Smallville's broodier bits and musings

Fanfiction

2005-07-30T23:59:00.000-07:00

Table of Contents

Recent Additions:

July 4, 2005 Emergencies: Lingering Emergencies

Do you love me? and Like Humans Do. have been reloaded.

June 25, 2005 Emergencies: Check-ins

June 23, 2005 Inner Demons chapters: 41 - Recognition & 42 - Manipulations and a new series- Emergencies: For Emergencies Only.

Vids

Do You Love Me? (Vid, #2)

Like Humans Do (My first)

Inner Demons: In this 40 chapter WIP Lex gets all the clues and still gets lead astray when Clark needs him most.

Emergencies: (NEW) There are a number of ways Lex could have learned that Clark loved him, but this was the Least Expected. For on-going updates of Emergencies, feel check my livejournal (updated daily).

The chapters posted on live journal will be collected and posted to the series here and on the SSA as soon as they accumulate enough material to be called sequels.

For Emergencies Only

Genre: PG 13, Drama.
Summary: When Clark is forced run, he discovers that Lex has more
unexpected resources set aside for emergencies.

Check In's

Genre: Pg-13 for Language, Drabbles

Summary: Bruce has some concerns about hosting Clark.

Lingering Emergencies

Rating: PG 13 , sequel to For Emergencies Only

Summary: Accumulated chapters: 911, First Responders, Ground Zero, Evac

In Lex's Favor: The following series from Observations to DT's reflect an AU where Lex gets everything he wants in the end.

Observations series:

Special Occasions
Genre: PG-13, Drama Drabble, Angst, fears and comfort.
Summary: Lex only prays on special occasions and personal holidays. (100 words).

What Matters
Genre: PG 13, Hurt and comfort
Summary: After the homecoming, only two people really dwelled on who the scarecrow had been.

Watcher
Genre: PG 13, pre-slash, Drabble
Summary: If you want the job done do it yourself.
What He Didn't Know.
Genre: PG-13, Pre-Slash Drabble.
Summary: Lex considers Clark’s touches. (100 words).

Growing pains series:
Cassandra
Genre: PG-13,Drama Drabble, Angst, fears and comfort.
Summary: Before Cassandra dies her comforting words have some hope for Clark, but
Tarnished
Genre: PG, Drama, A Drabble Poem, Angst, Lex’s Pov
Summary: Clark’s back from Metropolis and hiding from friends... (100 words).
Gimme A Reason
Genre: PG 13, Drama Drabble, Angst, Hurt and little comfort.
Summary: Clark needs a reason to hold on… in exactly 100 words.

Dear Lex
Genre: PG-13, Angst, Hurt
Summary: Lex crushed the letter in his fist as he re-read those five words, ‘longer than I should have” and understood – really understood this time what Clark’s letter was about.

What Were You Thinking
Genre: PG 13, Drabble
Summary: Self-sacrifice can be very tiring.

Confessions series:

Confessions
Genre: Clex, Angst, PG 13, pre-slash, and a little Brucie brooding just for fun.
Summary: If confession is good for the soul, Clark has a pristine soul while Lex has new mysteries.

Coming Out
Genre: PG 13. Pre-slash, Coming out, Angst, Dialogue
Summary: Clarks out… for better or worse.

Graffiti
Genre: PG 13. Pre-slash, Drabble (Sequel to Coming out)
Summary: There’s writing on the wall, but none of it’s good.

Cheap Shots
Genre: Drama Drabble, Angst, Drinking, Hurt and a little comfort.
Summary: Lana, and Chloe can finally get answers, if they can stand the truth… in exactly 100 words.

Si Operor Ignoro Vos
Genre: PG 13, Pre-slash
Summary: It's all words until someone understands them.

Me Too.
Genre: PG, Humor, Pre-Slash (but getting closer) Drabble.
Summary: Clark needs a little reassurance from Lex and gets it… sort of (100 words).

Losing It
Genre: PG 13, Hurt and Comfort, Drabble, Implied bdsm
Summary: Clark needs to give it away.

Sacrifice series:
Sacrifice
Genre: PG 13, Drama Drabble, Angst, Sacrifice
Summary: Clark and Lionel negotiate for Lex’s innocence in exactly 100 words.

Lap Dog
Genre: R, Drama, Angst, Sacrifice, Dodecal (144 words)
Summary: Clark and Lionel negotiated a payment for Lex’s innocence, and Lionel wants a deposit.

Restraint
Genre: Angst, PG 13, Sacrifice, Lionel happy, dodecal (144 words)
Summary: Lionel contemplates his son’s choices. Lionel POV, dodecal (144 words)

Whipping Boy
Genre: PG 13, Drama Drabble, Angst, Sacrifice
Summary: Who would believe that Lionel would be the one to prove Clark’s love.

Healing
Genre: Clex, Angst, PG 13, Sacrifice, Brucie brooding, Hurt and comfort
Summary: Bruce help’s Lex unfold enough to accept Clark’s sacrifice.

Dreams Come True series:

Oops.
Genre: PG-13, Humor A barely Pre-Slash Drabble.
Summary:Lex really hadn’t meant to upset Clark(100 words).
Tells
Genre: PG 13, Angst, Established Relationship, AU, Drabble (100 words)
Summary: Lex overhears a discussion between Clark and Jonathon about telling the truth.

First Night
Genre: PG 13, Angst, Established Relationship, AU, Drabble (100 words)
Summary: A different kind of first time. Clark and Lex had planned for everything – except their feelings.

DT’s series:

DT’s
Genre: Rating: R (just to be safe for language and light slash), Clex, Established Relationship, Humor with some angst. AU maybe too.
Challenge: The Clex Fest Eleventh Wave Domesticity - Prompt (Vacation)
Summary: When duty becomes addictive, the world never knows that it relies on Lex instead of Clark.

Treatment
Genre: Clex, Established Relationship, Angst. AU. Near futurefic
Challenge: Clexfest 12th wave - Based on the Music Challenge - Breaking the Habit: Linkin Park
(Lyrics below).
Summary: When duty becomes addictive and Clark can’t break the habit alone, Lex calls on friends. (Sequel to DT’s at CLFF 11th Wave.)

Safe Here in My Room
Genre: Clex, Established Relationship, Angst. AU. Near futurefic, Drabble (100 words)
Challenge: Based on the Music Challenge
Breaking the Habit: Linkin Park (Lyrics below).
Summary: When duty becomes addictive, the world never knows that it relies on Lex instead of Clark. (Sequel to DT’s at CLFF 11th Wave.)

Lingering Emergencies

2005-07-05T07:54:00.000-07:00

Lingering Emergencies
Summary: Sequel to For Emergencies Only (Accumulated livejournal posts: 911, First Responders, Ground zero, Evac). Batman Crossover.

911

4 weeks

As Clark perfectly executed the complicated defensive fall and recovery maneuver, Bruce watched him with concern.
"Excellent, now that will work if you're only dropping a distance of fifteen to twenty feet. For recovering from higher falls, you will need to develop different strategies, based on your surroundings."
As he circled Clark, pressing and gesturing his new student into different defensive positions, Bruce divided his attention between his lecture and his study of the young man. Although only a month had passed, the young man had changed so drastically that Bruce was beginning to suspect a medical cause for his change.

Not that Clark was demonstrating any overt signs of illness or injuries. Quite to the contrary, As they sparred, the fabulous strength that Clark displayed when they first met still seemed prominant enought that Bruce was almost certain that the young man was holding back. His speed and reflexes were astounding, he learned complex maneuvers with less than an hour's practice, and Bruce was certain that with 4 to 6 more months of training, Clark could actually transcend his own mastery of martial arts - requiring training that a only a very few living masters could give. After observing Clark's progress over the month, in fact, Bruce was already consulting two of his mentors on the young man's training schedule.

In addition to Clark's physical training, his general endurance and focus seemed almost inexhaustable. Waking in the pre-dawn hours, Clark regularly filled his twenty to twenty-two hour days with intense workouts, well beyond what Bruce required and concentrated study sessions progressing rapidly through the syllabi that Bruce had saved from the first year of his MBA. In short, the young man seemed as driven as Bruce, and Bruce could well understand why. This wasn't the source of his concern.

Instead, it was the paradoxical feeling he was beginning to have more and more frequently that Clark seemed to be trying to conserve every ounce of energy. While still naturally graceful, Clark's movements were becoming spartan and tightly controlled. And, it showed in every movement. Instead of the buoyant puppy-like nods that were his frequent response to any request, now Clark more often gave a clipped nod that someone could easily miss if not watching him directly. He lengthened his stride to take one step where he would have taken three. His humor though still as prevalent were coming in quieter and briefer bursts and his accompanying smiles was rapidly diminishing from full grins to thin lipped smiles that never reached his eyes.

Somehow, even though Bruce knew that Clark was probably suffering from depression due to his exile from Smallville, his family, and friends, he was beginning that believe that depression was not the sole cause of Clark's change.

9 weeks.

As Bruce stared at the ID photo that he had taken when Clark first arrived, he wondered how, as a detective and a scientist, he had failed to even recognize Clark's physical decline. The signs of that decline were very apparent from the picture, or rather were made obvious by what was missing from the picture: Clark's recent gauntness, bruised eyes, and jaundiced skin. But, despite Bruce's nagging concern for Clark's health, he had practically missed the clues. Despite Clark's declining appetite, Bruce had merely attributed Clark's weight loss to the intense work outs that the young man still performed and the vigorous martial arts training sessions that the he still excelled in. The wide grey circles, which were dark enough to have been painted under his eyes, Bruce had attributed to the Clark's consistent habit of studying late into the evening. And Clark's fading skin-tone seemed the natural result of spending every waking hour in the castle--although even Bruce would have preferred for Clark to have taken more down time, he understood as well as Clark that the young man's stay at Wayne Manor was drawing to a close.

Clark would be welcomed back at the manor anytime, but it was becoming more and more apparent that Lionel suspected Bruce and Lex of engineering Clark's escape. And, they both knew that was only a matter of time before Lionel would build up the nerve to send a team into the manor to search for Clark. Although it went unsaid, Bruce was absolutely certain that Clark was as unwilling as he was to expose the manors' secrets, and he both approved of and appreciated Clark's intensified efforts to prepare himself.

Or more to the point, Bruce had approved of Clark's efforts until that morning when, in the middle of a simple warm-up stretch, Clark collapsed and had to have Bruce's help to stagger to his room. Half an hour later, he was up again apologizing for his momentary weakness, but Bruce refused to be persuaded to restart the morning's training and banned Clark from anything but reading in the library. That was three hours ago. After settling Clark in the library, under Alfred's watchful eye, Bruce had returned to the batcave to finish the last of packet of documents for Clark's new identity.

