I don’t understand why you’d bother trying to talk to him.

Chloe, I’ve already lost Lana to him. I can’t loose anyone else.”

Of course. This was about Clark’s sense of loss, and therefore only about her in a roundabout, generic way. Why was she not surprised?

“Wow, Clark. I’m not sure what to say. That was just so much arrogance and stupidity on your part that I’m not sure which to tackle first.”

Clark’s eyes widened with hurt and then his features settled into a knowing expression as if this was exactly what he’d expected after her exposure to Lex’s influence. As if the man were a meteor rock.

“Chloe - ”

“No, Clark. We’re not doing this. Did I have coffee with Lex? Yes. Did I go over to the manor later that evening? Yes.” She ignored the stunned look on her friends face. “Did Lex and I make a deal? Yes. All of which I was planning to talk to you about today before you got all “Whose your daddy”, but in an actual creepy parental way.”

“Chloe - ” Clark tried again.

“Only one of us is going to talk right now, and here’s a hint – It’s not going to be you.”

It was only her growing annoyance that kept Chloe from smiling at the fact that this man – the most powerful being on Earth – could actually be cowed by a girl he could blow clean across the state with one hearty puff in her direction. It was kind of a high.

“Clark, Lex came to me with some information about Lionel that he needed help looking into. I’m not going to go into details right now, but it was some pretty scary stuff, Clark. It had to do with some covert LuthorCorp projects that Lionel was running.

From the information I got, the experiments are still going on, and while I can’t tell whether or not Lionel’s involved, they need to be stopped because people – God, Clark. You can’t even begin to imagine what they’re doing to them.”

Not wanting her next comment to be overheard lest it begin a series of unneeded questions in the minds of the town gossips who often came to gather information at what was one of Smallville’s few hubs of activity.

“Besides, I don’t need to remind you that Lionel knows a lot of things that might not be in everyone’s best interests if the light he’s seen isn’t quite as bright as he’s claiming. After all, even his jailhouse conversion didn’t seem to last past the first real temptation he encountered.”

Clark paused a moment, making sure that it was safe to interject.

“Chloe, I’ve certainly had my doubts about Lionel, but he’s kept my secret for a while now. And when Zod got loose, he helped us, even though it meant that it might mean killing Lex.”

Her eyes rolled as she let out a disgusted hmmph.

“Wow, Lionel willing to let his son die. The only thing that shocks me about that is that he didn’t volunteer to do it himself. It’s not like he hasn’t indulged that particular hobby before.”

“Just what did Lex tell you, Chloe?” Clark asked in mystification. “Look, I know that Lionel has a really bad track record, and I’d be a fool to trust him blindly. But the one thing I’m absolutely sure of is that Lex can’t be trusted at all. He’s done everything he can to hurt me. I know that I’ve had my issues with Lionel, but at least he seems to be making an effort.

You know what it’s been like for me lately. Lionel’s tried to be there in whatever way he can. He’s actually helped, Chloe.”

She did know what Clark’s life had been like recently, and her eyes filled with sympathy for her friend’s devastating loss, but by the time he’d reached the end of his sentence her face had hardened into a cold mask of anger.

“No. No way, Clark. You don’t get to use Lionel’s highly questionable sincerity to judge Lex. You just remember that every kind word, every supportive gesture he gives you are things that he never gave to his son.

He helps you deal with your life difficulties? That’s great Clark, but what about the little boy who lost his mother only to be emotionally brutalized by the man you’re getting all of those warm fuzzies from.

When you met Lex you two became friends because you saw something good in him. Well you know what? He didn’t have fantastic parents to nurture those values. Every decent thing in Lex since his mother died he’s preserved on his own.”

Chloe’s anger was a fearsome thing to behold, and Clark backed slightly away her, unwilling to put his invulnerability to the test.

“Lionel did nothing for his son. And the only thing worse than that is that all of those things he denied Lex, he’s trying to give to you.

At least before, Lex could pretend that Lionel just wasn’t capable of any realistic attempt at parenting. But now he finds out that his father’s more than able to spread around the paternal love; just not in his direction.

You’re so mad that Lex has Lana and you don’t, even though we both know that, whether he took advantage of it or not, she left because she knew there were things you weren’t willing to tell her.

But you have Lex’s father. And that’s through no fault of Lex’s, because he’s being exactly the type of son that Lionel demanded, and you think Lex should just get over it?!”

Chloe let some of her anger on Lex’ behalf drain away as she leaned forward to place her hand over Clark’s on the table.

“Clark, you need to understand that good fortune isn’t the same as good character.

Has your life been the original Wall of Weird? Yep. But that doesn’t make it bad, just different.”

Even though it was a slow day, the Talon was nearly empty, and Chloe, not wanting to be disturbed, had chosen a table tucked far back in a corner, she still glanced around, checking for eavesdropping ears in the vicinity, before she spoke her next, hushed words.

“Clark, an entire planet of people died. But you lived. You had these amazing birth parents that spent the end of their lives ensuring that yours continued. Then you fall out of the sky and into the arms of two of the nicest people that ever existed.

You’re gorgeous, smart, and you have frickin’ superpowers! The only downside of your life is your “secret”, which you’ve decided that you can’t ever share. And, even then, you have people all around you that are ready and willing to help shoulder that burden.”

Having never heard his life in those terms, Clark was slightly stunned and made no move to interrupt as Chloe continued.

