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.”

Chapter 36: Speculations

2005-06-22T14:38:00.000-07:00

Graham flipped through the summer’s thicker than usual stack of unsolved cases folders, certain that he was on the right track.

By the time he reached the bottom of the stack, Graham had sorted out twenty-seven folders; the pattern of bullets had been significant—pointing him toward an impossible subject: Morgan Edge.

Or, Graham thought to himself, an unknown person in Edge's 'company' who hasn't been active since Edge's reported death. But, that's almost too much of a coincidence, and everyone else thought to be in on Edge's operations had looong rap sheets and were too well known for him to think it was any of one of them.

All but eleven of the twenty-seven, Graham was certain could have been closed with a single name —-Morgan Edge—- if he could have found a single witness willing to chance crossing Edge.

But the anomalous eleven stood out for some peculiarity in each, that marked it distinctly outside of Edge’s well established, rarely-varying M.O.’s. In several of them, witnesses where alive who wouldn’t have been otherwise—and each with mild concussions from precisely applied almost pinpoint blows. In other cases security guards and local patrol cars were carefully distracted by false alarms at the extreme edges of their patrol.

Not that Edge ever tried to draw police attention, but his operations were enacted with callous disregard of the life of any witness, security guard, or police officer who stumbled across them. What made these and the other eleven summer cases distinct was their clear avoidance of unnecessary violence… to the extent that two of the incidents were even aborted mid-stream when the break ins were stumbled on by potential witnesses: something unheard of from Edge.

But what truly intrigued Graham was the seeming omnipotence (with regard to security systems and cameras) of whoever planned the eleven cases and the Metropolis savings and loan robbery. Inexplicably chaotic and violent thought it was, the robbery nevertheless evinced the common characteristic of it’s planner seeming to know exactly where every security junction box, trip, and camera were. The suspects in each incident were never caught on any of the very complex security systems’cameras. Whoever was involved seemed to know the blueprint for every system and its weaknesses.

Tossing the other sixteen cases aside, Graham loaded the eleven in his briefcase and called down to the garage to have his car ready.

It’s time to have a look around at some of Edge’s old haunts.

Chapter 35: In Dim Light

2005-06-22T13:42:00.000-07:00

When the bitter solution finally began to wear off, Lex opened his eyes and was hit with a strong wave of nausea as he struggled to sit up. The task was made only marginally more difficult for the fact that his wrists were tightly bound with a rope running up to a rail about three or four feet from the floor then back down to a rope that bound his ankles. Turning so that the rope ran up over his shoulder with his back against the wall, Lex was finally able to sit up and extend his legs slightly.

Looking around, he could barely see with only a little grey light showing down from a dirty-gray window. Although incredibly dim, the light was strong enough for him to see Clark tied close by. But, unlike Lex, Clark wouldn’t be able to set up because whoever had tied him had taken extra measures to be certain that Clark couldn’t escape—tying Clark’s arms beneath him with a rope wrapping tightly around his waist to keep them in place. Then, a second rope binding Clark tightly above the knees ran upward to bind Clark’s ankles together and tie them to the bar a few inches from Lex’s head. Watching Clark begin to stir, Lex was hit with another wave of nausea and before he could control it was doubled over vomiting between them. Beside him, Clark groaned, rolled toward him, and asked weakly, “Dad, are you okay?”

The effort it took to ask the short question left Clark panting, as Lex took several seconds to recover from the dry heaves that followed before answering, “No, Clark it’s Lex.”

“Lex?”

When Clark turned toward him, even in the dim light, Lex could see that something didn’t look right in Clark’s eyes. There was a troubling vagueness in his stare… some lack of recognition that could have come from the earlier blow, from whatever drug was used, or from Clark’s illness before that.

Inexplicably, Clark asked, “Lex, I don’t understand… why are you here? Where’s my dad?”

Forcing a calm, casual tone into his voice, Lex responded, “Clark, it’s all right, your mom and dad are back at home.”

“Oh, Ok” Clark answered as if finding himself tied upside down were an everyday occurrence.

“Clark, what do you remember?”

Clark started unevenly, his voice rough with rapidly falling tears, “I thought you were off on your honeymoon, and…” Clark’s voice broke in confusion as he asked again “Where is my dad?” as if Lex hadn’t answered the first time.

Christ! Lex thought to himself. This is the last thing we needed. Trying to control his frustration, Lex spoke as soothingly as he could when he answered, “He and your mom are at home waiting for you. Can you tell me the last thing you remember?”

Before he answered, Clark’s face contorted for several seconds, then gasping, Clark burst out, “Oh God…” and became sick adding his stomach contents to the puddle between them.

Unlike Lex’s sick spell, though, Clark’s gagging lasted for nearly forty minutes while wave after wave of dry heaves racked his body once his stomach contents were ejected. Finally, too exhausted even to turn his head, Clark gasped, “I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay. It hit me like that too,” Lex smiled softly, as he lied to his friend. It was not okay by any stretch of the imagination that Lex could contrive. Clark was in serious trouble and it looked like Lex would have to be the one to come up with the miracle this time.

When Clark didn’t respond after several seconds, Lex worked the rope on his wrists high enough over the bar that he could reach over to touch Clark’s shoulder with his foot. Several nudges were enough to convince Lex that Clark was either asleep again or unconscious. Finally, looking around the room as he worked on the knots at his wrists, Lex tried to figure out where he could find a miracle to pull out of his hat.

Chapter 34: Inquiries

2005-06-22T13:10:00.000-07:00

Chloe slapped the phone shut, growling in frustration; Nothing… I’ve followed every lead I can think of… even the ones I think are long shots and there’s nothing.”

Lana quietly replaced Chloe’s fourth espresso with a fifth and joined her at the table.

“You’ll find something. I’m sure of it.” Lana offered confidently. “Look how many mysteries you have already solved.”

Shaking her head remorsefully, Chloe caught Lana’s eyes as she answered, “Yes, but never Clark’s. No. I’m … just plain tapped out here. His emails are clean. There weren’t any calls to or from his cell. The Torch’s phone shows nothing during that time.”

Tossing back the espresso as though it was a jolt of scotch, Chloe grimaced and slammed the little cup to the table with a gusty sigh.

“Can you think of anything else that might have happened? Anything at all? From that morning or the weekend before?” Chloe demanded, even though she knew Lana probably wasn’t holding anything back from her.

“No, I’ve tried since last night, but I can’t remember anything out of the ordinary happening at all… until Clark’s mom called.” Chloe nodded in resignation. She hadn’t really expected anything else, and hated feeling at loose ends… like she had missed something important.

“Damn it! I don’t even know the right questions to ask. If he didn’t do anything or say anything out of the ordinary, then how are we supposed to figure this out?”

“Well…” Lana started hesitantly.

“What?” Chloe’s voice rose as she asked, “What is it?”

“It’s just that…” Lana mumbled, “Well, it didn’t make any sense.”

“What is it? Chloe asked again impatiently. “Did he say something at Lex’s? For heaven’s sake, Lana spill it. I won’t tell anyone.”

“I only saw him for a few minutes… but he did say something odd… and had a panic attack after saying it.”

Masking her exasperation, Chloe stared at Lana for several seconds before she was sure that she could control her voice well enough to ask: “Why didn’t you tell me? What did he say?”

Chapter 33: Visitors

2005-06-21T18:29:00.000-07:00

Leaving Clark at bottom of the stairs, Lex waved him into the library and walked down the hall toward the kitchen. After a moment, Clark’s rustling announced that he had settled in.

“Clark? Feel like something to eat?”

As he finished the question, the rustling immediately stopped and Lex thought he heard a noncommittal grunt.

Well, that certainly doesn’t preclude me from setting up a light fruit and cheese platter.

“Feel like the stravecchio, some citrus, and possibly some salmon?” Lex asked trying to tempt Clark’s appetite. After several seconds, when Clark still didn’t answer, Lex set down the orange he had been peeling and stepped out of the kitchen down the hall.

Just inside the library doorway, Clark was on his knees, clutching the doorframe as he swayed unevenly back and forth. Lex ran down the hall just in time to barely catch Clark as he pitched forward. Lifting him back to his feet, Lex tried to help his friend stagger back toward a couch, but Clark tried to push him away strangling, “No, Lex,...”

Before he could finish his warning, Clark surprised Lex by pulling him down and forward, forcing Lex to double over. Just before he fell into the couch, Lex felt the force of something swing over his shoulders— only narrowly missing the back of his skull—but striking Clark full force and dropping him right on top of Lex.

As Lex struggled to scramble out from under Clark’s chest, he heard someone yell from behind him, “You idiot, grab him, get him up, and hold his head back.”

As ordered, rough hands grabbed Lex’s shoulders and arms, pulled him up, forced his head back and gripped his forehead and chin pulling his mouth open. Over the sound of his struggling to free himself, Lex could hear water being poured into a glass followed by the sharp sound of metal ringing against glass as it stirred. His struggle to break free was futile though: within seconds, practiced hands pinched his nose shut and poured a thin watery solution directly into his throat triggering his gag reflex as the first gush of solution hit the back of his throat. Filling his throat and mouth, the solution blocked his breathing until his reflexes took over and forced him to gulp for the deprived air—swallowing as he did. Enraged by their success, Lex struggled against his captors, breaking free long enough to spit out the little bit remaining in his mouth and find Clark on the couch.

His first sight of Clark, after breaking away, was frightening: Clark lay unnaturally still just as he had fallen and the force of a blow left a swiftly bleeding cut across his temple. His face was ash gray and nearby veins throbbed rapidly to supply the wound. Looking at the size, depth, and location of the cut, Lex had a very real concern that Clark could suffer permanent damage from the blow. But, before he could grab something to staunch the blood flow, Lex felt his legs drop out from under him and his strength quickly ebb. In moments, they were literally stepping over him to carry Clark out. As his vision and hearing started to fade, Lex heard brief snatches of their conversations.

“What about this one?” Someone’s toe nudged him.

“Leave him, it’s Kal … baggage”.

“You’ve … crazy… him … ransom or caveman’s”

“Caymans … idiot …account… in… islands.”

“Doesn’t matter, just let’s…” Whatever else might have been said, Lex didn’t hear as the solution took complete control of his senses and shut them down.

Chapter 32: Shock

2005-06-21T18:24:00.000-07:00

Before Lex eyes, Clark practically fell apart.

“Everything… th… summer… you… know… every…” Clark broke off as one gasp turned into several and shaking hands clutched his throat trying to breath. The blood seemed to drain away from his face as he slid from the chair to his knees. Just before his eyes snapped shut and thick streams of tears poured down his cheeks, Lex caught glimpses of self-loathing and terror.

And, Lex had chastised Lana for shaking Clark up?

“Clark!” Lex snapped harshly, “Clark, you have to stop this. Listen to me.” But, Clark seemed oblivious.

It was almost to cliché, but the only thing Lex could think of to break Clark’s panic was a sharp slap. When the first, lighter blow made no impression, Lex immediately followed it up with a stronger slap. Then another one-- harder still, without response. Then a fourth. Finally, Lex backhanded Clark hard enough to jar his own shoulder. Cupping a hand under Clark’s chin, he waited for some sign that Clark was coming out of the strange panic attack.

Thirty seconds had passed, and Lex was lifting his free hand to deliver another harder blow when he noticed Clark’s breathing even out. But, to his surprise, that was the only indication Clark gave that the impending blow was unnecessary. Instead, of opening his eyes, Clark seemed to barely lift his chin from Lex’s cupped hand, moving further into the path of the next expected blow. Clark was even trying not to steel himself to take the blow, but to be as open and vulnerable to the anticipated strike, as possible.

He want’s to be punished.

That much was obvious, and while Lex immediately understood how he could use it to his advantage, he had no intention of ultimately complying with that desire. Remembering the small nurse’s comments, Lex dropped his hand –unsurprised to catch a fleeting look of anxiety shade Clark’s features as his palm landed gently on the young man’s cheek.

The strike Clark had been expecting came as a solid, but gentle pat on his cheek followed by Lex’s intentionally weary command: “Get dressed, Clark. This isn’t the place to deal with this.”

As Clark rose obediently and reached for the remainder of his clothes, stripped of his earlier angst and anger, Lex enjoyed one of those rare moments when the experience of his own angst-ridden and rebellious teen years (and his familiarity with panicking, self-abusing, not infrequently drugged out teens) was coming in handy. When he turned back, Clark had finished and was waiting timidly for his next order.

“We’ll stop so you can apologize to Martha and Jonathon...” catching another almost panicked look, Lex quickly finished, “for this morning’s behavior. Then, we’ll leave for the castle. They dropped off some things last night. But, if there is anything else you need, I can send for it.” Catching Clark’s elbow, he ushered him toward the door… or would have if Clark hadn’t stopped to stare at him in shock.

“What?”

“Y-ou… you… st-ill want me to come over?” It occurred to Lex that Clark clearly couldn’t reconcile the thought that Lex would still want him in the mansion with what he knew about summer excursion. Unwilling to let Clark’s obedience slip away so easily, however, Lex forced a callous note into his response: “At least until we get this sorted out.”

The brusqueness of his response and it’s underlying meaning to the young man reasserted his hold over Clark, who allowed himself to be escorted out of his hospital room, briefly past his parents, then to the sports car waiting in the hospital’s parking lot.

What Matters

2005-06-20T08:47:00.000-07:00

What matters.
Rating: Pg13, Angst, Hurt/comfort
Summary: After the homecoming, only two people really dwelled on who the scarecrow had been.

What matters.

Clark could feel Lex watching him carefully for weeks afterward, but that was okay. He understood Lex and knew that as long as he made sure that it didn't matter, Lex wouldn't say anything to any one.

So, it didn't matter, it couldn't matter, it wouldn't matter. He'd make sure of it. It wouldn't matter, and not just because of Lex but the others also. Because if it mattered and the others said something... or worse said nothing... then... well, he didn't know what then, but it would be bad. That much he was certain of-- it would be the end of everything as he knew it. But, only if he let it matter.

So, when the his cup of cocoa shattered in his hand after he watched Lana kissing Whitney, he swallowed his pride, ignored the jibes and smirks of the others around him, and told himself that it didn't matter.

When Whitney made his half-hearted apology attempt, Clark brushed him off swearing under his breath that it was nothing and it wouldn't matter.

When the football team started perching at the school's front entry, he slipped around to the door by the cafeteria and told Chloe and Pete that it was just because the side door was closer to his locker. Not that it mattered.

When he missed the bus and walked home, he took rural route 75... the one that didn't pass by Reilly field because it gave him a great view of the lake on his way home. And, a nice view was all that mattered when you were going to be walking an extra thirty minutes anyhow.

When he woke up chilled and sweating, unable to get back to sleep, he wrapped the blankets tighter around his shoulders, pulled out his text book and studied because a few hours more or less of sleep wouldn't matter in the long run.

***

Lex tried to be discreet about his surveillance of Clark, but he was well aware that Clark knew he was being watched. Often, when he noticed Lex's presence, Clark would adopt his best I'm-fine-thank-you smile though it was clearly forced, and straighten up or even wave just to let Lex know that things were going on just like normal. While Lex appreciated the attempt, he was all to aware that matters were never that simple.

Nevertheless, he felt it was ultimately Clark's decision to discuss with anyone else and would not interfere unless it became obvious that he needed to take matters into his own hands.

So, while he didn't ignore it when Clark flinched away from Whitney breaking a coffee mug in the process, Lex held his tongue.

When Clark gave Whitney the well-deserved brush off, he almost but didn't cheer because it soon became apparent that Clark was going to let the incident slide and wasn't even going to mention it to Lana when it would have been definitely in his best interests to do so.

But, when he watched Clark slip out the high school’s side entrance to avoid the jock convention prowling the front gates and head out the old truck road, Lex began to rethink his decision.

When Clark started avoiding the main highway, taking the back road that added almost twice the distance to his walk home, Lex started to patrol the truck route when ever his schedule allowed in hopes getting they would have a chance to speak privately.

Finally, when he escorted Clark home after finding him asleep in the middle of the road, he waited on the porch until the Kents settled their son into his room and surprised them with a quiet declaration on their return: “We have some matters to discuss.”

***

Form his bed, Clark listened to their discussion, waiting listlessly for the end of everything as he knew it. But, as he drifted off to sleep, the change he was waiting for was replaced with a realization that had been building daily since Lex had taken him down from the cross in Reilly field.

When it mattered most, he would have his family to turn to… his family to watch out for him… his family and Lex.

Inner Demons: WIP

2005-06-19T06:57:00.000-07:00

Title: Inner Demons... WIP
Genre:Pre-Clex,PG 13 angst
Summary: Who's Clark's Daddy? Angst, misdirection, and half-truths draw the boys closer.

Table of Contents

Synopsis

Chapter 1: Lost

Chapter 2: Waiting

Chapter 3: Discovery

Chapter 4: Rushing Inward

Chapter 5: Apprehensions

Chapter 6: Onslaught

Chapter 7: Treatments

Chapter 8: Reunion

Chapter 9: Half truthes

Chapter 10: Outcasts

Chapter 11: Impact

Chapter 12: Decisions

Chapter 13: Routines

Chapter 14: Habits

Chapter 15: Complications

Chapter 16: Hunches

Chapter 17: Gossamer Leads

Chapter 18: Erroneous Conclusions

Chapter 19: Misgivings

Chapter 20: Tug of War

Chapter 20: Connections

Chapter 21: Depression

Chapter 22: Reconnaissance

Chapter 23: Tigger

Chapter 24: Caution

Chapter 25:Observations

Chapter 26: Reacting
.
Chapter 27: Delivery

Chapter 28: Confrontation

Chapter 29: Confessions

Chapter 30: Challenges

Chapter 31: Bluffs

Chapter 32: Shock

Chapter 33: Visitors

Chapter 34: Inquiries

Chapter 35: In Dim Light

Chapter 36: Speculations

Chapter 37: Chances

Chapter 38: Confidences

Chapter 39: Confronting Truths

Chapter 40: Plans

Chapter 41: Recognition

Chapter 42: Mannipulations

2005-06-17T13:21:00.000-07:00

06-16-05

Do You Love Me?

2005-06-14T20:10:00.000-07:00

06-14-05
Do You Love Me? (3.53 MB)
Reloaded (3.96MB)
Rating: PG 13, AU, Romance with a twist
Summary: Ever wonder why Clark has trust issues?

Like Humans Do

2005-06-13T00:58:00.000-07:00

What Humans Do Reloaded 7/5/05

(3.13 Mb-(low quality) Due to difficulties uploading the 7Mb high-quality version, I have temporarily posted this lower quality zip file but will post the higher quality file ASAP.)

Rating: PG 13, AU, Romance with a twist

Summary: What Clark would do for Lex's Love or

to prove himself Lex's equal.

Notes: My first attempt at a Fanfic Vid.

The file is being hosted by Megaupload.com, through a time/hit sensitive counter that will expire after 30 days of non-use. If the link has expired, drop me a comment: I will happily reload it.

Like Humans Do

2005-06-13T00:16:00.000-07:00

Title: Like Human's Do (Vid) (7.18 Mb)

Rating: Pg13, Au, Romance with a twist.

Summary: My first attempt at a fan fiction Vid.

What Clark would do for Lex's love

(to become Lex's equal).

The vid is posted through a timed/hit counted link to yousendit.com and will expire in 7 days (from 06/13/05) or 25 hits whichever comes first.

If the link has expired please drop me a comment; I will happily reload it and post the new link.

As always feed back is welcomed; but particularly for this first attempt I'm eager to hear what I did well and where I dropped the ball. Thanks.
Diane

Treatment

2005-05-31T15:52:00.000-07:00

Clexfest: 12th Wave at www.kardasi.com

Rating: PG 13, Clex, Established Relationship, Angst, AU, Near futurefic, Multiple POV’s

Challenge: Breaking the Habit: Linkin Park

Notes: Crossovers: Thank you to my gracious and giving Betas Psychi and Hrd02ca. After their thorough review, I can safely say that any errors, awkwardness, or angst in this piece belong completely to me. Crossovers: Bruce Wayne, Willow (BTVS), Abby Bartlett (West Wing). This is a sequel to both DT’s at CLFF 11th Wave and Safe Here in My Room.

Summary: When duty becomes addictive and Clark can’t break the habit alone, Lex calls on friends.

Treatment

After numerous heated discussions about the severity of Clark’s condition, Lex, Willow, Abby, and Bruce decided that an intervention was in order. It was time to force a discussion that Clark had studiously avoided throughout all of his past ‘vacations’: his motivation for continuing to be Superman.

No one in the room had expected Clark to open up easily; it was against the conditioning he had received from childhood; but after three hours, they had progressed little further than an acknowledgement that Clark still felt guilty about the meteor mutants. Frustrated and drained, Lex finally called for a breather and stalked over to the bar.

***

Filling his tumbler with Johnny Walker Blue, Lex poured it over his lips more than he sipped it. He almost missed the memory of a time when it felt like salt being poured over an open wound…salt at least was drawing; but the whisky could no longer draw out the pain and poison of other memories that threatened to consume him. Memories—of Clark: lifting him, standing over him, pulling him out of a car, out of the water, out of rubble, cutting him down, even knocking him out for his own good (because Clark had finally admitted to the stunning number of times that he had used that ploy). Images, once pleasant, now flitted through his thoughts as he tried to calculate the number of times Clark had saved him- physically and mentally.

But, over the course of time, they discovered that each fondly-remembered rescue had been a poison of its own, seeping slowly into Clark’s system under the camouflage of his heroism, and addicting him to the chemicals that his alien brain produced in response to emergencies. By the time they had made that discovery, Clark was as addicted as any back-alley junkie could be – and playing Superman was his drug of choice.

***

With a mumbled apology, Clark retreated to his room: “I’m afraid it’s going to be a couple of minutes before I’ll be up to picking me apart again.”

***

Sympathetically, Bruce watched as Lex winced at Clark’s comment before the boy retreated. Despite the charged situation, Bruce could only focus on Lex’s angry retort earlier in the week- asking Bruce whether he thought he could replace Lex in Clark’s life. Lex honestly believed that Clark interested him. The thought was amusing—almost ludicrous—but still amusing.

Admittedly, Clark shared several similarities with his former partner and lover, Nightwing–namely being that they were well-built, dark-haired men with super-hero complexes. But, like Nightwing, Clark was oh so righteous and idealistic, full of optimism, and driven by his belief that humanity was inherently worthwhile. In short, Clark was young in a way that had nothing to do with age, too young to be of interest to Bruce, particularly after his relationship with Nightwing had ended so badly.

No. Of the pair, Lex, Bruce’s oldest friend outside of Alfred, his guardian-cum-butler, was the one that Bruce found intriguing. Sophisticated, charming, and bruised, like a baroque masterpiece, Lex had enough shadows, body, and texture to keep Bruce occupied for years. And while Bruce had no specific intention to break up the lovers, he certainly had motivation and vested interests in doing so. First, he wanted Lex, who was becoming increasingly controlled by Clark through his addiction. And then he wanted to keep Superman around. While Bruce genuinely felt nothing for the spandex-clad hero, not the slightest trace of attraction or even friendship, he recognized that he needed Superman to continue. Despite his enduring hunger for vengeance, Bruce didn’t want to be the one that battles always chose.

***

By the time that Clark reached his room, Superman had emerged and was trying to coax the young man into cooperating with his treatment.

“Clark, you know as well as I do that this is necessary. You have to come to terms with your compulsion to … be me.” Superman stared at Clark in the mirror as he stumbled slightly over his words. “You have to understand what’s at stake here. I know that there is more to our work than just your addiction,” he answered the hurt look in Clark’s eyes, “you are proud of what we’ve done, and so am I. But…” Superman trailed off as he tried to find the right words, but Kal El was quick to fill the space.

“Go ahead and tell him.” Kal El grinned, always enjoying the chance to prod the stiff and proper hero. “Old Iron pants here, doesn’t believe in these ‘people’ you think so much of; he doesn’t know what’s worth fighting for. And he’s fairly certain that, even if you wrote out a list of things worth fighting for, most of the humans he’s saved over the years wouldn’t be anywhere on it… Not if you were being honest at least, but you don’t ‘do’ honest very well—do you?”

The icy grimace that answered Kal El was expected, but Superman’s equally chilling voice surprised Kal El, when he answered, “I don’t know why you feel that you have to instigate. Your life would be much simpler- wouldn’t it- if it was just you and Clark again—without me to rein you in when he cannot?”

“Yeah, sure, of course! That’s what matters. Just getting rid of you so I can be free again. Because, he’s not going to hold me in. He can’t. He never could. It always took someone else. First, Jor El and Dad, then Dr. Swan’s chick and Mom. He doesn’t have it in him.” Kal El glared at Clark, daring him to answer.

“Don’t say that.” Superman chastised him, “You know that’s not true. I came from him, and I can control you – easily. So can he. Stop saying things you don’t mean. You can’t hide anything from us. Remember?”

Kal El laughed bitterly, “Is that what you think? That the two of you know everything that I know?”

Although it was never discussed, Kal El’s personality had, by virtue of a kryptonian birth, actually preceded Clark’s personality, who developed close to the time that Clark finally learned to speak English. But it had never occurred to either Clark or Superman that Kal El knew something they didn’t. And, Kal El’s rapid retreat into stony silence told them that, at least today, they wouldn’t find out what Kal El knew… if anything.

Superman shot Kal El a resigned glance, noticing in the mirror that the Kryptonian’s expression had returned to his ‘I’m-intentionally-ignoring-you’ mask. Well, one problem at a time should be enough anyway.

“Clark. I know that how you were raised has made it difficult for you to share your feelings, but these are your friends...” Superman trailed off as he recognized that Clark wasn’t convinced. He was listening; Clark always listened, but Superman wasn’t being persuasive enough.

Swallowing his pride with a grudging nod to Kal El, Superman made a final appeal, “He’s right: you keep us grounded. You make humanity important to us, and if you weren’t around… well… the outcome would not be nearly as good for the world. Tell your friends what they want to know, and they can figure out how to help you

“Tell them what they want? How can I?” Clark demanded in a voice cracking with frustration. “I don’t know how I got this way. So, how can I explain it to them?”

Superman stared in shock at Clark, realizing that the young man honestly didn’t understand why he had chosen to become Superman. Shaking his head, Superman stalked over to the bed, carefully slid onto his back, and threw his arm across his eyes. Why was it always easier trying to battle the troubles of the world than it was to come to terms with his own conscience?

***
In her own room, Willow was trying to come to terms with her own inner demons and addictions as well. Clutching her hands, she suppressed the urge to twitch a little spell into place. Latin tingled at the lips bitten between her teeth as she tried to catch her breath, again. It always hurt so much more to keep control when she watched Clark battle his addictions. Knowing that she could simply lift the addiction from his cells, erasing it as though it had never been; that she knew the exact spell she could use, and that she had practiced the hand movements until they came without effort—only made the temptation to do so more painful to deny.

It would have been so easy, and well within her advanced powers- but the conclave had denied her request to perform the spell. She understood, in theory, why they had refused. To perform the spell, she would have to take a portion of Clark’s energy into her – cleansing it internally as though she were some type of cosmic filter – before she returned it to him. But, the conclave were the ones who would be responsible for containing her if she ever slipped again, and they were afraid that ‘sampling’ Clark’s alien energies could cause her to relapse into her addiction with a more terrible force than anytime before.

So, she really didn’t have any options. Magic-stripping rituals by their very nature were thorough and cruelly intrusive to ensure that the magic user had no obscure cache of spells memorized or talents otherwise hidden in her mind. If she wanted to retain her magic, and possibly her sanity then she had to abide by the conclave’s dictates. But, every time she watched him suffer through severe fevers and now bouts of the DT’s, it hurt more and more, because she knew she clutched his cure in her hands.

***

Abby, alone, remained in the living room. The quiet that saturated the penthouse after their tense session was in no way peaceful, but Abby was surprised to realize that she found it more comfortable than being in the young heroes’ presence. Sometime during the evening, she had discovered just how dysfunctional this group of young people was. Watching them try to guide and counsel Clark, she had realized that although he was an alien, Clark was hardly unique among them for his pain and alienation. It radiated off of them in waves- uniquely manifesting in each but ever-present nonetheless.