Even then he had initially missed the seeing - really seeing - the three-month-old image of Clark, until he was checking the false ID for errors, and realized his mistake.

12 weeks.

As Bruce returned from patrol early at Alfred's summons, he was angrily steeling himself for yet another argument with the young man. In the month since Clark's first collapse, it had become increasingly more difficult to contain the young man even though he was visibly deteriorating on an almost daily basis. When Bruce cut back on Clark's training sessions, he discovered the young man in the gym pushing himself in ever harder combinations of complex maneuvers adding height, distance, and speed until Bruce wasn't even certain who would have won if they were evenly matched in strength and speed. When he declared the gym off limits, he immediately began to hear treads through out the manor as Clark turned it's mostly empty hallways into marathon tracks and pushed himself even harder. And when he demanded that Clark submit to a doctors visit from a trusted physician, he and Clark had their first argument- it lasted for over two hours and left both men practically exhausted.

Ironically, even in his weakening condition, it was clearly apparent that Clark's strength and speed far out-stripped Bruce's own- even more so because it was equally obvious that Clark was holding back. And, due to his recent mood swings, that fact was dwelling on Bruce's mind. It wasn't that he believed Clark would ever attempt to harm Alfred, Dick, or himself. Instead, with Lionel's increasing surveillance of the manor, Bruce was worried that Clark would finally lose his patience with the whole concept of being exiled, and take out his frustration on one of Lionel's employee's.

But, as he stepped off of the elevator from the batcave, scanning the hallway- he realized his second mistake. If Clark had building up for an argument, he would have called himself and he would have met Bruce at the elevator. Bruce almost smiled at that thought. Clark was still a little in awe of Bruce as the Batman, and although he knew the truth of their identities, he always showed the utmost respect to Bruce when he was in costume. Clark never intruded on the Batman's inner sanctum to argue, and never argued with Batman, only with Bruce. It was both a comforting and an amusing detail of their relationship, that helped Bruce understand what Lex may have enjoyed in Clark's friendship.
With Clark, when Bruce was out of costume, he didn't feel like the Batman or the billionaire or the industrialist or even the scientist... he was simply Bruce, the friend, mentor, and guardian of a young man who was trying very hard to be up to the nearly impossible challenge of taking Lionel Luthor on and winning. Of a young man... who was not waiting at the elevator to start another argument over Bruce's newest limitation: an eleven o'clock bedtime. It seemed slightly ridiculous even to Bruce, when Alfred suggested it, but he had to admit that Clark clearly needed additional rest. But, if Clark wasn't ready for a fight, then... why?

"Alfred?"

"Oh, Sunshine... Weeee're up heeeere?" A sickening jolt of fear ran up Bruce's spine as recognized the Joker's voice.

It was too late for him to go back to the batcave, and he couldn't be certain whether Joker had tied Bruce Wayne to the Batman, so he had no choice but to face Joker as is. Plucking what weapons he could from their convenient hiding places, in full sight, hanging on the walls as museum relics, Bruce tucked them into every free pocket he could find, up his sleeve and into his boots.

"What do you want, Joker?" He called as he carefully climbed the stairs watching every shadow for an ambush.

"Oh, it's not what I want this time. Oh well, maybe it is. A very jolly fellow from the heartland has offered me quite a bundle to retrieve a little puppy dog that got away from him. And I want his money." In his sickening, sing song Joker warbled, "OoooohhhhH, how much is that puhp-pee in the winnnddow? Oh, how much is that puh-uh-uhhp-pee... Can you see?"

As Bruce turned the corner, he saw the Joker press the back of Clark's neck holding him tightly against the window, which was bathed a quick splash of light. He could barely hear a terse answer, but Joker's answer was an ecstatic "Oooh Gooodiee" as he turned dropping Clark, who crumpled to the floor barely conscious and frighteningly pale in the eerie green light flashing from the Joker's necklace. Into the bizarre cell-phone he had flattening a patch of wiry his green hair, Joker asked, "And the others?... Even better."

Grinning, Joker snappped the phone shut and tossed it on the bed. "Golly, Golly, Golly, isn't this my lucky day. Three for the price of one. Boys, take the puppy down to its new owner, but don't hand him over until I get there."
As eight bizarrely dressed thugs came out of the shadows, Bruce suddenly understood why there hadn't been an ambush: from the shredded state of their clothing, their rumpled hair, and bruised faces, it clearly taken all eight to subdue Clark and Alfred. As they lifted Clark's supine form, Bruce wasn't certain, but thought that he detected a slight stretch as they moved further toward the door.

"Sunshine, I just have to thank you for this lovely night. If you hadn't taken in that stray, I wouldn't have five million dollars whisking its way into a Swiss bank account right now...Just for that, I'll give you two extra minutes to untie Jeeves, and get him out before this gloomy place gets a little illumination."
Following the Joker's pointing chin, Bruce realized he had no choice: he would have to let Clark go back to Lionel. Alfred was thoroughly-tied, sitting indian style, on the ground with his arms and legs bent around a large simulation of the Joker's face. A large digital clock that replaced his teeth first read :23 seconds then 1:23, then 2:23. He simply couldn't free them both and Lionel presumably wanted Clark alive for the moment.

As he dashed over and dropped to his knees by Alfred, Joker and the other 5 thugs left. As the Joker walked out, Bruce could have sworn he was singing "You are my sunshine... my only sunshine....."

First Responders

At the door, Joker paused with a grin and asked "We can't make it too easy, now can we? Nooo. That wouldn't do at all."

Grabbing a fire poker from one of his remaining thug's hands, Joker set the door's lock, then with a vicious swing broke the lock before closing it behind their retreating forms. In the distance, Bruce thought he could hear a rough scuffle and hoped that Clark was able to get away.

The thought was soon demolished by the Joker's evil sniggering, "Now, Now, Now... Bad puppies get smacked on the nose and a tighter collar."

As he tried to fumble with the ropes tightly binding Alfred to the insane bomb, Bruce was certain heard a muffled thud and was equally certain that it had probably come from the Joker using the poker that he probably still had in hand. Glancing up into Alfred's eyes, he saw the silent plea that he knew would have been in his own eyes were their positions reversed: "Leave me, save him" and denied the request with a quick shake of his head, demanding that Alfred cooperated with Bruce's attempts to untie him as the bomb's bizarre digital clock continued to tick away: 2 minutes 7 seconds and counting down.

As he approached, the Joker studied Clark's wilting posture for a second then doubled the long beaded chain again held it open to slip over the young man's head. He couldn't help but pausing to enjoy the neon glow of the beads and his own carved Joker amulet as he neared the bent figure. As he drew closer, the sight was made even more delicious by the thick glistening sweat that broke out on the young man and shined green under the necklace's internal light.
"Oh, I hate to give up such a pretty bauble," he crooned as he slipped it over the sweat-soaked curls, barely noticing the young man crumpling to the floor as he continued "but, for five million dollars, I can..."

"Go to hell." A harsh voice interrupted him.

"What?!?" Joker and his minions jerked spun around to identify the intruder.
"Oh. It's you." Joker growled as he identified the dark knight. Glancing up the stairs he shrugged and sing-songed, "Oh well, theories come and theories go... but in the end... I'll know. I'll know. And in the mean time the world will glow." Brought back to the present by Robin's growl... 'since when did robins growl', Joker shrugged, wishing he hadn't left his trick phone behind on the bed. 'Of course, Bruce Wayne wasn't Batman-far too flighty for that... Oh well,'
"Get 'em boys," he chuckled as he dragged his prize up by the hair. "You're coming with me."

After pulling most of the young man's bulk a few stumbling steps, he realized that it wouldn't work. Between them, Batman and Robin would make quick work of his boys and be up the stairs after him in a very few minutes. In fact, it was almost a surprise that they weren't after him already but perhaps they were finally getting a taste for a game of `bat and mouse'. Regardless, there was no way he had the time to drag the kid around, but taking the necklace off wasn't an option either... he saw what the boy did to eight of his men single handed, before the necklace. He was good enough to be Robin and that alone had fooled Joker into believing that Wayne and the boy were the caped creeps.

Curling his fist into the chain, Joker twisted until the glowing beads bit into the young man's throat. Still chuckling, he took a moment to savor the young man's futile attempts to release himself- alternating between trying to reach back for Joker's hands and clawing at the chain. Joker gave the chain another twist until the boy was openly gasping then bent down and lathed his tongue across the wide expanse of the boy's cheek tracing the impression of a very Joker-like smile across down his cheek, across his lips, up the other cheek and back. When he reached the blue-ing lips again, he couldn't resist tasting the young man's panic before he whispered into his mouth, "I'll catch you later," and used the chain to throw him to the side. Before Joker ran toward an opened balcony window, he took one last look to see whether the young man would be able to free himself from the chain. But like a good little piece of prey, the young man had fallen to the ground in shock, feebly scratching at his throat. `Oh, how he was going to enjoy playing with this one.'

Although, they were rapidly falling, the thirteen thugs were enjoying unexpected success. They had never landed so many blows against Batman, and Robin was clearly distracted between fighting and protecting his partner. Nevertheless, with time they all went down, and the last one had the pleasure- before his senses left- of seeing the Batman double over, clutching his upper thighs to steady himself, and gasping for air. As the Batman's head wagged in time with his gasping breaths, the thug noticed a gaping cut in the Batman's head gear that exposed a smooth pate beneath. The thug barely had time to think `the Bat's bald-No wonder he'd wear that freaky big-eared mask' before a yellow-gloved fist sent him reeling.

On instinct, Robin ran towards Batman to check his condition, but the bigger man waved him off- pointing him up the stairs toward Clark. As Robin neared the young man, Batman's eyes narrowed focusing on Clark's odd clawing until his friend's hands parted enough to show the green glowing beads.

"The necklace! Get it away from his throat." Batman gasped trying to stand upright.

Not wasting time to give him a dirty look, Robin quickly knelt by Clark, untwisted the chain so that it hung loosely around Clark's neck, then started to jump and run when he was stopped by the Batman's harsh voice.
"No, take it off completely, and get it away."

Looking back down, Robin realized that Clark still wasn't breathing easily and cringed at the thought that the Joker might have crushed Clark's windpipe. If that was the case, taking the necklace off wouldn't make that much of a difference, but the Batman may have been right... the additional weight of the necklace certainly wouldn't improve the situation. Gently slipping his fingers under the chain, he lifted it off over Clark's head and watched curiously as Clark's breathing improved enough that he could gasp, "bomb".