“You know that I love you. I’m so glad that you’ve blessed in the ways that you have. Clark, you just haven’t had sufficient bad in your life to judge Lex in this. You can hate him, you can take back your friendship, and you can never talk to him again. But you don’t get to pretend that you understand enough of Lex’s life to say who he should be. And you never get to do so by comparing him unfavorably to Lionel Luthor.”

Chloe stood and leaned over to kiss Clark’s cheek hoping the gentle gesture would calm some of the confusion she could feel radiating from him. There were so many wonderful things about Clark, but this tendency he had towards being overly judgmental certainly wasn’t one of them. Still, she’d spent too much time soothing his feelings to let him think she was angry at him when she was just frustrated by his inability to look beyond how the events in this world affected him.

“I have some errands to run, but I’ll call you tonight. Now tell me you’re worried but that you trust me and maybe I’ll reconsider sticking a certain rock we all know and loathe where the sun don’t shine.”

To his credit, Clark seemed almost shocked that she’d even need to ask.

“Of course I trust you, Chloe. You know that, don’t you?”

Throwing her bag over her shoulder she graced him with a dazzling smile as she turned to go.

“Absolutely. But it’s still good to hear.”

And so Clark watched Chloe leave the Talon, much as Lex had. But where Lex had been filled with an anticipatory excitement, Clark was only swamped by a myriad of questions all centered on a common theme – How could Chloe so misunderstand Lex Luthor, and what he could do to save her from his former friend?

Chapter Four


Chloe groaned and wrapped a hand around the back of her neck, trying to ease away some of the kinks that came with hours of research. One would think that after years of investigating she would be immune to these types of muscle cramps. But in the end all the pain had been worth it.

In front of her sat her first real lead to Dr. Fredrik Vilhelmsdotter and, hopefully, to the remainder of the rogue medical tests being conducted.

In Chloe’s mind, any productive investigation began by learning everything you could about the people, places, and things involved. Knowledge, after all, was power. And it wasn’t just learning the facts; it was that the more you understood about the basics of any situation, the easier it was to spot the lies. And someone was always guaranteed to lie. Being able to point out the falsehood was the key to unraveling any cover up.

She wished she could attribute that lesson to the great Nellie Bly, but she had to give Scooby his due. She’d learned a lot watching the perpetually hungry pooch unmask ghosts. She’d also learned that she could get Clark and Pete to do almost anything if she carried around snacks in her purse. She owed that dog a lot.

So she’d started by creating a standard profile of the man. Unfortunately, there was little to no information available. Much of that seemed to be due to his parent’s immigration to Germany a few years before the start of World War II. In the chaos of war and then the division and rebuilding of so much of Europe, the whereabouts and activities of individuals were often lost in a way that didn’t quite happen since the advent of credit cards and the internet.

So, aside from his early years in Sweden, there was almost nothing until his collegiate studies began in France. But what had been lacking in his earlier years was more than made up for by his time in the halls of higher learning.

Considered a visionary by all who crossed his path, Vilhelmsdotter seemed destined to be regarded with great names such as Pasteur, Curie, and Nobel. His work with genetics and cell manipulation, even as a student, laid the foundation for many of the breakthroughs that followed in the field in later years. He graduated valedictorian and was offered countless positions at hospitals and research centers all over the world.

And just when it seemed that her job would be simple from that point on, nothing. Zippo. Zilch. It was as if he’d just disappeared from the face of the Earth.

But Chloe wasn’t easily deterred. Or so many people had told her…in loud and excessively whiny voices.

So, she momentarily left off investigating the Invisible Man, and began tracking down his friends. And Dr. Vilhelmsdotter had been awfully accommodating by having just the one. Geez, why wasn’t it surprising that the man who preyed upon the fears and desperation of the grievously ill wouldn’t be mister popularity?

Dr. Alain Savard; the sole friend to Fredrik Vilhelmsdotter throughout their college days. It had appeared at first that this lead went no further than the others, as Savard seemed just as baffled as his colleagues at Vilhelmsdotter’s disappearance. But she’d learned over the years to follow every lead ‘til its conclusion whether it seemed as if it would be productive or not. The wisdom of that philosophy was borne out when she came across a small article from April, 2003.

Buried in the back of the business section, it was nothing major; a small fire at a research laboratory. Although the fire department was quick to douse the blaze, the building was evacuated due to the unknown nature of the chemicals inside.

The story wasn’t particularly newsworthy, and if it hadn’t been for two facts it probably wouldn’t have merited any mention at all, even as filler. One, the laboratory was owned by ACH Industries, a multinational company rumored to be on the brink of a new procedure for accelerated cell production. Two, a freelance photographer had happened to be passing the lab on his way home and had snapped some eye-catching pictures of the fire which immediately earned it a place, no matter how obscure, in the paper.

But neither of those things were what had made it noteworthy to Chloe. What had given the article importance to her investigation were two of the building’s evacuees who had been captured on film watching the fireman extinguish the flames.

Doctors Vilhelmsdotter and Savard.

It was quite a find because it was the first sighting of the man outside of those that Lex’s people had been able document near the sites of projects that they were attempting to close. Even more important, was that it gave her the only concrete proof that Dr. Vilhelmsdotter existed as more than just one of LuthorCorps shadow employees.

But what had her practically dancing in her seat was that the home of Dr. Savard was none other than her favorite bustling, urban hub - Metropolis. Which meant that, within a matter of hours, she could be busy making with the ambushing and the interrogating. If she could just add some sneaking around to her list she might float away on a sea of delight.