It was a cruel paradox that the people, whom her husband called on to protect the country from the greatest threats it could face, were ultimately wounded children torn between what they believed to be their duty and their desire to never fight again.

Gritting her jaw as she thought of her own children, Abby gave into her natural instincts and maternal feelings as she swore to herself that, tonight, she was going to do something to help bring it to an end. She dedicated herself to first helping Clark find his way, just as she had helped Leo so many years before, and then perhaps Lex or Bruce. She was having trouble deciding which was the more injured, but what mattered was that this was the starting point. This was how their pain and loneliness would end.

“This is how it ends.” She thought to herself as she stood to call them back in from their brief respite, “I’m breaking Clark’s habit, tonight.”

***
LINKIN PARK LYRICS

"Breaking The Habit"

Memories consume
Like opening the wound
I'm picking me apart again
You all assume
I'm safe here in my room
Unless I try to start again

[Bridge:]
I don't want to be the one
The battles always choose
'Cause inside I realize
That I'm the one confused

[Chorus:]
I don't know what's worth fighting for
Or why I have to scream
I don't know why I instigate
And say what I don't mean
I don't know how I got this way
I know it's not alright
So I'm breaking the habit
I'm breaking the habit
Tonight

Clutching my cure
I tightly lock the door
I try to catch my breath again
I hurt much more
Than anytime before
I had no options left again

[Bridge:]
I dont want to be the one
The battles always choose
'Cause inside I realize
That I'm the one confused

[Chorus:]
I don't know what's worth fighting for
Or why I have to scream
I don't know why I instigate
And say what I don't mean
I don't know how I got this way
I'll never be alright
So, I'm breaking the habit
I'm breaking the habit
Tonight

[Bridge:]
I'll paint it on the walls
'Cause I'm the one at fault
I'll never fight again
And this is how it ends

[Chorus:]
I don't know what's worth fighting for
Or why I have to scream
But now I have some clarity
to show you what I mean
I don't know how I got this way
I'll never be alright
So, I'm breaking the habit
I'm breaking the habit
I’m breaking the habit
Tonight

[ www.azlyrics.com ]

First Night

2005-05-31T15:33:00.000-07:00

Rating: PG, Clex, Established Relationship, Angst, AU, Near futurefic, Drabble

Clexfest: 12th wave at kardasi.com

Challenge: Based on the Music Challenge – Land of Confusion: Genesis

Notes: Sincere thanks (and Happy Anniversary) to my generous and speedy Beta’s, Stella and Niobe, who spent their afternoon online so that I could submit this tonight.

Summary: A different kind of first time. Clark and Lex had planned for everything – except their feelings.

First Night

Lex’s fraught attention was torn between watching the patio and the images of an exploding warehouse/Meth Lab playing – like so many of Lex’s nightmares – on a continuous loop. The newscasters had proclaimed that the battle was over and everyone was safe. But, Lex refused to relax until Clark returned from his first *patrol*.

Finally, Lex’s gaze landed on his lover’s slumped figure, leaning wearily against the glass door. Seeming too exhausted even to open it, when Lex did, the tearful, blood-spattered boy crumpled into his arms. Broken-hearted, Clark cried into Lex’s shoulder, “This is the world we live in?”

Land of Confusion Lyrics. - Genesis

I must’ve dreamed a thousand dreams
Been haunted by a million screams
But I can hear the marching feet
They’re moving into the street.

Now did you read the news today
They say the danger’s gone away
But I can see the fire’s still alight
There burning into the night.

There’s too many men
Too many people
Making too many problems
And not much love to go round
Can’t you see
This is a land of confusion.

This is the world we live in
And these are the hands we’re given
Use them and let’s start trying
To make it a place worth living in.

Ooh superman where are you now
When everything’s gone wrong somehow
The men of steel, the men of power
Are losing control by the hour.

This is the time
This is the place
So we look for the future
But there’s not much love to go round
Tell me why, this is a land of confusion.

This is the world we live in
And these are the hands we’re given
Use them and let’s start trying
To make it a place worth living in.

I remember long ago -
Ooh when the sun was shining
Yes and the stars were bright
All through the night
And the sound of your laughter
As I held you tight
So long ago -

I won’t be coming home tonight
My generation will put it right
We’re not just making promises
That we know, we’ll never keep.

Too many men
There’s too many people
Making too many problems
And not much love to go round
Can’t you see
This is a land of confusion.

Now this is the world we live in
And these are the hands we’re given
Use them and let’s start trying
To make it a place worth fighting for.

This is the world we live in
And these are the names we’re given
Stand up and let’s start showing
Just where our lives are going to.

Chapter 31: Bluffs

2005-05-18T15:58:00.000-07:00

In his surprise, Lex felt the familiar sense he that sometimes had of time seeming to stretch out into nanoseconds kicking in and letting him observe Clark’s action in minute detail.

After the initial outburst, as Clark’s hands closed on Lex’s shoulders, his anger seemed to drop away into sad resignation. But as it seemed to seep away, instead of stopping, Clark clenched his jaw, and tightened his fingers— as he moved Lex with just enough force to be almost convincing when he carefully pushed Lex backward, gently guiding him around nearby equipment.

Lex had been manhandled many times in the past and was familiar with observing others actions in the extended nano-second time-frame, so he found little difficulty in comparing their actions to Clark’s actions. He quickly realized that Clark’s actions had quickly become another way of literally pushing Lex away—before Lex could openly reject him.

While inherently aggressive on the surface, Clark’s execution became too careful, too calculated, and too controlled. In the briefest of seconds, it had become an act… almost a bluff. At that realization, Lex almost broke into grin because, if there was one thing he knew from years under his father’s tutelage, it was how to handle it was a bluff… even a terrified bluff from someone who had no heart to follow it up.

When pushed Lex, Lex pushed back—harder, faster, and in the most sensitive spot possible. Generally, doing so was sufficient to dissuade those who were merely bluffing and leave him within easy-striking distance of those who weren’t. Where Clark was acting so carefully, harder and faster wouldn’t be difficult; but Lex felt a twinge of guilt at going for Clark’s weakest point… until Clark pressed him against the wall, pulled open the door, and growled “Is this easy enough? Just go! That should be easy enough.”

Taking a moment, Lex set his heels and looked over Clark’s shoulder to spot the bed and equipment. Then, smothering an apology to Clark, Lex jerked his hands up between Clark’s and pushed them outward throwing his hands off. Before Clark could recover from his surprise, Lex settled his palms firmly on Clark’s chest and pushed propelling Clark backwards a short distance to land soundly into the chair.

“No,” Lex growled, relying on instinct to supply his words, “You’re not my father. You don’t get to do that. No one does. Yes, you saw me outside your window. Of course, I was upset— not, because I think you are a freak… For heaven’s sake, Clark, you weren’t the only one out in the storm that day… you weren’t the only one affected by the meteors… How can you look at me and not recognize that?” Building up steam as he went, Lex swiped a hand across his forehead to make his point.

“Clark, I was angry… I was angry with you for not telling me. I was angry with them…” he jerked his head toward the window, “for telling me… much of which I had already suspected, but I was waiting for you to tell me… Don’t you get it? I was… hoping to find something I could do… something that would earn your trust. Now, how can I ever know, how can I ever be certain, if or when you chose to confide in me that it was out of trust. You know me better than anyone does. How can you not realize what that means?”

Looking abashed, and realizing how wrong his earlier assumptions had been, Clark sat up to interrupt, but Lex cut him short… “No, you finally had your say, now… I get mine… I was upset when I first left with you and your parents… so I went to the Talon to think. That’s some what ironic isn’t it. That’s generally where I go when I want to find you. But this time, I was trying to get away from you – to think about how I really felt about your secrets without worrying about saying something that would unintentionally hurt your feelings. So naturally, I go to one of the places that I associate with you. Well, imagine my surprise, when I get there, and find out that there were even more secrets that I didn’t know that you didn’t tell me about—secrets that you had kept from me because you didn’t want to hurt me. Do you know angry I was to hear that you had kept me in the dark about everything that’s happened since you’re little summer vacation?” Lex had intended to finish by saying that his anger had been directed at himself for not being someone that Clark could confide in, but Clark’s reaction stole his words.

Chapter 30: Challenges

2005-05-18T15:48:00.000-07:00

Lex watched him wordlessly, never having expected to hear Clark share more of his feelings in those two minutes than he had in the past two years. He couldn’t deny what Clark had seen or explain it away… not in Clark’s current state of mind. The pain radiating from Clark’s eyes was far beyond anything he had expected, but was – at the same time – utterly familiar to Lex from his own troubled years.

Clark had clearly concluded that their friendship was over— and so, despite the presence of family and other friends, felt totally alone. The thought disturbed Lex, who was completely unfamiliar with the thought that his friendship could be so important to anyone who already had the love of friends and family. His connections… yes, his wealth… of course, but not his friendship.

“Clark…” Lex broke off… at an unusual loss for words. The moment felt trickier than many of the tensest business negotiations he had navigated lately. Clark clearly and desperately needed his friendship, confidence, and honesty, but just as clearly could not handle a simple direct discussion of Jonathon’s minor revelations. And, for every second he delayed, Lex could feel Clark withdrawing deeper and deeper inside himself.

After running through every approach that came to mind and deciding each was unsuitable… Lex pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger as he tried to think of others. Feeling Clark’s quiet glare on him, Lex irritably snapped, “Damn it. Clark, why are you making it so hard?”

Clark’s head shot up as the pain in his eyes flared, mixing with grief and anger.

In a harsh, almost brittle voice… he rasped “Hard? On you? Was I making it hard on you? I didn’t know. I thought I was making it easier on you. But, here, let me make it even easier…” as he spoke Clark reached out and grabbed Lex’s shoulders before Lex could set his defenses and pushed Lex backward to the door.

When Lex Realized

2005-05-17T22:24:00.000-07:00

Title: When Lex realized
Genre: PG13, Established Relationship, humor
Disclaimers: If I owned them, Lex would be in the spandex and Clark in the Silk.
Summary: Lex reconsiders friends fashion choices.

When Lex Realized.

When Lex realized that his old friend, Bruce Wayne was Batman, he developed an attraction for black leather, brooding men, and utility belts.

When Lex realized that his date, Diana Prince was Wonder Woman, he cultivated a fascination for gold ropes, domineering women, and the mile high club.

When Lex realized that his best friend, Clark Kent was Superman, he became obsessed with finding a tailor who refused to work with Spandex, Speedos, or Flannel.

Restraint

2005-04-27T09:26:00.000-07:00

Title: Restraint (sequel to Lap Dog)
Genre: Angst, PG 13, Sacrifice, Lionel happy, dodecal (144 words)
Disclaimer: I don’t own them, but I’m designing stylish collars for when I do.
Summary: Lionel contemplates his son’s choices. Lionel POV, dodecal (144 words)

“Let’s just call this a show of good faith.” Lionel smiled invitingly as he leaned forward to secure a gem studded leather collar around Clark’s throat. (Lap Dog)

_Restraint_

Pulling away from the castle, Lionel ran his fingers over the studded collar—finally understanding his son’s anomalous choice to remain in Smallville. Though, not generally profitable –outside of giving him extraordinary control over a certain golden-skinned farm boy with ebony hair and stunningly expressive eyes—it remained the best use of meteors to date.

Manipulating the reluctant young man into an extended lap dance had been amusing, but that decidedly physical pleasure paled to the thrill of watching Clark’s eyes as he became aroused against his will under Lionel’s experienced hands. The pain, shame, and innocence mingling in the boy’s eyes when he bit his lip and tried futilely to keep from coming was intoxicating.

Stroking the collar again, Lionel admitted to himself that he admired his son’s self-control -faced with such temptation- but grinned broadly. He had no need for such restraint.

Lap Dog

2005-04-26T10:55:00.000-07:00

Title: Lap Dog
Sequel: Sacrifice
Genre: R, Drama, Angst, Sacrifice, Dodecal (144 words)
Disclaimer: Well, no one gave them to me even as a late birthday present. Maybe next year??
Summary: Clark and Lionel negotiated a payment for Lex’s innocence, and Lionel wants a deposit.

“What do you want?” Resignation and revulsion

mingle in Clark’s tone.

“A lap dog, a whipping boy, and a pound of flesh.”

Lionel opens his lead-lined briefcase, revealing

green glowing restraints. (Sacrifice)

Lap Dog

“What the hell?” Clark shudders backing away … into Dominic’s grip.

“Let’s just call this a show of good faith.” Lionel smiles invitingly as he leans forward to secure a gem studded leather collar around Clark’s throat.

“No!!!” Clark cringes as radiation seeps from the collar’s kryptonite studs.

“Have you changed your mind then?”

“No,” Clark gasps, “But, you don’t… need that.”

“It’s not about what I need.”

Clark tries to meet Lionel’s eyes, but the kryptonite lethargy wins.

“I don’t …” But, his claim sounds flat and false even to him.

“Dominic…” Lionel tightens his fingers around Clark’s throat as the boy starts to fight Dominic’s unseen hands stripping him.

“I thought that you were willing to buy Lex’s innocence.”

Clark stills, flushing brightly.

“Good boy.” Pulling the boy onto his knee, Lionel smirks as he begins to pet his reluctant lap dog.

Chapter 29 Confessions

2005-04-23T06:55:00.000-07:00

As he stepped inside and closed the door behind him, Lex was initially encouraged to see how vigorously Clark was changing and assumed that the night’s rest had done some good until Clark jumped violently in reaction to the soft “shunnk” of the door sliding quietly shut. Half-turning as he did, Clark afforded Lex with the briefest glimpse of the thick scar tissue that showed at the edge of his tee-shirt before he finished unrolling it and tucking it into the top of his jeans.

Steeling himself to Lex’s presence, Clark snapped, “I asked for a few minutes of privacy to get dressed. Can’t I even have that?”

Raising an eyebrow at Clark’s petulance, Lex knowingly baited him, “Don’t worry, the sight of bare feet doesn’t embarrass me.”

“That’s not the point!” Clark stammered angrily.

“No, It’s not.” Lex agreed quietly, “You wanted it to be your decision when and how much you told me and under what circumstances. But, however good their intentions were, your parents took that away from you last night without even asking? That’s the point isn’t it?”

Effectively deflating Clark’s anger, Lex’s response trapped Clark into the first of the many discussions that he had wanted to avoid.

“Yes,” he admitted peevishly “I know they only told you because they’re worried,” defending his parents, but his bitter-tone undermined his half-hearted defense.

“And that makes it ‘all better’?” Lex asked wryly.

“No, but neither does your ‘all-is-forgiven’ act… so drop it!”

“What?” Lex asked, honestly confused.

“I saw you, Lex! I saw you!” Clark jerked his chin toward the window, “Out there! Last night! Stalking around…deciding… I saw you… You were ticked off. So, don’t try to tell me that things are just great between us.”

Realizing how careless and inconsiderate it had been to come back last night only to pace and fume right outside the window, Lex just shrugged—answering, “I won’t… Things clearly haven’t been “just great” between us for several months at the very least.”

“Since the day you saved my life, Clark, I’ve considered you a close friend,” Lex continued ironically “perhaps the closest that I have… so to discover…” Lex paused trying to carefully frame his words to best diffuse Clark’s clearly hurt feelings.

Interrupting Lex, Clark blurted vehemently “that I’m a freak and a Jinx? That I’m a curse to everyone who comes close to me… That everyone who means something has been hurt because of me… you, Lana, Pete, Chloe… or worse killed like… Kyra… and… and… That I’ve lied to everyone… ‘who considers me a friend’… about everything… and pretended to be normal…“prayed I could be normal… when I’m… a freak… a fraud… a damn time bomb…”

Lex sat silently stunned as Clark’s angst and insecurities poured out in a blur of words that took Lex several seconds to decipher…

“All my life they’ve warned me” Clark continued breathlessly, “about what could happen if I told anyone, but they never said… they never… how it… and then they turn around and without asking me… without warning me… or letting me try to…” Clark broke off, shaking his head angrily as he changed course, “No… that doesn’t matter. Not now… it’s too late… and they’ve told you… So, now it’s your choice.” Clark’s raw voice dropped to the barely audible register…“But, you don’t have to say it… or try to let me down gently… you don’t have to do anything… I already know what you’ve decided! I could tell last night… when you walked away.”

Chapter 28: Confrontation

2005-04-23T06:45:00.000-07:00

Martha met Lex outside of the hospital’s entrance.

“Has something… changed?” Lex asked urgently surprised to find her waiting for him.

“Only his mood,” Martha grimaced.

“What’s wrong?”

“He won’t say it,” Martha began, “or much of anything else, really… but he’s hurt and angry that we told you. I imagine he feels like we’ve betrayed his trust.”

“No, I sure he doesn’t,” Lex assured her.

“No, Lex he is, and he has the right to be. We thought we were protecting him. You don’t know how narrow-minded that even some of Smallville’s best citizens can be.”

Again remembering his shock of finding Clark strung up as the Smallville High Scarecrow, Lex stopped to consider the event’s probable impact on Clark’s ability to confide in anyone. Lex was firmly convinced that violent tendencies were learned traits, and if Smallville’s teens were capable of such an extreme response to mild social differences—what their parents were be capable of when faced with someone who might carry yet another of the potentially unknown meteor-born mutations… was a legitimate concern.

“You did what was necessary then and now, give him time and he’ll realize that.” Lex assured her.

“I know,” Martha smiled warmly at his assurances, “but… I wanted to give you some advanced notice…” Martha hesitated slightly noticing Lex’s wryly lifted brow, before continuing, “I don’t know why, but he seems to be upset with you, too.”

Lex stopped to consider the possible reasons, but few immediately occurred.

“I don’t know why either, Ms. Kent, but the easiest way to find that out is to ask.”

Martha flashed Lex a doubtful look and said, “Lex, Clark is so used to keeping such a tight lid on… everything…” even as Martha broke off, Lex caught the drift of her comment and the admission behind it: she was afraid that Clark didn’t our couldn’t acknowledge what was going on beneath the fragile shell of normalcy that was giving way, and she blamed that on her and Jonathon’s overprotective manner.

Lex gave the situation several minutes thought then shrugged.

“There’s only one way to find out.” Wrapping Martha’s hand over his forearm, Lex continued through the hospital entry.

Jonathon was waiting for them outside Clark’s room and drew Martha into his shoulder as they reached him—commenting “I think you should have a few minutes alone.”

From Jonathon’s flushed face, Lex could tell that he had tried to get through to Clark and failed. Lex nodded, gripped Jonathon’s shoulder in reassurance, and opened the door.

Chapter 27: Delivery

2005-04-23T06:42:00.000-07:00

Eldritch turned after locking the driver’s side door, to find Lionel Luthor standing uncomfortably close behind her.

“Ms. Eldritch, am I to understand that you have some interesting information about the young Mr. Kent.”

Eldritch grinned in triumph—knowing that she finally had his full attention.

“Indeed, I do.” Eldritch started to step around him, when his hand barred her way and gestured toward his limo—inviting her to join him.

As they drove away, Eldritch discussed what the barmaid had said and enjoyed his broadening grin. When she finished, Lionel gestured to his well-dressed personal assistant, who was sitting beside the chauffer then distracted Eldritch, asking… “I generally like to reward my employees when they’ve performed so well. Miss Eldritch, which would you prefer? Maxine’s? Or, La fleur d’lyss?”

While Eldritch mused over which of the two most expensive restaurant’s in Metropolis sounded more tempting, she kept a tentative ear on their business discussion… in case anything interesting came up.

“Mr. Luthor, the gentleman would like to know whether you would like one or both packages delivered tomorrow.”

“Only the one for now. The other will be scheduled for a later date.”

The assistant typed his response into the smallest blackberry/pda that Eldritch had ever seen.

“Sir, he is concerned about the current condition of the package and does not want to be held responsible for any damage that may occur in delivery.”

The graciousness of Lionel’s response impressed Eldritch when he waived his hand in a tut-tut gesture, saying “As long as there is enough left to test, condition is irrelevant.”

Tells

2005-04-18T19:28:00.000-07:00

Title: Tells
Author: Dehc
Email: dianehc@gmail.com
Rating: PG 13, Angst, Established Relationship, AU, Drabble (100 words)
Summary: Lex overhears a discussion between Clark and Jonathon about telling the truth.

Tells.

Lex paused, hearing Jonathon’s concerned voice.

“Clark, you can’t do this.”

“I have to try, Dad.”

“Jor El won’t let you…”

“He can’t stop us.”

“Clark, don’t put yourself through this. Let me help.”

“No, I want it to come from me.”

“Ready to try again?” Jonathon sounded resigned

“Yeah… Lex, you know that I’ve always---- Aieeeeeegh.”

As Clark broke off screaming, a solid thud struck the loft’s floor. Running up the stairs, Lex gaped at Clark— writhing as he clutched the lead St. George box to him. It had opened just enough for Lex to see his engagement ring.

**** Notes****

Tells- refers to the physical cues that one gambler can use to read the emotions of another.

Safe Here in my Room

2005-04-13T03:04:00.000-07:00

Title: Safe Here in My Room.
Author: Dehc
Rating:, 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.)

Safe Here in My Room.

Checking out the bedroom door, a final time, Clark nodded to himself—muttering, “I’m safe here...”

With a shaking hand, he reached behind him, closed the door, locked it tightly, and dropped the laundry hamper. On his knees, Clark frantically dug through the pile, absently tearing some of Lex’s favorite clothing and casting it aside as he reached the precious contraband suit. He slipped it on carefully as if it were suddenly fragile – despite its titanium laces and alien technology—and looked into the mirror.

Superman’s cold blue eyes stared back as he answered, “Unless I try to start again.”

***

LINKIN PARK LYRICS

"Breaking The Habit"

Memories consume
Like opening the wound
I'm picking me apart again
You all assume
I'm safe here in my room
Unless I try to start again

[Bridge:]
I don't want to be the one
The battles always choose
'Cause inside I realize
That I'm the one confused

[Chorus:]
I don't know what's worth fighting for
Or why I have to scream
I don't know why I instigate
And say what I don't mean
I don't know how I got this way
I know it's not alright
So I'm breaking the habit
I'm breaking the habit
Tonight

Clutching my cure
I tightly lock the door
I try to catch my breath again
I hurt much more
Than anytime before
I had no options left again

[Bridge:]
I dont want to be the one
The battles always choose
'Cause inside I realize
That I'm the one confused

[Chorus:]
I don't know what's worth fighting for
Or why I have to scream
I don't know why I instigate
And say what I don't mean
I don't know how I got this way
I'll never be alright
So, I'm breaking the habit
I'm breaking the habit
Tonight

[Bridge:]
I'll paint it on the walls
'Cause I'm the one at fault
I'll never fight again
And this is how it ends

[Chorus:]
I don't know what's worth fighting for
Or why I have to scream
But now I have some clarity
to show you what I meanA
I don't know how I got this way
I'll never be alright
So, I'm breaking the habit
I'm breaking the habit
I’m breaking the habit
Tonight

Chapter 26: Reacting

2005-04-13T02:33:00.000-07:00

Just as Kelly stepped into the hall, she ran into Lex and stopped him before he entered Clark’s room. He was quite glad to run into the little nurse because it gave him the chance to discuss the caution further.

After several minutes of discussion, Kelly agreed with his conclusion and grinned as she waved him quietly over to the door, saying conspiratorially, “I think I’ve taken care of that for the moment.”

After looking in, Lex grinned back and nodded. It was clear to see that the cat had captured Clark’s full attention and was quickly lulling him to sleep. In fact, as Clark popped another piece of cookie into his mouth, he yawned a broad, wide yawn that let several small pieces drop out. As they watched, Tigger settled under Clark’s hand purring warmly as he stroked her coat. Slowly, Clark’s head began to nod as he drifted off to sleep.

“Unless I miss my guess, your friend will be out for several hours. Why don’t you go home and get some rest yourself? I heard someone mention this morning that he’s going home with you tomorrow, so it’s bound to be a long day. Tigger and I can stay with him tonight.”

Lex readily accepted her suggestion, happy in fact to have another few hours to mull over the news, but had a question for her before he left: “Can I ask what made you so certain that he shouldn’t be left alone?”

Quickly deciding that she liked Mr. Luthor’s blunt approach, Kelly checked back in to make certain that Tigger had the young man well-in-hand and gestured for Lex to follow her into the nurses lounge. After she closed the door behind them, Kelly poured a cup of coffee for each of them and gestured for him to sit on the couch.

“Do you have any brothers or sisters, Mr. Luthor?” Kelly suspected that at least some of the rumors regarding the wealthy young man were true. Certainly, those about his friendship with the Kent’s son seemed to be true, but in Kelly’s mind, it was always safer to ask than assume.

Lex nodded cautiously, “Yes, a brother, why do you ask?”

“Only as a point of reference: perhaps, you have some memory of discovering something about your brother that mystified you?”

Lex nodded noncommittally.

“For me, it was discovering that my sister used to cut herself. At the time, I didn’t understand that it was linked to clinical depression. It took years of study for me to finally recognize the symptoms…”

“I don’t see where this is going.” Lex interrupted her, “Are you saying that Clark…?”

Kelly stared at him sympathetically, before asking “When was the last time you saw him without his shirt on?”

“I don’t know, but there was some sort of accident this summer, an explosion…” What he was hearing couldn’t be right. Lex knew Clark… despite everything he had missed since the island, Clark couldn’t have changed this much.

When he looked Kelly in the eyes, Lex realized she had been waiting for him to stop.

“I’m sorry. I know it’s uncomfortable to discuss but, the scars on his chest are just too regular for it to be anything else.”

Lex sat for several minutes with his hands draped limply between his knees—stunned. She pushed the coffee between his hands and sat beside him as he began to sip at the proffered coffee—trying to marshal his thoughts. He certainly had access to the best resources for helping Clark overcome a problem like this, but Lex wasn’t entirely certain that he was ready to let someone else… even a trained psychiatrist go delving into Clark’s secrets before him.

Remembering his own recent treatment by a doctor who turned out to be on his father’s payroll, Lex suspected that he might be projecting his animosities on others of the profession. Nevertheless, there was too much Lex needed to find out first… Once I get to the bottom of things, Lex promised himself, I’ll make certain Clark gets the help he needs.

Still, he did have one more question for the intuitive nurse before he left… “He seems fascinated with … Tigger? Did you call her? Do you suppose we could arrange a visit or two while he’s recovering? I think he could use the distraction.”

Chapter 25: Observations

2005-04-13T02:03:00.000-07:00

When Kelly finally moved toward the door, she was rewarded with Tigger’s vibrant purring. Kelly was barely inside the door, in fact, when Tigger surprised even her with a magnificent leap of almost ten feet, from Kelly’s shoulder to land squarely on Clark’s chest.

Shocked out of his internal litany, Clark stared down at the tiny cat in amazement as it began to paw at his chest, sometimes digging into the skin making him wince as it rumpled his hospital gown.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Kelly was almost abashed by Tigger’s surprising jump, but decided that the cat had correctly diagnosed the young man’s need to be jolted back to reality. He certainly seemed more responsive than when she had washed him earlier.

“She has never done that before,” Kelly assured him before starting into her and Tigger’s well practiced routine of hide and seek that sent the tiny cat up and down Clark’s blanket covered legs until she finally evaded Kelly by darting up his shoulder to perch by his cheek, purring loudly as the cat rubbed her face against him.

Clark, of course, tried to reach up and help Kelly catch the fugitive, but while the cat wrapped itself around and around his hands—petting him, she easily evaded his gentle attempts to corral her. When Kelly finally felt there had been enough of a show to distract Clark from whatever maudlin thoughts had kept him up, she shrugged and said, to the still speechless Clark, “leave it be. Tigger seems to have a mind of her own tonight, and until she’s decides to change it… well, there’s no swaying her.”

As if the matter was decided, Tigger clambered down his shoulder, sat on his chest, and bumped her face up into his chin. Reaching up to stroke the tiny cat, with a bemused look on his face, Clark finally found his voice.

“Is that really a cat? I’ve never seen quite like it.” He said, studying Tigger curiously as she climbed further up on his chest to rub her cheek against his.”

“She sure is.”

Mesmerized by the quirky little cat, Clark carefully slipped his hands under her stomach and picked her up to inspect her. He stroked her carefully, occasionally rubbing her fur against the grain to peek at her soft grey undercoat.