Patting Clark's shoulder, Robin reassured him with a nod toward Batman, "he'll take care of you." Without another word, he jumped and ran upstairs to help Bruce and Alfred. As Batman replaced Robin at Clark's side, the young man looked up in awe and tentatively reached out to touch the scar above his lip.
"L-Lexx?" Clark's voice was still scratchy and rough, but Lex had to gulp at the affection, longing, and awe that he heard in his friend's tone.

"Are they alive up there?" he asked as he heard a nearby door give way under Robin's shoulder. Although, he was certain that they were from the sound of muted voices, he wasn't ready to address what he heard in Clark's tone and wanted to steer their reactions to safe subjects. Cupping his hands under Clark's shoulders, Lex braced himself to lift his friend as he watched the young man narrow his eyes like he was scanning the second floor. `Could he be?'
It wasn't the first time that Lex suspected Clark's vision might be extraordinary, but it really wasn't the time to discuss it. But, his question was answered with out his persistence, when he heard Clark's sharp intake of breath as the young man struggled to his feet.

"Clark?"

"T-that's not it," Clark gasped his voice barely audible, "they're working on the wrong bomb..." Leaning against Lex's shoulder, Clark seemed to draw on his strength then throw himself forward up the stairs. In a moment, he disappeared around the corner and returned carrying a surprised Alfred with Bruce and Robin trailing behind. Handing Alfred off to Lex, he turned back before anyone could say a word and disappeared down the hall again. Stunned, Lex watched the strange clock in Alfred's lap reach 0:00.

As it did, Joker's vile sing-songy voice filled the room again - singing:
"Oh, My sunshine, my pretty sunshine,How much I love it when skies go grey, You'll never know, dears, how much I hate you, Till my sunsh-iiii-ne burns you awaaaay."

As the voice dissolved into the Joker's trademark cackle, a brilliant flare of light swept down the hall illuminating the manor in a blinding glare as the throbbing percussion of Joker's bomb shook the mansion's foundations. Staring alternately between Robin, Batman, and Alfred, in shock. Finally, when he looked back... Lex noticed Robin's empty hands.

"Where's the necklace? Damn it. Where is it?" his grip on Robin's collar lifted the young man off the ground.

Ground Zero

Bruce wrapped his hand around Lex's wrist and forced Lex's arm to drop until Robin's feet touched the ground before he gave the wrist a sharp twist breaking Lex's hold on Robin's throat.

"This isn't what you want." He admonished, using his hold to propel his friend down the corridor ahead of him. With his shocked response broken, Lex turned and ran down the hall. After a brief glance reassured Bruce of Robin's continued health, he followed Lex, leaving his partner to extricate Alfred from the ropes binding him to the Joker's bizarre alarm clock. As he watched Lex jerk to a stop at the scorched remnants of the broken door, he tried again to reconcile Clark and Lex's friendship- this time through the perspective of three months exposure to the intense young man.

After so many other losses and setbacks, Bruce didn't know how Lex could stand one more, particularly if Bruce accurately assessed the nature of their relationship. While he was certain that the two men, his two friends, were in love with each other, he was equally certain that neither man recognized the relationship for more than a close friendship. How they could have missed it, he wasn't certain but thought that their age difference had been a distracting factor for several years until they had become so accustomed to the 'best' friend-ship that they missed the relationship's true import. So naturally, true to form, for both Lex's and his own life, Bruce thought, before their love could be discovered the cosmos had to turn itself upside down to tear them apart-- even inviting the Joker's worst on their star-crossed love.

Reaching Lex, who still stood transfixed by whatever he saw within the destroyed room, Bruce immediately regretted sending him ahead. From the intensity of the flare that they had witnessed from the staircase and the scorched doorway, Bruce couldn't imagine that there would even be much left to see. Nevertheless, Lex should not have been forced to deal with the aftermath of Clark's needless sacrifice. Clark's choice to run back into the room after everyone had been evacuated from the general vicinity made no sense, although Bruce suspected that the young man might have intended to throw the bomb out the window or something similar without realizing how close it was to detonation. As it was, even knowing Clark a much shorter time than Lex had, Bruce was certain that he would be haunted by this loss for some time to come. Bruce paused beside his friend, regretting his failure to anticipate and prevent Lionel's collusion with the Joker, as he studied his friend's trembling profile and wondered how one apologized for breaking such a trust.

Closing his hand on Lex's shoulder, he finally turned to stare into the room and said, "Don't Lex. We can..."

The tableau before him was astonishing and seemed like an image that could have only been described in an armageddon novel.

Bitter tendrils of smoke rose from the nearly molten carpet to join an acrid fog that was quickly filling the room. The bed, curtains, and furniture were being rapidly consumed by open flames. Red-gold flames jumped and licked the paint on every wall causing it pop and crackle dropping flakes that fell like feathers until they ignited and devoured themselves in the heat rising from the carpet. The stained glass arch above the window was casting an eerie pale red light (through it's suddenly sporadically sun-bleached panes) coloring the accumulating smoke, which hung from the ceiling like thick tufts of insulation.
Scanning the room, he searched for even the barest traces of their friend, but was hardly surprised that he could spot nothing: no ash, charred remains, or even broken windows to hint at a possible escape. It would have been impossible, but until Lex saw for himself... there might have still been the barest hope lingering... a hope, which even now Bruce was trying to swallow down the bitterness of loosing... until Lex stilled under his hand and pointed before turning and running back down the hall. In all honesty, Bruce couldn't blame him for running-- particularly not when it was taking such a monumental effort to turn and focus where Lex had pointed. And Bruce was not unaccustomed with the sight of dead bodies, in fact, he had seen far more than he had ever wanted to and knew that the sight of this one would scar him as few others (barring his parents) had.

But even when he had focused, it still took close to a minute for Bruce to recognize what Lex had spotted. In the farthest corner, at the back of a barely two inch gap between the wall and a burning wing chair, he finally discerned a burning swath of maroon leaning into the corner behind the chair. What was remarkable or even worth notice of this maroon swath was that as it was being consumed in flames, it was revealing patches of honey-gold skin.

Before he was aware of it, Lex passed him running through the molten carpet to spray the wingback and burning figure with fire retardant foam then shoving the wingback away and bending to pick up the tightly huddled figure. With some difficulty he lifted the body and carried it out of the smoke filled room.

Evac.

Following Bruce to the nearest elevator linked with the batcaves, Lex found it too difficult to even look down at the impossibly light figure that he carried, still wound in a tight fetal curl, until he laid Clark on to the treatment bed and stepped back for a full appraisal. What he saw was unimaginable... considering the state of the room above. Nevertheless, while Clark's clothing was falling to the bed in charred tatters, what Lex could see of his skin seemed intact if somewhat sunburned. His chest was rising and falling, although shallowly, in a regular and steady pattern, and when Lex checked for Clark's pulse at his throat-- he easily located the thready drumbeat.

But as he drew his hand back, Lex's relieved sigh faltered as the first sign of damage appeared. As his hand lightly brushed several locks of Clark's ash coated hair, they disintegrated leaving patches of bare scalp in their place. A second tentative touch brushed away larger patches, and an instinctive wipe cleared a palm's-width area of Clark's raw pink scalp. Finally, it sunk in that Clark's hair wasn't ash coated-- it was ash. Without requesting it, Lex found a soft wash cloth being pressed into his hand by Alfred and a large basin of fresh water appeared by his elbow. Looking up gratefully, he finally realized that Bruce and Dick were no longer present.

"They are extinguishing the... sitting room, Sir." Alfred answered as he began to gently uncurl Clark's limbs and lift away the charred clothing-- with a light silk sheet at his side on the treatment bed to preserve Clark's modesty when it became necessary. It made Lex curious about how many times Alfred may have performed a similar service for Bruce or Dick when they were so badly injured, but he quickly turned to his task-- hoping to finish it before Clark came to. Lex could empathize with the familiar shock of waking to find that he had lost his hair, but could not imagine how traumatic it would be for Clark if he had to watch the once-ebony locks dissolve under his fingertips. He was finding it difficult enough to watch and couldn't bear the feel of the cloth between his fingers and the remaining strands. There was no way of knowing for certain, he supposed, whether this would be the last time he would have the chance to touch Clark's hair, but he wasn't going to miss the chance if it was. So, touch by touch, he brushed away Clark's hair, eyebrows, and lashes then gently soothed his raw and blistering scalp with the cool wash cloth.

When he finally looked up from his task it was to stare in shock at what Alfred's efforts had revealed: the melted slag of Joker's phone/bomb wrapped in and around Clark's swelling fingers where he had wrapped himself around it. As Lex watched, Alfred skillfully glided a delicate laser over the fused plastic, cutting it away in small sections as he carefully excavated Clark's fingers. Lex only too happy to be Alfred's assistant in the process and studiously removed each falling piece to the tray Alfred had ready. They barely had the last piece dealt with when Dick's exclamation startled them.

"Holy Shit." He flushed under Alfred's stern regard, but continued, "He...it looks almost like he threw himself on it... or something."

"It would appear so." Alfred answered when Lex stayed silent.

"But, that's crazy. That thing toasted everything in the room... he should have been charbroiled, too."

"Then, how would you explain this?" Alfred gestured to the burn patterns on Clark's outstretched body and pulled the sheet back far enough that Dick could see the patches where Clark's hands or arms had even marginally protected the rest of his body from the bomb's intense flare.

The patterns running outward across his chest and stomach told an almost unbelievable tale that they couldn't contradict. The worst burns were across his stomach- where he had clutched the phone to his waist, where his arms had wrapped around it, and where his fingers had clutched its ends. His arms had given some protection to his lower chest and thighs so that there were two paler pink arm-with stripes dividing the broad patches of blistering skin. By all rights, the intense flare should have and could have done worse, but instead was channeled out between his fingrs and up between his knees and shoulders- leaving behind raw, red, swollen skin where the light slipped through his fingers and blasted his face.

Setting aside the laser torch and tray, Alfred handed Dick another wash-cloth, picked one up himself, and urged... "For Master Clark's comfort, this should be accomplished before he wakes up."

"Too la-ate." Clark breathed painfully, astonishing both Lex and Dick, who had been ready to suggest that he probably wouldn't wake up anytime soon.
"Clark!" Their chorus was joined by a fourth as Batman stalked into the treatment and recovery room.

Clark's squinting eyes passed quickly between Bruce and Lex-- easily discerning which costumed man was his best friend.