Of course her little bubble of reporter glee popped when she realized that this officially constituted having information, and that, if she wanted Lex to be up front with her then she knew that she’d better do the same. Not that she really thought that Lex would be completely straight with her. But at least this way she could claim the moral high ground and hold it over his head when she discovered his inevitable transgression.

With a sigh of resignation she flipped open her cell phone and consoled herself with the small thrill of finally using the number she’d worked so hard to obtain.

Chapter Five A


“Why did I have to bring you along again?”

Lex shot Chloe a look of exasperation before returning his attention to the road.

“Technically, this is my car and so you’re actually accompanying me.”

“Well, technically Lex, you’re being an ass. Just because you’re playing Jeeves for the evening doesn’t mean you get to horn in on my lead.”

When Chloe had called him earlier, Lex had actually been glad for the distraction. While he enjoyed the thrill of the hunt that business provided at the level on which LuthorCorp played, the sheer amount of time and attention demanded could be wearing. And, even though these interactions with Chloe were, in their own way, an effort, he had to admit that she was certainly a pleasant change from the fawning sycophants and corporate vultures he dealt with every day.

If there was one thing that you could count on with Chloe it was that she’d speak her mind. Often to her detriment. He’d long suspected that was part of what kept her on Lionel’s radar, even now. Her blunt honesty would be as intriguing to his father as it was to him for all the same reasons. Probably more so since the man seemed psychologically incapable of uttering the truth.

Of course, it was a trait that she shared with Clark and Lana. But in the hands of her friends, brutal honesty became a weapon that they used when they were angry; calling up a litany of past wrongs and using them to bludgeon those with whom that they apparently felt quite magnanimous for suffering so long. Whereas with Chloe it was simply a natural state of being and, as such, although it could be both infuriating and inconvenient, it lacked any real malice.

“And here I’ve been laboring under the delusion that we had formed a partnership in this matter.”

Carefree laughter filled the car and Lex felt himself hard pressed not to smile at the happy sound.

“Lex, you make us sound like some sort of Fortune 500 business merger. You need to loosen up. If I wanted to investigate with a muddy stick I’d have called Clark.”

The urge to smile fled and he didn’t even try to resist the desire to scowl. While it was true that he had been setting general parameters and guidelines for the coming interview, Lex didn’t believe that made him some sort of wet blanket. And it certainly didn’t merit the comparison to Clark. He was simply being prudent. The first rule of business was ‘careful preparation before confrontation’…Well, actually, the first rule was ‘Do unto others before they could do unto you’; but that saying always made him seem like a dick, so he had adopted the more moderate credo and then let his actions speak to his true philosophy.

“This isn’t world domination, you know; you don’t need to over think it. We go in, confront the doctor, and grill him ‘til he cracks. Easy as pie.”

Chloe paused for a moment and Lex could almost hear the thoughts whirling through her head.

“Of course,” she finally continued, “it’ll have to be bad cop/bad cop. ‘Cause I refuse to play the good cop again and well, really, who’d believe good cop coming from you?”

“Are you casting aspersions on my character, Ms. Sullivan?”

“I’m casting light upon your character, Mr. Luthor. There’s a difference.” Her eye slid sideways to meet his and a teasing smile danced on her lips. “Besides, we both know that you’d be upset to be thought of as anything less than a bastard. After all, you spend so much time trying to convince people of your nefarious nature that it would be rude of me to spoil the illusion.”

The sentiment, although humorously intended, disturbed Lex. It wasn’t that he entertained any latent regret for his manipulation of her. And it wasn’t because she seemed to hold some Lana-like belief that his harsh exterior was hiding unplumbed depths of inherent goodness. No, this was different.

What bothered Lex about Chloe’s observation was that she appeared to perceive him, not as a gentle soul, lost in the darkness and longing for the light, but as a carefully crafted façade of ruthlessness concealing weakness. A state he feared closer to the truth than he cared to admit.

And for the first time since this subterfuge began, he felt slightly uneasy about the outcome.

Chapter Five B


Dr. Savard’s residence was a large, yet unassuming house in an upper class suburb of Metropolis. Although Chloe knew that he could have afforded a much grander dwelling in one of the city’s elite gated communities, what she’d learned of the man indicated that he was nearly obsessed with keeping a low profile. A fact that would seem a hindrance for a reporter, but could often be turned to great advantage depending on what secrets one held as leverage.



The majestic tone of the doorbell echoed through the home, fading slowly to be replaced by the steady beat of feet heading towards them. She wondered briefly if Dr. Savard was the type of man to look through the peephole before opening the door. If so, she would have paid good money to have known what thoughts might race through his mind at the sight of Lex Luthor and guest waiting patiently for entry.

Well, at least Lex was waiting patiently. Chloe was experiencing the sudden surge of adrenalin that preceded her every major foray into the investigative arena. She was the first to admit that she a mystery addict. She just wasn’t willing to admit it to anyone else. Lord knew that she loved her friends, but they weren’t always the most tolerant of folk. If they thought, for a minute, that they could stifle her nosiness with an intervention she’d find herself locked in a room with her dad, Lana, Clark and a library full of twelve-step literature.

Although she had a feeling that Lex would understand. In the days before Lionel’s trial she’d seen him in various stages of many a business negotiation, and she’d been able to recognize the same rush in him when his deal was coming together that she got when she found a hot lead to chase. It was one of the things that had always made Lex seem somewhat of a kindred spirit and she had, in those trying and uncertain months, wondered what would have happened if Lex had been just another normal Smallvillian…and wasn’t that quite the oxymoron.