Looking up at Kelly as he spoke, Clark murmured, “She’s amazing. She can’t weigh three pounds: she’s so tiny, but I’m sure she has the muscle structure of a full grown cat. And, I’m almost certain that she has at least six different shades of grey in her undercoat from a downy-grey to a charcoal. Then, there’s her orange spot’s… they aren’t really quite orange, more like a rust… but they look almost like leopard spots. And, her tail, it almost looks like a squirrel’s tail. Is she a mixed breed?”

Kelly shook her head at his enthusiasm and farm bred eye for detail as well Tigger’s preening beneath his inspection. In response, she answered, “Yes and no…” hoping to pique his curiosity further, “She’s pure to her species, but she’s not a cat breed.”

“She isn’t a cat; but I thought you said… I don’t understand?” Clark questioned with a diffident embarrassed smile.

“Only to the same extent as a lion or a lynx… she’s simply another variety of an undomesticated/wild cat.” Kelly answered with amusement.

“In Smallville? I’ve never heard or seen a cat like this around here?”

Intensely pleased with how deftly Tigger had distracted the young man, Kelly began to tell him how the little cat’s mother had made it all the way from Kashmir, India by hiding and switching places among her father’s bags and how her father had finally given in to the little cat who had managed to make itself scarce through each and every checkpoint, bag check, and custom’s inspection only to show up the next time her father had any food to share. As she finished the tale, as if on cue, Tigger emulated her mother’s hide and seek antics- scrambling down Clark’s arm and disappearing behind him.

“Where did she go?” he asked, both startled and bemused by her quick disappearance.

Putting her fingers to her lips in a ‘shh’ gesture, Kelly reached over to the cookies, snapped one in half and handed it to him, asking “Would you mind? I’m allergic to her favorites.”

Clark hesitated a second then shrugged and took a loud, crunchy bite of the cookie. Immediately, Tigger’s head popped up from under the covers between his feet, quickly snaked her way up to pop out right by his hip, and ran up his chest to sniff his mouth. Kelly handed him the other half of the cookie to give to Tigger and asked if he would mind watching the little cat while she went out and caught up with her friend.

Clark’s quick acceptance, as he started to feed Tigger, satisfied Kelly that his diversion would be well taken care of in her absence. So, after nodding to Tigger, she thanked Clark and left.

Chapter 24: Caution

2005-04-13T01:55:00.000-07:00

As soon as Clark’s parents had pulled out of the driveway, after leaving what Lex thought was probably all of Clark’s casual wardrobe in a single suitcase, Lex changed quickly, grabbed an already packed overnight kit, and left for the hospital. Although he hadn’t mentioned it to the Kents, the little nurse’s caution that Clark shouldn’t be left alone had hovered at the back of Lex’s thoughts … particularly after Martha mentioned that Clark had sent them home so he could rest.

After the morning’s revelations, Lex was certain that rest was the last thing on Clark’s mind. While he was driving to the hospital, Lex had tried to pin down what concerned him most about the nurse’s warning… deciding almost as he had arrived, that without someone to keep Clark focused on the present, he might give-in to whatever emotional injury was already present.

Earlier at the campsite, then later poolside, and later still in the hospital, when Lex had looked in Clark’s eyes, he had the impression that Clark was sinking beneath the impact of whatever had happened.

More than that, it had seemed, at least earlier, as if Clark simply did not have the strength to stay focused on what was going on in the moment.

Chapter 23: Tigger

2005-04-13T01:44:00.000-07:00

By the time that Kelly reached the hospital most of the lights on the third floor had been lowered to help patients sleep and only Nancy remained at the third floor nursing station.

Hugging her friend, Kelly tipped her head towards the Kent boy’s room and asked if there had been any change.

“Not on the monitors, but he looks worse to me.”

“Well,” Kelly said as she hefted her bag of cookies onto the counter, “Let’s see what we can do about that.”

From out of nowhere, Little Tigger scrambled up her arm and perched on her shoulder staring at Nancy mawkishly as she grinned and reached up to pet the small obstinate cat. The small rusty-spotted cat was, to Kelly’s thinking, a natural healer—having an instinctive ability to recognize depressed and emotionally troubled people—and an almost deliberated approach toward raising their spirits.

When Kelly first got permission to bring Tigger in to visit a terminally-ill child, some of the more finicky doctors complained until they noticed how much the child’s mood improved and how much better young boy slept… without additional doses of pain medication. It didn’t hurt when they noticed that Tigger seemed to have an avid disdain for all medical equipment and carefully avoided any spot connecting a patient to monitors or IV’s. By the time that Chapen arrived, Tigger was such an accepted fixture in the hospital’s treatment of children and depressed patients that both returning patients and doctors requested her: yet another factor that irked Chapen, who had no control over the Doctors’ choice of treatments.

“Well, Tiggy, ready to meet your next patient,” Nancy asked, to which Tigger responded with an appropriately affirmative “Meh” and looked down at Kelly.

“Yes, ma’am,” Kelly laughed and picked up her bag of cookies.

“Think you brought enough?” Nancy asked before Kelly left the counter.

“Yep, just enough, I think to make sure he doesn’t feel guilty about sharing a few cookies with the children’s ward.”

“But, we don’t have any kids in tonight.” Nancy answered perplexed then realized that Kelly had accounted for the fact that as a teenager, even a sick teen, Clark would probably be too proud to let someone intentionally put him to bed.

Shaking her head admiringly at Kelly, she continued with a grin, “You think of everything.”

“Nope, but what I miss, Tigger remembers. Right, Tig?” But Tigger was distracted, already looking down the hall for her next patient.

Chapter 22: Reconnaissance

2005-04-13T01:38:00.000-07:00

“Lex?” Jonathon called out loudly as he punched the call button outside the gates to Lex’s home. When Lex or one of his staff didn’t immediately respond, Jonathon turned anxiously to Martha and asked “Are we making the right decision?”

Inside the castle, Lex who had been about to respond paused to listen to the Kent’s who were apparently unaware that the intercom was picking up their quieter conversational voices. He was almost torn between answering and eavesdropping… but the morning’s revelations convinced him to stay quiet until he knew if there was more information he could ferret out.

“Jonathon, what choice do we have? Even if Clark weren’t sick, every teenager needs someone to confide in… someone who can truly understand what they are going through. For Clark, that’s Lex.”

“But… Lionel… if he found out and who’s to say he doesn’t already have Lex bugged…” Listening on the other end, Lex was suddenly struck by a twinge of guilty relief… first to know that their primary concern was not about him but his father and, second, to realize that he was doing just exactly what they were afraid his father would do.

Before he could push the response button to let them know he was on the other end, he was again caught up in their conversation… this time unintentionally when Martha answered.

“I know, Jonathon, but so do Lex and Clark. They understand better than anyone else could the kind of harm that Lionel can do. But, you can’t protect Clark forever, my love, and denying him friends and confidants could hurt him far more than anything that Lionel or even his father could ever do.”

Without thinking, Lex slapped the console in triumph. He was right: they knew who Clark’s father was; and whoever it was, they were afraid of Clark being hurt by him. It wasn’t Lionel; but, maybe a close second, if it’s Edge. Despite what Jonathon said in the hospital about Clark’s father caring for him, it was clear they didn’t trust him.

Punching the console quickly to cover any sound they may have heard, Lex answered, “Hello?”

Jonathon jumped in his seat, startled by Lex’s voice, half wondering if Lex had overheard anything as he answered, “Hi, Lex, can we come up?”

Hearing the tentative suspicion in Jonathon’s voice, Lex decided to lay a little cover, asking again “Hello? Who is it?” –putting a touch of impatience in his voice this time.

“Lex,” Jonathon punched the call button again raising his voice, “It’s Jonathon and Martha Kent, can we come up?”

“Oh, Hi, Mr. Kent. Just one second.” Satisfied that Jonathon didn’t suspect his eavesdropping, Lex pressed the button to open the gates and went down to meet them.

Chapter 21: Depression

2005-04-13T01:13:00.000-07:00

Switching off yet another terrible news cast about the burglary in Metropolis, Kelly sat down on the only piece of furniture she had saved from her mother, a double-armed chaise lounge covered with brown suede, pulled up her feet under a new chocolate cord comforter that some of the other nurses had given her for her birthday, and fanned out the classifieds section of the newspaper. Sipping on her hot chocolate, she shrugged with some resignation as she noticed that there weren’t any openings in the nursing field.

She hadn’t really expected there to be; Smallville had been in an economic depression for so long that no one gave up there jobs even when they got sick. If she wanted to stay in nursing school, she might need to move… just to find somewhere to finish an internship. Earlier that afternoon, her academic counselor had pledged to see what she could find, but Kelly really didn’t expect much. Smallville really only had one medical center – the hospital itself and the private practice doctors all preferred to rent from the hospital as doing so offered them the greatest access to up to date technology and an in-house temp nursing service without the worries of handling payroll and labor issues.

It was hard not to get depressed as she looked through the classified, harder even than it had been to stay cheerful when she first left Chapen’s office. At least then, she knew she knew that everyone was pulling for her.

It was even harder to say goodbye when she finally got downstairs, but she was really touched to see how many people had come down to see her off and tell her how much they would miss her, too. It was such a sweet moment that she couldn’t help but notice how angry Mr. Luthor was when he walked through. It had been Kelly’s first instinct to follow him and find out what was bothering him before he went in to see his poor friend, who she was sure wouldn’t be able to deal well with such a strong emotions. But, with the security guards right beside her, Kelly knew she wouldn’t have had much of a chance to get very far.

Thinking of how sad Mr. Kent had become when she started to wash the odd scarring on his chest, Kelly pulled the phone cord that was looping down from the edge of the chaise until she found the receiver stuffed in the comforter where she had tucked it when she finally got tired of answering sympathy calls. Direct dialing the third floor nurses station, Kelly almost cheered when her best friend Nancy answered.

“Hey Nance?” Kelly chirped.

“Oh, Kelly… I’m so sorry..” even over the phone, six hours later, it sounded to Kelly like Nancy was still crying.

“Oh, don’t worry about me, Nance, I’ll find something… I always do. But, I have a question… the young man who was checked in for anxiety attacks, Mr. Kent… How is he doing?”

“Okay, I guess.” Nancy answered. “He hasn’t had anymore attacks or anything.”

“But?” To Kelly, the ‘but’ practically screamed from Nancy’s indecisive tone.

“Well, he asked his parents to go home so he could get some sleep…”

“But, he hasn’t slept a wink?” Kelly finished for her.

“Nope, he hasn’t even shut his eyes as far as I can tell.”

“Nance, what about Mr. Luthor or his other friends, did anyone stay with him?”

“It’s funny that you mention, Mr. Luthor. He came about the time you left,” Nancy stopped to sniff and blow her nose “but then only walked around outside the door for awhile, but didn’t go in and hasn’t been back since.”

Kelly nodded to herself, glad that Mr. Luthor had shown some common sense. It really irritated her when friends and family just barged in on patients without caring how it would affect them. Well, that’s it. Enough moping for me.

“Nance, do you think I could get in to keep him company for a while?”

Nancy’s answer was quick, “Sure you can anytime. John didn’t want to be the one who took you downstairs anyway and is pretty mad that Chapstick ordered him to. Kelly, while your at it, if you have any of those little cookies left? He hasn’t eaten a bite.”

“Sure, I made some this morning before work. Oh, Nance, maybe I’ll bring tigger, too.”

Nancy’s voice brightened at the thought. “That would be a great idea. They didn’t put depression on his chart, but if he’s not depressed, I’m not a crows’ fan.” Nancy, in fact, had every banner, button, ribbon, poster, flyer, and knick-knack that the Smallville high crows had ever issued.

DT's

2005-04-10T15:54:00.000-07:00

Title: DT's
Rating: R (just to be safe for language and lignt slash), Clex, Established Relationship, Humor with some angst. AU maybe too.
Challenge: The Clex Fest Eleventh Wave Domesticity - Prompt (Vacation)

Notes: Deep thanks go to my kind beta readers Hrd02ca and BlackPsychi, who graciously put up with a glut of over-used commas, ellipses, and an over reliance on Willow. Any errors and unfortunate changes from their recommendations are undoubtedly my own.

Cross-overs: Bruce Wayne (Batman), President Bartlett and Abby Bartlett (West Wing), Willow (Buffy)

Feedback: Any thoughts and all feedback are appreciated, cozened, pampered, and treated with hospitality and welcome

Summary: When duty becomes addictive, the world never knows that it relies on Lex instead of Clark.

DT's

1. Elba

Even though Lex knew what to expect, the sight of Batman carrying Superman's still form stopped his breath and caused a surge of panic to run up his spine.

At his elbow, a sympathetic Willow murmured, "Breathe, Lex, breathe. He's only sleeping."

"Luthor!" Batman growled, "I could use some help here."

Lex rushed forward, but not before Willow's breathy whisper, "Levitas," lifted the young man's supine form from Batman's arms. When Lex reached them, he cupped his hand over the lethargic hero's hip and forearm to guide him to the couch, but stopped Willow, whose gesture was gently lowering the sleeping man to the cushions below.

"It will probably be easier… to… undress him… like this." He said as he moved to Superman's shoulder and carefully unlaced the titanium cords that fastened his cloak to his suit. Meanwhile, Batman moved to the hero's boots and Willow began to gently brush the gel from his hair.

Brief moments later, after they had unzipped the fitted suit from wrist to ankle, removed his belt, and otherwise stripped away any traces of superman, they gently lowered the suddenly more vulnerable-seeming body of Clark Kent onto the couch. As they carefully folded the uniform, all three stared at the boy, struck once again by the distinction between the two identities..

"Can he hear me?" Lex asked.

"Don't know." Willow tilted her head curiously and asked, "Do you want him to? I could wake him up."

Shifting his gaze to Batman, Lex chewed his lip pensively and asked, "He left for the Justice League Headquarters three days ago, but unless he stopped by while I was in a meeting, he hasn’t been back since. How long was he on duty?"

Despite his foreboding costume and ever-present arrogance, Lex thought that Batman almost seemed embarrassed as he answered, "67 hours."

"Damn it, Bru--" Lex bit off his curse savagely as Batman glowered at him.

Taking a breath to control his irritation, Lex continued: "Everyone asked me to make him take some time off, but then you let him go 67 hours straight? What were you trying to do—make sure you got every little bit out of him before… just in case I can't bring him around this time? Damn you."

"Lex, we all pay the price for what we do in one way or another. You know that, and so does he. It's a price that he's willing to pay, and if you're not—maybe you should re-evaluate your relationship."

"Oh… and who would you suggest that he replace me with? You? If you were up to taking my place, you wouldn't have let them exploit Clark like that in the first place."

Lex growled and barely suppressing his angry outburst, said quietly, "You know as well as I do that the Justice League is only too happy to treat Clark as one of Superman's minor personality quirks- to be indulged when it's convenient and ignored the rest of the time. But, if or when he should forget Clark Kent, the person he was raised to be, your sainted league will be the first ones out for his blood—despite the fact that they will probably be at least fifty percent of the reason he does forget."

"Aside from that, we're willing to pay the necessary sacrifices for what he does. It's the unnecessary ones that I resent. And, if you had the common sense to tell the difference, you wouldn't need to step in on our relationship.” Lex bit his lip, instantly regretting his near slip as he almost mentioned the shaky situation between Batman and his former protégé Nightwing. The fact that he was right was probably the only thing that kept Batman's leather clad fist from crushing Lex's nose. That, and the small purple halo of light clutching Batman's fist that Willow's whispered spell had summoned.

"Luthor!" Batman growled.

"Sir?" Willow interjected, "Is what he's saying true? Do they really… not care about Clark?" Her soft inquiry startled Batman into a rueful shrug. There was no way he was going to admit that Lex was fairly accurate in his assessment, but he wasn't willing to lie outright to the young woman.

He finally hedged as close as he could to the truth, "It's not that they don't care about Superman. It's simply that, for the most part, they view the Clark Kent persona as a set of learned behaviors that are not honest reflections of Kal El's powers and potential: the powers and potential he was born to."

Lex snorted softly, knowing that Batman would understand his disdain. Bruce was, in fact, very familiar with Lex and Lionel’s history and easily understood Lex’s animosity to the idea of Clark being forced to live up to presumed birth-rite.

Willow's eyebrow rose, although she otherwise ignored the Lex’s interruption as she asked, "Do you agree with them? That Clark is the persona, not Kal El? That just doesn’t make sense. I mean, he wasn't even raised on his home planet. He didn’t learn how to act Kryptonian from growing up there, only from what the AI on the ship told him. And, that’s not really real, is it? When he hasn’t learned the stories to go with it or seen the kind of culture they turned out to be? He doesn’t have any perspective on what the AI is telling him.”

Willow paused to let her words sink in before continuing, “So, how can Kal El be anything more than the… What did you call it? A set of behaviors that Clark thinks he should have based on what he's learned from computer records? Kal El is sort of like a script. But, Clark is the actor. At least Clark comes from experience. Do you really think that the role he’s playing is more real than the person playing it? Or, that his powers are more important than the person who wields them?"

Lex turned away from them in part to hide his smirk as he spread a coverlet over his lover's shoulder. He had never really been inclined to pray, but he definitely thanked providence for finding an ally like Willow. The young witch, who not only controlled an unbelievable range of occult talents but also possessed a sharp intellect and the same uncanny-though-tortured-innocence that characterized Clark, had become an essential component in Clark's "Vacations". If, for no other reason than she was a stark reminder of the threat that losing touch with humanity could pose, she was an efficient and effective person to have on hand when Clark started to react to enforced down time. Compared to that, Willow’s familiarity with power addictions was only a minor bonus.

He shook his head, retracting that thought. Her familiarity with self-destructive conditions was a bonus that she had paid for heavily; he wouldn’t discredit that. He could still remember her haunted eyes when they crossed paths in London. It was happenstance; really, that Lex just chanced to look through the revolving doors as he went into Harrods to pick up a souvenir for Clark —to see eyes that reminded him of Clark’s. Not because of their color or their distinctive flash of innocence, but because of the painful memories that seemed to lurk just beneath the surface, ready to spill out. Clark wore the same look for months after he had returned from Metropolis that first harsh summer. And, it stopped him cold—stopped them both really, due to the nature of revolving doors.

It took her several seconds to realize that she was blocked until he moved, but when she finally did, she looked up, into his eyes, and saw something. He never knew what she had seen in his eyes. He never asked believing that, like Clark, Willow had some questions that she would never answer—no matter how many times or in how many different ways they were asked. So, he chose not to ask. But, whatever she saw convinced her to wait outside the door for him, to walk with him to a nearby pub, and to quietly tell the story of how she had almost destroyed the world and how she came to London to recover from her addiction to magic. To anyone else, her story might have seemed like an indication of mental illness, but Lex had spent several years in Smallville.

As he considered what her experience had cost her, Lex realized that he hadn't been aware of his thoughts drifting, until a hand closed on his shoulder.

"Lex," Batman's voice had softened, "I apologize. I worry about both of you. You know that, don't you? Sometimes, I wonder if it wouldn't be easier if you didn't have to watch him slip further and further into the Superman role. It doesn't excuse what I said, but I would rather spare you the pain of that if I could."

"I know.” Lex was silent for several long seconds until Batman retrieved his hand, scooped up the neatly stacked uniform, and headed toward the door.

"Bruce,” Lex whispered low enough that only Batman heard, “Call Richard. Let him make that decision."

"I did."

The tone of Batman's voice left no doubt in Lex's mind what that decision had been. He turned to his old friend, but the reinforced, soundproofed door slid shut between them before he could apologize.

Looking back to Willow, Lex asked softly, "I don't suppose you'd have any love potion on hand?"

"Only time, perspective, and sleep can heal broken hearts.” Willow answered soberly. “Speaking of which, why don't you get some rest? If he's been up as long as Batman said that he has, he should sleep another eight hours at least."

"Thanks.”

2. Coming down.

Clark woke to find Lex perched in a most unusual lotus position – on the coffee table – watching him with an almost owlish expression. Staring up at him, Clark cocked his head to the side and grinned, until he felt the couch’s leather buttons digging into his back and realized that it meant he must have come in too tired to make it into the bedroom again.

“Uhh, I guess I blew it again?” Clark asked sheepishly as he glanced around the room noticing that Lex had left a majority of the lights off.

“What time is it?”

“Don’t tell me,” said Lex with a smirk for Clark’s benefit, but his sardonic smile hid a more serious question, “that your infallible sense of timing is off again?”

“It must be. It feels like it’s around five or six thirty in the morning, but that can’t be right. I know I’ve slept for several hours and the last time I checked the clock, it was four thirty.” Sitting up, Clark scooted over to make room for Lex to sit beside him. His brow furrowed as he tried to work out the inconsistencies.

Nodding, Lex accepted the invitation and answered, “That sounds about right.” Lex’s answer seemed entirely too smug, until something clicked. There was no way that timing could be correct unless… Clark’s eyebrows shot up in alarm, “What day is it?

“Thursday.”

“Shit!” Clark turned on Lex angrily. Almost yelling, he demanded, “How could you let me sleep that long? Damn it, Lex, Perry’s going to kill me. The team has its playoff’s Saturday and we were supposed to practice everyday this week. The Korean summit starts tomorrow. Red tornado asked me to --” Clark trailed off as he noticed the chilled expression growing on Lex’s face.

“Don’t forget we also had plans for dinner with your parents Sunday night, but I called and rescheduled, explaining that you were finally taking a rest. And, what about the movies with Pete and Chloe Tuesday night? I made my apologies to them as well. By the way, Chloe is getting promoted to editor at the Inquisitor and they will be coming over next Tuesday when Pete can take the day off to celebrate.” Lex noticed with some satisfaction that Clark caught and cringed at his implied comment that even Pete, who had become as much of a workaholic as Clark (without the benefit of powers), was able to take the day off.

“I’m sorry, Lex, There are always just so many things that need--” Even Clark knew the excuse was weak. Lex knew and understood better than anyone else; in part, because he had his own important set of 24/7 responsibilities that affected the lives and welfare of thousands. But, he still found a way to make time for anything Clark needed. It didn’t help matters to know that Lex wasn’t even mentioning the two dates they had scheduled. One was to a museum exhibit that Lex had been looking forward to for months, and the other was to a concert that Clark had talked Lex into seeing with promises of passionate nights to follow.

“Clark, I didn’t let you sleep this long.” Lex held up a palm to halt Clark’s obvious protest, “I couldn’t wake you up. It’s been four days, Clark, and I couldn’t wake you up.”

Despite his best attempt to keep Clark from hearing it, a tremulous note of fear was clear in Lex’s words. When Clark engulfed him in a tight apologetic hug that almost trapped his breath in his lungs, Lex initially resisted but slowly intentionally sank into the offered comfort of Clark’s embrace. His breath quickened with the familiar stirrings that always accompanied Clark’s touches and he turned to meet the lips that he knew would already be approaching his own.

It always amazed Lex that for all of Clark’s experience, his kisses never seemed to lose a trace of newness and awe. In fact, it was one of the small details that kept hope thriving for Lex as though it were proof that as long as Clark could kiss like this, Kal El was safely contained. Leaning into Clark’s breathless kisses, Lex brushed his lips over Clark’s soft and warm —in the kind of gentle teasing kiss that Lex had never shared with anyone else. To his smug satisfaction, Clark’s breathing sped up to match his own. He knew, from long practice, the kind of kisses that Clark found difficult to resist – even during their rare arguments.

“Oh!”

Lex cursed inwardly at Willow’s soft exclamation even as she retreated, and wondered if it was too much to hope that Clark hadn’t heard. When he glanced up, the glazed look in Clark’s eyes and the continuing breathless kisses gave him some hope. Pressing Clark back into the couch, he traced the kisses from the line of Clark’s lips down his chin to the hollow of his throat. Under his attention, Clark’s soft breaths quickly turned to moans.

“Lex,” Clark gasped softly.

“Yes?” Lex pressed the tip of his tongue harder into the junction where the collarbone met at the corner of Clark’s throat, smirking as Clark positively mewed in response.

“I heard her, but…” Clark writhed sensuously beneath him.

Lex grinned as he applied his tongue with more force, asking, “But?”

“Ohhh—ooooh. Dammmmn it, that’s good.”

“You were saying?” Lex rolled the tip of his tongue over the pronounced collarbone and slowly drew it down to the Clark’s stiffening nipple.

“Ungh.” Clark’s breath exploded in a gasp as Lex worked his tongue. “La-T-er!”

“Okay. Later, it is.” Grinning, Lex breathed in Clark’s scent and taste, both of which spoke of intense arousal, and wondered what some of Superman’s archrivals would do if they knew that you could put off knock-down-drag-out fights simply by nibbling right there.

Arching into his mouth, Clark almost threw Lex off the couch as his spine stiffened in an incredible bow. It wasn’t a secret that Lex ever intended to share, but knowing that he could bend Superman backwards—like that—was definitely worth putting up with the gauche costume and identity complex occasionally.

“Lexxxxxx. Ohhhh, God-d.” Clark shuddered as Lex moved to the other nipple.

3. Withdrawing

“Damn it, Luthor! You can’t keep me here. You have no right to high-jack my duties.” Kal El’s voice ground out, at odds only with the wispy strands of Clark’s hair, which couldn’t be slicked back simply by the change of personas. Everything else, from the set of his chin to his stance, screamed that Superman was in control of his body, and not Clark, the lover with whom Lex had spent most of the morning with sprawled across the couch.

“Perhaps not, but they do.” Lex slapped down the four-page petition that he had retrieved from his office. “You’ll notice that the top signature is the U.N. Secretary General's. The next is President Bartlett’s. There are thirty-two other world leaders there on the first two pages, as well as numerous senators, chiefs of staff, and federal agency heads, and every member of the Justice League.” Lex shook his head, wondering how Bruce had convinced the league to sign, and then continued, “If you were on the police force, I’d say that you’ve been suspended without pay. But, as they haven’t really seen fit to pay you for your services, that doesn’t quite fit either.”

Clark stared at the pages as if they were vipers—refusing to pick the petition up, but scanning none the less for familiar scrawls and signatures.

“The second two pages are from the people who think that Clark needs to take a break as well. By the way, I don’t think you will need to worry about Perry; his name is first on that list, and he asked me to issue a warning that if you ever write another piece of the 'cynicism-ridden, satirical carping that he’s hired Lois to write, this vacation of yours will be permanent.'”

“Damn it! Luthor, you talked them into this.”

“Clark, your parents signed this, too. So did Pete. You might be able to convince yourself that I talked the secretary general into this, even President Bartlett, but do you really believe that I could talk Perry, Jonathon, Peter, and your mother into this or anything else? Have I ever been able to talk your mother into anything that she didn’t already believe?”

While Jonathon had initially been the most resistant to their relationship, both Clark and Lex knew that he could be persuaded once his pride wasn’t an issue. Martha, on the other hand, was impenetrable and implacable on any issue that she did not agree with completely.

Still fuming, Superman was reluctant to agree but his own code of honor would not let him lie, not even to Luthor. “No! Mrs. Kent would not be so easy to persuade, nevertheless, simply because she is misguided in her belief that I can not function without certain human luxuries, does not mean that she is correct in her assumptions.”

“Clark!” Sincere concern and irritation were at war in Lex’s tone as he chastised the hero. He knew it was always hard for the three-faceted man when he was forced to take a leave of absence; but, even though Superman always tended to balk and Kal EL frequently indulged in angst-ridden rebelliousness, this was the first time the man had openly criticized his adopted mother.

“Is there anyone else, on this entire planet, who knows you as well or better than she does?” he almost hoped that Clark would answer with his name. But, Lex knew he wasn’t really speaking with Clark at the moment, and he knew that he shouldn’t hope for either Superman or Kal EL to admit that he had any importance to them. “And, if you tell me that damned AI of yours, I swear I’ll shut down the satellite that feeds it solar power for the next three months.”

Kal El’s gruff bark of laughter surprised Lex. “That will be unnecessary, Luthor. There are only two people, who can claim that distinction, and Jor El is not on that list.” It was painfully close to the admission that Lex wanted, but Lex knew that it was something Superman and Kal El would never admit to despite Clark’s frequent declarations of his trust and love of Lex.

It was not an admission Lex would ever attempt to force, but he was not above using it to his advantage. He had one more comment to make—one that he hoped would still have the power to end the discussion: “But, you're right, I can’t keep you here. You can leave anytime you wish.”