"L..ex," his breath seemed no more able to support the word -- than he could support his arm when he tried to lift his hand and touch the scar on Lex's lip in answer to Lex's unvoiced question. "You... scared off... the Joker." His throaty statement sounded all the more awed for its raspy-ness.

Glancing his acknowledgment to Bruce, Lex corrected, "Batman's reputation scared him off..." but Bruce quickly interrupted: "You carried it off well enough that he bought it, Lex. Take credit where it's due."
Gesturing to the far side of the room with his chin, Bruce finished, "I need to speak to you for a moment."

When they were alone...

"Lex, he has to go. Do you have anywhere else that you can take him?"
"Yes, I've been working on it for several weeks know, in case Lionel..."
"Good, as soon as you can move him, get him out of here and come back. We need to talk."

"Bruce?"

"Lex... He can't stay here. By all rights, he should have died up there, but he didn't, and now..."

In all honesty, Lex agreed; his father knew where Clark was and it wasn't safe for Clark to stay, but the reason Bruce gave, or more precisely the way Bruce said that Clark should have died upstairs immediately angered him.

"And now...What!?! I seem to remember that you're alive because of what he did."

"That's not the issue."

"Isn't it?"

"Look, Lex, he has both Joker and Lionel to contend with...It's not safe. Lionel's men are still waiting out front and would have probably been in here by now if word hadn't gotten out that Batman showed up. Speaking of which..."
Without a backward glance or greeting to Clark, Bruce gestured to Dick and left the room after announcing: "Alfred, take them in the limo to the airfield and use the stealth plane to escort them wherever Lex desires. Be ready to go in ten minutes; we'll create a distraction and when Gordon arrives - we'll announce that Bruce Wayne and his ward have been terribly upset by the event and are planning an extended vacation to recuperate.

Stifling his irritation, Lex immediately returned to Clark's side hoping that Clark had not noticed Bruce's rude detachment; but, of course, Clark had and had also recognized its cause.

"What I did...what I...that I...wasn't hurt - as badly as he expected - frightens him? Doesn't it?" Clark asked quietly.

Alfred almost instantly managed a smooth and tactful response:"Master Clark, don't take it personally, Sir. Master Bruce does not... adjust well... to being helpless. Once he has... worked off his frustration, he will undoubtedly be back to normal."

Alfred might have been more convincing if he had met either Clark's or Lex's eyes, but neither felt comfortable pressing the issue- so the three lapsed into silence as they prepared Clark for a second narrow escape.

Check-ins

2005-06-24T22:32:00.000-07:00

Check-in (Drabbles)
Rating: PG 13 for Language
Summary: Bruce has some concerns.

Check-in 1

“Lex.” Bruce complained, “What the hell is going on with this kid?”

“What’s wrong with Clark?”

“He’s a fucking, pathological liar. That’s what’s wrong.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?... That’s all you have to say? Just fucking ‘Oh’?”

“Bruce, calm down.”

“You are half way to Arkham if you think I’m going to let someone I can’t trust stay in the mansion.”

“Bruce, if someone asked you how you spent your weekend, what would you tell them?

“That’s differ… you’re not serious.”

“Well, let’s just say that my two best friends have told me exactly the same lies for exactly the same reasons.”

***

Check-in 2

“Lex, this isn’t going to work.”

“Why, is he acting up?” Lex knew it was unlikely, but suspected that the shock of going into exile could tax even Clark’s boy-scout demeanor.

Bruce’s derisive chuckle belied that thought: “No, he’s a regular boyscout on that front- up before Alfred and never to bed before me.

“Then, what’s going on?”

“Lex, he can’t lie… at all.”

“That’s not what you said last week.”

“Oh, I didn’t say he doesn’t try, but he can’t lie convincingly.”

“I know.”
“You knew?”

“I was hoping you’d have better luck teaching him how than I did.”

***
Check-in 3

“Bruce, how are things?”

“He still can’t lie, but at this rate he could clep out of an MBA program in a year.”

“MBA?”

“Yeah, every second he’s not working with me, or Alfred… he’s reading something about business. Last week, I had Alfred bring down my old text books.”

“Don’t encourage that Bruce… the timing is a little odd.”

“Why…You can’t think that he’s planning to go after your father on his own turf?”

“I’ve known him for three years; and he’s never asked a single question about business, but add a little self-righteous anger, and ….”

“Shit.”

“Exactly.”

***
Check in 4

“Bruce, what’s going on? It’s been two weeks.”

“Oh, things were a little busy here. On the upside, his lying is improving: he still can’t fool me, but he convinced Alfred to make us a second breakfast when he’d already cooked the first.”

“And?”

“He ate it.”

“No, I mean what else has been going on?”

“Oh.”

“That’s all, Oh?”

“You were right… about taking on the old man.”

“Damn it.”

“He showed me his plan.”

“And?”

“It’s a good plan.”

Lex hoped Bruce wasn’t serious, but knew better than to underestimate the extent of his two friends’ martyr complexes.

***
Check in 5

“Master Lex?”

“Good afternoon, Alfred. Is everything alright?”

“Yes, Sir. I was simply calling at the young master’s request to schedule a luncheon. Master Bruce has been heavily engaged of late with a mutual business associate, and would appreciate your intervention.”

“And how is the ‘young master’?”

“Pensive, of late, I regret to say, Sir.”

“Pensive?” Lex was tempted to have lunch at the mansion, if only for the chance to see Clark, but knew it was risky. His father still suspected that he was involved in Clark’s disappearance.

“Alright Alfred, let me look at my schedule.”

“Very good, Sir.”

For Emergencies Only

2005-06-23T17:45:00.000-07:00

Title: For Emergencies Only.
Genre: PG 13, Drama,
Disclaimer: Don’t own them. Can’t have them, but wish I could.
Summary: When Clark is forced run, he discovers that Lex has more unexpected resources set aside for emergencies.

For Emergencies Only.

Barely contained shock could hardly skim the surface of Clark’s reaction when Lex roared into the driveway, screeched to a halt within feet of the porch, and jammed his fist into the horn. He was already out of the drivers seat when Martha, Jonathon, and Clark ran out.

“Get in, get in, get in.” The panic in his voice was too desperate to ignore; they climbed in without question.

Barely waiting for them to buckle up, Lex jumped back in, slammed the Ferrari into gear, and sped away from the farm, explaining… “I don’t know how long it will take for him to hear that I’ve canceled my meetings. When he does, he’ll know where I’ve gone.”

There was no question of who ‘he’ was as they barreled away from the Kent farm. The engine roared louder and louder as Lex pushed the engine and yelled over the motor as he continued, “He didn’t expect me to have my own office bugged… Doesn’t know that I heard… so we may have enough time. But, if he has someone inside any of my meetings… there’s no telling.”

“Time for what?” Jonathon demanded.

“To get Clark safely away.” Lex answered angrily, shocking Jonathon and Martha into silence.

“What the hell?”

“Clark, my father’s up at the castle right now arranging for how many teams I don’t know to snatch you from the farm the farm tonight… If Enrique hadn’t called to ask whether I was joining my father at dinner tonight, I wouldn’t have even thought to check the bugs, but….”
Shaking his head as he spoke, Lex dug into his jacket for a mini cd, popped the case open with his thumb, and gestured for Jonathon to put the cd in the player.

Catching Lex’s wrist lightly to as he lifted the mini cd from the plastic case, Jonathon fumbled with the buttons to open the cd player. Impatiently, Clark reached over the seat swatting his fathers hands away from Lex’s wrist and the player then smoothly opened the player, dropped in the mini cd, returned the tray, and punched the play button. Lionel’s voice filled the car.

“Dominic, status report.”

“Sir, both teams are at the staging area. The truck is due to arrive in forty-five minutes and its cargo will be divided among the teams at that time. Latest estimates suggest that the meteor radiation’s bubble will allow the disbursement of the meteor ore at a 20% greater distance than previously estimated, which should take off an additional 45 minutes of preparation time. Nevertheless, the teams will still need to wait until dark to prevent an untimely discovery of their preparations. With the new projection, the estimated time until the target is captured is reduced to three hours.”

“No, stay with the previous projection and disbursement pattern.”

“But..”

“The delay is worth the caution, Dominic. Kent is a resourceful young man and not as likely to be herded in the direction you desire… as easily as you might imagine. Stay with the current plans.”

“Yes Sir, and have you considered the scope of acceptable collateral damages?”

“The father, of course, and the small blonde classmate Sullivan… perhaps I should offer a bonus for removing certain annoyances… No, that would encourage sloppiness; however, if something along those lines should occur, find out who is responsible and add them to the selection list for our next little project… provided it is discreetly managed, of course. The mother may prove useful in controlling the boy later on and should not be harmed. Any other bystanders should be dealt with as needed.”

“Does that include your son, Sir?”

Lionel snorted, “I have arranged for him to be tied up in meetings all day.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“However, if he does choose to neglect his duties…non-permanent injuries only… and, Dominic…”

“Yes, Sir?”

“Tell them to avoid head injuries and visible wounds, the publicity stills for the stockholder’s report are scheduled for Thursday, and bruises rarely inspire confidence.”

“Very good, Sir.”

Lex punched the eject button and handed Jonathon the case with a significant glance to silence any interruption, “You can listen to the details later, but you’ve probably heard enough to understand what I’m doing.”

“What exactly are you doing?” Jonathon demanded.

“Getting Clark away from here. I can protect you both, Lana, and Chloe, and possibly myse…” he stopped, shook his head, then continued, “but, I don’t have the resources, yet, to give him keep a safe hideout here or to prevent my father from hiring as many teams as it takes to find him and take him. However, I’ve called in a favor from a friend—someone who can be trusted. You’ll get to meet him and you’ll understand…” he interjected forestalling Jonathon’s protest “My friend has quite a bit of experience with helping ‘refugees’ blend into the wood work and can teach Clark how to stay hidden.”

“He sounds … somewhat shady …” Martha commented, chewing her lip.

Lex smirked, “Shady… well, yes. Dark, definitely… but don’t worry. I haven’t told him anything about the situation. If you decide you can’t trust him or can think of another way out, then Clark simply won’t go with him, and we’ll try to work things out some other way.”

“Who is this friend of yours?” Jonathon asked find it difficult to suppress his suspicious tone.

“Uh…” Lex’s uncharacteristic murmur caused Jonathon’s eyebrow to shoot up as Lex continued. “I could name drop, but… it would probably be better for you to meet him first… You … hmm… might…” Lex glanced away painfully, “doubt … my sanity, otherwise.”