Of course, she had never once considered what things would have been like had she been a trust fund baby. Sure, at one time, she would have like have known Lex better, but she hardly thought that both of them being pompous blowhards would have achieved that goal.

But all thoughts of friendships, realized or potential, fled as the door opened and Chloe became one hundred and ten percent reporter. And with the critical eye that accompanied that mindset, she took in Dr. Savard.

With an unruly mop of salt and pepper hair, large, thick glasses that did nothing to disguise his intelligent eyes, and an obviously hand carved, rustic looking cane, the French septuagenarian before her stood bare inches taller than herself and was, in every stereotypical way that TV had been gracious enough to teach her, the quintessential little old man.

And Chloe hated him.

She didn’t really. After all, hating a man who looked as if he was about to whip out a butterscotch candy and ruffle her hair at any moment didn’t quite seem possible, even given her cynical bent. But she certainly wasn’t happy with him, because there was no way she was going to be able to break out bad cop on a man who, she had a sneaking suspicion, made cookies in a hollow tree in his spare time.

“Mr. Luthor. I have to admit that I wouldn’t have thought to find you on my doorstep this evening. Would you and your lovely companion come inside?”

“Thank you, Dr Savard.”

Lex gestured for Chloe to enter and they followed the doctor through the antique-laden foyer, down a short hall and into what was clearly the man’s study. Large wood panels covered the walls and heavy furniture dominated the space in a way that might have made the room claustrophobic if it hadn’t been rescued by the sheer fascination engendered by a myriad of eclectic possessions that were clearly the fruits of a lifetime spent in the pursuit of knowledge and were endearingly crammed into every nook and cranny of free space, as opposed to catalogued and filed.

As soon as they’d settled themselves into the supple leather chairs in front of the heavy mahogany desk, Dr. Savard moved back towards the door.

“Shall I ask Myra to bring us some coffee?”

Chloe’s smile was a beautiful thing and her head had begun nodding her approval of the plan before it had been fully expressed. After hours stuck in a car with Lex “do you have to do that?” Luthor, coffee didn’t sound appealing, it sounded essential.

“Thank you, Dr. Savard. Some coffee would be perfect.”

Glancing around the room curiously she caught Lex’s growing smirk from the corner of her eye.

“What?”

“Was that the ‘confronting’ or the ‘grilling him ‘til he cracks’, oh bad cop?”

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up. If you ask me you should be down on your knees, kissing that man’s feet in gratitude. Do you really want to spend the entire ride back to Smallville with Cranky Chloe?”

“And I’d be able to differentiate the two of you, how?”

Chloe choked back any acerbic queries concerning the possibility of canine DNA somewhere in his ancestry and smiled as their host returned with a silver serving set and three fortuitously large mugs. After a few moments sorting out everyone’s coffee, the doctor circled the desk, settling into his chair and surveying the couple before him.

Lex had never been one for impatience, having long learned that control did not lie in acting with speed but with strength. As such, he felt neither pressured by the man’s expectant gaze nor compelled to respond. More than that was the importance to his plan that Chloe feel as if she were in control of the inquiry.

It had been tempting, at first, to leave clues strewn across the landscape of her investigation. However, as he’d reminded himself repeatedly, at every stage of development, Chloe was not Lana and she was not Clark. The lack of external focus that would not just allow, but indeed demand, signs near neon in nature before her friends would know which path to follow was not present in Chloe, and that tactic would have been a substantial error in his attempt to steer her movements in this matter. Insulting Chloe’s intellect was not a pastime in which even a Luthor could afford to engage.

“Dr. Savard; my name is Chloe Sullivan and obviously you recognize Mr. Luthor. I was planning to begin by apologizing for dropping by without notice, but it doesn’t really seem that our visit is unexpected. I have to say that I find that fairly odd since we didn’t know we were coming here until a few hours ago.”

With a small smile the doctor set down his cup and reached up to stop the downward slide of his glasses, righting them with his index finger in a fluid gesture that spoke of years of repetition. Chloe briefly wondered if the man had ever considered alternative eye wear, but judging by the size of his lenses, were he ever to convert to contacts he wouldn’t be able to close his eyes.

“I can honestly say that I had no idea that I’d be receiving guests this evening Miss Sullivan. However, Mr. Luthor’s visit, although unexpected, isn’t inexplicable in light of a phone call I received Tuesday night from Fredrik.”

While Lex was too much the Luthor to give the small start of surprise that Chloe did, he could not deny the feeling. And a hated feeling it was.

After the death of his mother, surprises had lost their luster, consisting primarily of either deliberate or unintentional betrayals. Even on the rare occasion that they were pleasant, Lex enjoyed nothing more than complete control, and so even the happiest of revelations left a bitter taste as they were mere testaments to his ignorance. He knew it wasn’t a necessarily pleasant life, but the times that life had caught him off guard had been so much worse. At least with this outlook, when he ended up paranoid and alone it would be in a Scottish castle or a Metropolis penthouse and not on some god-forsaken island.

“Fredrik Vilhelmsdotter?” Chloe’s voice broke into Lex’s morose musings.

“Yes, Miss Sullivan. While there were many things in Fredrik’s life to which I was not privy, I was aware that he had a working relationship with LuthorCorp that could be most prudently described as not entirely above board.”

Chloe made a small snort at the vast understatement and, far from being insulted, the elderly man smiled indulgently at the sound and continued.

“I am a scientist, after all, and so I must examine the facts.