Kal El grinned at the concession, until he remembered the remainder of the warning Lex had given him the first time he demanded that Superman take a ‘vacation’: Kal El/Superman could leave anytime he wished, but Clark would not be welcomed back.

“That is not an option!” The voice was still Kal El’s, but the sentiment could have only been Clark’s.

“I’m glad,” Lex answered with a frosty smile; it was always difficult to be cordial to Kal El, even when Clark was peeking through, but he could make some concessions. “Why don’t you go get some breakfast; Willow is concocting something utterly organic and wholesome that she probably thinks will put hair back on my head.”

The humorous bark in response to Lex’s comment was pure Clark, as was the light hug and the peck on the cheek that boy gave him before loping in to the kitchen with a wide grin. As he reached the entry, Clark laughed and called over his shoulder, “She wouldn’t dare.”

4. Symptoms

“How is he?” Willow asked with concern, having heard a great deal of their conversation from the kitchen.

“Nervous, tense, twitchy, agitated. You know," Lex shrugged, attempting to lighten the mood, “the usual.”

“Well, that’s good, I suppose.”

Lex answered noncommittally, “If you say so.” It was hard to admit, even to himself, but Lex was becoming steadily more worried about the extent to which Clark’s persona was being increasingly overwhelmed. Each vacation, it seemed to be getting worse, and Lex

“I was worried. With him sleeping so long, I was afraid that he might go right into the worst of it.”

“So was I,” Lex admitted, “Do you think that he still could?”

“I don’t know. Did he have any nightmares when you were watching him?” Willow asked, trying to estimate how long it might be before they could expect the worst.

“No, he didn't seem to have any.” Lex was interrupted by the loud clatter of dishes, rattling as they were scooped from the table and dropped in the sink. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he almost begged Willow, “Please tell me you got rid of the vacuum?”

She nodded with a knowing smirk. “I know he needs to keep busy, but--”

“Three times a day,” he continued.

“Twelve days straight,” she answered.

“Is just too much!” They finished in unison with a laugh. It was a reminder of a difficult time in their early purposeful-partnership that had become an inside joke, which excluded even Clark.

Although Lex had immediately recognized that Willow could be a valuable ally in helping Clark preserve his sometimes fleeting humanity, their initial attempts to work together had been difficult. Even after Willow came to terms with her own power addictions and guilt, there were times when she still seemed almost as fragile as Clark. Knowing this, Lex had hesitated to call on her and had come very close to sending her away from the apartment during one of Clark’s more serious vacations after Lana’s death. Clark’s grief for Lana had struck too close to Willow’s own demons, and Lex began to worry that he might have to face down two super-natural forces instead of one when Willow became uncharacteristically sympathetic with Superman and Kal EL’s often-critical judgments of human morality.

After a particularly difficult argument with Willow – regarding how Clark should be approached about his refusal to discuss Lana’s death – Lex had stayed awake most of the night, debating whether he would ask her to leave in the morning. He had struggled with the decision for several hours, but finally committed to rejecting her help just before dawn. As Lex was rolling over to catch up on what little sleep he could get before sending her away, Kal EL unwittingly provided the catalyst that convinced Lex and Willow that they could work together.

Accustomed to working in the pre-dawn hours by Clark’s formative years spent on the Kent farm, Kal EL had thought nothing of vacuuming the apartment before the sun rose. In fact, he rather enjoyed exercising his x-ray vision to scrupulously hunt out and eliminate every dust particle remaining in the carpet. His enjoyment was short lived, however, and ended when both Lex and Willow stalked out of their rooms, yelling:

“Three-fucking-times-a-day, Clark? Three times a day --!” Lex roared.

“I know you need to keep busy, Clark, but twelve days straight--!” Willow shouted.

“is just too much!” They finished in the same angry breath, then stared at each other for a moment in shock and burst out laughing.

Kal EL’s slack jawed surprise at their outburst only served to help cement their connection by giving them a chance to work together: Lex stepped forward and jerked the vacuum cord and handle out of Kal EL’s hand and dragged the machine over to the tile floor with a significant nod to Willow. Barely uttering a breath, Willow ‘pushed’ her remaining anger into the vacuum, which promptly ‘popped’, scattering bits and pieces across the tile. Without another word, Lex and Willow turned from the befuddled kryptonian and returned to their beds—satisfied that the question of whether they could work together was resolved.

Smiling at the shared memory, Lex nodded and followed Willow back into the kitchen—hoping Clark had left something of her cooking. While Lex enjoyed teasing her about the utter wholesomeness of her cooking, he usually found it to be quite delicious.

Within an hour, the entire apartment had been swept, every window had been washed, and every table had been polished. And, every stitch of folded clothing that either man owned had been taken out of the wardrobe and refolded before the barely winded Clark flopped down on the couch to glare at Lex.

“Yes?”

“Nothing!”

“Okay.”

“Lex?”

“Yes?”

“Wanna make out?” It came out in Clark’s voice even though the glare was still Kal El’s.

“With Willow here?”

“Damn,” Kal El muttered, but Clark finished with a light blush, “Maybe we could go in the bedroom? It has extra soundproofing, right?”

“Yes. Why? Are you planning to make noise?”

Clark was usually too bashful to really feel free with vocal lovemaking, which made Lex enjoy every groan even more. Glancing curiously back over to Clark, Lex recognized a wolfish grin that could only be Kal El’s cross Clark’s face as he answered, “No, but you should.”

As much as Lex enjoyed Clark’s rare attempts at aggressiveness, he had little taste for Kal El’s. He crossed his arms defensively as he answered, “Maybe later.”

“Damn, Luthor, you’re a prig.”

Lex snorted at the thought, but said nothing until he noticed the sheen of sweat beading on Clark’s lips and the tight clench of his jaw.

“Clark?”

Clark’s hands balled into fists, clutching the sides of his head as he doubled over.

“Willow!” Lex yelled urgently and dropped to his knees beside the couch as he pulled a prepared trash can around, just in case it was needed.

As he watched Clark begin to heave, Lex immediately regretted sending him into the kitchen to sample Willow’s breakfast concoction. It would have been far less cruel to the boy’s system if he were only returning Superman’s usual coffee breakfast instead of the nut and granola, fiber-rich, whole-grain fare that Willow had whipped up. As Lex held the hair back from Clark’s face, he could feel the beginning of a fever warming the boy’s parched skin.

5. Withdrawal

When Clark woke, he was surprised to find himself in their bed this time. But, something felt wrong about the way the pillows curled into him. Reaching out, he realized Lex wasn’t there. He consulted his internal clock. It was well after one a.m. and he couldn’t remember how late he came in. Lex must be really ticked. It wasn’t very often that Lex was angry enough to sleep on the couch, but it happened occasionally, and usually when Clark came in too late after working too long. His body certainly felt like he had been over-doing it.

“Lex?” Clark tried to sit up as he called out, but realized he was shaking too hard to sit up and his voice was too raspy to be heard well.

“Lex?” he tried again, feeling a pain in his throat with the effort. This time it had the desired effect of waking his, as yet, unnoticed attendant, Willow. Setting her book aside, she left her chair at the foot of his bed and came to sit beside him.

“Clark,” she whispered, “How are you feeling?”

He stared at her in confusion and asked, “Where’s Lex?” Every word hurt, but he didn’t understand why she was in their bedroom instead of his lover.

“Shhh. It’s okay. I was just letting him take a little nap. He’s in the guestroom. I’ll go get him, okay?”

Clark shook his head rapidly, protesting weakly, “No, don’t,” and then gasped as a shaft of intense pain surged behind his eyes.

Willow studied his tightly clenched eyes as she placed gentle fingertips at each temple and murmured something under her breath until the pain seeped away and he opened them again. Stepping back, she searched his eyes again, speaking barely above a whisper as she asked, “All better?”

He nodded carefully, pleased that his head didn’t split open with the gesture.

“Good, let me just go get Lex, and--”

“No need to, Willow; I heard sleeping beauty wake and only delayed to get him a light snack.” Lex’s voice sounded warm and rich to Clark, and alleviated any worry he had that Lex was angry with him.

“Lex.” Clark tested his voice, then flashed a broad thankful smile to Willow.

Willow smiled warmly to him and left them alone.

Settling a tray by their bedside, Lex carefully sat on the edge of the bed, watching Clark with concern.

“How are you doing?” his voice was barely above a whisper.

Hesitant to overuse his voice, Clark answered with a face that set Lex laughing softly.

“That good?” Lex leaned in to wipe a cool cloth across Clark's forehead, and smiled when Clark leaned in to his touch. “Do you think you can eat something?”

While Clark’s stomach did feel like a cavernous pit, he grimaced as it roiled from the thought of food.

“Still nauseous?” Lex assumed. “Then, just some of your mother’s vegetable broth, okay? It should be light enough for you to try at least a few sips.” he held the steaming mug to Clark’s lips as he spoke.

Obediently, Clark sipped at the broth until he drained a quarter of the mug, and Lex lowered the cup, tutting like a grandmother as he checked, “Not too fast now; your stomach has been under quite a bit of stress the past few days.”

“It has?” Clark shut his eyes and tried to remember the previous few days; most of the events evaded him, but finally his mind clicked on one rather obvious detail. “Uh-oh”

“What is it?” Lex’s eyes narrowed. It worried him that Clark didn’t seem to remember the previous two days, where he had struggled to keep anything heavier than water down, and constantly demanded that Lex return his suit and let him get back to work. Between bouts of nausea, Kal El had even resorted to pleading and swearing that he would feel better if Lex would just let him “get back to work” and that Lex knew it, too.

“Willow’s here.” Clark looked away as an embarrassed flush painted his skin delicate shades of rose and gold.

“Yes,” Lex confirmed, but wondered, Clark really should have known that, shouldn’t he have.

Willow had been at the apartment helping Lex care for Clark six days now, and Clark had heard her when they were together two mornings before… hours before the fever came on. The fever had been so high this time, though, that Lex couldn’t help but wonder if it had caused some damage. On the other hand, from their research and Willow’s experience, they knew that memory disturbances sometimes occurred when addicts were going through withdrawal, and there was no telling how closely Clark’s kryptonian physiology matched any of their assumptions. Lex chewed his lip as he worried: either way, these vacations are hitting his system harder and harder. To date, Lex had hesitated in asking Willow to actively treat the worst of Clark’s symptoms. But, he was becoming more and more convinced of the need for her intervention if they hoped to keep Kal El’s addiction to power and adrenaline (or whatever replaced adrenaline in kryptonian brains) contained, and Clark intact.

“I’m sorry.” Clark’s guilty apology was pure Clark. It drew a quick sad smile from Lex.

“No, Clark, I’m sorry that I didn’t call you on the carpet, long before things came to this.” He twined his fingers with the young man’s and brought them to his lips for a long lingering kiss.

Clark grinned softly, and whispered throatily, “That’s odd; are you sure you didn’t?”

Lex flashed him a worried glance. Surely, Clark would have remembered that he hadn’t. It made him wonder just how long Clark’s memory may have been malfunctioning, until he caught an emerald glint in Clark’s eyes. “Because I seem to remember being down on the carpet … a lot.”

Smirking, as he squeezed out the damp cloth and rewet it in the cool water, Lex leaned and kissed Clark's forehead—murmuring, “Perhaps you’re right; I seem to remember something like that, too.”

“Lex?”

He paused from wiping the cold sweat from Clark’s forehead. “Yes, sweet?”

“Oh, don’t stop, that feels good.”

Lex gently returned the cool terry-cloth to the boy’s cheek. “I’m glad.”

“I’d like to do that …carpet thing… again soon.”

For the first time in six days, Lex laughed. “Okay, just as soon as you’re better.”

6. Conflicting Demands

Lex peered up from his desk curiously when Clark appeared in the doorway. Still in his loose cotton pajama pants and thin cotton t-shirt, Clark somehow managed to look even younger than his presumed age. Lex suspected it could be due to the still disheveled state of Clark’s unruly black curls, or perhaps it was that Clark was barefoot, or possibly that he was standing in the doorway with the same mix of uncertainty and need for attention that had graced his early visits to the doorway of Lex’s office at the castle.

He never admitted it, particularly to Clark, but Lex missed the castle and Smallville more than he had expected to. The castle had been his first real home, and despite its maudlin exterior, it was where Lex felt most comfortable -- because of Clark. But, though he missed it, it was no longer home. That had changed because Lex’s home somehow became wherever Clark was. And, for the time being, that meant Metropolis was where Clark could indulge his penchant for both heroism and journalism. Nevertheless, Lex still hoped that he could somehow keep Clark and their relationship intact, long enough for Clark to tire of heroism and journalistic sensationalism and long again for the simple life of Smallville’s castle and farms.

“You’re thinking too much, again, ” Clark accused with a grin.

“Guilty as charged. And you?”

“I wish I could stop thinking.” Clark took their conversation as tacit approval to interrupt, and moved over to the couch that Lex had imported from the castle."

“Really?” It wasn’t one of Clark’s usual comments. “Why’s that?”

Silence hung stiffly between them as Clark turned away, almost afraid to meet Lex’s eyes.

“Clark?” Lex joined him on the couch and waited several seconds until it was clear that Clark needed more prompting. Gently, he slipped his fingers under Clark’s jaw line and drew the boy’s face, until their eyes met. “What is it you’re trying not to think about?”

“Going on patrol.”

Lex dropped his fingers as if he’d been stung. Clark had said it. He was certain that had been Clark, who was thinking about going on patrol. “No!”

“It’s not like that, Lex, Clark lied, then caught himself and rephrased it to be the truth, “I don’t want to go out on patrol. I don’t want to be Kal El or superman—right now. I just can’t stop thinking about how many people will die if I don’t. Even with the Justice League taking up the slack, there are people dying right now that I could be saving. There always are.” Clark’s voice got thick and tired as he continued, “It never stops. I know I can’t save everyone, but wanting to and needing to never stops. I can’t stop thinking about it, worrying about it, and feeling compelled to do something about it. Lex, it’s always there. And, I want to stop worrying about it. I do, but I don’t know how to. God, I’m so selfish.” Clark was trembling as he finished.

“Selfish?” Lex wrapped his arm around the boy’s shoulders as he murmured, “Clark, are you listening to yourself? Selfish,” Lex huffed softly to show his disbelief, before he finished, “You’re tearing yourself up because you can’t be a god. That’s not selfish. Arrogant, possibly. Or, delusional to think that you could possibly save everyone. But—have you really considered what would happen if you did?”

Clark stared at him in confusion.

“It’s almost a logical impossibility. But, have you really thought about it?”

“I –I don’t understand what you’re asking.” Clark’s eyes narrowed as he searched Lex’s, as if he believed he could find the explanation there without having to be told. It wouldn’t be the first time that he had discerned the meaning of Lex’s cryptic phrases from a single glance. Bruce had even suggested that the ability should be ranked among Clark’s powers – he claimed that no one else had, “the ability to decrypt Lex without a Lex-to-English dictionary.” This time, however, Clark realized that he wasn’t any closer to understanding Lex’s thought process than the rest of the world.

“What do you mean by, 'have I thought about it'? What would be wrong with saving everyone?” Clark’s voice was low and mournful as he tried to figure out what Lex was thinking. He started rubbing his temples before he realized that he was doing it."

“Here.” Lex scooted to the other end of the couch, pulling Clark’s shoulder as he did and guiding Clark’s head into his lap.

Clark resisted until Lex reminded him that he had asked a question and could at least relax while he heard the answer.

“That sounds like I’m in for a lecture?” Clark shot Lex a fake grimace that disappeared quickly as Lex’s fingers moved expertly over his temples and immediately eased Clark’s growing headache.

“I’d forgotten how good you are at that.” Clark sighed.

“I’ve had quite a few opportunities to master the skill.” Lex answered, thinking of the muscle strength that had developed in his fingers from the long practice of easing the many headaches and nightmares that Clark had taken on with his Superman role. As he stroked Clark’s forehead, he worried whether his explanation would relieve those headaches or increase their scope. Watching Clark’s eyes shut, he breathed a soft sigh of relief at the possibility of delaying the answer, but the relief was short lived.

“You were saying?” Clark tried to remind him.

“Okay. For the moment, let’s say that it was actually possible for you to save everyone without destroying yourself in the process. Because you’re right: the danger we put ourselves in never really ends. So, we'll probably need you to save us again and again and again –ad infinitum. And, just for good measure, we can forget that this world has finite resources that are fairly heavily tapped as it is, so that everyone you save will have food and shelter and at least a chance at a decent life. Even better, let’s theorize just for a moment that one of the basic facets of human nature changes. Even the less than righteous people that you save suddenly decide to stop inflicting their pain on others—so you won’t have to worry any longer whether someone you’ve saved to day will kill someone else tomorrow. Then what?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Clark, what would humans be if we didn’t have to worry about wars? Violence? Dying before our time?”

“Great. You could be great.”

“For a while, perhaps, but Clark, we need something to overcome. We thirst for excitement. We learn compassion from pain. We could be good for a while, possibly even great. But, we wouldn’t be able to be heroes anymore. You would have taken our choice to be heroes away from us before we could even make it. As Superman, you’re practically invincible and could potentially rule the world. And, maybe as Clark, you could rule it better and more compassionately than any human has. In doing so, though, what would you make of us? As a people, as sick as it may sound, we need disasters to keep us in touch with the rest of the world. The rest of the time we seem to forget that people are suffering, starving, and struggling for their mere survival. But, when there is an emergency, we somehow remember that we are supposed to care about each other and band together with prayers, disaster relief, charity drives, and everything else we should have been doing all along. We need great pain to bring out our better natures. Our great literature and great art—our masterpieces—all either speak of violence or of peace. They are flip sides of the same coin.”

“I don’t know, Lex. That sounds a bit Luthor-ish to me.”

“Well, you can take the boy out of Smallville, but--” Lex paused when Clark nudged his hip, laughing: “you can’t take the drama out of the queen?”

Relieved to see Clark’s humor returning, Lex smirked and answered, “Something like that.”

Just as Lex started to relax into the couch’s soft cushion, his pager rattled on his hip causing Clark to bolt up.

“Is everything all right?” He asked with concern as Lex read the pager’s small screen.

Nearly biting his tongue to hold back a curse, Lex nodded and said, “Yes, it’s just a call I need to take. Okay?”

Clark nodded and stood to leave, when Lex’s palm closed over his arm.

“You understand what I’m saying, though?”

“Yeah, sort of. I don’t know if you’re right or not. But, it’s something else to think about,” Clark answered with a yawn.

“Good. That’s something at least.” Lex finished, pulling his palm down Clark’s arm and then catching his hand and bringing it to his lips for a parting kiss. Clark responded with a soft sweet smile and a kiss on Lex’s crown, before he padded out of the room and closed the soundproofed door behind him.

Returning to his desk, Lex punched the speakerphone and then speed dial. The receptionist, of course, answered immediately, “Good afternoon, Mr. Luthor. One moment, please.”

After a second, his voice came on the phone, and for a moment – only a moment, though – Lex reveled in the fact that he had the President of the United States on his speed dial. Then, the moment was over as he realized that the privilege might not last very long if President Bartlett was calling for the reason he suspected.

“Good Afternoon, Mr. President.”

“Mr. Luthor. I apologize for interrupting your busy schedule; however, I need to enlist Superman’s aid in rather delicate negotiations, and Fitz-Wallace have led me to believe that you are the gate-keeper"

“Yes, sir. In this instance, that would be a relatively accurate description.”

“Son, relative accuracy is a curious phrase. Would you care to explain the relative conditions on which Fitz-Wallace’s description is accurate?”

“Certainly, Sir.” Lex smirked and weighed his words, appreciating Bartlett’s smooth attempt(s) at reading him. “I serve as Superman’s gatekeeper only during the occasions that he feels my services are required.”

“This is one such occasion, I take it?”

“Yes, Sir.”

The President’s voice grew sharper as he continued, “And, what exactly makes this an occasion where your services are required?”

Lex grimaced. It was a question that he couldn’t avoid, but he knew that the answer wouldn’t particularly endear either Superman, or himself, to this president any more than it had to the previous president.

“Sir, there are rare occasions when Superman is not completely prepared to make some distinctions.” Lex answered, hoping that it didn’t undermine President Bartlett’s impression of Superman.

“Who exactly decides which distinctions Superman is capable of making?”

“Mr. President, that is an intriguing question, considering that your signature is featured prominently among the list of individuals who recently made that decision.” Lex was suddenly glad that he was addressing President Bartlett over the phone instead of in person. It was a fairly safe statement that answered the president’s question without hinting at Lex’s ability to act unilaterally. His voice had remained smooth and steady as he delivered it, without a trace of the smug smile he wore.

“And if, for some reason, I decide to retract that signature?” Bartlett asked, testing Lex’s claim.

“Hmm. That is an interesting question. I imagine, with your also go the CIA, FBI, DEA, & EPA department heads’ signatures, as well as a majority of the Senators who also signed. It’s an intriguing issue. Your signatures comprise approximately one third of the four-page request. Presumably, you’re not asking whether the retraction of your signature would trump the intact signatures of the other thirty-two world leaders, or the Secretary General of the UN--” Lex paused, letting the politically dangerous implication of Bartlett’s question linger several minutes, before he finished, “instead of how, and under what circumstances, he would be swayed by your retraction? But that – I’m sorry to say – that’s a question I can’t answer.”

The President’s answering grumble amused Lex. Bartlett was making his response entirely too easy.

“However, if you and the first lady would care to join us for dinner tonight, perhaps you could discuss it with him personally?” Lex could almost hear Bartlett’s jaw drop as he issued an invitation that the president would have rejected out of hand if he had been thinking from a political perspective.

7. Facing up.

Clark fumbled with one of his cufflinks.

“Do we have to do this? Can’t we just tell him no?” Clark swallowed nervously. He glanced over his shoulder at Lex's reflection in the mirror. The reflection stared back as Lex seriously considered Clark’s question. Then he shook his head, firmly denying Clark’s hopes of avoiding the dinner.

“I do have a choice in this, don’t I?” Clark asked uncertainly. With shaking hands, he pulled the cufflink out, flattened its pin, and tried again. In any other circumstance, Clark would have been excited to meet the newly elected President.

But, in any other circumstance, Clark knew that it would have been unlikely that he and Lex would have the opportunity to have a private dinner with President Bartlett. Lex had explained about the political ramifications he would have to face if he ever decided to run for office, and Clark knew how rare an opportunity this was. Lex was a stout republican, an industrialist with interests contrary to many democratic constituents, a billionaire playboy with an admittedly lurid past, and a highly-public, openly-gay man living with his life partner, who just happened to be a member of the press. It would have been almost political suicide for Bartlett to maintain any sort of association with Lex or Clark.

It was something that bothered Clark a great deal because, having met the new president as Superman, he suspected that Bartlett and Lex could have been well matched as friends. Lex could easily provide pragmatism to Bartlett’s abounding altruism and Bartlett would temper Lex’s cynicism with his idealism. In fact, Clark was sure that if he hadn't dragged Lex into the constant melodramas of Smallville (not to mention being dragged into Clark’s own soap-operatically surreal life), the billionaire would have already been traveling in Bartlett’s circles—and probably be well established in their friendship.

Feeling even more pathetic than usual, Clark stared at his cufflink, wondering whether it was actually possible to have a learning disorder when it came to dressing stylishly. He never understood how Lex could simply put on clothes and they became stylish as if by association, while he could put on the same attire and the garments would immediately become awkward and inelegant. That fact was the basis of the only bet he had ever won against Lex, who had assured Clark that style was little more than having the wherewithal to have a properly designed garment, correctly fit by an experienced tailor to his specific body structure. Lex ended up doing the dishes for an entire week, although he claimed that his getting ‘dish pan hands’ was worth it to get Clark into an Armani suit (even if it looked awkward).

Resting his chin on Clark’s shoulder, Lex wrapped his arms around Clark to take the cufflink from with nimble fingers. He pulled Clark’s wrist closer into his lover’s body so that the simple act of threading the cufflink between the matched holes on Clark’s sleeve also became a warm embrace that he held as he flipped the cufflink’s pin down. After giving Clark a strong squeeze that anyone else would have called a bear hug, Lex reached for the other cufflink and slipped it into place easily.

“Yes, of course you do. That’s what this is all about. Letting him know that you’re a part of this too. Up until now, President Bartlett has only met your spandex-coated, Speedo-wearing, polyester-caped…” Lex smothered a grin as Clark snickered.

“Fashion issues, much, Lex?” Clark chuckled and looked at the mirror to catch the twinkle in Lex’s eye.

“I simply think you look better in silk,” Lex flashed the fake pout he had learned from mimicking Clark, then finished with a sheepish grin (also learned from Clark) as he said: “Or better yet, nothing at all.”

Clark’s snickering turned into easy chuckles as he thought about the headlines. “Lex, the purpose of the costume is to hide my identity. Remember?”

“Your birthday suit would hide your identity,” Lex assured Clark smugly, “because, no one would be looking at your eyes.” He bit down on an almost chuckle as Clark reacted to the joke as he enjoyed the beautiful flush that spread from the base of Clark’s throat, up his cheeks, and well into his hairline.

“God, Lex. You’re priceless.” Clark broke into laughter as he leaned back into Lex’s body, rolling his head back onto Lex’s shoulder.

Lex smiled warmly, pulled Clark closer, and hugged him affectionately until Clark’s laughter slowed into a several soft chuckles and then into a broad silent grin.

“Feeling better?”

Clark nodded and wiped his eyes, but stayed pressed against Lex.

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Anytime, gorgeous.”

Behind them, a reinforced door opened into the bedroom, and Willow peeked around the edge and announced: “Clark, Lex, I’m sorry to interrupt you, but your guests are here.”

Lex nodded to Willow, but kept his eyes locked on Clark’s as he asked, “Ready?”

Clark’s flush paled slightly, but he nodded and intertwined his fingers with Lex’s.

8. Onset

Lex was instantly grateful that he had remembered to invite the First Lady, when she immediately stepped forward and hugged Clark.

“It’s so good to see you again, Clark. Your article on the celebrity auction was so well written that I had to laugh over your description of the event. It made our scholarship fund sound so wonderfully under-supported that donations rolled in for weeks after it was published.”

Clark immediately released his nervous hold on Lex’s fingers to return the hug.

“I’m glad I could do some good.”

The First Lady turned to her husband. “Jed, this is Clark Kent, the young reporter that I told you about, who wrote that wonderful piece about Charlie being hired as your assistant."

“Well, Clark, it’s good to meet you. I didn’t know that you knew Abby.”

Lex was enjoyably surprised when Clark flashed the First Lady a knowing grin as he answered, “Yes, Sir. Ms. Bartlett and I have attended many of the same charity events, and—“ Clark trailed off.

“We wives have to stick together!” The First Lady finished with a smile and a flush appeared in Clark’s cheeks.

Clark smiled sheepishly as he glanced between Lex and the President to see how the men reacted to her comment. Twining Clark’s fingers back into his, Lex shot him a soft grin and turned to the President.

“Mr. President, thank you for coming.”

“Thank you for the invitation, Mr. Luthor.” Bartlett noticed Clark’s nervous squeeze of his partner’s fingers at the mention of his last name and raised his eyebrows at Lex.

“Call me, Lex, Sir. Mr. Luthor is my father.” There was clearly no love lost between the Luthor generations, but considering his own relationship with his late father, Bartlett chose to remain silent.

“Very well then, Lex. Aren’t we missing another guest?” President Bartlett looked around the room curiously. He hadn’t expected to see Superman in his costume, but he did expect to at least see him.

“Mr. President?” Lex looked at Bartlett curiously.

“Superman.” Bartlett explained with a flash of irritation. “You had suggested that I would have the opportunity to speak with Superman personally.”

“Mr. President,” Lex answered with some irritation of his own, “I had assumed that you would have reviewed Superman’s files before you came over to dinner.”

“I did!” Bartlett barely controlled his voice, angry with the implication that he had been slipshod. “I read the entire file. Everything you provided. What did you leave out?”

Bartlett only realized that Lex had truly expected him to have pertinent information, which was clearly missing from the files, when Lex pinched the bridge of his nose and began to curse the previous president. “Eversoll! Damn that homophobic, self-righteous, fundamentalist, prig!”