If it weren’t for the apparent pain in the admission, Jonathon would have pushed, but let the issue dropped when he noticed how closely Clark was watching Lex. This was going to be hard enough on Clark, if they let him go, which Jonathon wasn’t entirely sure of yet; having a fight with Lex now, when he was clearly trying to protect Clark from the family’s worst nightmare, would only make the whole situation worse. Trying his best to mimic Lex’s familiar sarcastic tone’s, Jonathon asked, “So, when are we going to meet this question in sanity?”

Lex barked in surprise and flashed Jonathon an ironic grin as the question came perfectly timed with his turn into the Smallville landfill. As he speed between the artificial hills to a spot well hidden from the road, Lex nodded to a flat, recently cleared area just ahead as he said “I was afraid that Dad’s,” he fairly spat the word.

“… staging area might have been one of the local airfields, so I told … Bruce...” he paused then shrugged and continued, “to meet us there. I don’t know how long it will take for him to get here though, but I called him as soon as I could get an untraceable cell phone. Speaking of which…” Lex stopped the car at what he hoped was a safe distance from the clearing and jumped out with an explosive burst of nervous energy.

Even Clark could barely register what Lex was doing before he was back in the driver’s seat with a non-descript gym bag that he had pulled from the trunk. Unzipping the bag, Lex stared in trying to decide what he should discuss first and finally decided to go with the least palatable aspect first. Pulling out a flat square box, Lex opened it to reveal a modern version of a derringer in an ugly wrist holster. He hesitated before turning the box to Clark.

“Keep this with you as much as you can.” Reading their shocked expressions, Lex continued, “Look, he seems to know something that I only figured out when I listened to the cd. Meteor rocks hurt you; don’t they, Clark? That’s why you flinched when I gave you back Lana’s necklace, and in the warehouse why you seemed so shaky when Earl and…never mind” Lex cut off the topic even though he would have clearly liked some confirmation to finish, “I know you’re strong enough to fight anyone who came at you hand to hand. But, what if they never get near you? I’ve seen the meteor ore in … his safe… if he can put it in blocks he can put it in other things… like bullets… and if he knows it hurts you… everyone that he sends after you will know it, too. Even if they don’t always know how to use it.”

The last thing Lex expected was for Jonathon to nod, but it happened. His next question surprised Lex even more, “Can it be traced back to you?”

“Uhmm… no, it’s a souvenir from my ‘partying days’ in New York. It belonged to a drug dealer who was later killed by a hooker he’d beaten up one to many times. I doubt he would have reported it stolen even if he noticed it was gone.” Looking back to Clark, who was squirming uncomfortably, he assured his friend, “I know you, you won’t hurt anyone who doesn’t come after you to do worse. Just remember, it’s a one-time-use thing – it has six automatically loaded bullets, but only use as many as you need to make sure that the person is stopped. Always expect them to have a back up person, who you may need the other bullets for. Then, keep it with you until you can find some acid or bleach, the strong stuff… like to clean pools and drop the whole thing in… to get rid of your finger prints and DNA,” With that said, he closed the box, put it back in the bag, and pulled out a well-crafted money belt.

“This too, on you at all times. You may not be able to get back to any hiding place, office, vehicle, or place you’re staying at, so just wear it. Everyday, all day… all night for that matter. Bruce can tell you where to get another if it wears out, but it’s a space age polymer material that probably won’t wear out any time soon.” He smirked, “Like spandex, only better… bullet proof.’

Clark stared at him for several moments wondering why Lex smirked at the comment, then chuckled with a flash of intuition, “Let me guess: it’s a Lexcorp invention?”

Lex’s smirk broadened into a wide grin as he answered, “Not quite, I invented it in grad school, but didn’t want… him … to get a hold of it, so gave it to my friend. He uses it now on a very limited basis to make bullet-proof clothing for diplomats and world leaders…. Any way,” he lifted one end of the money belt to show Clark a tiny keypad for a digital lock.

“Right now, the pass word is Julian. – J – u – l – i – a – n –“ He spelled the word out as he keyed in the password. As he finished, Clark heard a soft pop.

“Magnetic locks,” Lex explained as he slipped his thumb beneath the belt’s broadest flap.

“There’s ten thousand here in hundreds, un-marked and with non-sequential serial numbers. I would have used smaller if I could but it’s almost too bulky as it is. Never take any of it out anywhere someone can see it. It sounds too obvious to say, but so many of the biggest mistakes are. Only break one at a time. To keep anyone from asking questions about why a teenager has such a large bill, have Bruce get you several of those birthday cards with the money flaps in them and write a granny note for you. He’s good at those. Before you go to the store, put one in, put it back in the envelope, and tuck it into your back pocket. Then, only when everything is rung up and it’s time to pay, take it out in front of the clerk. After they run the counterfeit pen over it, most clerks won’t think twice about or remember later if anyone asks about someone unusual.”

Ignoring the Kent’s shocked stares, he sealed the pouch and went to the next. Dipping his fingers into the next pocket, Lex pulled out two thin business card-sized memo books: one maroon and one black. As long as they were already discussing money, Lex decided to start with the maroon one.

“Here’s a list of numbered accounts in the Cayman’s. Bruce can explain how they work. Each has one hundred fifty thousand in it. The password for each is Julian. This book has all of the other information that you need to access it as well as the relevant security questions and codes. As soon as I can, I’ll fax Bruce the signature cards to transfer the accounts into your name.”

After glancing up to make sure that Clark was paying attention, he continued, “Once your identity’s set up, pick one then pull everything out and close that account. Go to a different bank and set up a new one in that identity’s name. Record the information in here if you like I’d use a separate page per identity so you could rip it out if needed. Once you’ve transferred the account, bring the money belt back to the ten thousand dollar mark, and pull out enough cash to live there for a year. Divide that amount up, a third you’ll keep with you in your wallet to pay first, last, security on wherever you live, buy a used car, clothes etc. Put another third in a safety deposit box at the smallest bank you can find. The other third, you put in the bottom of a shaving kit, gym bag, backpack, or something like that in a locker at the airport. You never know when you may not be able to get back to one of the caches. I’m sure Bruce will go over a lot of this with you, but…” He didn’t quite admit that he felt better making sure Clark knew it, but suspected from the look in Clark’s eyes that Clark could tell.

Suddenly he noticed Jonathon’s tight jaw and wondered if he should ask, “What is it?”

But, Jonathon supplied the answer before he could ask the question, “No, Lex, he can’t take that. It’s too much… It’s just too much. He’s…”

Realizing that it sounded too much like charity for Jonathon’s taste, Lex recognized that he needed to remind him and Clark both of the situation. Shaking his head angrily, he began ticking off painful questions about Clark’s near future:

“Too much, Jonathon? How long is he going to have to stay on the run from my father?” the word dripped with scorn.

“How long will he have to put off his education? His career? His chance to date, make friends, build a family?”

“How many times will he have to pick up and run in the middle of the night leaving everything he’s made for himself behind?”

“How many times will he have to pay first, last, and security on apartments that he doesn’t even stay a month in?”

“How many times will he have to buy the barest furniture to live on, because you can’t just toss everything in a U-haul when you’re on the run?”

“How many cars will he have to buy only to abandon when he changes identities?”

“How many plane tickets, because going by bus would take too long and leave him vulnerable if my father’s goons found his trail?

“How many times will he have to pick up and move before he can even find a decent job to make his way on?”

“How many jobs will he not even get a chance at because he doesn’t have a verifiable resume and references? And he won’t be able to work where he has the most knowledge, on farms and ranches, because that’s where my father’s people will look first?”

“And, what about all the money it takes to just plain make things worth living on the run. Is he never to go to a concert? A movie? A good restaurant?”

“God, Jonathon, I hope it’s enough. It may not be, but how do you get more to him when you have no idea where he is? And, I know him well enough to know that he will probably never tell any of us that he’s having a hard time with it and could use more. I don’t think he’s ever asked me for anything that wasn’t related to helping someone else who was in need.”

Jonathon paled as Lex spoke, but finally nodded. Beside him, the tears that had been welling in Martha’s eyes, since she first heard the CD, finally spilled over. Understanding completely, Lex reached back over the seat to stroke her arm where Jonathon and Clark weren’t already pulling her into a hug.

“I promise, I’ll do everything I can to end this quickly and make it seem as if it were only a vacation from school instead of…” he looked away, but he might as well have said the word because Clark heard it in his memory of Lex’s first describing his reason for being in Smallville.

“Exile?” Clark asked softly.

Lex’s eyes flashed guiltily at Clark, apologizing for all of the things he hadn’t done that lead to this. He hadn’t died when he went over the bridge; that might have ended Lionel’s interest in the Smallville as a whole if it weren’t for the meteorites. He hadn’t warned Clark that his father seemed to believe that it was his unholy mission to personally destroy anyone who Lex came to care about; that might have ended it, but Lex wasn’t entirely certain of that because Clark could have guessed as much over their history. He hadn’t had the nerve to kill his father when the storms had weakened him, but now suspected that if he had- it would have been enough to turn him into Lionel or worse a Lionel with an obsession on Clark Kent… and this day still would have arrived, only without Lex on Clark’s side.

And, maybe, Clark saw that too, he wasn’t even sure. His mind was still asking himself all of the questions that Lex had asked his father. They frightened him, but in some ways, they almost sounded good… sounded like an adventure. He wondered what it might be like to not have to worry about lying every day to everyone that he cared about. He knew he would still be lying about even more now, but… there was somehow a freedom to the idea of being able to pick up and go before anyone started asking the hard questions.

Taking a clue from Lex’s comment, he hugged his mom gently, and whispered to her… “Maybe, I can treat it like a vacation… like an adventure… like hiking through Europe or something. You said once that you used to hope I could do that after college. I’ll just do it early. I’ll see all the museums. I promise. Everywhere I go, the doll museums, art museums, zipper museums, sewing museums.” Flashing a grin at Lex, he continued, “car museums, sports museums, even xylophone museums…all of them. I promise. I’ll go to the libraries and gardens and flea markets. I’ll buy used books and read all of the ones that you always wanted me to read. I have the whole list memorized and Lex’s list, too… and language books, maybe I can learn Spanish in Miami or New Mexico…German from the Amish, maybe Chinese in little china town. And, I’ll get one of those note books like you told me that Lewis and Clark kept” he smiled at the pun… as he continued, “journals and, I’ll write in it every day, and when I come back, you can read it all of it. And, I’ll go to all of those historic places that you told me the stories about… where people learned about how freedom worked for better or worse. I’ll go to the beach and make sand castles. I’ll go down in caves to make chalk drawings, and I’ll write about every moment, Okay?”

He paused using his thumbs to wipe the last of her tears away, then finished, “do you remember what you told me the first time I realized that tornadoes could hurt people… when we were down in the cellar, in the dark?”