First, there is the recent power restructuring in your company involving your father and yourself, Mr. Luthor. This would most likely include your having greater access to projects which your father no doubt went out of his way to conceal, even from his own son.

Second is the fact that I have not seen nor heard from Fredrik for over three years. Then, out of the blue, he calls me two nights ago.

And lastly, aside from minor research funding from some of LuthorCorp’s public relations minded, philanthropic endeavors over the years, I have no connection to the Luthors either personally or professionally; so I am left with the most credible hypothesis for your visit being the one commonality between us – Fredrik Vilhelmsdotter.

Unless, of course, the Luthor's have acquired the Girl Scouts and you are here to interest me in some cookies, in which case I will order two boxes and ask you to disregard any references to my old friend.”

Some days Chloe couldn’t wait to get old. On her snarkiness was considered ‘attitude’, while on the elderly it was viewed as an inalienable right.

“Well, as cute as I think Lex would look in a green jumper, your original guess was correct. We’re here about Dr. Vilhelmsdotter.”

Dr. Savard leaned back in his chair and nodded in understanding.

“Pity; I find their Thin Mints to be rather addicting.”

“Well, if you can answer some of our questions maybe I can arrange to keep that information out of the hands of those unscrupulously cute cookie hawkers.”

“Miss Sullivan, now that you know my weakness I have little recourse but to throw myself on your mercy and offer up whatever information I possess.”

Chloe’s face retained her pleasant, teasing expression, but her eyes cut into the man before her, stripping away age and charm and leaving only truth and lies visible. The piercing look was somewhat disconcerting to both men, but before either could find a way to distract her the intensity left her gaze and her face conveyed nothing more than a congenial intent to gather information.

“You’ve referred to Dr. Vilhelmsdotter as a friend, and yet you’ve been very cooperative with us even though you must know that if we’re here to question you about him it’s because he’s taken measures to avoid our more direct attempts at contact. Therefore, you either plan to lie to us or you have no knowledge which would cause the man harm. I’m suspecting that it’s the latter.”

Savard nodded his head in acknowledgment.

“Your logic is sound and your guess quite correct. But be careful in your reasoning, Miss Sullivan; few things in life are a dichotomy.”

“Duly noted, Dr. Savard. So, if there's nothing damaging to relate, would you mind sharing the details of your last contact with Dr. Vilhelmsdotter with us?”

As she was speaking, Chloe pulled a small tape recorder from her purse. Generally, in these types of cases, she either didn’t use recording devices because of the safety issues involved should they be discovered were she to use them secretly, or due to the inhibitions they often generated in the guilty if she were overt about their use. However, she believed the man before her when he said he knew nothing important… well, she believed that he believed it. And since it was unlikely to have any effect on his story, she might as well get an accurate record of it in case he knew more than he thought.

“Of course. On Tuesday evening – I believe it was around seven – I received a phone call from Fredrik.

Miss Sullivan, I have considered Fredrik a friend for more years than I care to count; but nearly five years ago we had a falling out as I was made aware of the details of a project on which he was working. I’ll spare us all a recitation of those facts as I assume that you wouldn’t be here now if you were not acutely aware of the manner of research in which he was involved.”

Chloe nodded her head. She knew how difficult it had been for her to read about Vilhelmsdotter’s work. She could only imagine how much worse it would be to learn something like that about a friend. There was nothing to be gained by putting any of them through a recap.

“I didn’t see or speak with Fredrik for the next two years. Then, one night, he arrived at the lab I was overseeing.”

“The night of the fire.”

A small, ironic smile curved his lips at Chloe’s interjection.

“All the money and influence expended on making a man disappear undone by coincidence and a free press. Power comes in many forms, Miss Sullivan; I hope that you maintain a healthy respect for that which you , as a reporter, wield.”

Now it was Chloe’s mouth that tilted upwards, although her expression was far more rueful than contemplative.

“Believe me, Dr. Savard. I’ve had those lessons burned onto my soul.”

“Yes,” he said, reading the sadness in her eyes, “I believe that you have. Unfortunately Fredrik hadn’t.

It was clear that the choices he had made were catching up with him and he was expecting some kind of repercussions. I begged him to abandon his work and let me help him.”

A heavy sigh escaped the man as he took in a far off memory.

“He wore his fanaticism like a cloak. It wasn’t simply that he didn’t want to be saved. No, by that point my friend was so lost he no longer believed that the need for rescue even existed.

Our argument was halted by the fire. After the evacuation Fredrik asked me to accompany him to his car. When we arrived he took a package out of his trunk and handed it to me. He told me that his life had taken on a certain instability and asked if I would safeguard the parcel until he was in a position to retrieve it from me. I gave him my word, and my promise finally came to an end with that phone call. No real pleasantries were exchanged, no questions asked or answered. Fredrik simply informed me that he would be sending someone to retrieve his belongings the following day, thanked me for keeping them safe, and wished both myself and Myra the best. I’d be a fool to have taken it as anything other than goodbye.”

It was clear that the doctor was conflicted, and Chloe could feel both relief and regret coming from the man in regards to the ending of such a long, and at one point, obviously treasured friendship.

“Do you have any idea what was in the package?”

The melancholy faded as Savard laughed in surprise.

“Of course I know what was in the package. I’ve lived nearly four times as long as you, young lady. Do you think I could have done so by agreeing to house mysterious boxes for people clearly teetering on the cusp of reason?

Don’t worry. There was nothing of a dastardly nature in my care. Fredrik merely entrusted me with the last of his family possessions – His parent’s wedding pictures, a letter his father had written to him, his sister’s diary.”