“Lex,” Bartlett said, demanding his attention. “What should I have read?”

Gripping Clark’s fist tightly, Lex turned back to Bartlett with a hard stare, “Mr. President, we gave your predecessor a complete file that disclosed certain details about Superman including the name of his third identity.”

“A third identity?”

“Yes, Sir.” Lex stopped to watch Clark, who was almost vibrating with tension. “Clark?”

“Tell him!”

Bartlett could tell that Clark’s voice sounded strained, but didn’t understand why until Lex continued, “Your predecessor apparently could not accept the concept of a homosexual hero.” Lex paused, watching Clark with concern, until Clark’s grip loosened and he nodded. With Clark’s permission, Lex finished mildly, “Superman’s third identity is Clark Kent.”

“What kind of game are you playing here, Mr. Luthor?” Bartlett almost enjoyed their flinches as he reverted to Lex’s last name. The warmth and concern in Lex’s face immediately shut off – like the switching of a light. Bartlett was impressed that the room seemed to grow chillier with the change in the businessman’s demeanor, but was not going to let the display affect him – although he suddenly understood several comments that Fitz-wallace had muttered about Luthor seeming more alien than Superman.

“I assure you that I have met Superman. While I will admit there is a slight resemblance between the two men, your young friend can feign neither the maturity nor the physical presence of Superman. So, I suggest that you explain why I am really here, if it's not to speak with him?”

“Jed!” The First Lady, who had been carefully watching the interplay between Lex and Clark, chastised Bartlett.

“Abby, you can’t think that—“ Bartlett cut off harshly, deciding that he needed to have a long discussion with her, later, about the appropriateness of interrupting him when he was acting as the President. While Bartlett agreed with Lex’s cursed appraisal of former President Eversoll, he understood why his forerunner had not kept that ridiculous bit of information in the file; although he might have left a note to mention that Luthor had made such a claim. Impatiently, he turned back to the two men. “Well?”

He was surprised to see that Luthor had relaxed.

“Lex, I could change into the—”

“No, that won’t be necessary.” Lex scanned the room, and then seemed to look beyond the walls in a way that convinced Bartlett that he was scanning his memory of the suite’s other rooms as well.

“But it would only take a second and he would be able—” Clark protested almost desperately.

“Clark! No!” Lex answered firmly, without looking back at Clark. After a second, when it seemed to Bartlett that he had found whatever he was looking for, Lex turned back to Clark, and said in a much softer voice, “It’s not an option right now. And it wouldn’t be even if it wasn't in Bruce’s safe-keeping.”

Although softer, Lex’s voice and cryptic words had a touch of finality, which lessened Bartlett’s impatience. He didn’t understand what either man was alluding to, but their tones and behavior left the impression that they were discussing something significant and that his answer hinged on the outcome of their conversation.

“Mr. President, if you and the First Lady would join us in the dining room, I believe that I can satisfy your…concerns with a small demonstration.” As he spoke, Lex untangled his fingers from Clark’s and shifted his grip to the boy’s elbow, urging him into the dining room.

As they entered, Lex extended his hand, inviting them to sit before he stepped into the kitchen, and then returned with a wine bottle in hand. Grabbing the napkin from his setting, Lex quickly dried the wine bottle that had apparently been chilling to accompany their meal, and held it out to Bartlett and then the First Lady.

“Mr. President, if you would hold the bottle for a moment to be sure of its temperature?” After they did, Lex raised an inquiring eyebrow to Clark as he handed him the bottle.

Clark propped his elbows on the table and cupped his palms at the base of the wine bottle, letting Lex hold the neck as he began to blow lightly over the lower half of the bottle. The Bartlett's watched in curiosity, then amazement as a Clark’s breath turned into a thin sheath of frost that coated the lower half of the bottle, and evened out as Lex began to turn the neck. When the sheath had thickened evenly, Lex retrieved the napkin and held it out for Clark to lay the bottle on. After sharing a soft reminiscent smile with Clark, he stood up and walked around the table to the President and the First Lady.

“Mr. President?” Lex smiled as he offered the bottle to Bartlett, who was now staring at Clark with an odd expression. Mrs. Bartlett answered instead, “Thank you, Lex,” She paused to stress his first name, and then continued smoothly, “We would both enjoy a glass.”

Taking her lead, Lex popped the cork with a practiced flick of his thumb and neatly filled their glasses and his own—before he wrapped the napkin loosely around the bottle and set it within the President’s reach. Bartlett’s eyebrow went up as he noticed Clark’s still empty glass, but he held his tongue as Clark shifted uncomfortably, noticing the direction of Bartlett’s glance.

Sensitive to his partner’s moods and discomfort, Lex immediately noticed Clark’s shifting and tracked its cause to Bartlett’s appraising glance.

“Clark, I’m sorry. I was a bit distracted. Just a moment.” Lex went into the kitchen and returned with a bottle of Ty Nant. He filled Clark's empty glass before Clark interrupted him.

“Actually, Lex, I think I would like a little wine, if you don’t mind?” The note of appeal in Clark’s tone and his partner’s raised eyebrow gave Bartlett a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Of course I don’t mind. Do you, Sir?” Lex asked to the president, confirming the reason for Bartlett’s malaise. Clark was clearly underage to drink legally.

“Just how old are you, Clark?” Bartlett asked sharply as he frowned at Luthor. Although he had nothing against their alternative lifestyle, Bartlett completely disapproved of the idea that such a young man would be in a committed relationship with someone who might be twice his age.

All too familiar with the line of questioning, Clark blurted out, “Lex is 25 and I’m 20.” He grimaced when he heard Lex’s amused sniff. “Well, I will be soon.”

“Don’t rush it, Clark.” Lex said, then corrected his exclamation with a warm smile, “Clark will be 20 in three months, Sir.”

Bartlett stared at the two boys, trying to figure out why he’d had the wrong impression of their ages. It was easier to understand why he had believed Luthor was older than he actually was; the boy’s baldness gave him an appearance of age and starkness; his well-known youthful exploits had produced a defiant confidence, and his background in the business world had imparted an edgy sophistication. But, studying Clark, Bartlett felt as if he had never looked Superman directly in the face, though he was certain he had – and he still remembered Superman’s unnerving blue eyes. While the boy was tall and well developed, his features were unmistakably youthful.

He glanced at his wife, knowing that he would see the same thought in her eyes. These two boys — who looked so much older than they were, who ran circles around the business and media giants, who were responsible for the lives of so many people – these two boys were younger than his daughters. He tried to mentally count the times he had already called on Superman just in the first three months of his Presidency, and couldn’t. The thought of the dangers that he had already sent this boy to sent a wave of revulsion through him. It must have shown on his face.

“Mr. President? Are you all right?” Clark’s voice sounded soft and concerned.

Composing his thoughts and his face, Bartlett turned back to Clark, touched by the empathy radiating from his eyes… emerald green eyes… Damn.

“Luthor!” Bartlett’s hard voice surprised everyone at the table. “Good job! You almost had me convinced.”

“Jed,” Abby railed, “What is wrong with you?”

“His eyes! Abby, Superman’s eyes are blue: an odd, icy blue, but they are blue.” He turned back to Clark and Lex angrily. “Care to explain that, Luthor?” Without waiting for an answer, Bartlett stood up and ordered his wife, “Abby, get up. We’re going.”

As he reached for her chair, a glacial voice stopped him: “I applaud you for your skepticism, Mr. President; however, in this instance, it is unwarranted.”

It was superman’s voice. Bartlett scanned the room in shock, but it still contained only the four of them. He had a brief second to notice how pale Luthor looked before Superman commanded, “Look at me.”

When he looked back at Clark, the change from the boy to the hero was immediately noticeable. The person before him had not moved even a nanometer, but the openness and youthfulness of the features he had studied only moments before were suddenly erased. Bartlett’s spine stiffened as he reacted instinctively to the superior expression on the man’s face and the haughty amusement flashing in icy, steal blue eyes.

“You are as difficult to convince as Mr. Luthor was.” Superman’s comment drew an immediate reaction from Lex.

“Clark! What are you doing?”

“The President asked to speak with me, Luthor. If he prefers this form to the other, I see no reason not to indulge him.”

The empathy and affection that had previously radiated between the two men seemed lost.
Bartlett felt guilty for the frigid feeling that had descended on the room.

“Clark, you shouldn’t be…” Lex protested anxiously, but Mrs. Bartlett interrupted him with a chill voice of her own.

“I seriously doubt that Jed prefers speaking to you, Superman,“ her voice held a clear challenge as she stared him down. Lex could only gaze at her in amazement when she continued, “and, as for myself, I definitely prefer Clark as a dinner companion.” Even though she was a democrat, if she ever ran for office, Lex decided he would happily bankroll her campaign.

“Mr. President? Is she correct? Is this simply dinner?” Superman turned a challenging eye to Lex. “Or did you have something to discuss with me?”

Bartlett cleared his throat, grateful for his wife’s interference, as he spoke: “Superman, of the many things I have learned over the years, the first and most important is that Abby is always right. I did want the chance to speak with you, but primarily because I am curious about the progress of your vacation.” From Superman’s intense gaze, Bartlett knew the hero sensed his evasion, but it was close enough to the truth that he didn’t even feel his usual level of discomfort with dissembling.

“Really? And, why is that?” Superman’s question was so coolly delivered that Bartlett might have missed the polite undercurrent of distrust- but, Bartlett had learned from many years of politics how to recognize the nuances of distrust. However, verbal parries were Bartlett’s forte, and he felt as if he was back on solid ground.

“Simply put, Superman, I have never met anyone who had to be ordered by the UN to take a vacation.” Bartlett suppressed a smile when he saw the fleeting grin that crossed Lex’s face. He finished with another joust, “Considering your usual attire, I had expected a more balanced attitude toward overwork. Even I visit Camp David occasionally.”

The brilliant smile that Lex gave him for that comment washed away Bartlett’s earlier suspicions that Lex was trying to manipulate and control the younger man. It was clear where the boy’s primary concern lay.

“Very well,” Superman conceded and retreated.

As Superman receded, Clark picked up his wineglass, and held it out to Lex with a look of entreaty. Lex barely paused with a brief glance toward the Bartletts for any sign of objection, then filled the glass and held the bottle ready for a refill if needed.

“Clark?”

With a trembling hand, Clark brought the wineglass to his lips and drained the glass slowly – avoiding their eyes.

“Clark?” Lex insisted, “Look at me.”

When Clark hesitated to meet his appraising gaze, Lex left his chair and crouched by Clark’s chair – tilting his head to the side far enough to catch a glimpse of Clark’s eyes. What he saw wasn’t good. The color in Clark’s eyes was still disturbingly frosty blue, although at the edges a warm green translucent sheen was fading in toward the iris.

“Would you like me to get Willow?” he asked with concern.

Gritting his teeth, Clark shut his eyes for a brief second, then shook his head and answered, “No, I think I can… I just need a few moments.”

Lex watched Clark carefully, as he bit his lip in concentration and waited until he saw a thin sheen of sweat break out on Clark’s forehead.

“Clark,” Lex started to stand as he spoke, “You need more time. Let me get, Willow.”

“No.” Clark stopped him. “Stay here. Talk. I can.” He gripped Lex’s elbow to steady himself and walked carefully out of the room.

9. Delirium Tremens

Lex returned to his chair and forgot for several moments that he was the host as he drained his glass, refilled it, and drained it again. The Bartletts waited quietly until the pallor of his skin slowly warmed and he looked up, anxiously, having remembered his duties once more.

“I…” Lex checked his watch, “Oh. Dinner should be ready in just a moment.” Forcing a pleasant expression, Lex stood up to refill their glasses and hurried from the room.

“Jed, this isn’t right!” Abby protested quietly. “They are just boys—younger than our own children. We’re asking too much of them.”

Although he silently agreed with her, Bartlett shook his head. Superman was simply too important of an ally and a resource to discard at whim. Aside from that…

“Abby, I’ve ordered younger men into combat.” His voice was grim as he spoke and he refused to meet her eyes. It was a fact that she already knew. Of course, she knew that and she knew how much it troubled him to make that choice. But, she wasn’t to be swayed by that knowledge—not in this instance.

“This is different, Jed.” She argued, ignoring his quickly set jaw. “You realize that; don’t you?”

“Of course it’s different. He has powers that make his job infinitely easier than any of the others. Additionally, there’s his invulnerability. None of the troops that I’ve ordered into combat have known for certain that they are coming home. How can I not rely on Superman, if it will mean that more of them return safely from their tours of duty?”

Abby stared at him sympathetically. She knew that every one of the phone calls he had made to the next of kin, when a soldier died still haunted him and would always haunt him. But, that still wasn’t enough to dissuade her.

“There’s another difference, too. You don’t send them into a battle alone, without training or commanders to guide them, in the media spotlight, with the world watching their every move, and knowing at the end of the day that they will be judged –personally—for the bad they couldn’t prevent as well as the good they’ve done.” She paused to let it sink in—knowing from his silence that he had actually been listening. “It’s a cruel way to repay them for trying to save the world.”

Bartlett stared into his wine glass for several seconds, thinking through her comments. They were valid, but the nation’s best interests were still his first responsibility. Shaking his head, Bartlett let out a frustrated sigh and asked, “I’m the President, Abby. He is a superhero—emphasis on the words super and hero. It’s not as if he doesn’t have a choice. What would you have me do?”

“First of all,” Abby nodded toward the kitchen. “You could start by calling him Lex. I know you haven’t met his father, but it really is an important distinction on number of levels.”

“Oh, and I take it you have.”

“Years ago, yes. My sister, Zoe went to college with his late wife. And, we only met once, at one of Zoe’s Christmas parties—but ...” Abby trailed off with obvious distaste and suppressed a shuddered at the memory of meeting the unpleasant businessman, but not before her husband picked up on her revulsion.

“Okay. What else?”

Abby smiled at her husband, finally feeling that he was ready to be open-minded. After a second, she nodded again toward the kitchen and answered, “Talk to him; I have a feeling that he has something fairly important that needs to be said – they seem to want you to hear it. And, if I’m not mistaken, you should probably feel pretty proud of that – I doubt they share their secrets easily.”

Bartlett stared at his cryptic wife, but decided that she wasn’t going to elaborate. After a second, he resigned himself to following orders, refilled his wineglass, and walked into the kitchen – in time to catch Lex dashing tears from his eyes as he prepped their dinner plates.

“Lex,” Bartlett announced his presence, startling the young man. “Abby suggested that you could use a hand in here,” he paused lowering his voice in a conspiratorial tone, as he finished, “But, between you and me, I think she’s simply afraid that I will bring up an argument we were having about the scope of Natural Duties in ‘A Theory of Justice’.”

“By John Rawls?” Lex thought for a moment. “I remember that section.” He began to quote the section from memory: “The following are examples of natural duties: the duty of helping another when he is in need or jeopardy, provided that one can do so without excessive risk or loss to oneself; the duty not to harm or injure another; and the duty not to cause unnecessary suffering.” His eyes flashed a surprised question at the president.

Smiling in response, Bartlett continued the passage, “The first of these duties, the duty of mutual aid, is a positive duty...” He grinned as he let his offer sink in, and then rephrased it as he set his wine glass down and moved toward the stove: “So, Lex, how can I help?”

On the other side of the door, Abby nodded with some satisfaction. Her husband could be quite charming when he wanted to be. With that taken care of, she turned back toward the other dining room door. She wasn’t certain yet, but she was beginning to think that she was noticing the same symptoms in Clark that she had recognized in another friend, Leo, many years ago.

She could be wrong of course, but Clark’s confusion, anxiety, wobbly steps when he left the dining, and sweating without sign of any other physical activity—were all symptoms of withdrawal. Withdrawal from what- she wasn’t certain. In Leo’s case, it had been alcohol, but Abby doubted that Lex would have let Clark anywhere near the wine if that was the case. Then again, it wouldn’t be the first time that someone’s spouse was ignorant of an addiction, or -for that matter- the first time that a person suffering multiple personalities used alcohol to cope. And that was something else she was certain of, the Superman identity wasn’t just a cover for Clark’s use of his powers – it was a distinct personality from Clark’s that seemed capable of suppressing Clark’s personality at will. From Lex’s earlier comment about Clark being the ‘third identity’, it was clear there was at least one other personality, and perhaps more yet to be discovered.

As she stepped through the door, Abby was surprised to see Clark sitting tensely on the couch as a young woman with bright red hair rubbed his temples. Well, no, that wasn’t really what surprised her: it was the bright peach bubble of light that spread from her fingertips around Clark’s his forehead and over the back of his skull like a football helmet. As the young woman massaged the pressure points by his eyes, the peach helmet thickened in some areas and flared in others. She could only stare at the two of them until she noticed one of Clark’s fists clenching convulsively.

“Clark?”

Their faces snapped toward her, and the peach helmet evaporated.

“Are you all right?” She watched the young woman almost suspiciously.

“Oh, Abby. It’s okay. This is Willow. She’s –“ he paused grinning up at the Willow. “She’s my bottle of aspirin.”

“What?”

“Well, normal medicines don’t seem to work on me because of my... physiology, but…” Clark hesitated looking up at Willow for permission, then continued after she nodded, “a couple of years ago, we found out that another friend of ours could affect me by… uh… using… well…”

“Magic.” Willow supplied when she realized how nervous her friend was about the subject.

“Well!” Abby’s startled exclamation caused both of them to blush. Recovering swiftly, Abby asked, “Well, that’s interesting. How does it work?”

Willow bounced with enthusiasm. “Oh, it’s something like a glamour. As long as I know what the medicine’s purpose is, what it’s supposed to be doing inside of Clark (if he were like everyone else),” she added with a small smile to soften her comment. “and what it’s not supposed to do – you know the side effects. As long as I know those things, I can sort of … write a spell… which is like a sort of like a prayer for it to happen and then make it happen. When you came in, I was just using a pain-relief spell.”

Abby turned back to Clark in concern and asked, “Clark, you’re in pain?”

Clark nodded and shrugged, “I tend to get sort of bad headaches”

Despite his qualification of bad, the sad look that Willow was giving him convinced Abby that ‘bad’ was a serious understatement.

“Anything else?” Abby asked, trying to gauge the severity of his condition.

“Like?” Willow knew that Clark had been bothered by a number of other physical complaints. Everyone knows that fevers and vomiting were never good, but she wasn’t certain which of the others the First Lady would find significant.

“Nausea, vomiting, fever, anxiety, dizziness, insomnia, cravings, restlessness—anything like that?” Abby ran through a list of the most common withdrawal symptoms watching as Clark began to pluck at his sleeve nervously.

After a long breath, without meeting her eyes, he quietly confirmed something on her list with a muttered, “Unh-huh.” Clark understood why Lex felt it was important to tell the President, and he genuinely liked the first lady, but it was difficult to admit that he had so little control over such an important aspect of his life.

“Well?” Abby prompted. “Which ones?”

Clark’s fingers jumped frantically at his sleeve, but he continued to avoid her eyes and refused to answer.

Willow cocked her head as she watched him with curious concern. Avoiding such a direct question without any explanation was unusual even for him. But she remembered how difficult it had been for her to admit her own addiction, and the First Lady certainly had some idea of the symptoms—so perhaps it wasn’t all that unusual… even though Clark was an alien.

After a moment, when it was clear that Clark was too involved in staring ruefully at his hands to answer, she supplied, “All of them.”

Abby only nodded as her suspicions were confirmed as much by Clark’s avoidance of the subject as Willows affirmation.

“Anything else?” She asked again.

Willow paused again, for several seconds, sure that Clark wouldn’t avoid a second question; but, the conversation seemed too much for him and he was scrubbing his hands together with a look that almost bordered on despair. Catching the First Lady’s eye, Willow gestured with a jerk of her head to the other side of the room—hoping a little distance would make the discussion easier on Clark.

“Yes,” she finally answered in a soft tone. “We’ve noticed that he can get agitated easily—“

“Like now?” Abby interrupted.

“Yes, and confused. This morning, Lex also said something about him having trouble remembering things.”

Abby looked at her grimly, trying to weigh her next question carefully. Finally, she simply
asked, “Willow, have you considered the possibility… Is it possible that Clark could be addicted
to your treatments?”

Willow stared at her in shock. Of course, she hadn’t considered that possibility. Clark’s addiction was the reason that she had become involved in the first place, and now Ms. Bartlett was trying to blame it on her. Willow snapped her eyes shut in irritation – understanding why Clark must have seemed nervous about mentioning her powers to the woman before—because he knew she would react badly to Willow being a witch. Suppressing the urge to whisper a harmless little spell that would make every pair of hose that the First Lady would ever own run as she put them on, Willow swallowed and opened her eyes—in time to see Clark shoot a burst of solid flame at his hands, catching his sleeves on fire.

“Clark!” Both women cried out in alarm. As they ran toward him, Clark shot another burst, and then another. Then, to their horror, he seared his hands in a steady stream of flame. Willow cried out as she watched his face contort with pain, but he still glared fire onto his hands as he turned them.

The women stood transfixed by the gruesome scene as they watched Clark’s hands begin to redden and blister. Only Lex’s cursing as he ran through the doorway and practically tackled Clark from behind, forcing his hands over the boy’s eyes and holding his eyes shut, broke their haze.

“Clark! What the hell are you doing?” Lex ground out before a muffled yelp escaped him as Clark’s eye lids fluttered beneath his hand letting flame lash out across Lex’s palm. “Willow, do something!”

Between the First Lady’s accusation and Clark’s inexplicable outburst, Willow was well and truly flustered and confused. “What should I do?” She cried out plaintively, “He’s never been like this before.”

“Can you sedate him?” Abby demanded. When Willow nodded, she ordered, “Then, do it.”

Quickly working out the formula in her head, Willow whispered, “ut nox noctis subsido in oriens”. A small sphere of darkness appeared over her palm that became greyer and brighter as she watched. After a second’s inspection, she cupped her palm around it and pushed it toward Clark. As the Bartletts and Lex watched it approach Clark, the sphere became translucent and pale pastels ebbed across its surface. When it touched his chest, Clark slowly slumped in Lex’s arms.

After a moment, Lex carefully lifted his fingers, checking to be certain that Clark’s heat vision was extinguished. Though dazed, Clark’s eyes were open when Lex looked into them and still seemed somewhat aware. Staring at Clark in anguish, he asked, “My god, Clark. What were you trying to do?”

“The blood wouldn’t come off my hands, Lex. I thought I washed it off this morning, but it’s still there. It wouldn’t scratch off either. I thought I could burn it off. Is it gone?” Clark started to lift his hands again, but Abby shook her head urgently at Lex, who quickly pulled him into a fierce hug that pinned his hands out of his field of vision.

“Clark?” Abby raised her voice trying to catch his attention, “Clark, pay attention to me for a moment, Okay?”

Clark nodded, while he tried to shift to see his hands.

“Clark pay attention. You are having the DT’s. Do you know what they are?”

Clark’s voice seemed a weary echo as he answered her half-heartedly, “Delirium Tremens.”

“I’m going to have Willow help you sleep now, okay? When you wake up, you’ll feel a lot better, okay?” She spoke to him in the soothing voice that she reserved for her most delicate patients.

“But… the blood. I don’t want to sleep with it on my hands.” He whined.

Finally understanding, Lex spoke softly in his Clark’s ear as he pulled the boy closer. “It’s just an hallucination, Sweet. Just close your eyes and go to sleep, when you wake up everything will be okay.”

“You promise?” Out of the corner of her eye, Abby noticed her husband pale as he heard the childlike hope of Clark’s voice as he asked for that assurance.

“Cross my heart.”

“Okay.” With that, he turned, murmured “good night” to the others, and then snuggled into Lex’s chest. Lex wrapped his arms around Clark’s shoulders, holding him gently, and nodded to Willow.

“ut dies fades ut nox noctis.”

Clark’s breath evened out into a soft breathy snore as they listened.

“Can he hear me?” Abby asked urgently.

“No, I don’t think so.” Willow answered hesitantly.

“Good,” Pouring out the fear and anxiety that had building up over the last few moment’s, Abby turned on Lex hurling accusations, “How could you let it get this far? Why wasn’t he in treatment? Real treatment? Damn it!”

“Abby!” The president called her down.

“No, Jed, Clark’s an alcoholic. He was having the DT’s right beneath our noses and they knew about it. Hell. They have been treating him for it—with Magic. With Magic. Jed. People can die during episodes of the DT’s, and he was having an attack right in front of me. Right in front of me. I’m a doctor. If I had known, I could have done something to prevent it.”

Bartlett caught her shoulders and gave her a gentle shake to stop her rant.

“Abby, Clark isn’t an alcoholic.”

“Jed, don’t try to tell me that, I’m a doctor and I recognize a case of the DT’s when I see it. I was right about Leo and I’m right now. That boy is going through withdrawal.”

When Lex finally spoke, his voice sounded hollow and distant. “Clark is an addict, and this vacation is his rehab- of sorts. And you’re right, he is suffering from withdrawal.”

Abby shot a triumphant grimace at her husband, but the president stood his ground—correcting her: "But…his addiction is being Superman."

After a moment, Lex continued, “Or, more precisely, Clark is addicted to the flood of chemicals that his brain produces when he becomes Superman.”

When the meaning of their words sunk in, Abby wilted into her husband’s arms as she broke into tears.

NOTES:

Rawls, J. (1999) A Theory of Justice. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. 98.

ut nox noctis subsido ut oriens: as night subsides into morning

ut dies fades ut nox noctis: as day fades into night.

For Symptoms of Alcohol Withdrawal (http://scc.ucchicago.edu/alcoholwitdrawal.htm).

Cell Doors

2005-04-04T20:21:00.000-07:00

Elba in Exile—Series

Title: Cell Doors.
Genre: PG 13, Drabble
Disclaimer: Disclaiming nothing—This I own.
Summary: Sometimes forgetting is easy.

Cell Doors

Elba felt the cell door slam behind her as she took off her hematite ring and slipped it into her clubbing purse. It startled her because for two hours, she had forgotten that she was in prison.

Easy enough to do – while she was sipping Kahlua and Crème, between drawing the cue through her fingertips and taking almost random shots at the evasive, reluctantly-sinking, billiard balls.

Easier still—when she caught a random eye in the crowd, cocked her head in invitation, and stepped onto the dance floor. For two hours, it was easy to forget—then she went home.

Losing It.

2005-04-04T19:45:00.000-07:00

Title: Losing it.
Genre: PG 13, Hurt and Comfort, Drabble, Implied bdsm
Disclaimer: I would love to collar them both and keep them at my beck and call, but they aren’t mine.
Summary: Clark needs to give it away.

Losing It.

"Can't you at least try to tell me what's wrong?"

It was a cruel paradox that when Clark planned on dying he'd confessed everything to Lex; but, when he couldn't decide whether to live or not, he wouldn't let Lex help.

"I'm losing it!"

"It?"

”Control: of my mind, myself, everything."

Lex smiled softly as he rested his palms on Clark’s shoulders. "Oh, Clark."

He closed his fingertips to cup the back of Clark’s neck and whispered in his friend's ear: “The secret to keeping control is...”

Lex’s thumbs closed over Clark’s adam’s apple like a collar.

“giving it away.”

What Were You Thinking?

2005-04-04T17:16:00.000-07:00

Title: What were you thinking?
Genre: PG 13, Drabble,
Disclaimer: Can’t own them: Lex has prior title on Clark, and I can’t afford Lex.
Summary: Self-sacrifice can be very tiring.

What Were You Thinking?

When Clark’s eyes finally opened, Lex snapped. He had been worried for too long: sitting, reading, eating, sleeping, working by Clark’s bedside—waiting for the teen to come out of his coma.

Instead of the warm, loving, sad, hurt looks that Clark dreaded, he woke to honest anger and, for the first time in months, felt calm.

“What were you thinking of?” Lex screamed at him.

Clark wanted to finally answer his friend’s question. This question had an answer he could give freely. But, unable to move or speak, answered the only way he could—by slipping back into Oblivion.

Dear Lex

2005-04-03T21:43:00.000-07:00

Title: Dear Lex
Genre: PG-13, Angst, Hurt
Disclaimer: I don’t own them outside my dark,dark dreams.
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.

Dear Lex

“Send it!” Timothy’s voice sounded anxious as he snapped his cell phone shut.