After a second, she nodded quietly, and smiled.

“It’s the same. I’ll do it this time, too.”

Jonathon and Lex stared at them, mystified, but the moment that had passed between Clark and Martha seemed meant for them alone, and Clark had turned back to Lex expectantly.

“Okay, what else?” The simplicity of his question stunned, Lex… who, for just a moment, couldn’t think of what was next. He had overheard the soft list that Clark had murmured to his mother, and wondered if the boy really believed that it could be that easy. He shook his head for a moment as he tried to decide whether it was more important that Clark went into his ‘adventure’ with realistic expectations… or with hope. He couldn’t decide, so returned instead to explaining the next little memo book.

“Okay, this one.” He nudged the black memo book toward Clark with the tip of his finger. “This one contains a list of emergency contacts that you can call in case of an emergency. They are organized by area and the activities they can help with. Tell anyone you have to contact that you are calling in on my favor… the details of which are also recorded here in case they balk and ask how they know that its my favor your calling in. Don’t trust any of them. Not even the ones that I’ve highlighted… the one’s I trust… they know me and we have shared experiences to bind us… it might not be the same for you. Just call them and tell them what you need done, but never… never… ever meet them in person.”

“Now, this,” he pointed to the little device behind it that was barely as big as a business card. “This is a little something I was working on for Chloe’s birthday. I doubt she’ll mind me giving it to you though, and I’ll build her another one. It’s a voice recorder that records directly onto the mini-cd’s. Each cd holds about 25 hours of recordings permanently. The next pouch has a little wallet that holds ten mini-cd’s each side. You can get the blank mini-cd’s anywhere and this will record onto them.” He paused for a moment and tried to remember if there was anything else that he need say about the belt or its contents.

“The rest is pretty self-explanatory. What you don’t already know, you could probably figure out on your own given time, but Lionel won’t be inclined to give you the time. That’s why I called Bruce in. He can also teach you about self-defense and strategy… there’s a lot more to fighting than being strong, you’ll need to learn it. Ask him, and he’ll teach you without all of the esoteric underpinnings and breaking of wooden boards that you would get from a regular martial arts studio. It’ll be the down-in-the-dirt, no-holes-barred, play-dirty-if-you-have-to kind of fighting, though, and I know it will be hard for you to get into that kind of mind set; but, if there’s something that can push you into a hand to hand fight, that’s the kind of fighting you would be dealing with anyways. He’s good at it… and good at teaching it.”

Saying that, Lex turned back to the bag and dug out a grocery bag, as he spoke “He’s also promised to teach you everything else you need to know about going underground, and keeping a low profile. And, he will try to convince you not to call your parents—not any time soon, not until you can be certain… absolutely certain that it’s safe to return. And, he’s probably right, it would be safer for them. Lionel’s less likely to try to get information, if he thinks they don’t have any. But, he doesn’t know you. I know better. It’s dangerous—both to you and your parents for you to call—but, as I’m sure you will still try to find a way do it, I want you to have these…” Lex handed Clark the grocery bag.

“There are two dozen un-activated pay as you go cell phones from different companies and stores. Their matching pre-paid cards are in the smaller bag there. When you feel like you need to call your parents, drive or take the bus somewhere fifty or sixty miles or more away from where you are staying at the time. When you get far enough away, go to a mall, activate the cell phone, make the call, and then trash the phone right there. Now this is important: never stay on more 15 minutes. There’s no telling how close someone may be or how close they are on your trail. He has the technology to trace calls in less than a minute, and even if it’s unlikely that he could get someone to the mall –a single call to mall security and he could have the entrances watched or blocked. Once you’ve trashed it, get on a bus going anywhere but where you’ve been staying. Get a hotel room and stay the night. In the morning, start out a couple hours before dawn so that you will be able to see the headlights of any cars that follow you. If you think you are being follow, don’t take chances- get out of there and don’t go back to wherever you were staying for at least a month. When you do go back, clear out your bank account’s and cache’s then leave. Don’t go back to your work or to your apartment or anywhere else that someone might recognize you and be able to call one of my father’s people.” Lex trailed off quietly wishing for more time to say the things he could have only said without Clark’s parents around. After a moment, he returned everything to the gym bag and handed to Clark.

A low grumble erupted from Clark’s throat surprising Lex for a moment, but only a moment, as he considered how much it must be for Clark to take in. The boy must have finally realized what he was giving up. Lex tried to summon consoling words and hope. But, he was never good with hope; that was Clark's particular skill. So, he drew on all the hopeful things Clark had told in his own dark times for inspiration, hoping that whatever he managed to say would be right. But, when he turned to look in Clark’s eyes, the words died on his lips—killed by the fierce anger pouring from Clark.

“Clark?”

The gym bag stuck him dead center, knocking his breath from him and shocking Clark’s parents.

“How could you? How could you think I would take that.” Clark yelled, “From you. I won’t do it.” Lex paled as he realized that Clark had figured out his secret.

“What is it, Son?” Jonathon asked, staring suspiciously at Lex for the first time.

“All of the passwords were Julian.” Clark answered as if that explained everything. To Clark, it clearly did.

“Clark, you’re not making sense, Son.” Jonathon looked between the two boys, noting for the first time a glimpse of true fear sweep over the boy’s face. He turned to Martha in confusion to notice that she was staring at Lex also; but, with a knowing glance that made him wonder how he was the only one left out of the conversation when he had been right there beside them paying attention the whole time.

Laying a consoling palm on Jonathon’s arm, Martha realized he hadn’t understood what Clark had just realized and what she had recognized the moment that she had heard the password for the money belt. Turning back to Lex, she asked simply: “Belle Reve?”

Embarrassed that his fears were so readable, Lex nodded and turned away so that he wouldn’t have to watch their compassion turn to disgust as he admitted: “I could take knowing that he would keep trying to hurt me… that’s fairly status quo, that he would possibly try to kill me, and that he might try to hurt the people that I care about. He’s always done that.” His voice dropped to a whisper, “Luthors aren’t supposed to care about anyone after all, and I’ve been fairly confident, until know, that I could protect … the people who matter… the people he would go after. I was a fool to underestimate him so badly. But, when he…” Lex’s voice became harsh and raspy as he trailed off.

Martha’s hand covered his as she prompted, “Belle Reve.”

“When he could … drug me… knowing what I’d feel… that I’d feel my sanity deteriorating slowly. Just knowing that he could do that again.” Lex shuddered and tried to force down his revulsion at the thought as he finished: “Just knowing that he could do that again—that I could be forced to endure as my mind disintegrates bit by bit… has been almost more than I could take. I wanted to have something ready in case I started to recognize that feeling again.”

In the stunned silence that followed, Lex struggled uselessly for the composure to finally turn and face them. His father was right, and now Clark and his parents had seen just how much of a simpering coward he could be. Before he really understood what was happening, strong calloused hands- Jonathon’s? Jonathon’s hands- closed over Lex’s wrists and pulled his hands away from his face (he hadn’t even realized that he’d covered his face)… turning Lex to face him as he did. When Jonathon finally spoke, it wasn’t in the loathing tones that he’d expected.

“That’s what you meant… isn’t it? About ‘protecting us and maybe yourself’? Well, don’t worry, son. We’ll find another way.” At the word ‘son’, Lex’s heart faltered for a moment and he was forced to look in Jonathon’s eyes to be certain that he’d actually said that to him. It couldn’t be… not in that tone of voice… that was the tone he used for Clark… only for Clark. But, Jonathon was looking him in the eyes with a sadly encouraging attempt at a comforting look. God, what good had he done in a former life to ever meet people like the Kents. He couldn’t look at Clark yet, or Martha either, knowing that if Jonathon’s compassion had his heart faltering, theirs would stop it. But, he did keep Jonathon’s eye as he answered. “What else is there? His people are coming, Jonathon… Tonight, if not sooner. As long as they think they can get to Clark—they will go through you to get to do it. It’s safer for Clark and for you if he’s out of their reach quickly. If nothing else, it will give us time to figure out some alternative.” With a shrug, he handed the gym bag back to Clark, who took it complacently

A mournful lethargy settled over them as they waited trying to work through the any alternative that came to mind. Clark finally broke the silence as he shuddered and reached out to put his arms around Lex’s shoulders. “Thank you. I don’t know what else to say. But, what about you? Won’t your father know that you’ve helped. Won’t he come after you to0?”

A soft gruff voice sounded from behind them, “That’s not something that you have to worry about kid.”

Before anyone realized it, Clark had jumped out of the car, sped around the hood, and lifted the dark figure over three feet off the ground by his throat.

“Clark!” Lex barked sharply as he recognized the odd black boots with strangely rigid barbs that seemed to grow more pronounced out from the outside of the figure’s ankles to his outer calf. “Put him down. He’s the friend I was telling you about.”

“F-Fr-iend” Jonathon stuttered, looking beyond his son and the dark figure to the bat-plane settled quietly in the field beyond. “You’re right… I would have thought you were nuts… you’re friend is…” In one breath, Lex, Clark, Jonathon, and Martha answered:

“Batman,” Lex, Jonathon, and Clark commented in differing tones of amusement and awe.

“Bruce Wayne,” Martha breathed out in surprise, ignoring the shocked look on their faces.

“Lex,” Batman growled as Clark suddenly realized he was still holding Batman off the ground by the throat and carefully set him down as he stared at his mother.

“Mom?”
“Martha?”
“Mrs. Kent?”

Noticing the hostile look that Batman was shooting Lex, Martha snapped in her most effective motherly snark, “You stop that right know young man. He didn’t tell us anything about you.”

“Really,” Batman snarled, ignoring the angry look that even Lex was giving him as he asked, “Then would you care to explain how you’ve discerned my identity?”

“Your lips.” She answered smugly, “You really should keep them covered, they quite give you away.”

A moment of stunned silence was broken as soft hiccoughing sounds broke from Lex and grew from throaty chuckles into full-blown laughter.

“Oh, shut up.” Batman growled at him, but in an almost good natured rumble.

“I told you…” Lex laughed, then turned back to the Kents to explain, “I told him that…. that anyone who looked at his lips would know right away who he was.”

Relieved to see Lex’s easy humor showing through, after what Clark knew was a difficult admission for Lex, Clark simply grinned looking back and forth between Lex and his mom who had also started smiling… perhaps for the first time tonight trusting that he would be alright and could be trusted into Batman’s protection. Wow. Lex knew Batman. The Batman. How cool was that. And why hadn’t Lex shared that little tidbit… Oops, no, scratch that thought. Can’t fault Lex for not sharing—that whole kettle-black thing.