“Wow. A sentimental monster. The files never show you that, huh?”

A gentle smile shaped the doctor’s face. It was an expression that spoke, in lines and wrinkles, of a lifetime of experiences; some good, some bad, but all lessons learned. It was the look of someone who feels that they might just know something you don’t, and yet there was no condescension in the kind gaze.

“There are no such things as monsters, Miss Sullivan; and you’re deceiving yourself if you believe that naming a man such has more to do with vilifying him than it does with than with us, as a society, protecting our concept of self.

To identify a man as evil removes him from humanity; makes of him a unique species, distant from us, of which a few hundred might be bred in a century.

But these monsters you speak of don’t exist; no boogeyman lingering in your closet or hiding under your bed. Even the worst of people are, at the heart of it all, simply people.”

Turning slightly, Savard reached out and plucked a small frame from amidst a sea of pictures adorning a low hanging shelf. Leaning forward he passed the image to Chloe who instantly recognized the doctor before her and the one in question despite the fact that it had been captured at least fifty years before.

“When I met Fredrik he was full of endless promise with a drive to succeed the likes of which I’d never seen before or since. While he would never have been considered a monster then, neither would I have attempted to assign any undue sentimentality to the young man. Until one night midway through our second year of University.

There was nothing particularly remarkable about the day. The classes had been difficult, the pace furious, but so it had been in all of our school days up to that point, so I saw no deviance in the given pattern of our existence to explain why I should return to my room to find my exceedingly intoxicated best friend all but passed out in front of my door.

What could I do except what any other would have in my place – take him inside to tend to him while prying from him his reasons for the uncharacteristic excess before he had enough sobriety about him to craft a credible lie.

What I learned next created a burden not halved by sharing, but doubled by laying heavily on two hearts.”

As she watched, Dr. Savard’s eyes took on a distant quality that put him decades beyond their reach, and a shiver slid down Chloe’s spine and she had the distinct impression that any disclosure about to made would no more lighten his encumbrance than it had his friend’s all those years ago.

“At first it was just a name. Linnea.”

Chloe recognized the name of Vilhelmsdotter’s sister.

“It took about half an hour before he was sober enough to make sense but still drunk enough to talk. I asked him who Linnea was. He told me that she was his sister.

Never before had I heard Fredrik speak of his family; but then, we had all been children of the war. Few people had been completely spared the reaper’s touch, and inquiries as to the well being of family and friends were not the safe haven of small talk that they are here, today.

Despite that, I still felt compelled to explore this hidden part of my friend’s life. I admit that I would have pursued the matter, but before I could form my first question the man before me seemed to fracture and his pain poured forth from the now visible cracks in his soul.

He’d been born in Sweden. His family had lived in where his father taught at the Uppsala University . He laughed softly as he told me that he was the younger of two children, then explained his humor by revealing that he was a twin. His smile dissolved as he spoke of the girl.

Strong and courageous. They seemed odd words to describe a young girl, especially one not even an hour older than himself. However, as his story continued I, too, began to picture the girl less in terms of a feminine, pig-tailed version of my friend, and more as a dauntless spirit, a haven of security in the turbulent times unfolding.

At the age of three the family left Sweden as his father had accepted a position as Deputy Chair of the Philosophy Department of the University of Heidelberg. It was to prove a grievous error.

The Vilhelmsdotters were academics and revered the free exchange of ideas that they believed to be the only true path to knowledge. With World War II within two years of eruption, this was not a value openly embraced under Hitler’s rule.

In 1939, when war finally did fall upon the land, the Vilhelmsdotters fled to France and the hope of escaping the oppressive influence of the Nazi regime. Sadly, we know that their hopes were to prove in vain.”

The doctor’s hand shook as he paused for a moment and reached past his coffee to grasp a glass of amber liquid that must have been poured before they arrived. After a rather large drink, he continued.

“His voice was a symphony of grief and pride as he spoke of his parents. Years ahead of their time, they considered themselves citizens of the world rather than slaves of a single nationality; and as the plague of war showed nothing but an increase of momentum, they displayed the courage of their conventions and joined the French Resistance.

The drive to be free is among the most basic of mankind’s. As such, there are no inhabitants of an occupied territory that do not have secrets, as they struggle, often silently, to throw off the chains of tyranny. This had an even greater degree of truth in France, where so much of the war was waged covertly. Hearing Fredrik's recollections brought that feeling back to me in an instant as he, even a decade later, spoke in a hushed whisper about those years; as if the SS were, at any moment, going to burst in and seize us.

Although I could not see his face, I could see his struggle not to weep. His shoulders shuddered under the heaviness of his sorrow and his words took on the texture only tears can give.

For the next two hours, like Michelangelo with an unadorned cathedral, he painted for me the picture of his life in those years. He told of his parent’s deepening involvement in the movement. Of how, in order to be effective, they had to maintain a pretense of normalcy that precluded them actually having any. But mostly he spoke of his sister, who took on the mantle of adulthood years too early to allow him whatever small remnants of childhood could be salvaged from the grasping jaws of war.

His words were, in turn, colored by the ravages of clandestine battles or filled with the love and strength that true family brings, even in adversity. But no matter the subject, lying beneath the surface of each memory was a cresting wave of tragedy that had me caught tight between longing to comfort my friend and fleeing his presence before hearing of the misery that had led him to his current state.”

Chloe could certainly sympathize with a sense of impending doom. She was fast developing one herself.