“Sir, Mr. Kent was just caught on the castle’s security cameras visiting your office again.” As Timothy spoke, Lex turned the tense Chief of Security with curiosity.

Clark’s trespasses had become so common that Timothy hardly ever mentioned them unless it was an unusual circumstance like the one Easter that Clark had hidden real eggs for Easter – not knowing that Lex was scheduled for a two-week tour of off-shores holdings and had given the household staff a coinciding vacation

“What is it?” There had to be some reason Timothy would react so unusually.

Timothy pulled the fax from the printer and handed it to Lex.

Dear Lex,

This is a lousy way to do this. I know that, and I’m sorry. I really, really am. I know you probably hate me by now because I’ve done this. But, please don’t tear this up before you read it. Oh, yeah, I’ve also made a CD that I’ve mailed to you. It will say more than this can. Please don’t throw it away until you can look at it when you’re not so mad.

An uneasy feeling came over Lex as he read. It didn’t make sense that Clark would assume he would hate him or tear the letter up or throw away the disk. Their friendship seemed to be on the mend. Even if Clark decided they couldn’t be friends; it would hurt, but Clark had always been a challenge.

“Tim—” Lex didn’t know what he wanted to say, but went on anyway, “Have one of the cars brought around.”

“Sir, I’ve had all of your appointments cancelled for the day, and the helicopter will arrive shortly.” Timothy answered.

Lex jerked his head up in shock, then back to the letter. Why would Timothy think the helicopter was necessary when he knew that Lex hated that mode of transportation? Why had he taken it upon himself to have the appointments… Lex returned to reading the letter with a tight knot of fear growing in his stomach.

Lex, I know you tell me that I say I’m sorry too much, but I don’t think I can ever apologize enough for what I’m doing now. Out of everyone, even Mom and Dad, I know I’m hurting you the most because you’ve been so hurt by your father and so abandoned by everyone else who could have cared for you and made things better. I’m so sorry to be on that list, even before now. Please understand that I really do care about you. I think I might even love you, like a brother and a friend, and I think maybe more.

As Lex read, he felt Timothy’s hand grasp his shoulder and guide him out of the penthouse.

I know you’ll think I’m a coward. That’s okay, because you’re right. I am afraid, afraid of a lot of things. I always have been. That’s why I was on the bridge the day we first met. I was tired of being afraid then too. But, I really didn’t understand what I should have been afraid of. I really believed that being a mutant was the worst thing in the world, and I was afraid every day that I would change like some of the other people had. I never realized how many people had been hurt by the meteors, but I did know that a few had – and that things had become really bad for them. I was so afraid of that happening to me, and I thought that my parent’s were afraid of that too because they knew how strong I was.

Lex traced his finger over the passage. It was almost as if he could feel Clark’s heartache. When Clark had pulled him out of the water, Lex had known he was shaken by something, but had never thought about what Clark had been feeling before Lex’s car had struck him.

I am, I mean I was, well, I still am but I guess it will be was...

Lex puzzled over Clark’s rambling wording. Had something happened that caused Clark to lose his strength? Lex had suspected that there had been earlier lapses, but somehow Lex didn’t think it was the case now.

This is so hard, Lex. So much harder than it was then… when I went out to the bridge... to... kill myself.

“Oh, God.” Tears started rolling down Lex’s cheek as he thought of the fifteen year old Clark feeling so desperate that he would try something like that.

I guess it’s sort of funny to think that you saved my life by knocking me off the bridge.

Lex clutched the letter, finally believing that he understood why Clark would think Lex would be angry… to finally have the truth after so many years of lying. Once Lex might have been, but he had honestly meant it when he told Clark that he wanted to preserve their friendship and wouldn’t go back on that know.

It probably won’t make sense. But, you really did save my life as much as I saved yours. You couldn’t know that, I’m sure because I lied to you right from the start. And because your car didn’t hurt me. I was so upset and scared, thinking it was already too late that I had already started to change because I knew when I was younger, there were times when I had been hurt. But you hit me, and wham, I can’t be killed. I would have probably been heart broken, but I saved you – you know. And that was pretty cool. It was very cool in fact. I still wanted to kill myself, before I changed into something that could hurt my friends and family, but I couldn’t, and I was a little mad about that.

Clark’s outpouring hurt Lex so desperately that he didn’t even notice when Timothy guided him into the passenger side of the helicopter, climbed in behind him, and signaled the pilot to lift off.

Then Whitney and the football team made me the scarecrow and showed me how to get around that little obstacle. The meteors—it’s like I’m allergic to them or something. Well, Lana’s necklace was enough to make me feel like I really could die right there on the cross. Okkayyy, that would have been some pretty weird symbolism, right? (Did I use that right?) I mean like I’m the last son of… well, that’s a loooong story, and it’s on the CD okay. But, trust me, it would have been pretty weird. Anyway, that didn’t happen either. Okay, so I’m dumber than the mule that you have to hit with a two by four, or a car, as the case may be.

Shaking his head, Lex decided he was going to have to have another talk with Clark about being so down on himself. Clark was certainly intelligent enough and the only time he could ever be said to be slow was when he didn’t hit on a course of action that he was usually to compassionate or honest to take anyway.

First time, you hit me, and boom I’m freaked out but still alive. Then I’m hanging on a cross with a strange rock-that-poisons-only-me (even I got that irony) thinking okay, now I can die, and poof right in the middle of the night, you show up out of nowhere and save me again. Even I catch on after a little while. How many other times have you saved me, too? I think I’ve lost count, and I bet you haven’t had any idea how many times you’ve saved me with things as simple as a pool game after I came back from Metropolis. But I do. Basically, 4 years worth. I’ve stayed alive for 4 years longer than I should have because …

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 and why Timothy had acted so appropriately.

Throwing his head back against the seat, Lex tried to figure out where Clark would go – to do what he was planning. The foundry? He might go there, not knowing that Lex had arranged for it to be cleaned up after he realized that meteors hurt Clark. A number of other places could be excluded as well, and maybe that would give Lex time because he knew Clark hadn’t noticed or commented on Lex’s clean up operations—and Clark would have made some comment if he knew.

Where would he go?

Gulping convulsively, he glanced out the helicopter’s window staring at the roadway below.

“Sir?” Timothy finally interrupted him. Lex didn’t answer, but the Chief of Security could feel his attention.

“Is there somewhere important to him? Somewhere that he maybe mentioned in his note?”

Lex couldn’t look at the note again, but there had been only one place mentioned by name. “The bridge.” Timothy immediately gave the pilot directions.

After several seconds, Lex finally had the nerve to ask, “How long ago did he leave this?” Clark was right on the money about his desire to shred the letter, Lex was half tempted even now to rip it to small pieces and cast them out the helicopter’s window.

“Barely a minute before it was faxed, Sir. If he had left it on your desk, Sir, I assure you we would not have touched it, but he used the combination to your water safe, Sir, and left it there.” After his previous poisonings, at the hands of his father, Lex had made certain that his entire staff knew that he was to be alerted if anyone compromised his bottled water supplies. He never thought that it would be Clark, but knew that his definition of anyone had specifically included “family” referring to his father or half-brother so naturally, they had included Clark.

Small favors. Thank God for small favors.

As the helicopter finally circled over the bridge, Lex stared out searching for Clark and realized that his allotment of small favors had ran out when he spotted the Kent’s pick-up truck on the road below. As he scanned the bridge, Lex fought to suppress the fear and anger that were overtaking him when he couldn’t see his friend. As they touched down, he and Timothy shot out of their seats and started down towards the riverbed.

After a moment, as they broke through the trees a small patch of Clark’s red flannel jacket floated to the surface and caught the light as it bobbed.

Lex screamed Clark’s name as they drug him to the surface and carried him to the bank. As Timothy phoned Clark’s parents then the hospital, Lex forced his tightly wrapped fingers to release the meteorite then began mouth to mouth.

And, as Clark began to cough, the words Dear Lex faded from the crumpled fax that floated downstream.

Me Too!

2005-03-31T09:09:00.000-08:00

Title: Me Too!
Genre: Humor, Pre-Slash (but getting closer) Drabble.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: If I put a contract out on everyone who did own them, I still wouldn’t be in line to get them.
Summary: Clark and Lex finally talk… sort of (100 words).

Me Too!

Clark finally sat beside Lex and confessed his worst secret:

“My father wants me to rule the world.”
“Funny, Mine too.”

“I’m a freak.”
“Me Too!”

“Lex!”
“What?!?”

“I can do things no one else can.”
“Mm-hmm, Me too.”

“I’ve always been lonely. Always had to hide who I am.”
“Gee, Me too.”

“Is that all you can say?” Clark grumbles.
“It’s the truth.” Lex answers shrugging.

“I’m gay.”
“Hey Me, too.”

“You’re sure?”
“yep”

“Uh… I … like you… that way!”
“Cool! Me too.”

“I think I’d kind of like to kiss you…now.”

“Well?” Clark asks uncertainly.

“Me, Too!”

Oops

2005-03-31T07:04:00.000-08:00

Title: Oops
Genre: Humor, A Barely Pre-slash Drabble
Rating: PG 13 (if you’re old enough to catch the meaning, you’re probably old enough to read it.)
Disclaimer: I have no ownership rights over these two, but love to imagine them in well-tooled leather collars with my initials on their tags.
Summary: Lex really hadn’t meant to…

Oops

Lex really hadn’t meant to upset Clark. They were best friends and he wanted to protect that.

That was why he continued to indulge Clark’s penchant for late night rides ... in expensive sportscars.

He hadn’t even noticed Clark watching his hand…

On the stick-shift...

Shifting...

Fingering the chrome shaft...

Circling his thumb across it’s hand polished cap, until…

He heard Clark’s soft groan.

“Clark?”

Shooting his friend a concerned glance, Lex noticed the sheen of sweat on Clark’s upper lip.

“Everything all right?”

“Mm-hmmm”

Following his gaze, Lex could almost have said “Oops” if he weren't grinning so broadly.

Healing

2005-03-25T18:50:00.000-08:00

Title: Healing (sequel to Whipping boy)
Genre: Clex, Angst, PG 13, Sacrifice, Brucie brooding, Hurt and comfort
Disclaimer: If I owned them, they wouldn’t have to get hurt to touch each other.
Summary: Bruce help’s Lex unfold enough to accept Clark’s sacrifice.

Bruce understood why, Lex, who had never believed in his own worth –at all – had needed to see the DVD drawn from the castles security cameras (to finally exorcise his suspicion of Clark) and hear his next comment… to understand finally when actions spoke volumes louder than words… that someone believed he was worth the sacrifice.

“Lex, in Clark’s sent mail folder, there were 26 messages agreeing to [Lionel’s sessions] on different dates, and others that appear to agreeing to multiple [sessions] on the same day.” Lex’s heart finally broke – releasing the shards of its icy shell in a multitude of tears (Whipping Boy).

Healing

Lex’s tears slowly soaked into Bruce’s jacket and dried before he found the strength to lift his head. Staring bleakly out the window, Lex asked in a roughened voice, “How could he? Go through that… again and again? Why?”

Chucking a bent finger beneath Lex’s chin, Bruce forced his Lex to look in his eyes, warning harshly, “Don’t. You know why he did this. You know why he went back, again and again. Don’t kid yourself, and don’t reduce what he did because you are afraid of what that may mean for you.”

Lex struggled to look away, but Bruce was uncompromising, “I know that it scares the hell out of you to admit that someone could care enough about you to go through the worst your father can dish out. But, that boy does and you’re going to have to face that head on. If you want him, you better step up to the plate and prevent this from happening again. If you don’t, then let him know, so that he doesn’t give himself over the old man for the wrong reasons. After what he’s done, you owe him that much.”

“No,” Lex answered, “He doesn’t care about me…” Lex put his hand up to forestall his quickly flare of anger from his friend, as he finished “He doesn’t … just… care about me, does he?”

Bruce snorted, “Finally catching on? No, I’d wager that he more than cares for you.”

Lex nodded slowly finding it all too much to take and finally remembered something Bruce had said earlier. “You said he wouldn’t let you check him earlier? Why? After the Kryptonite was removed, he should have recovered quickly shouldn’t he have? He knows you know that.”

“That’s just it. He was still bleeding when I left, and he can’t talk.”

“What?”

“Lex, his screaming … fairly shredded his throat. Alfred suspects that the proximity to kryptonite over so many sessions… may have diminished or shut down his immunity so that he’s not healing as he normally would. ”

“He’s not healing? Oh God, Bruce, I have to go.” Lex started to jump out of the limo, but Bruce’s superior strength held the distraught man in place.

“I’m driving. He saved you from one trip over the bridge. Let’s not take chances when he’s not up to pulling you out a second time… okay.”

Lex nodded numbly. Clark was hurt. He wasn’t healing. He couldn’t talk… from screaming. And, he had let Lionel do all of it to him because he wanted to protect Lex. Stripping his driving gloves off, Lex almost dislocated a knuckle as he wrung his hands nervously. Finally, Bruce reached up and flipped down one of the visors, dropping a thin pack of origami paper directly into Lex’s lap.

Sighing harshly as he stared down at the paper, Lex reminded Bruce sharply, “I don’t do that any more. It gives away too many emotions.”

“Well. It’s probably a good time to pick it up, again. Beside that, I would imagine that you’re farm boy would probably appreciate seeing something delicate and pretty right now. Don’t you.”

Lex complacently pulled out a sheet of the paper and carefully creased the small square in half as he tried to decide what figure might entrance Clark the most. By the time, Bruce pulled into the castle’s long driveway, Lex had close to thirty pieces spread across the limo’s dash board. Eyeing them uncertainly, he asked, “Which do you think he might like the best?”

Bruce looked them over carefully, admiring Lex’s crisp edges and careful designs, but shook his head as he reached across and opened the glove compartment to pull out several sheets of delicate hand-painted silk paper. “There all good, but considering the shape he’s in I think something a little more delicate might be in order.”

“Why didn’t you give me those in the first place?” Lex growled, wanting to snatch the paper out of Bruce’s hand.

“Before, I knew you wouldn’t just mangle it? Right.”

“Which one, then?”

“What about the eagle?”

“But, I didn’t…” Lex paused remembering the eagle that he had made for Bruce just before Bruce had graduated. “You don’t mind?”

“A little,” Bruce smirked, admitting to his lingering jealousy, “but, I think he’s earned it.”

Lex’s eyes flashed bright with unspoken emotion, memories, and gratitude, “Thank you.”

“Get to it.” The older man growled ending their moment of nostalgia. “We’re almost there…” but out of the corner of his eye, Bruce watched Lex’s lithe fingers begin the complicated creases and smiled when he realized that Lex was changing the eagle slightly making it a harlequin pattern and in doing so making it smaller. His eagle, the one Bruce still kept in the safe where even Richard had not seen it, would remain unique. As Bruce shut the ignition off and looked over, Lex was making the final tuck and holding the delicate bird up for examination.

“What do you think?” Lex’s voice sounded tentative.

“Exquisite.” After so many years, it amused Bruce to realize that Lex’s desire for his approval still mattered. “That’s bound to take his mind off of things.”

Brought back to the present by the last quiet growl the limo’s engine quieted (somehow everything Bruce owned growled), Lex grabbed for the door handle and jumped out. Watching him from behind, Bruce was amazed to see how lightly Lex cupped the eagle in his palm without losing it as he raced up the walkway, took the stairs two at a time, and ran through the doorway that Alfred had barely the chance to open for him. Not for the first time, Bruce tried to imagine Lex costumed in robins red, sunshine yellow, and ivy green. No, it didn’t work… and not just because of the shining pate, Lex was too much like Bruce, made for midnight black leather and steel… Between the two of them, there had never been enough light to grow on.

Glancing up at one of the windows in the high tower, where he knew Lex’s light source lay, Bruce wondered with a smirk what Lex would look like in plaid flannel, white t-shirts, and dusty blue jeans. It was a look, but Bruce realized that Clark was probably the one who would be changing to compliment Lex’s shadows—it was already happening.

Bruce hoped Clark had enough light left for both of them to heal.

***

For the first time, Lex hesitated outside any doorway — afraid to go in.

Unconsciously, he scuffed his shoe against the carpet, unaware that he had picked up the gesture from the young man who lay impossibly fragile on the bed barely ten feet away. The boy’s hand had lay softly across his mother’s as she gently dabbed away more blood from the spray of cuts and gashes that mottled his skin. Looking up, she noticed Lex and glanced back to Clark who should have noticed… should have heard Lex approaching. It’s one more thing to fear… one more injury to the silent boy who flinched every time his mother’s hand drew near.

Finally remembering the eagle he’d made, Lex focused on it. Making it the most important task… enabled him to move his feet. Staring at it meant he could look away from the blood that should never have marred Clark’s once golden skin. He felt ridiculous and childish for being unable to even look at the person who had suffered so much for him… but he couldn’t. Looking at the welts on Clark’s outstretched hand made him feel as helpless as when he was at his mother’s bedside watching her suffer through the ravages of cancer.

Reaching the bed, Lex stared at the fragile paper construction before offering it to Clark. Despite his attempts to appear composed, his fingers trembled as he set the frail paper form in Clark’s outstretched hand.

“I…” Lex’s voice broke, “made…this…for you.”

What He Didn't Know.

2005-03-20T23:51:00.000-08:00

Title: What he didn’t know
Genre: PG 13, Pre-slash, Drabble
Disclaimer: Not mine (sniff), but I’d like them (pout). Please? (puppy eyes).
Summary: Lex considers Clark’s touches.

What He Didn’t Know.

Lex couldn’t believe it when he first noticed. It was so unlike Clark, who was –despite his obviously forced lies- the most honest and open person that Lex had ever met. But, after watching Clark just one afternoon, Lex knew that Clark never touched anyone.

He saved people of course: moving them, carrying them, pushing them, or doing whatever else it took to save them. But, he never simply reached out and touched them.

It was a strange distinction to notice, Lex knew, but what he didn’t know or understand was why Clark’s not touching someone else mattered to him.

Si operor ignoro vos.

2005-03-09T21:59:00.000-08:00

Title: Si operor ignoro vos.
Genre: PG 13, Pre-slash
Summary: It's all words until someone understands them.

Si operor ignoro vos

"Inconcessus fructus, quot mores ego mos intereo si ego operor ignoro vos." Lex murmured softly... the words slipping off of his lips. To his ears, nothing in his tone sounded off or provocative or anything like anger or hurt or other justification for Clark's sudden tears.

"Clark, what's wrong?"

"Don't say that again. Please, don't say that, don't mean that."

"Say what?" Suddenly, it dawns on him..."you know latin?"

Clark nodds miserably and shrugs, "It's a required course."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Lex rasps, finding it incredibly hard to supress instincts that years of suspiscion and mistrust have drilled into him.

"Everything you were saying..." Clark gulped, looking away as Lex remembers every thing he has whispered to Clark in latin and blushes... "You didn't seem to want me to know... even though you were saying them to me."

"That's even more of a reason to tell me." Embarassed, aching at the thought that Clark had known what he was saying but never reacted, and tired of being suspicious of everyone, Lex is almost afraid to let go of the hurt and suspiscion that were his first reaction.

"I know... but," Clark still looks away.

"But?" Lex asks harshly.

"Ut mihi, vos es quoque inconcessus fructus, spiritus de meus animus, quod cruor de meus pectus pectoris : Vos teneo, materia legends es incidere ex." Clark meets Lex's eyes... frankly, hopefully, anxiously waiting for Lex's reaction.

Then grins, realizing that for all of the languages that Lex can speak fluently -- even curse in-- he's speechless.

***

Translations

Inconcessus fructus , quot mores ego mos intereo si ego operor nescio vos.---
Forbidden fruit, how many ways I will die if I do not know you.

Ut mihi, vos es quoque inconcessus fructus, spiritus de meus animus, quod cruor de meus pectus pectoris: Vos teneo, materia legends es incidere ex.---
To me, you are also forbidden fruit, the breath of my soul, and the blood of my heart: You know, the material legends are cut from.

Special Occasions

2005-03-01T08:10:00.000-08:00

Title: Special occasions
Genre: PG 13, Hurt and comfort, Drabble
Disclaimer: Don’t own them, don’t have the money to buy them, but want them anyway.
Summary: Lex only prays on special occasions and personal holidays.

Special Occasions

Luthors don’t pray… but Lex does on special occasions. Once a year… on Bridge day.

He goes to the bridge, kneels by the rail, folds his hands, bows his head, and prays, “Please Lord, never let this happen again; but, if it must…Please, let him be there.”

Returning late the next night, he spots Clark crossing the road and follows him to the cross. Clark stumbles to his knees. He lifts his head. Tears spill down his cheeks. He prays, “Never again, Please God, never again… but if it does, let him be there.”

Now, Lex prays twice a year.

Tarnished

2005-02-27T22:47:00.000-08:00

Title: Tarnished
Genre: PG, Drama, A Drabble Poem, Angst, Lex’s Pov
Disclaimer: Not mine. Can’t have ‘em, stopped hoping for ‘em, still want ‘em.
Summary: Clark’s back from Metropolis and hiding from friends.

Tarnished

Tarnished

Slouched,
Crouched, in a shadowy corner,
Thinks Lex:
Clark should never be…
Haunted, daunted,
Hiding… so desperately.

Head down,
Fallen crown, a prince lost in the wood,
Thinks Lex:
A fallen angel, with a broken wing,
His mere presence, his physical sense,
A quiet, haunting thing.

Hidden eyes,
Concealed lies, he says he’s home for good,
Thinks Lex:
He’s home at last from wandering,
but still seems lost, having paid the cost,
Of his three month fling.

Silent,
Violent, regretful mourner,
Thinks Lex:
Mourning friendships that never died,
Too wired to rest, Afraid to test,
Leaves willing friends untried.

Graffiti

2005-02-25T18:00:00.000-08:00

Title: Graffiti
Genre: PG 13. Pre-slash, Drabble (Sequel to Coming out)
Disclaimer: Don’t own them, don’t expect to, but still hoping for a late-late birthday present.
Summary: There’s writing on the wall, but none of it’s good.

Graffiti

Perched, unseen, at the top of the stair well, Lex watched Clark’s approach, longing to break something with each hissed epithet and dirty look aimed at the boy. Feigning indifference, Clark pushed through the crowd, into his dorm-room, and slammed the door that a broken lock won’t hold.

From his perch, Lex heard Clark’s backpack striking the wall and sliding to the floor, the splash of running water, then the scratching of sand paper as Clark scrubbed graffiti off the wall. From the door, Lex heard Clark speaking in soft undertones to his picture: “God, Lex, I hate it here”.

Coming Out

2005-02-25T17:37:00.000-08:00

Title: Coming out
Genre: PG 13. Pre-slash, Coming out, Angst, Dialogue
Disclaimer: Don’t own them, don’t expect to, but still hoping for a late-late birthday present.
Summary: Clarks out… for better or worse.

Coming out

“Mr. Luthor, this is Loni James. I don’t know if you remember me…but, I think it would probably be a good idea if you just kind of happened by to visit Clark… Like today, if you know what I mean.”

“Clark’s RA? What’s happened?”

“Yeah, that’s me. Some guys from the dorm trashed Clark’s room again.”

“Again?”

“Oh, crap. He didn’t tell you. Aww, man. I shouldn’t have called.”

“You did the right thing…tell me what’s happened.”

“Well, you probably know about the emails and that cartoon, right? Then, there was some other harmless stuff like his locker and his car, but I mean when they started taking his stuff and trashing his room... that was just pretty harsh.”

“And no one did anything to stop this?”

“Well, it’s not like he called his parents or anything. But, man, a lot of people thought you were gonna come down here all storm-trooper like on the guys who did it, and when that didn’t happen well… it was pretty clear he didn’t tell you… so”

“Let me guess, he didn’t go to campus security either… so when no one was punished… It escalated?” Lex knew the pattern well enough from his own years in prep school and college.

“Like totally.”

“So, how long exactly has this been going on?”

“It didn’t start until after mid-terms. I know that much because his roommate had me called out of one of my mid-terms to okay a room transfer. He was pretty stressed then about his exams too, and I guess he couldn’t take the idea of sleeping in the same room with someone who was thinking those thoughts.”

“Bull…shevik!”

“I think he must have gotten pretty nasty about it, though, because a few days later, Clark came down and said that the roommate could stay and he would move to a single unit. That’s when they started trashing his room. He’s cleaned it up a couple of times, but I just got the word, from the student housing director, that he has until the end of the semester to find a new place.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Totally serious man. The director of student housing said that none of this would have come up if Clark had like shown some discretion. But, I’ve never heard that Clark did anything… I think most of it was stirred up by the roommate. Anyway, I thought you should know.”

“I appreciate that, Loni. Thank you for calling.”

“Hey man, don’t you like need directions or something?”

“There’s no need, I’m pulling into moo row now.”

The Watcher

2005-02-25T17:29:00.000-08:00

Title: Watcher
Genre: PG 13, pre-slash, Drabble
Disclaimer: Not mine, but I would love a late birthday present wrapped in purple silk with a bright green bow.
Summary: If you want the job done do it yourself.

Watcher
After Nixon, covert investigations were out of the question. If Lex wanted answers, he would have to watch Clark himself.

He soon realized that no one else was.

No one looked in Clark’s eyes.

No one acknowledged the smiles that started as bright as solar flares.

No one apologized for running into him as if he were invisible.

No one spoke to him first… before his friends.

No one asked why his smiles had dimmed.

By the end of the day, Lex began to wonder if it was Clark, who was really the mutant, or all the rest of Smallville.

Cassandra

2005-02-24T21:37:00.000-08:00

Title: Cassandra
Genre: Drama Drabble, PG 13, Angst, Fears and Comfort
Disclaimer: Don’t own them, but would love a late birthday present.
Summary: Before Cassandra dies her comforting words have some hope for Clark, but as time passes, only the images remain. (100 words).

Cassandra

Clark perched over the bridge’s railing when Lex finally found him.

Oddly fragile… in Lana’s necklace?

“You should have hit me harder.”

“What?”

“I should have died.”

“Clark?!?”

“Everyone else will. Cassandra showed me.”

“She showed you what, exactly?”

“My hands bloody and gravestones: Chloe’s, Lana’s, Mom’s, Dad’s, Pete’s …”

“Mine?”

“No.” Clark’s head tilted curiously, he paused awkwardly over the rail, then slipped.

Lex grabbed out, but Clark plunged toward the river.

Rushing down the embankment, Lex found Clark at the water’s edge.

“You knew?”

“You don’t have to be Psychic to see.”

Lana’s necklace dangled from his fingertips.

Sacrifice

2005-02-24T07:21:00.000-08:00

Title: Sacrifice (Prologue to whipping boy).
Genre: PG 13, Drama Drabble, Angst, Sacrifice
Disclaimer: Don’t own them, but would love a late birthday present.
Summary: Clark and Lionel negotiate for Lex’s innocence in exactly 100 words.

Sacrifice

Arrogance embodied, Lionel smirks over the manila envelope at Clark.

“You can’t control everyone, Mr. Luthor”

“No, only Lex… and so control anyone he controls.” Lionel sneers at Clark’s certainty.

“Not me.”

“A wager, then?”

“You have nothing I want.”

“Not even Lex’s innocence?”

“Everything he’s done has been to thwart you.”

“Yes, but strangely I’m not in the photos.” A subtle gesture and years of photos spill out.

“What do you want?” Resignation and revulsion mingle in Clark’s tone.

“A lap dog, a whipping boy, and a pound of flesh.” Lionel opens his lead-lined briefcase, revealing green-glowing restraints.

Gimme a Reason

2005-02-23T18:10:00.000-08:00

Title: Gimme a Reason
Genre: PG 13, Drama Drabble, Angst, Hurt and little comfort.
Disclaimer: Don’t own them, but would love a late birthday present.
Summary: Clark needs a reason to hold on… in exactly 100 words.

Gimme a Reason

His gift—St. George’s Armor—a lead box sits on the table, a painful centerpiece that Lex desperately wants to take back. But, Clark can reach it faster, and wants to release the dragon inside: Vann’s kryptonite bullet. While the gun in Clark’s hand is still empty, Lex still has a chance.

“Give me the box.”

“Gimme a reason.”

“Your parents.”

“Enough once.” He opens it.

“Your destiny.”

“Clarissa’s vision… Jor-El’s vision” More Dragons yet to be.