“Wow!” Clark turned to notice that Batman/Mr. Wayne was rubbing his throat through the rubberized mask.

“Oh, gosh, I’m sorry, Ba—Mr. Wayne. I just… you kind of… out of nowhere… I mean.” Clark ducked his head realizing a whole new level of embarrassment. It was bad enough to be stammering and stuttering in front of Lex, who was giving Clark everything he had pulled together to escape from his father, and wasn’t that scary. But, stuttering in front of Lex’s friend, Lex’s superhero friend, (Lex had a superhero friend !)– that was just the total epitome of lame and his hot-faced blush just topped it right off with a nice touch of naïve hick. He hoped Lex wasn’t embarrassed because of him too.

Thankfully, Lex’s answer assured Clark otherwise: “What I believe Clark is trying to say, Batman, is that he’s sorry for throttling you, but if you hadn’t skulked up in the shadows in the first place without warning us, he wouldn’t have needed to get aggressive. Right Clark?”

“Yeah…I mean no. Leexxx!” Batman didn’t skulk. Right? He stalked maybe even sneaked, but he definitely didn’t skulk. This was just going from bad to worse. “That’s not what I was trying to say.”

“Don’t worry about it kid. Lex and I go back several years” Batman grinned snidely, deciding to get a little of his own back, “He was just using you to hide the fact that he nearly colored his undies when I surprised you all.”

Clark’s blush doubled, catching Batman’s speculative glance, but the comment was otherwise ignored as he asked Clark remembered the other comment Batman had made on his arrival.

“Sir, you said we didn’t have to worry about Lex, but his father’s gone to an awful lot of trouble to… pick me up… and he won’t be happy with Lex if he thinks that he’s done anything to help us. But, Lex wants to give me this…” He held up the gym bag certain that Batman would probably recognize or guess its significance. “So, I can get away, but he should really take it.” Clark’s gaze shifted and held Lex’s as he finished… almost pleading with his friend to take the case back for his own good. Clark wouldn’t hurt Lex by forcing it back on him, but anything short of that, including using his pathetic-puppy dog face was fair game.

Bruce watched the glances passing between Clark and Lex. *Who the hell was this kid anyway?* Lex helping him out of whatever jam he’d gotten himself into that put him in the old man’s sights was one thing, but giving the kid his ‘emergency kit’ was quite another. Bruce thought that he had taught Lex better than that. If the kid were family … maybe that would justify it. He certainly understood Lex’s yearning for a family, but ever since Lucas had dethroned Lex, Bruce had carefully investigated all of Lionel’s old ‘acquaintances’ and knew exactly who Lex’s potential family members were. This kid wasn’t anywhere on the list. As he tried to digest what their relationship must be, Bruce realized that a heavy silence had settled over the car as they waited for some answer to become apparent.

“Like I said, Kid. There’s no need to worry about that. Even as we speak, two more of Lex’s ‘friends’ are holding a very convincing press conference, in Gothem, to announce the closing of negotiations on an extremely lucrative contract for Luthorcorp. Even if he has any suspicion that Lex was involved in helping Clark escape, seeing us two of us together on the evening news should be enough to quell anything that might come of it.”

“But…” Clark hated to interrupt, and he was incredibly grateful to know that Lex was being protected by Batman, but knowing that Lex was giving him so much still worried him. “What if it’s not enough? I mean… I don’t mean that you’re not doing enough. It’s just that… shouldn’t he… have this? Just… you know… in case Lionel doesn’t buy it?” Clark avoided Lex’s astonished stare, hoping that Bruce could talk Lex into taking it back.

*Hmm* That certainly brought him up a step or two higher in Bruce’s estimation. Watching the kid start to blush under his best ‘piercing glare’ Bruce began to wonder what kind of person could earn this kind of loyalty from Lex and what Clark had done to secure it.

“If I thought that far ahead, Kid, don’t you think I would have other things planned as well. I never could trust Lex to be near his stash when he needed it anyway.” As he spoke, opened a pocket on his utility belt, which no one seemed to notice until now, and pulled out a thickly folded belt that looked almost exactly like the one Lex had given Clark. “I’ve had this ready for years, and have been adding to it every Christmas.”

“Oh…” The look of relief on the kid’s face, was only slightly more amusing than the look of shock on Lex’s face.

“But, we really don’t have time for this. Lex, keep that with you. I’ll call for lunch to discuss the ‘negotiations’ further. Kid, say your goodbyes and let’s go.”

Feeling strangely restrained by Bruce’s presence, Clark gave both of his parents a hug and a kiss – promising that he would be alright- and then turned to Lex.

“I’m sorry.” They both said at once, then laughed and leaned into each with a quick rowdy hug. After a second, Clark took a final glance at them then followed Bruce into the darkness.

As they disappeared over the slope, Lex turned back to Martha asking hesitantly, “Do you mind if I ask—what did he say to you about the tornados?”

Smiling sadly, Martha shook her head. “He was such a little thing. But, he looked at me so seriously and told me that if he ever got the chance to ‘ride’ a tornado then he would look all around. That way even if he got hurt, it would be worth it because then he would have seen everything.”

Lex smiled back at her, admiring his friend’s adventurous spirit, until he couldn’t stand the thought or feeling of losing his exposure to it and scrambled out the door. Before he knew it, he’d passed the break in the brush and was almost running after Bruce and Clark.

Almost instantly, Lex found himself facing Clark, who’d heard his approach and returned. In the background, Bruce was cursing as he followed Clark back.

“Lex?”

Cupping his palm to Clark’s cheek, Lex tried to memorize the exact pattern and shade of Clark’s eyes, the feel of his skin, and the sound of his voice, before he answered “Just stay out of trouble, Okay? I don’t think I could take living in the backwaters, if I didn’t think my best friend was coming back soon.”

He didn’t say what he was really feeling. He didn’t know how to. No one had ever taught him how to say it and mean it. Not like this. But, he hoped Clark could somehow use that gift for reading him that no one else, not even Bruce, had ever developed, to understand what he meant.

Clark was quiet for a second, matching the intensity of Lex’s stare, before answered, “I promise,” and disappeared back into the darkness.

Chapter 42: Manipulations

2005-06-23T15:44:00.000-07:00

As Lex continued, his softly voiced concerns broke through the litany of newscasts, just as they had often broken through his mother’s litanies of guilt and doubt.

Clark’s shuddering slowed as he began to listen—uncurling slightly as he did. Finally, as the litanies returned to a distracting undercurrent, Clark lifted his head to mirror Lex’s pose by propping his chin on his knees. He had recognized all of these concerns from the first moment he had been completely conscious, but was deeply touched that these were still Lex’s concerns even after he knew about the bank. Clark had hoped to put off the admission until after he got Lex out the window and on to the fire escape, but now couldn’t bear to intentionally deceive him.

“I know… Lex, you have to leave me here.” Clark answered simply.

Lex had come to the same conclusion on his own, but was troubled by the resigned tone Clark used to second his decision.

Suddenly, a flash of intuition washed over Lex as he realized why he had the impression earlier that Clark was trying to manipulate him. Clark had obviously realized before Lex that he couldn’t get out and undoubtedly understood that he couldn’t protect himself either.

Irrationally, another flare of anger at Clark’s all-to-accepting sense of self-sacrifice swept through Lex, as he blazed at Clark, “Damn it, Clark, you knew. You knew and you were just going to make sure I got out. What then? Were you just going to wait until they came for you? And, killed you? You know that’s what they’re planning to do, don’t you? You’re just a loose- end to them.”

Lex’s voice broke with frustration, sadness, and anger as he spoke. He couldn’t understand how Clark could value everyone else’s lives so much, then turn around and throw his own life away so easily… without even a fight.

“Have you even tried to figure something else out? Like some place you can hide until I get back with the police? Or, some trap you could set up to stall them? Why won’t you try to fight for yourself as hard as you have for the rest of us?” Lex seethed, surprising himself and Clark with his emotional outburst.

Embarrassed by the unusual loss of restraint, particularly when he knew Clark was already so emotionally fragile, Lex tucked his chin down dropping his forehead to his knees as he unintentionally mimicked Clark’s defensive pose.

Chapter 41: Recognition

2005-06-23T15:41:00.000-07:00

“Oh, my god. Are you sure? Are you sure those were the names he said?”

“Emily and Jacob, Ben, Savannah, Sarah and Cheryl, George… Yes, I’m certain, that’s exactly how he said them. He was so up set, but I don’t know why. There aren’t any families in Smallville with those names. Well there’s a Ben and a George, but none of the others. It just doesn’t make sense.” Lana stared at Chloe mystified as she answered.

“Oh yes, it does- I don’t know how but… Where’s the paper?”

“What?”

Chloe stared at Lana as though she were a dense child and explained, “The newspaper. Someone always brings in a copy of the ledger or the planet. Where is it?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I hadn’t noticed.”

Chloe bolted from her seat and ran from table to table checking all of the chairs for a newspaper.

“You manage a coffee shop and haven’t noticed that people like to read the newspaper with their coffee?” Not that she was intending to get snarky, but sometimes Chloe simply couldn’t believe how oblivious Lana could be. Not for the first, she wondered why Lex had let Lana stay in business and how much he was losing to do so.

“No,” Lana responded somewhat miffed. “I just meant that I hadn’t noticed where it was set today.”

Mmhmm. Chloe was not certain that she bought it, but it didn’t seem like the time for such speculations. By the time she’d reached the twelfth table, she was almost ready to give up. Then, it dawned on her. Right outside the front door, Lex had requested two newspaper vending boxes. Grabbing up her purse. Chloe dashed outside and returned quickly with a copy of the planet.

Before she had even reached the table, Chloe was surprising Lana by pulling open the paper and letting the unwanted sections drop away behind her as she walked, and slapping the remaining section down on the table with a loud smack.

“There. There Emily and Jacob. There’s Ben. George. Cheryl and Sarah. And, there’s Savannah. Their names are all there.”

Lana stared at the page with angst and silent tears pouring from her eyes, before shaking her head and rejecting Chloe’s speculation, “No, it can’t be. We know he was here when that happened. He’s not involved. He can’t be.”

But Chloe remembered Kal, and she remembered Lex’s strong reaction to hearing about Clark’s summer activities. “I bet Lex thinks he is.” Chloe speculated.

“No, Lex is Clark’s best friend. He knows Clark isn’t capable of that.”

“Does he?... He didn’t even seem to know about Metropolis. And you remember how he looked when he found out? He knows something. I’m sure of it.”