“It had been a decade to the day, he’d told me. He remembered everything from the clothes he was wearing to the song his sister was singing as the played in front of the fire. His parents, always calm and composed to avoid unwanted attention, had rushed into the house. He’d known then that something was wrong.

With a few terse words they’d sent the nanny out the back way to warn the others that they had been compromised and began hustling Fredrik and his sister into the kitchen. Many Resistance members had small hiding spaces concealed in their homes for themselves, their families, or other freedom fighters. The Vilhelmsdotters were no different and there was a small hollow beneath the floorboards of their kitchen. Moving a wooden seating bench to the side, his parents opened cleverly hidden door and pushed the children through. It wasn’t until they heard the bench being pushed back into place that they understood that their parents were not planning on hiding with them.

Of course, as an adult he understood that there was no escaping at that point and if they’d all tried to run together then his parents would have had little choice but to talk as the Nazis were not above using the well being of loved ones as leverage for information. But as a small boy, locked in a dark hole with his sister, rational thoughts such as those were miles away. Through a small crack between the boards four little eyes watched as their parents nearly made it out of the room before it was overrun with shouting men in black uniforms.

He looked up at me for a moment with horror darkened eyes and told me that that was the first time that night that Linnea saved his life. When he’d seen his parents grabbed his first thought had been to call to them. Before the words could fly from his lips his sister’s hand was pressed tight against his mouth.

And then the interrogation began.

He said that it went on for hours upon hours. I had wondered how accurate that piece of his recollection was given one’s perception of time, especially a child’s, in a crisis; but as he continued I realized that it didn’t matter. Reality is often defined by our senses, and whether those events lasted seconds or days, the way in which he discerned them at the time would always be what characterized it in his mind.

When his parents refused to answer questions regarding the Resistance the beatings started. His father’s face was nearly unrecognizable when his sister finally pulled him around and buried his face in the crook of her neck. He told me that he hadn’t even been aware that he was flinching at the sound of every blow until Linnea’s hands ran through his hair and came to rest securely over his ears.

It was those hands gently moving to stroke down his back that let him know the ordeal was over just as the hatch was lifted and the faces of three men with whom his parent’s had worked stared down at them. Although he was shocked to see them, Linnea was not. And at that moment Fredrik realized two things that I could see still broke his heart a decade after the fact – If she wasn’t shocked by their arrival she must have been keeping watch through the slit in the flooring the entire time, and that if her hands had been covering his ears then none had been covering hers.

They were rushed out of the house quickly, both to elude detection and to spare them the sight of their parent’s broken bodies. Clinging to each other and still too deep in shock for tears, they finally arrived at what he assumed to be a safe house given the group of people gathered there.

Fredrik had had no fears that they would be abandoned. People engaging in rebellion tended to expect the worst and plan accordingly, so he’d been fine letting the adults carry through with their plans. Until he’d heard them begin to discuss where to transport him and where to send his sister.

He said that the following minutes were a blur, but when he finally felt himself, once again, in the safety of his sister’s embrace, he’d calmed enough to see that he’d overturned half the furniture in the room. As he looked into his sister’s face he realized that, for once, she was as worried as he. He knew, with the intuitiveness that comes with spending every moment of you life with another, that she wasn’t worried only about what would happen to him when she wasn’t with him, but what would happen to her.

I asked how he knew and he told me that he could see it in her eyes- the fear that without him to be strong for she’d crumble away to nothing.

But before he could get all the words out – to tell her how brave she was; to tell her how she’d saved him so many times, and not just that night; to tell her that he was simply the beneficiary of her strength, and not it’s creator – she gently kissed his cheek and told him that distance didn’t matter; the same love that would keep their parents in their hearts would bring them back together before they had time to realize they were apart.

The sobs he’d been fighting broke loose as he told me that he’d lost a mother for the second time that day.

That was the last time he ever saw Linnea.

The war ended a year later, but Fredrik had been sent to England while his sister, he’d eventually learned, had been sent to Switzerland. While America had escaped relatively unscathed, much of Europe was in chaos as countries recovered and the displaced made their way back to their old homes or settled in new ones. Families were often separated for years, sometimes indefinitely. For an eleven year old boy, the odds of success were disheartening.

Having exhausted all the leads he could follow from his home, Fredrik, at fourteen, set out to find her. He spoke fondly of his foster family, saying that they gave him all the funds that they could spare to facilitate the journey.

He was quiet for a few minutes as if relieving his travels in his mind. Wherever his search had taken him he never shared with me and the next words he spoke were of its conclusion.

It was two years before he found her. She’d been laid to rest in Bois-de-Vaux Cemetery. Apparently cancer had taken her the year before. At sixteen he was alone in the world; no family, no home, and, as he gazed at his sister’s grave, no purpose.

From that day forward, he said, he had devoted himself to science. The passion in his dedication animated him in a way that I’d never before seen and I suspected that the constant battle he waged with the arbitrary fate of genetics kept his sister close to him.

The next day Fredrik awoke sober and we never talked of that night; but from then on I understood the soil which nurtured what was to become an obsession.”

But for the crackling of the fire, the room was silent. Although, up to this point, Lex had been satisfied letting Chloe guide the dialogue, he could see that she was caught up in processing what they’d learned; assimilating it with what they’d already known of Dr. Vilhelmsdotter and generating a new, improved profile of the man, and so he chose to break the silence.

“As touching as that story was, is it supposed to make what the man has done any better?”