“Our destiny.”

“The stuff legends are made of? ... Legends aren’t real, Lex.”

Lex’s lips feel real enough to hold the dragons at bay.

Cheap Shots

2005-02-23T16:04:00.000-08:00

Title: Cheap Shots
Genre: Drama Drabble, Angst, Drinking, Hurt and a little comfort.
Disclaimer: Don’t own them, but would love a late birthday present.
Summary: Lex, Lana, and Chloe can finally get answers, if they can stand the truth… in exactly 100 words.

Cheap Shots

Once inside, Lex, Lana, and Chloe, share a significant glance. In polite terms, the roadhouse is Smallville’s alternative to skid row, but their glance doesn’t speak in polite terms. It speaks in brutal invectives, four-letter words, and impolite curses that deny the possibility of finding Clark in a place like this… in the corner, behind a wall of carefully stacked shot glasses.

They approach.

“Truth or dare.”

Lana: “Truth.”

“Don’t Love.”

Clark tosses a shot while Lana runs.

Chloe: “Truth”

“Love, but not that way.”

Another shot, Chloe exits.

Lex: “Dare.”

“Kiss me.”

Many shots when Lex stays…and kisses.

Confessions

2005-02-22T11:02:00.000-08:00

Title: 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.

Confessions

Slamming the doors to the meeting room behind him as he left, Lex fumed… counting to 1,000 as he stalked down the halls… almost feeling sorry for anyone interrupted him before he got to 1,000. Luckily, all of the staff who made it to this level of the 25 story Lexcorp building had enough wit to sense impending danger when it crossed in their path. He wasn’t certain but as he passed one set of cubicles, he almost thought he heard someone whisper “daddy-alert” urgently as someone else’s heals skidded to a stop nearby, undoubtedly interrupted in their attempt to bring something to his attention.

He would have laughed at the hushed warning, but he was still only at 685 and suspected the laugh would have clear overtones of bitterness. Before he was within 100 feet of the elevator, some astute employee punched the call button and scuttled off, so that the elevator was waiting for him as he reached its door. Turning smoothly, at 701, he favored the curious with one of his less-predatory smiles – still counting as he noted the dread in their eyes.

Timothy, the second in command of his personal security force, reached around Lex to insert the key for his private floor, and punched the button marked garage. Without the key, anyone who punched the button would have been taken to the first floor garage, but as Lex reached 721, the lift smoothly kicked in—taking him up to the private office and penthouse that shared that floor.

By 745, the urge to slam doors had given way, so Lex let Timothy step forward and open the penthouse door, then waved him off as he slipped out of his shoes and stalked in. Going straight to the bar and setting up 3 shot glasses, Lex poured them to the brim with scotch and set the crystal decanter down, then quickly tossed them down in quick succession and turned around.

“Holy …Clark,” Lex exclaimed, staring at the teen who was sitting on the couch simultaneously tense and dejected. Lex cringed at the thought of having to deal with one more Lana conversation, at this moment. 787…788…789…790. He counted silently to himself as he controlled the urge to snap at Clark.

“Uh. Hi, Lex.” Clark gulped, getting the feeling that he had badly timed his interruption .

“Is everything alright?” Lex tried to keep his voice calm and friendly. 800…801…

“Uh… yeah… I guess so.” Clark hesitated as the sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach started to spread, “Is everything… okay?” The question was barely out of his mouth before it was followed by the abashed “damn-that-was-a-stupid-question” look that Clark so often got.

Lex pinched the bridge of his nose, and rubbed firmly as he tried to decide whether he was up for another cheer-up, coax, and coddle Clark session… particularly if the farm boy was already in his self-edit mode. Ignoring the question, Lex posed one of his own, “Clark, can I ask why you’re here, in Metropolis, in the middle of the day, before your classes are out?”

“Well, I just… that is…” Clark hedged and Lex pinched his fingers tighter… 815…816…817…818…

“Ok…Clark, let’s try this one…Do your parent’s know you’re here?” A swathe of guilt washed across Clark’s face. Somehow that wasn’t a surprise to Lex… well… 822…823… 824… Lex waited swallowing the urge to press and deciding that he really, really wasn’t in the mood to have another drag the truth out of Clark session. 828…829… but, guilty silence just rolled from Clark in waves. Okay then, another approach.

“So, what was important enough to risk the wrath of your father” Lex winced, hearing the bitterness in his tone at the word—glancing at Clark to see if he noticed it. He did. Lex had a severe urge to swear, but …833 …834.

“Was he bad?” Clark’s question was one he definitely didn’t want to touch so soon after getting out of the meeting. …836…837…838…839…840…841…Lex’s silence brought an indefinite sadness to Clark’s eyes that slowly took over his face.

“I’m sorry… This was a bad time…to...” Clark shrugged, getting up with an oddly jerky movement that was so unlike Clark’s natural litheness that it gave Lex the impression of an inner struggle. “I guess… I had better go… and, let you…”

“Clark,” Lex exclaimed impatiently, but immediately regretted it as Clark’s eyes took on “a deer in the headlights” look. Lex would have given anything at that moment for an aspirin, Tylenol, percoset, codeine, or stronger alternative to head off the migraine he could feel swiftly approaching. …869…870…871… Softening his voice, Lex continued, “Clark, you didn’t cut school,” Clark flinched as he pressed on “and come to Metropolis,” another flinch…”without your parents permission” yet another flinch (this one worthy of a cattle prod), “just to say, Hi. What’s going on?”

Clark stopped at the edge of the couch, not meeting Lex’s eyes, “You’re right… I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have come.” Clark tensed up more as Lex watched him turn toward the door. More? Lex stopped for a second reviewing his first glimpse of Clark. Lex hadn’t noticed it then, but Clark had been tense… sort of a miserably tense, when Lex first turned around.

Letting his breath out in a harsh sigh, Lex let his impatience carry into his voice “Clark, I would appreciate it if you would not put words in my mouth. I was simply saying that I don’t believe you would have come here, today, without your parent’s approval” Lex ignored Clark’s repeated flinching, softening his tone and delivery “if it weren’t important.”

900…901…902…Lex let the tone of his voice soften even further, into a note that he was only beginning to realize himself that he reserved solely for Clark. “What is it, Clark?”
He watched Clark respond to the tone, relaxing slightly standing straighter and calmer, then just as he spoke—Clark seemed to wilt again, blushing guiltily as he thought over his own actions—“It’s just that I needed” Clark paused for a second as if he realized how ‘needy’ he sounded, “wanted…” he corrected “to talk to you.”

Despite his correction, or really because of it, Lex heard the word “needed” practically screaming out from the rest of the sentence. He stared at Clark for several seconds, jogging the import and impact of various meetings, and finally punched one of the buttons on his speed dial.

“Good afternoon, Wayne Manor.” A formally-English-accented voice immediately responded from over the speaker.

“Good afternoon, Alfred. May I speak with Bruce, please.” Lex waived a hand shushing Clark, who was trying to apologize and leave… again.”

“Certainly, Master Lex.” Lex smirked at Clark’s reaction, wondering whether Clark was comparing it to a Star Wars reference or something a bit more leathery and dark… he smirked again at the unintentional reference Wayne, then mouthed “butler”.

“Oh” Clark shrugged not really knowing what to say.

“Lex, what is it?” a gruff voice demanded.

“Bruce, I’m glad I caught you in. The Kirosenki meeting this afternoon, I can’t make it.”

Clark listened in confusion as the angry voice rattled off a string of what he knew must have been curses in Japanese (maybe?), while Lex pinched the bridge of his nose again rubbing his thumb and forefinger in rapid circles. Clark wasn’t sure, but under he almost thought he could hear Lex murmuring something under his breath: “sev…ty-nine, … hun…d-…eighty…” Listening to Lex’s voice dip and rise over several beats he finally realized he was counting.

“Damn it, Luthor” Clark jumped at Wayne’s use of Lex’s last name and watched quietly to see how his friend was taking it, “I’ve spent a year and a half engineering this deal, and you are not going to wreck it in the last hour.”

“No, I won’t… that’s why I am calling you in time for you to make the meeting.”

“What’s this about, Lex? You’ve worked on this as hard as I have, why are you dropping the ball now.” Bruce asked, harshly, causing Lex to wince as he saw Clark’s reaction.

“Don’t Lex,” Clark blurted out. “I can just go back… and, we can talk about it later.” Clark didn’t hear the desperation in his voice, but it wasn’t lost on Lex or Wayne.

“Lex?” Wayne’s voice had a curious edge to it that Clark didn’t understand “Is that your farm boy?” Clark jolted at the question, staring at Lex curiously, wondering what Lex had said to Mr. Wayne about him.
992…993…Lex nodded reassuringly to Clark—hoping that he didn’t think to deeply about why Bruce had called him “your farm boy”—and corrected Wayne, “His name is Clark.”

“Well, Clark…” Wayne’s acidic tones turned on him, “You really could have timed your crisis better.”

Clark flushed with guilt at the comment, blurting out in the shakiest voice Lex had ever heard from him, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… I just…”

“Bruce,” Lex interrupted “Lay off, you have him flushed as red as a robin…” dropping the word smoothly.

“Luthor,” Wayne’s voice took on a gravelly warning that somehow scared Clark, even though he didn’t understand why it had come up.

“Really, Lex…” Clark interrupted miserably, already feeling the courage it had taken him all afternoon to buildup dwindling away “Later, would be alright…” he lied.

“Leave this discussion to the adults, Clark” Wayne snipped, but Lex could tell that he had overheard enough in Clark voice to understand, as he continued, “Okay, Lex, I’ll take Kirosenki, but we will talk about this later.”

Just as Bruce agreed, Lex finished counting, unintentionally breathing out the words “one thousand” as he did… to hear Bruce chuckle.

“That kind of day, then? Well, Clark, we’ll have to meet someday soon.” Wayne continued in an almost relaxed voice that caught both Lex and Clark off-guard, “It should be interesting to meet someone, who he can stand to be around after lunch with the old man.”

“Thanks, Bruce.” Lex unceremoniously ended the call and flicked another call button up to tell his secretary to reschedule everything because he wouldn’t be back in the office for the rest of the afternoon.

“Will that be enough time?” Lex asked Clark gently.

Clark nodded, looking around nervously.

“What is it?”

“Can we get out of here? Please?” Clark’s voice was small and almost frightened.

“Of course,” Lex reached for his coat, “Timothy have them pull the Porsche…” he stopped as Clark stiffened… “Clark?”

“I have the truck?” The question came out as an unlikely plea, and Lex realized that Clark could easily discern his reticence to be driven around in anything as rustic as the Kent’s truck, but easily gave in on the matter… beginning to feel that some of Clark’s nervousness was contagious, “Sure, Timothy, cancel that.”

Clark rewarded him with a tentative smile and followed Lex out of the penthouse into the elevator. The ride down to the street was essentially silent until they reached the pickup and Lex noticed at least seven grocery bags full of pretzels, chips, veggie party platters, and sundry party snacks.

“Planning a party are we?” Lex wondered if he should begin the count to 1,000, again. While he would do almost anything for Clark, sabotaging a year long, heavily financed, merger for the sake of setting up a last minute party was not high on Lex’s list of priorities. The thought immediately died as Clark flinched and murmured… almost under his breath, “I’m a nervous eater.”

By the number of grocery bags Clark brought, Lex thought to himself, he would almost have to be on the edge of a nervous… break… Lex puzzled over that for several seconds, wondering how close it was to the truth. It was definitely time for a change of subject, he decided.

“So, where would you like to go?” Lex asked, surprised when Clark blanched at the question. He continued with some suggestions: “A restaurant? A park? Smallville?”

Clark shook his head vehemently at each… trying to think. Stifling the need to pinch the bridge of his nose, Lex began to wonder if there weren’t some days he should just count to 10,000. He asked again softly: “Where to Clark? I’ve got the afternoon free.”

His friends response came out almost as a wail, “I don’t know… I don’t know… just someplace different that doesn’t feel like either: no cornfields or barns or anything that reminds me of… that makes me feel so…Oh… this was a crappy idea.” Clark seemed to swallow his own voice, but somehow Lex heard or felt what he was trying to say: Clark needed to find someplace that he didn’t have any mental or emotional associations with… someplace that he didn’t feel trapped. Lex wasn’t certain how he knew it; but, he knew for certain he was right… and knew of just the place.

“Clark, toss me the keys?” Lex came around the side.

“What?”

“I know a pl…” The keys slapped into his hand before he could register even his usual smirk of astonishment.

Unfortunately, driving through Metropolis traffic didn’t give Lex the opportunity to study Clark that he had hoped to have. But, in his peripheral vision, Lex was nevertheless able to notice how tense Clark had become… as if dreading rather anticipating whatever it was he needed to say. Lex had many suspicions about what that was… but wasn’t willing to push the issue when Clark seemed so close to something that he was almost holding his breath.

Almost twenty-five minutes later, far at the outskirts of Metropolis, they pulled up to a deserted Japanese restaurant. Clark eyed the area carefully, trying to get a feel for the place, trying to decide if he could just forget everything here and finally be himself. He could feel Lex’s eyes on him, and didn’t want to disappoint him, so shrugged. It was better than anything he could think of; so, it would have to be good enough. Lex cocked a knowing eye and started to gather grocery bags.

“That’s okay, here’s fine.”

Lex shook his head, reigning in his impatience, “Clark, do you really think I just brought you to a restaurant parking lot… this far out of Metropolis? Now, how many more of these do you think you’ll need for this discussion?”

Clark grimaced realizing that he had missed something, then grabbed the remainder of the bags followed Lex through the door. Almost as soon as they were inside, Lex smiled when he heard Clark catch his breath at the surrealistic quality of light passing through painted tissue dividing walls and reflected from the calf-high gold leaf enameled tables and set the bags down. He was immediately glad that he had, because it left his hands free to catch the bags that slipped from Clark’s grasp as he stared.

In the moment before Clark turned, Lex almost felt Clark unfolding… as if it were a wave of tension rolling off of Clark that vibrated away to dissolve into nothingness somewhere far distant. With tension came words… soft at first, not really reaching Lex, but flowing outward from Clark like the first steady streams of a melting ice-flow as he studied the room in wonder. Finally, Clark looked back at him and said the first of the words that Lex could hear, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome” Lex nodded, satisfied that this was the setting Clark needed as he watched his friend walk around the room mesmerized by the light coming through each panel, glints of dust that hung in the air, and the patches of light that crossed his skin. Gathering several of the pillows, from other tables Lex chose a table in the center of the room, and began to unload the snack bags. With his schedule clear and away from his father, Lex found himself relaxing and ready to wait on whatever confidence big or small that Clark was willing to share.

As it turned out, he didn’t have to wait very long at all. After a slow tour of the room, Clark stopped at the table Lex was carefully arranging, bent to cover Lex’s hand with his own for a brief second, then picked up a pretzel bag and began to walk again. As he did, a soft flow of words began to reach Lex, barely spoken in a quiet quizzical tone as if Clark was curious to hear his own thoughts.

“You know, Lex, for years and years and years, I really didn’t know if my earliest memories were real memories or more sort of a not-remembering. If you know what I mean?” Clark glanced over at Lex, before continuing “I guess that doesn’t really make a whole lot of sense does it… But, I mean… If I didn’t know it was real, I would think that maybe it was just a dream, now. Do you see what I’m saying?” Clark’s voice dropped away.

“What would that dream be like,” Lex asked carefully, hesitant to open the wounds of anything so traumatic that Clark could only cope with it as a dream.

Clark turned a slow circle dipping his hand to Lex’s shoulder as he deposited the empty pretzel bag on the table and smiled warmly at Lex’s carefully-framed question and the thought behind it. “It’s okay, Lex… I know it’s real, now, and I know how, and” his voice trembled slightly “I think I know why, now.”

Clark shook his head as if trying to clear away some thought he wasn’t ready to deal with just yet.

“But… you didn’t then?” Lex offered.

“No,” Clark flashed him another warm smile, answering “No, not then. Back, I could only remember being held and moved and bright light and warmth and soft sounds of movement and life and someone feeding me and something else… But then I was set down into something that was soft and comfortable and dark and silent. It was warm and moving, but I wasn’t picked up again… But it didn’t make sense to me. I didn’t understand why the touching and sounds stopped or where the light and sounds went or why the time seemed so long, but when I was hungry something was sprayed around my face and I’d go to sleep and wake up feeling better. And I didn’t have anything to think about except wondering where the sounds and touches were and that what I was in was growing smaller around me so that I couldn’t move as well or stretch as freely. It felt timeless… like it was forever or had been forever… But, I’m sure now it can only have been two or three years… but I guess for an infant two or three years of aloneness would feel like forever… it did to me.” Clark had stepped back around to catch Lex’s eyes so that Lex would know he was telling the truth, then continued “And that aloneness was pretty much all that I knew until the day of the meteor storm.”

Lex shifted uncomfortably, trying to grasp how this could be a memory of Clark’s… it sounded disturbingly like Clark earliest memories were of being a test subject for some sort of sensory deprivation study… for two to three years. To think that anyone could inflict that on an infant—particularly Clark— was horrific, to Lex, but he was certain that he had met several scientists on his father’s payroll, who would conduct such a study without hesitation. In fact, He was equally certain that his father would have funded such an experiment without thinking twice—adding one more reason to a very long list of reasons that the Kents were justified in fearing any association with the Luthors.

But, when Clark mentioned the meteor shower, Lex’s eyes darted up—to find Clark’s smiling eyes waiting to meet his and confirm his hope that it was a full confession. Lex realized that the thousand questions that came to mind must have shown in his eyes somehow when Clark quirked an amused eyebrow. But, instead of asking any of them, touched and startled by the confirmation in even in the face of more evidence that such a confession could be dangerous, Lex simply repeated, “the day of the meteor shower?”

Smiling broadly, Clark continued “Mmhmm. It came like a surprise… first, I was in the dark, silence, huddled tightly inside something I didn’t have a name for at the time, and then I was falling, sort of spinning as I did, and it landed hard against something and broke. Suddenly there was light again, but brighter than I remembered it, and sound and the air changed and tasted like something. I was able to turn over and stretch my legs out… and was so excited…moving was odd and felt… well all tilty… but I was able to push up and crawl out… and all these tall bright things were around me… so I used them to push myself up and move toward the sounds… It was so exciting Lex. There were colors and smells… Oh I wanted to smell everything… and everything felt like something… touching things was fun, although I didn’t like the taste of the air… but I had to find the sounds so I used… well, I didn’t have a name for anything then… and I guess I probably didn’t know that they were supposed to have names. But, I used corn stalks to help me move forward and then I came to a spot where the corn ended and the air tasted a whole lot worse and everything was hot and smelled badly. If it weren’t for the sounds… I would have probably turned around and gone back.”

Lex wondered as Clark spoke, whether he had ever considered the stage, not because he was particularly good at acting. He wasn’t, and never managed a convincing lie… although he lied on a daily basis. But, instead, because… as he spoke, the way his face softened, the way he breathed, and cocked his head, and his voice—all seemed to be in the moment in time he was discussing, and Lex musingly wondered whether he could have looked into Clark’s emerald eyes and seen reflections of the corn field as he spoke. When Clark looked at him to be sure he was listening, Lex nodded, prompting “What were the noises?”

Clark smiled softly for a second as he answered, “Mom and Dad.” But, then hitched his breath, his face suddenly went dark, his eyes became round and wide, and tears spilled over the lashes like rivers flash flooding.

“What’s wrong,” Lex asked, bolting up with concern.

“I didn’t know, Lex. I heard the sounds they were making, but I didn’t know what they were. I had never heard crying before… I never thought about it, paid attention to it, until now. But, they were crying… alot, Lex.” Clark shuddered.

Lex closed quickly closed the gap between them, set a hand on Clark’s shoulder. Lex was usually uncomfortable with offering comfort; but, when Clark pressed toward Lex, Lex’s arms came naturally around the boy’s shoulders in a gentle hug. One of his hands rested lightly on Clark’s Crown and the other gently stroked his back and patted his shoulder.

“It’s alright, Clark; they are alright. They may have been scared, but that was long ago. It’s in the past now. Okay?” He murmured rocking the boy, who was fiercely hugging his waist.

Lex tightened his arms around Clark, when he felt the teen’s tears soak through both his jacket and his shirt. He was a little in awe of the sweetness and openness of a 17 year old who could cry so intensely at the thought of his parents crying and scared 14 years earlier – despite the knowledge that they were perfectly safe and healthy. Chucking Clark’s chin up with a crooked index finger, Lex smiled softly… encouraging “They’re okay now… Okay?”

Clark nodded slowly, then returned his head to Lex’s shoulder. Only too pleased to have Clark’s closeness, for any reason, Lex lifted his hand again to stroke Clark’s shining blue-black curls until his breathing returned to normal. After a moment, he hesitated dropping his hands in case Clark was ready to step away, but relaxed when Clark only turned his head, sniffed, and sighed. Brushing the remaining tears from Clark’s lashes with his thumb, Lex asked, “And, then?”
Clark snorted softly, “They were trapped inside their truck, and I wanted to get in and find out what the sounds were… what their voices were… so… I ripped the doors off of the truck.” Clark’s voice was hesitant, with a gentle bite of bitter humor, embarrassment, and a number of other traces and tones that Lex had never heard combined like that … and therefore couldn’t identify immediately.

He stopped his hand on Clark’s crown as he thought. He had known… or at least suspected for quite some time that Clark was abnormally strong; but, the thought of Clark pulling off a truck door as a toddler… that was something he had never seriously considered. Clark stiffened as Lex thought about it—misinterpreting Lex’s pause as a negative reaction, and pulled away… not meeting Lex’s eyes as he returned to the table and selected a bag of spicy chips.

Lex could have kicked himself for that brief surprised moment, but realized that for the instant, at least, their moment of closeness had slipped away. Hoping it wasn’t too far out of reach though, Lex steadied his thoughts and injected as much warmth and understanding into his voice as he asked, “Well, that must have been a surprise for your parents?”

Clark jerked his head up in surprise, realizing his mistake, and trying to figure out how he could get the moment of closeness and comfort back… to no avail. So, he bit back the longing sigh trying to break out, and answered with a sad chuckle, “Yeah… You could say that. But, they knew what I didn’t… Well, not that I knew much at the time.”

The tone of Clark’s voice coupled with the sad chuckle and distance in his eyes told Lex that there was something very important in those two sentences; but, he had no idea what it was. “And, what was that?”

Clark wanted to with all of his being to blurt out that he was an alien, but it felt to big… to much. If he had just been a meteor-freak… that would have been bad enough, but to be an alien and a… too. That was just to big. So, he started out small: “They knew that a three year old…” he paused to think then shrugged and continued “How do you tell the age of a kid who can tear off a truck door, but doesn’t know how to speak, feed himself, or go to the…” He caught himself mid-thought, realizing he was saying it aloud, then blushed – giving Lex the impression that his last comment had something remotely to do with using the restroom.

Clark started again, ignoring Lex’s smirk, “They knew a … kid who could do those things, but couldn’t hold a crayon, pencil, plastic cup, or a dozen other things with out breaking them… wouldn’t fit in well.” Looking at Lex, Clark had the impression that his friend really didn’t quite make the distinction between the natural clumsiness of most children and his own tendency to destroy anything he touched as a child. Turning away from Lex so he didn’t have to see the look in his friend’s eyes when that idea finally sunk in, Clark tossed several chips in his mouth then began to describe his early childhood. Dredging up the moments that reminded Clark of how alien he really was, he told Lex about breaking so many playpens that his parents had moved him to a horse stall, about biting through silverware when his mother tried to teach him how to eat, about him ruining a tractor when he was first learning how to play ball, and about Martha finding him crying after he broke every egg she had sent him to collect. His list of disorienting moments was long, but he told Lex everyone he could remember including his two most painful: breaking his mother’s ribs once when he had tried to give her a hug and accidentally killing a bull that was running at his father by throwing a corn cob with to much force. Reaching the bottom of the empty chip bag as he finished, Clark dipped back to the table still avoiding Lex’s eyes to pick up a bag of sesame noodles, before returning to his story.

Staring at Clark, Lex realized that he was only beginning to grasp exactly how big of a risk, Clark’s self-exposure was. On the drive out to the restaurant, Lex had suspected that after several nervous minutes, and maybe half a pretzel bag, Clark would just blurt out that he was a a typically Smallville meteor-mutated teen, which Lex had already figured out for himself, and then apologize for keeping a secret, and their friendship could go on as usual. But, this… this was so far beyond that small simple form of confession that it staggered Lex. Clark was still telling him about the meteor effects, but more than that… He was sharing with Lex something that no one else in Lex’s life had ever shared (not his mother or Pamela or any of his erstwhile lovers or Bruce). Clark was sharing the events that formed basis of his personality: his kindness, his ever-ready guilt, his readiness to take on everyone else’s battles and pains, his fears, and his loneliness (as desperate as Lex’s own). Lex felt as though he was receiving was a fragile, but infinitely precious gift, that had to be unwrapped with the utmost gentleness lest it shatter. Looking up at Clark as he retrieved the fourth (no, the fifth snack bag) Lex realized how apt the metaphor was… and finally after years of Clark’s friendship, finally began to understand how fragile the gift was and how much it needed protection.

Aware of Lex’s eyes following him, Clark began to pace the room afraid to meet Lex’s eyes and afraid to stop at any point in the story before he finally got it out because Lex was smart. Clark knew if he gave Lex even the briefest of seconds… he would jump to the one question that Clark wasn’t prepared to deal with: the question that had driven him to Lex’s office in the first place. So, Clark emptied the bag of cookies, grimaced as he retrieved another package, wondering what the cookies would have tasted like if he had been paying attention, and started describing to Lex what it had been like for him when he had still believed that he was a meteor-freak. In bits and pieces, he told Lex how it felt to watch some of the animals and plants that the meteors mutated warp and die. He told Lex how it had felt watching the people that he went to school with or saw at church or at the movies change into freaks… and how much he worried and watched for any sign that he was changing. Folding the pretzel bag up into a tiny square he tucked it into his pocket with the rest and reached to retrieve a seventh bag of something he was entirely certain he wouldn’t taste any more than the previous six bags.

As Clark’s hand reached toward the table, Lex finally had an idea of how to get Clark to look at him and pushed the snack bags off to one side. When Clark’s fingers came into contact with the table, Lex’s covered them for a second with his own, then pressed one of the bottles of water Clark brought into his hand. After, bags of pretzels, salty noodles, chips, and very dry cookies, he was sure that that would at least get Clark’s attention, and knowing Clark’s addiction to courtesy… a proper-in the eyes- thank you. It did. Lex wasn’t quite prepared though for the intense searching stare that came with the thank you, and almost … very nearly looked away… only catching himself and forcing himself to hold Clark’s gaze when he thought about how much Clark was sharing and how disconnected Clark had already admitted to feeling.

The look in Lex’s eyes when Clark met them, caused a knot to form in Clark’s throat. He had been searching for revulsion, fear, hurt, anger, disappointment, or anything that might have given him an excuse to end his confession before he exposed his most painful secrets. Instead, he found sympathy, understanding, gratitude, support, and a trace of something he was almost afraid to see: caring… deep and dedicated caring.

Clark’s mouth was suddenly cottony and dry, and the water bottle that Lex was pressing in his hands gave Clark the fleeting impression that Lex had known what he would be feeling… in the same way that Lex always seemed to understand what he was feeling. Even when he teased him, he almost always understood. With trembling hands, Clark fought with the water bottle’s cap, wringing it back and forth anxiously; until a sympathetic smile ghosted over Lex’s lips and he reached out… closing his fingers over Clark’s and twisted the cap a full turn in the right direction.

“Thank you,” Clark said with a gusty sigh.

“Clark… I’m the one who should be thanking you. I know I’ve been a bit pushy about the secrets; but, I truly believe it would help you to have someone you can be open with…. Someone you don’t have to hide everything from. I couldn’t understand though how much of your life has been wrapped up by them… and how hard it must be for you to tell me now.”

Clark snapped his eyes shut on the openness and acceptance in Lex’s eyes… finding the thought of losing it now far too painful to swallow.

“Don’t!” Clark gulped half swallowing his words before he said them “… Not until you’ve heard everything.”