Chapter 40: Plans

2005-06-22T15:06:00.000-07:00

Gulping fiercely as he swallowed, Clark met Lex’s eyes with a look that made Lex hold his breath. Every glimmer of energy and personality in Clark’s eyes seemed overshadowed by a deep, enervating despair. Holding Clark’s chin so that their eyes stayed locked even when Clark tried to look away, Lex waited silently until Clark conceded in an almost inaudible, painfully-raw whisper, “I planned the Metropolis central savings and loan robbery.”

Despite himself, Lex snatched his hand from Clark’s chin and jumped to his feet. Even with the startling revelations of the past few days, it was only now that Clark seemed like a complete stranger and a dangerous unknown quantity that Lex couldn’t get a handle on because everything he knew about his friend was changing too swiftly.

At the same time, however, as he looked down on Clark who was pulling into an even tighter, defensive ball—Lex was certain that he was looking at the same selfless friend who had risked his own life numerous times to protect everyone he cared about including Lex.

Huddled on the stair, in a tight miserable bundle, Clark was certain that his fears in the hospital had come true. Even Lex, who barely knew a quarter of the truth couldn’t accept him. Clark didn’t blame Lex though; so many people had died because of him. Now, Lex was being dragged into it because he was trying to help Clark. With every moment, Clark’s litany of guilt echoed louder and louder in his thoughts… pulling him farther and farther away from his awareness of their dangerous circumstances.

Pacing back and forth behind Clark, Lex was furiously trying to come up with the miracle they needed. It was worse than anything he had thought of while Clark had been out earlier. Clark knew who the burglars were, and that practically amounted to a death sentence. Clark was far too weak to keep up if they ran or to defend himself if left behind.

“Damn it, Clark…” Lex uttered in exasperation, “It would have been nice to know this in advance… when I could have had security on hand.”

“I’m sorry.” Clark whispered dispiritedly, pulling tighter as he did.

Lex largely ignored Clark’s apology and increasing misery as he continued to pace. There has to be a solution… There is always a solution. Some other way out. Lex thought to himself, though he was convinced of Clark’s certainty that there wasn’t another exit. Clark may have gotten past the fight pit… but how well can he really know this place… even if he was here all summer. Maybe there isn’t another exit, but what about a place to hide while I…

Turning back to ask Clark about potential hiding location, Lex was surprised to see that Clark’s violent shuddering had returned and drops of cold sweat covered Clark’s forehead as he leaned unevenly against the wall.

Feeling like an idiot, Lex chastised himself: I should have been paying better attention. The last thing we need is another anxiety attack… or worse, he could go into shock from everything that he’s been through today—physically and mentally.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Clark. I get why you’ve kept it a secret. I wish you hadn’t, of course, but I get it.”

His words didn’t make a dent in Clark’s desolate pose; however, so he tried a different approach… one that he used to use to draw his mom out of her depressions when she was overwrought. Returning to Clark, he sat on the stair beside him and tried to loosely mirror his friend’s pose—wrapping his arm’s around his bent legs and resting his chin on his knees. He waited quietly until he saw Clark react to his nearness by pulling away slightly… then, lowering his voice into the softest tones that he could manage (the ones that he had always reserved for his mother), Lex confessed, “Clark, I don’t know what to do. With your fear of heights and current weakness, I’m not certain that you can make whatever climb we need to… even if the ledge is sturdy enough to hold us both. And then, how can you run if they find us? You can barely climb the stairs.”

Chapter 39 Confronting Truths

2005-06-22T15:03:00.000-07:00

Underneath Clark’s bluntness, Lex could see that his friend was deeply troubled and embarrassed, and he regretted that the difficult circumstances didn’t give him enough time to use kid gloves. While completely out of character, for Clark, Lex was certain there was more to the story than a teen’s wayward summer.

“That hardly sounds like you, but there’s more to this; isn’t there?” Lex asked as he gestured down the stairwell.”

Clark nodded grimly before continuing, “One night, after a bar fight, the man who gave me this…” Clark gingerly touched the cut on his temple, “followed me back to my apartment and asked if I wanted some real excitement.”

As he said “excitement”, Clark’s voice dropped into a harsh, self-loathing tone that immediately told Lex what his answer had been.

“There was a fight club downstairs. If you won enough fights, you got to come upstairs.” Clark said significantly, clearly hoping that Lex would understand the comment.

“A tobacco club?” Lex asked, referring to Metropolis’s euphemism for establishments where all forms of criminal activity were regularly bought and sold. Lex not only understood the reference, but had often frequented tobacco clubs during his visits to metropolis—occasionally to recruit special employees, but often simply to keep channels open with the type of individuals who had the skills go against his father’s employees in their many sparring matches. Despite his familiarity with these establishments, or really because of it, Lex found it even more difficult to believe that Clark had somehow made it past the first floor.

Certainly, Clark had an undeniable farm-bred strength, but the viciousness required to give the kind of beatings that would take him past the fight club—that was inconceivable to Lex. Even with the many years under his father’s callous tutelage, Lex had found it difficult and distasteful to muster the necessary quality in himself to make it through those battles. Even then, Lex had only managed it with the knowledge that he needed the connections he could make through the tobacco clubs if he intended to break away from his father’s control. Everything that he had come to believe about Clark was irreconcilable with this latest bit of information, but Clark’s confession was delivered with such sincere self-recrimination and self-loathing that it
convinced Lex.

What in the world could have driven him to this? Lex wondered to himself. Certainly not just a thirst for excitement. How far did he go? That, Lex decided was probably the crux of the matter: how far he went astray when he came upstairs.

“And?” Lex prompted.

“I… when I got upstairs… I…” Clark’s voice dropped to a strangled whisper as he started and broke off again. As Lex watched him with concern, Clark began to shudder violently. From the side, Lex noticed that Clark had begun to gulp and wondered if Clark was nauseous again, until he heard a broken sniff. Reaching his fingers into the gap between Clark’s bent arm and his cheek, Lex cupped his hand under Clark’s chin and lifted without resistance—only realizing as he did that his fingers were wet with the tears streaming silently down Clark’s face.

Wishing there was enough time to go more gently, and struck by guilt as he did, Lex nevertheless steeled himself and forced Clark to look at him as he sternly said, “Clark, we don’t have time for this. I need to know what kind of trouble we are dealing with here. Just say it.”

Chapter 38- Confidences

2005-06-22T14:54:00.000-07:00

As they reached the top of the steps at the third floor, Clark doubled over again when another wave of nausea caught him mid-stride. Watching his friend with concern, Lex knew, before he even saw the window or the ledge that Clark was in no shape to make the trip with him. Grimly, Lex stopped and sat on the step beside Clark—waiting for the latest spell to stop.

“Clark,” he asked when his friend had stopped gulping for air, “are you absolutely certain that there isn’t any other way out.”

“No.” Clark answered, shaking his head wearily as he continued, “if they left anyone here to keep an eye on us and I’m sure they have… it would be downstairs on the first floor.

All of the other windows have been sealed, and so has the emergency exit to the roof. There’s only the window.”

“You seem very sure of that.” Lex pressed—deciding it was time to get the full scoop.

Folding his arms over his knees, and pressing his chin onto his crossed arms, and Clark conceded wearily, "I'm the person who sealed the windows."

"What?"

Knowing that while he may not have much time left to get Lex out--once Lex was out the window--so was his last chance to explain, Clark took a deep breath and steeled himself to explain. Recognizing victory, Lex sat back against the wall and waited—despite the chance that someone could come at anytime.

“On my summer vacation,” Clark began with an ironic almost bitter note, “I came to Metropolis… and…”

Finding it difficult to know where exactly to start, Clark cast about with six or seven different starts before finally coming to the point “I went on a crime spree.”

Lex’s surprised laughter died quickly as Clark dropped his chin—pulling his forehead down into the crook of his arms. His movement reminded Lex forcefully of an armadillo rolling into a ball trying to protect itself. Although Lana and Chloe had hinted as much, the thought of Clark knowingly involved in something criminal had not seemed quite real until he heard it from Clark.

“You’re serious?”

“Very,” Clark answered, “I did a lot of things… that I’d... rather forget: I partied…hard, rented expensive apartments, gambled, drank, got into fights, slept with... people... alot, and stole to pay for everything... and ... everyone.”

Chapter 37: Chances

2005-06-22T14:44:00.000-07:00

Finally discarding the ropes that had tied Clark’s ankles, Lex carefully turned Clark over to begin on his wrists.

“Lex,” Clark’s rough, harsh voice surprised Lex as he worked.

“I’ll have you untied in a minute.” Lex said in the most soothing tone he could muster.

“How long was I out?”

Looking down at his watch, Lex guessed, “Probably close to twenty minutes, but don’t worry, you haven’t missed anything interesting.” Lex finished as he untied the last knot around Clark’s wrists and helped him sit up. “Welcome back by the way. Just curious though, what’s the last thing you remember?”

“Aside from losing my breakfast, lunch, and dinner?” Clark asked with the slightest hint of irony.

“Aside from that.” Lex nodded, hoping that his suspicions about the severity of the earlier blow to Clark’s temple were wrong.

“Well, not ducking fast enough for one thing. Lex have you ever considered buying rubber furniture?” Clark asked with a cajoling tone to soften the memory of his taking the blow in place of Lex.

Smirking at his friends response, Lex suppressed his relief over finding Clark’s mental faculties intact as he answered “I’ll think about it once we’re out of here, but we have other considerations do deal with first: like exactly how we are going to get out of here first.”

Clark shifted uncomfortably against the wall as he tried carefully to frame his response for the right effect. Ever-observant, particularly to manipulation attempts, Lex jumped on his discomfiture immediately, “What is it?”

“How well can you free climb?” Clark asked, certain that his ambitious, risk-taking friend would have tried mountain climbing at least once, and if he enjoyed it, would have quickly accelerated to the more dangerous forms of the sport.

“A bit rusty. Why?” Lex raised an inquiring eyebrow.

“Upstairs. On the fourth floor, there’s a window. When you open it, it looks out over a pretty long drop, but there’s a thin ledge that we can use to get around the corner to a fire escape. The building behind us is boarded up and abandoned, so no one should be able to see us climbing down.”

“Should I ask how you know this?” Lex asked, suppressing the urge to push for a full confession of what Lana and Chloe had already hinted at. He realized that they probably had very little time to get out but was still certain that Clark was trying to manipulate him in some way.

Clark’s response was blunt enough though to derail that suspicion momentarily, “I had an apartment here.”

“You have to give me the tour,” Lex held out his hand to help Clark up, “some other time, right now… Show me that window.”