Chloe was a sensible woman; practical and level headed. However, Lex was also aware of her large heart and seemingly boundless capacity for caring. For his plans to come to fruition he needed her to keep her laser-like focus on finding Vilhelmsdotter, and not to allow the distractions that could grow in tandem with a swell of sympathy. So before the evening could move in that direction he asked the question that would, hopefully, reinforce the doctor’s villainy.

“Of course no, Mr. Luthor.” Came Savard’s surprising reply. “It makes what he’s done a hundred times worse. Although the mere word ‘victim’ implies a lack of culpability on one’s part, the unfortunate state does not come without an inherent duty. Once one is victimized, it becomes their responsibility never to make a victim of another. We don’t blame a child for breaking a rule of which he is unaware, but as a consciousness of the right grows, so too do our expectations of the youth's behavior. Awareness necessitates accountability. Fredrik knows the suffering that rampant abuse of power causes; thus he is in even greater error than those who transgress with no personal familiarity with the consequences of their actions.”

“So if the point of this stroll down another man’s memory lane wasn’t to garner sympathy for a friend, what was its purpose?”

Lex made a living out of reading people, but at this moment he was at a loss as to what wheels were spinning in the mind of the man across from him.

“This small history lesson was not to absolve Fredrik, nor was it to make of him a wounded hero. Evil and divinity are the bastions of theology, and not a luxury that man can afford. Sympathy and loathing aside, Fredrik Vilhelmsdotter was not a demon, not a monster, but a man. Like every one of us he lived and loved and lost. And although we may never use our pain a justification for harm, the potential lies in all of us.

All of our attempts to believe otherwise, to distance ourselves from these people, don’t protect us. Indeed, they endanger us all as they ensure that, once again, we will be blind to their rise to power.”

The doctor leaned forward as if to physically propel his words into their psyches.

“We convince ourselves, so deeply, that we could never bear any resemblance to these people that we’re often oblivious to the first steps we might be taking on the very path they traveled into darkness.

Do you think that, overnight, Hitler gained power? That, in an instant Pol Pot was granted the reigns of control?

No. These men were allowed to amass their power by the people. People with normal lives; common hopes and fears. And why would they do so? Because they believed that men and monsters were different.

There are no wolves in sheep’s clothing. Just homicidal sheep.”


Chapter Six


The ride home had passed largely in silence as the car’s occupants considered the events of the evening.

Chloe snuck another glance at Lex out of the corner of her eye. She’d been doing it for a while now as she pondered what was going through his mind at that moment.

She couldn’t help but wonder if he’d noticed how much of the doctor’s words could be applied to his life. Despite Lex’s nearly compulsive need for control, he had an incongruent belief in destiny. And Chloe was pretty sure that he didn’t picture it as ‘happily ever after’… or even happily ever.

She knew that, in his time in Smallville, Lex had often tried so hard to be good because he was honestly afraid that he might be incapable of acting without corrupt intentions. It wasn’t true. She’d seen proof of it many times. But in some things, Lex could be as much an absolutist as Clark.

But Dr. Savard’s words had rung true in many ways. The potential for evil was in all people. But the only way that evil was discernible was because of the existence of good. Therefore goodness lived in everyone, too. Maybe some people indulged in one more than the other, or even one almost exclusively, but indulgence was a choice.

She had a feeling that the time for Lex to choose, not good or evil, but whether to believe in his equal potential for both, was fast approaching. With his staggering intellect, steely determination, and near limitless resources, she could only hope, for all of their sakes, that he chose wisely.

For what felt like the millionth time that night she’d wondered why the world just couldn’t be black and white.

Although he gave no indication of noticing, Lex couldn’t help but be aware of Chloe’s scrutiny. The night had given both of them a great deal of information of all kinds. Savard had had a lot to say, and not just about Vilhelmsdotter.

He was curious to see if Chloe actually had the good sense to relate any of the man’s words to her life. As with any forceful personalities sharing the same space, they’d often clashed. But that didn’t mean that he disliked her. Quite the contrary. Lex regarded her with something that he rarely afforded the women in his life – a healthy does of respect.

Chloe managed a balance that few people of his acquaintance seldom attained; a blending of warrior and nurturer that struck a cord with nearly everyone she met. For God’s sake, the girl had even extended sanctuary to her rival for Clark’s affections. And it was that part of her that concerned him.

Tenderness was all well and good, but in the situations into which Chloe hurled herself on a regular basis, that particular emotional mindset could be a fatal weakness. Her downfall would never be the circumstances themselves, but her tendency to offer trust to people not worthy of such a gift. People like him.

Maybe the doctor’s words would penetrate and she’d finally begin to see that in every good person was a seed of malevolence simply waiting for the chance to bloom. Self-preservation was man’s most basic instinct and it was that intrinsic selfishness that was a person’s natural state that would, in the end, govern the truly critical moments of one’s life.

This need of Chloe’s to assume that people would consistently work against their nature troubled him. She’d chosen the wrong career, the wrong home, and definitely the wrong people with whom to associate to be able to survive that kind of naiveté.

Not for the first time, Lex wished that heroes and villains were compelled to adhere to the fanciful black and white chapeaued dress code.

“You know,” Chloe muttered as weariness settled upon her, “no matter what Dr. Savard says, it’s hard to find the humanity in Hitler.”

“Maybe,” Lex replied, feeling the tiredness invade him, also, “he was warning you to unearth the malice in Ghandi.”

Silence descended once more until Chloe had finally had enough of philosophical introspection.

“Moral ambiguity sucks.”

Lex chuckled at the shared sentiment.

“Welcome to my world.”

tbc…