“Clark, it’s okay…” Lex stared at Clark in concern, suspecting (from Clark’s trembling and agitated state) that Clark was trying to push his candor too far, too fast…He finished, “You don’t have to do this all at once.”

He reached out to pull Clark to a cushion beside him—coaxing, “Sit… rest…” and with a slight smirk… “eat…” but stopped when Clark practically recoiled.

“No.” Clark responded to Lex’s sharp glance, “Everything – Now; hurts less to jerk a bandage off.” He choked on the last gulp of water as he finished.

Lex puzzled over the statement for several seconds—realizing finally that Clark expected the remainder of his confession to end their friendship and wanted the pain of that ending to be as short-lived as possible. Lex knew before he saw disbelief glaze Clark’s eyes that it was a futile gesture to shake his head denying the possibility of their friendship ending, but shook his head nevertheless, and watched his friend’s eyes reject the gesture. From his own years of self-loathing, Lex knew that even actions sometimes didn’t matter, but that they were ultimately the only convincing argument he could offer. That Clark’s actions always conveyed his deepest, most meaningful truths, beliefs, feelings, and hopes – even when his words were the most-well-intentioned-lies – was, in fact, one of the many indefinable enigmatic qualities that made Clark a key-person in Lex’s life.

But, if Clark truly believed that his confession could end their friendship, it could have the power to do so-- if only for the fact that Clark would interpret anything Lex said through the same lens that allowed him to castigate himself for failing to prevent any emotional or physical injury that came to his friends whether related to his actions or not. So, instead of making a general assurance, that Clark could easily chose to disregard as a mere platitude, Lex lifted a curious eyebrow… and gently urged, “Well… if you think you’re up to it, Clark? Then, tell me everything. What happened next?”

Clark turned away quietly, avoiding Lex’s gaze as he walked back into the surreal light projected through the tissue panels dividing the restaurant. Not for the first time, Lex studied his friend’s profile—watching as Clark seemed to meditate on the light... as if attempting to distance himself from his next words. Silhouetted by the diffused light, Clark seemed almost statuesque, and Lex wondered, not for the first time, how features—so aquiline and delicate that they rivaled Michelangelo’s David—found their way to a Kansas farm boy who seemed to have no appreciation or even awareness of their presence.

“I met sageeth…”

Lex stared at Clark trying to be certain that the words had really come from him. He seemed so still and so composed that Lex was convinced that he had slipped for a moment into daydreaming.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t hear that last…” Lex said quietly… loath to break Clark’s stillness.

“I met sageeth…” Clark repeated slowly, smiling softly into the distance… before he began to describe the day of their first meeting. As Lex realized that Clark was referring to him as sageeth, a bright smile stole over his lips. It was somehow touching to know that Clark shared his own metaphor for their friendship; although, he found it a bit humorous that Clark had cast himself in the role of Naman… a role of limitless power... He wondered privately if some of his own ambition to rule had rubbed off onto Clark. If Clark had the will to power… Lex could certainly see his way to securing it for the both of them… with Clark as his running mate, his vice president, and later his successor when he left office.

Somehow, Sageeth still seemed, to Lex, the nobler of the two—someone who could face overwhelming odds and battle to the death. It was something far more suited to the nobility the he had long ago recognized in Clark’s make-up. While Lex certainly had the power and resources to take on all challengers, in the moments when he was most honest with himself, Lex could admit – if only to himself – that he wasn’t or at least didn’t believe that he could be capable of the sacrifices that Clark seemed to make without thinking. Of the two, if either of them were given the choice of facing an opponent with almost limitless power in a no win scenario; Lex was certain that Clark would be the one who had the courage to accept the challenge.

His thoughts drifted slightly on that concept remembering the day he had assured Clark that their friendship was akin to the force that legends grew from. The particulars of the legend sometimes troubled Lex—particularly when coupled with his own fears of becoming too powerful, too arrogant, and too ruthless… in short, too much his father’s son. It was too easy for him to imagine a time when he would go to far, and Clark out of duty, friendship, guilt, or even simple nobility would face off with him and possibly die in the process. Or, if by some chance he won, paying what cost? It was something Lex had even tried to explain to Clark once after that strange knife had been discovered and his father kidnapped and nearly sacrificed… in part trying to give Clark advanced permission to become sageeth if it was ever needed.

“Lex?”

Clark’s softened voice broke through Lex’s thoughts, leaving Lex the impression that he had been called several times. Clark’s eyes were round and wide with anxiety… searching Lex’s eyes for some reaction that Lex realized must have been missing due to his momentary distraction.

“I’m sorry, Clark...” Lex’s first sign that it was the wrong way to start was the blood rushing from Clark’s flushed cheeks, “Wait… I’m afraid that…” Lex paused trying to figure out how best to admit that he wasn’t even listening to whatever Clark had just confessed to.

Clark grimaced, “No, I’m sorry. It’s okay to be afraid.”

“What?” Confusion must have colored his face, when Lex asked, because Clark’s response softened… “Why would I be afraid?”

“It would be okay if you were,” Clark assured him as if suspecting that Lex were trying to maintain a brave face for him “I’ve been scared a couple of times by… it..” Clark flushed again, turning his head away,”… by me… of me. I mean everyone gets scared of things they don’t know about… right?” As if he was unable to bear Lex’s gaze, turned away fully and stepped deeper into the maze of tissue panels separating the dining room.

“Wait, Clark,” Lex stalled… calling on an old trick he had learned while sitting through years of boring meetings in his father’s boardroom- to rewind conversations that had occurred at the outskirts of his attention while he was distracted by other issues. It had become an invaluable skill—not only allowing him to grasp the nuances of his father’s thrusts and jabs, but also enabling him to monitor the issues his father often tried to slip by – under the cover of his verbal sparring. While he was somewhat self-conscious that he needed to resort to it when Clark was finally coming clean, but… somehow, Lex was certain it would be far better than admitting that he hadn’t really been listening.

And, it had its own truth, he had been listening of sorts…when Clark had described their first meeting… finally admitting that Lex had hit him directly with the car. Well, that was hardly a surprise, now that Clark had admitted that the meteors had affected him…. Clark’s impromptu demonstration of his newfound vulnerability to his parents was hardly how Lex would have chose to test the theory, but understandable as was his discussion with his parents. But then it hit, the piece of information that slipped by. As Lex reviewed Clark’s description of his parent’s confession, a cold sick feeling settled into his stomach.

Clark was… Holy… Clark… couldn’t be … but… Lex fought to keep his reaction under control as he assimilated this latest revelation… An alien. Clark was one. A little green man, with deep green eyes and skin that glowed like honey in sunlight—an alien. Shee—it, a stream of invectives coursed through Lex’s thoughts as he bit down on his lips to prevent a curse from rolling off of his tongue. When he finally got control of his turbulent thoughts, Lex looked back at Clark, noting his stiff, anxious posture, and remembered Clark’s last comment.

“No, Clark.” He answered honestly, “I’m not afraid of you.”

Despite even this new information, Lex was as surprised as Clark to note that nothing had changed his current opinion of Clark—namely, that beyond any doubt, Clark was the kindest most caring, and most accepting… individual (?) Yes, individual was a safe reference... He thought to himself. Clark was the kindest, most caring, and accepting individual that had entered Lex’s life to date. Fear… at least fear of Clark… was not even a consideration. Fear for Clark… That was another matter.

“But, you said you were afraid.” Clark challenged uncertainly.

“Not precisely…” Lex was momentarily interrupted by Clark’s skeptical sigh, but continued—dissembling “you didn’t let me finish… I said, “I’m afraid that…” He lingered on the word “that”—emphasizing it as he tried to figure out how he could logically continue with a less emotionally-charged comment. Thinking of how much courage it must have taken Clark to confess as much as he had… Lex suddenly realized the answer, “I’m afraid that everything you’ve shared has been… well…it’s quite a bit to take in at once.”

“Oh,” Clark answered softly.

Lex smiled softly at the tenderness in Clark’s voice, but didn’t feel up to making any grand promises, “I need a couple of minutes to think about this…” Lex felt for certain that it would not affect their friendship; but, recognized how completely it changed his interpretation of their past circumstances… including the impact of Clark’s pathetic ability to lie convincingly… and, realized that he needed more information before …Well, it may not actually change any of his plans… but he had to find out more to know for certain.

“Clark,” he started softly, trying to find the right note and register for his voice, “After you… found out… what was it like?” The tone of Lex’s voice was far more successful than he could have expected because Clark immediately returned to the table grabbing up another bag of pretzels and stare down at Lex as he tossed a few in his mouth and munched nervously.
“It was so hard after that, Lex,” Clark began, pausing to stare in a way that convinced Lex that Clark had not expected the opportunity to make any further comment or explanation. Then gulping softly, Clark continued, “When I thought I was just a meteor freak—that was hard enough. I’ve always hated lying to everyone, about everything, holding back every second of every day.” He stared at Lex with a guilty glance that conveyed just how much Clark had particularly hated lying to Lex then continued. “But, I was always afraid of turning like other meteor freaks had or even just hugging too hard and” Clark paused to blush “and… being with someone… just letting go… and …being myself. And, mom and dad… they were afraid of other things, but they knew and I didn’t… at least not until after the bridge.”

Clark’s ready flush supplied all of the information his halting monologue left out.

“But, then when I found out… when they showed me. God, how I wished I was a meteor freak again…” Clark’s voice again broke into the soft steady stream of words as began to describe every odd event that had occurred in the years since Lex’s Porsche careened over the bridge, running headlong into their destiny. As Lex listened to those years from Clark’s perspective, he became amazed at how much he had already been aware of, how much Clark had been telling him even at those times, only holding back the one major truth that Clark was an alien.
Somehow, Lex had convinced himself that Clark’s lying had become far more systemic and wide spread covering all of the topics of his life, holding back far more secrets because he had lied so many times- but it was always and only the same lie… the same solitary lie. To finally discover how much Clark had shared awed Lex as he remembered forcefully just how much he had kept hidden on his own. Admittedly, Clark’s was a major lie, but compared to the quantity and severity of lies that Lex had fostered in his attempts to uncover Clark’s truth… Well, there was really no comparison. He shuddered at the thought of what might have happened if any of his attempts had been successful, and was grateful that Clark was too caught up in providing a full confession, explanation, and apology to have noticed.

Finally, as Clark’s description drew to a close, Lex reached out, covered Clark’s hand with his own, and pushed through his natural and trained resistance to ever explain or ever apologize, saying: “I’m sorry, Clark, for anything and everything I did that added to it. I understand why you didn’t tell me. If I’d understood then, I swear I wouldn’t have pushed.”

To Lex’s surprise, instead of answering, Clark stared at Lex’s fingers on his hand then jumped his gaze up to Lex’s eyes and back to his fingers… gulping rapidly as he did. When Clark’s eyes snapped shut and his healthy flush paled as Clark swayed slightly, Lex moved his grip to catch Clark’s arm and guided him to a cushion on the floor. By the time, Lex was checking Clark’s pulse, Clark was running his fingers over Lex’s hand and laughing weakly almost a touch hysterically.

“What is it? Clark, what’s wrong?” Watching the boy’s strained reaction, Lex was almost convinced that Clark had pushed himself too far, too fast.

“You’re touching me!”

“What!” That didn’t make sense. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t touched Clark before, and far more intimately than this… never as intimately as he dreamed of, but much more than this slight grip on Clark’s arm.

“You’re touching me. I was so afraid that you wouldn’t even look at me, or when you did…” Clark’s shudder was sufficient to explain what he had thought he would see in Lex’s eye (revulsion, disgust, possibly hatred) “but, I didn’t think you would. I never thought you would touch me, and I was sure I wouldn’t ever feel that again.”

Lex could only shake his head—a little hurt that Clark had so little faith in their friendship—but not surprised: the Kents had correctly instilled the fear of what could happen if any one found out, particularly a Luthor. From personal experience, Lex understood that such lessons were undoubtedly among the hardest to overcome.

“Clark, nothing’s changed between us… at least nothing that touched what we are, okay. I’ll admit, it’s a shock and I may have some questions later when I can think. But, I’m not going to tell anyone or drag you down into my evil scientist’s laboratory or anything else like that. Okay?”

Clark nodded leaning heavily into the cushion as he tossed another handful of pretzels into his mouth, emptying the last snack bag. Slightly smirking, as he passed another water bottle to Clark, Lex wondered how soon it would be before he needed to explain that the restaurant’s restrooms were probably non-functional. Perhaps, if they could get back on the road quickly enough… the question might not come up before they were close enough to a gas station. He started to efficiently gather the mass of discarded food bags and bottles into a tidy pile that was gone before Clark could comment.

“Wait,” Clark’s hand trembled as it caught Lex’s when he began to repack the water bottles. “Wait, Lex… there’s more.”

Lex jerked his gaze up to meet Clark’s suddenly averted eyes. What the hell. How can there be more. He asked himself again reviewing Clark’s descriptions. It took three rewinds but it suddenly hit him. There were two summers and two disappearances left out of Clark’s narrative.

“Is this about Metropolis?”

As he heard Clark’s breath go very shallow before he nodded, Lex decided it was enough. No, it was more than enough. No matter how glad Lex was to finally have the truth. No matter how big this final secret had to be; and, of course it had to be big- to have come after the alien secret. It didn’t matter. Even if the Kents convinced him not to tell Lex now or ever... Lex couldn’t continue to let Clark expose old wounds without taking some time for recovery. Too many old emotional wounds were being opened, and Lex knew, intimately, how draining and how dangerous that could be – even if Clark didn’t.

“No, Clark. You don’t need to… not right now. Tomorrow. Next week. When you’ve had time to really know that doing this was okay. Then, we can talk about it. But, I think you’ve done enough talking for one day.”

Clark’s mop of black curls flew back and forth across his eyes, as the boy shook his head vehemently.

“I have to… All of it. Now. Lex. If I don’t…” Clark’s voice shook as he drew a ragged breath that caught in his throat as a sob. It was as much of a confirmation of his fears as Lex needed to convince him that continuing wasn’t worth it.

“Clark, no. Trust me on this. You’ve had all of this bottled up for years, and it’s understandable why you have. It was the smart thing to do, and I’m sorry to say this, but you need to continue keeping these secrets from the rest of the world. But,” he stressed the contraction… “You’ve done something today that’s harder than I think you realize and its effects are bound to start kicking in soon, if…”

He reached his long fingers out to press several of Clark’s shining black curls into place so that he could look into Clark’s turbulent eyes to find traces of the already warring emotions that he had known would be there, but suspected that Clark hadn’t fully acknowledged yet. Clark’s fingers wrapped around his, holding them in place for several seconds as if he were drawing warmth and comfort from the simple act.

Smiling softly at Clark’s gesture, Lex consciously tried to push as much encouragement and comfort into his smile as he could, and hoped it was enough to get his message across, “if it hasn’t already. Trust me, Clark. You have done something major here and you’ll start really feeling it shortly. We can talk tomorrow, or any other time you need to, I can let my assistant know that she’s to reschedule all of my appointments anytime you walk through the door if need be, Okay?”

As Lex finished, Clark did something so uncharacteristically vulnerable that it caused Lex to hold his breath. Releasing Lex’s fingers, he shook his head almost mournfully, wrapped his hands around his waist, gave himself a brief self-comforting hug, curled his fingers into his t-shirt, and slowly pulled it up his mid-drift.

Lex’s mouth dropped open as Clark’s t-shirt pulled away from the top of his jeans. Lex had always equated the act of baring one’s soul with the act of baring one’s body, but to see the metaphor enacted on the body that had occupied so many of Lex’s daydreams was tantalizing. Despite his best intentions, Lex’s eyes were riveted and his breath trapped in his chest until the sight of a raw, vividly angry scar appearing beneath the rising t-shirt forced his breath out in a pained hiss. Clark’s hands jerked to a stop as his eyes snapped shut and his resolve visibly melted away.

Lex immediately regretted his instinctive reaction and its obvious effect on Clark, but was unable to take it back, so waited breathlessly until the boy’s fierce trembling convinced him that Clark was torn between his desire to be free of all of his secrets and his desire to spare Lex and himself any further shock. Watching Clark grind his teeth so tightly that their friction was audible, Lex wondered what had pushed Clark into his sudden and complete confession. His friend’s face started to pale. The boy released the almost bruised lip that Lex hadn’t even noticed him biting. As Clark’s fingers started to uncurl… their stiff movement triggered a flash of intuition. Lex suddenly understood the fear pushing Clark to complete his confession—that whatever the stimulus was that could be strong enough to compel Clark to break his life-long habit of silence—it was clearly strong enough to trap him in that same silence if it wasn’t defused and quickly. A chill grew in the pit of his stomach as he watched Clark withdrawing and he quickly decided to take the decision back out of Clark’s still trembling hands. Reaching out, Lex gently closed his fingers over Clark’s curling them back around the t-shirt’s edge before he slowly pressed upward. Moving cautiously—sensitive to even the slightest sign of resistance—Lex watched Clark’s shallow breath, waited for his eyes to flicker open, or his hand to flinch or pause; but, no trace of resistance surfaced, so Lex turned his eyes back to the t-shirt’s rising hem.

When his eyes finally returned to the raw strips of skin, he saw that an appallingly wide expanse of the scar had been exposed…and it was obvious that even more of the injury extended even further up under the t-shirt. Carefully controlling his breathing, Lex fought down the immediate wave of revulsion that swept over him and tried to analyze the scar with a scientist’s objectivity. But, from that perspective, the scar was made even more disturbing.

First, it was not truly a scar, as might have occurred from some accidental injury or cut, but a brand. That was clear from the way that the lowest point of the marred skin formed a perfect v that was exactly centered over Clark’s navel. The v was formed as a perfect right angle, whose legs extended at the same slope out the same distance to the edge of Clark’s ribs-- where both was met in an exact 120 degree angle by other angry strips of marred skin that disappeared beneath the t-shirt. The width of the strips matched exactly, and the edges were so sharp and concise that they might have been cut with a stencil. It was a brand.

Second, the symmetry of the scar argued against any possibility that scar could have been accidentally inflicted. The edges were too sharp, too even, too precisely aligned. Lex’s years in college laboratories gave him a sickening familiarity with the appearance and characteristics of intentionally inflicted injuries of all forms, including this one. The edges were too uniform and too precise to have been done with any simple cutting or burning tool, and the surface was far to smooth. It would have required the use of a laser to bring the skin to an evenly applied melting point; and then only controlled cooling could have achieved the form and even appearance.

Third, and perhaps the most sickening to Lex, although the thought of Clark intentionally branding himself was disturbing in itself, a worse thought to Lex was that it could not have been self-inflicted. It would have been impossible for Clark to withstand the pain required to create the brand while holding still enough to ensure the concise edges. Someone had burned the brand into his skin while he was restrained and either conscious or unconscious—and the very fact that he was branded argued against the possibility of him being mercifully unconscious.

Lex’s blood seethed at the thought that anyone could show this level of cruelty to Clark, even as he wondered how Clark could have maintained even the slightest hint of innocence in the wake of such an act. He lifted the shirt higher until the stylized s in the brand’s center appeared then higher until the whole brand was clear, and pressed Clark’s fingers up and back until they held the hem of the shirt across his throat from shoulder to shoulder.
After cataloguing any thoughts and observations he wanted to mull over later, Lex looked up into Clark’s ashen face. Knowing that curiosity and impatience were two of his friend’s most inherent characteristics, Lex waited quietly for Clark to open his eyes. But as seconds passed into minutes, Lex was only realizing the depth of Clark’s fear at his possible reaction…as he noted the boy’s eyes clenched desperately shut.

Finally, Lex took Clark’s fingers in his own again, and pressed them back down, smoothing the t-shirt as he went. When Clark still didn’t open his eyes, Lex gently pulled at the fingers clenched into the t-shirt, until they opened releasing the crumpled shirt, then clasped them lightly in his own, and gave each a soft press.

“Clark, you know I’d do anything for you, right?” Lex put as much insecurity into his voice as he could muster. While he generally didn’t ‘do’ insecurity, he knew Clark well enough to know that the boy would always and unequivocally ignore his own needs and fears to reassure anyone that he cared about. It was another one of the intrinsically Clark traits that always left him open to Lex’s subtle manipulations; and, as always, it worked immediately.

“Unh-hunh…” Clark mumble noncommittally, then – realizing that it might sound as if he was doubting or impugning Lex’s long-held offer and premise of their friendship (that each could be relied on without question to do whatever was required to protect the other), Clark rushed to explain, “I do know, Lex.”

Finally opening his eyes (but not meeting Lex’s), Clark shrugged self-consciously and continued in a hesitant uncertain voice, “… but, until you’ve heard everything—I won’t hold you to it, Okay?”

Lex nodded, understanding perfectly that while Clark clearly hoped Lex was right and nothing that he said would change things between him, he had probably been too frightened of the secrets he had hidden most of his life to really believe that was possible and had no intention of presuming on their friendship until Lex had the full details. Lex could appreciate the distinction and smiled almost regretfully to see yet one more sign of inevitable maturity marring the aura of innocence that had once radiated from Clark.

In the two years, since his ill-fated courtship with Helen, Lex had begun to notice with ever increasing frequency instances where that aura seemed to be eroding in wide paths and painful gashes that dimmed Clark’s once quick smile, all but banished his easy loping gait, and slowly turned his engaging shy confidence into a subtle form of self-mockery. Still prone to wearing his heart on his sleeve, Clark wasn’t precisely withdrawing or becoming hardened as Lex had by the stings of maturity; but, his eyes had begun to carry an ever-present longing for simplicity and peace…qualities that Lex felt had disappeared far too quickly from his young friend’s life. He had carefully watched the slow erosion of Clark’s innocence… sometimes from a distance – even when preoccupied by his own troubles and obstacles—and, sometimes from close at hand; but, always with too little information to discern its root cause or solution. Now, finally gaining some of the missing details, Lex hoped it would be in time to shut Pandora’s box with hope (and what little innocence remained) blissfully caught in place.

Repressing a smirk at his unusual burst of nostalgia, Lex nodded again and reached out carefully to indicate the scar beneath Clark’s shirt as he whispered “So, there’s no one you’d like me to kill for doing that to you?”

“God, Lex!” Clark barked turning to look at his friend with utter amazement and a little shock.

That shot had been a bit under the belt, Lex knew; but, he felt it was worth it to wake Clark from his passivity—sometimes the boy rebounded more quickly to rough humor than he did to gentle coaxing and caring assurances. Lex quirked an eyebrow… their standard signal for “just joking”, then sobered and asked “Who?”

Swallowing several breathes before he could, Clark uttered, “Jor-EL”.

“The AI?”

Clark nodded, staring back at his hands knowing Lex well enough to recognize where the next questions were headed.

“When?”

“The day before your…” Clark’s voice plunged to a shallow whisper that Lex only half heard “to… Dr. Bryce.”

Lex had to bite his tongue on the series of questions that could have brought up… but the timing made sense.

“How? … no check that… not the time for a neat tech discussion.”

Clark stiffened… next question hung in the air, “Why?”

Lex nodded cautiously.

“Because, I am Naman,” Clark answered bitterly, ignoring the shock on Lex’s face.

“Then, the legend…is true? You are Naman.” Lex paused when he saw Clark flinch at the name, “Clark?”

“No... I mean yes… the legend is true, but Naman isn’t a legend; it’s a label.” Clark’s voice cracked.

“A label?” Lex could almost feel the tension vibrating off of Clark. “Not a name?”

Clark laughed a dry, thin reedy laugh that was too brittle to be hysterical, “Oh… it’s a name alright for individuals like myself. Care to hear what it means in Krypton?”

Lex nodded, despite Clark’s new troubling tone.

“It’s the Kryptonian word for abomination.”

“What the hell?” Lex jerked up sharp. “Clark, you can’t be serious.”

“Dead serious, Lex. On Krypton, Naman refers to children with birth defects considered so abhorrent that their parents willingly exiled their children …from the planet…from…to eliminate any possibility of the defect tainting the gene pool. It was considered safer and more merciful to send their ships into the nearest sun, but sending the children to other planets… was permitted…” Clark’s voice started cracking but he pushed through to finish “was … okay… for ‘emotionally weak’ parents—as long as the children… the naman had no opportunity…to return… and corrupt ...” Clark shuddered and broke off as torrents of long suppressed tears finally escaped.

“Clark, no… oh, no… God, Clark.” Lex wrapped his arms around Clark’s shoulders, pulled the quietly sobbing boy against his chest, and awkwardly stroked his head. As he did, the memory of one of their first real conversations came to mind.

It had been the first and only time that he and Clark had really discussed how Clark felt about being made the Smallville highs annually martyred scarecrow. Lex had quickly recognized that the hazing had deeply wounded the young man’s feelings, but found his ready willingness to “forgive and forget” the event – as though it were nothing more than an accidental bump in a crowded restaurant – somewhat disturbing before he came to realize that acceptance and forgiveness were some of Clark’s most precious traits. Still he was hardly surprised to find Clark standing just inside the library door a few nights later… asking questions that seemed at the time like their only genesis could have come from the hazing.

It had been one of those nights early on in their friendship where Clark had his parent’s permission to stay out late with a small circle of approved friends; but, he could never have gained their permission to visit Lex. Nevertheless, the end of the evening found him leaving Chloe and Pete at the beanery to search Lex out at the castle. Still knowing so little about Lex, Clark hadn’t realized that Lex was aware of his arrival from the moment he hesitantly entered the castle. In those days, and sometimes still, Lex was bemused by impressions that Clark was like a wild fawn who could be gentled and drawn near by a softened voice and disinterested manner or sent fleeing by too much focused attention. That sense had dimmed in the past few years, but still returned some on occasion often accompanied by significant glimpses into his friend’s inner life.

As Lex rocked Clark, he remembered the night with irony, comparing it to what he know knew of his friend and shook his head.

That night when Lex first heard Clark’s footsteps, he was tempted to greet him at the door. But, on listening to the boy’s slow tentative approach, Lex quickly decided a less direct approach was required, so poured himself a drink and settled in to a couch near the fire to wait for Clark as he stared at the fire. Long seconds passed, and Lex would have jumped up to hurry Clark if it weren’t for the steady approach of his footsteps. Never particularly prone to patience, Lex had nevertheless schooled himself to the appearance of serenity and spent the time focusing his gaze on the fire and forcing his posture and muscles to mimic the appearance of relaxation. His careful posing was more successful than he realized, though, and nearly out did his attempt to draw Clark closer when the boy appeared at the doorway, raised a hand to tap on the frame, then chewed his lip uncertainly and dropped his hand, apparently not wanting to disturb Lex. He was turning to leave when Lex, still staring into the fire, asked “Clark, would you at least like like a drink before going?”

Stifling a smirk when the young man jumped uncomfortably, accepted the drink, and then slowly came in, Lex offered him a spot on the couch and got his drink. Their first few moments of conversation were so awkward that Lex unnecessarily refilled his glass just to have something to do while he waited for Clark to get to the reason for his visit. Too accustomed to others materialism and requests for assistance, though, Lex wasn’t quite prepared when Clark’s interest went in another direction entirely.

“Lex, you studied science, right? Like biology and stuff?”

“Yes, at least that’s what the Master’s Degree says… science and stuff.” Lex kept his tone and smile friendly enough for Clark to catch the joke and acknowledged the shy grin from Clark before he continued, “Why do you ask? Biology homework?”

“Uh… no. I was just wondering… I mean trying to figure something out.”

“And, that is?”

“Do you think… I mean… I’ve heard of pheromones and that… but do you think that there can be something … wrong with some people… that makes other people not want them around?”

So soon after the hazing, Lex was certain that it reflected Clark’s sensitivity to being ostracized and—even though underlying tenants of his father’s tutelage had sometimes led Lex to suspect the opposite—he went about trying to assure the boy that biology was hardly the primary quality in forming meaningful social units. He was certain his assurances had gotten through when Clark relaxed, swept a nervous hand through his dark curls, and chuckled “Check one more insecurity up to orphan Annie.”

The comment mystified Lex, who hadn’t learned yet that Clark was adopted, and it must have shown because Clark shrugged and clarify, “I guess I’ve always wondered if there was something… about me... that my... uhm… biological… parents could have seen that, you know, made them decide to give me up.” The conversation soon shifted to other things, but that comment had somehow stayed with Lex over the years.

Lex had always found it difficult to conceive that Clark could ever be worried that his natural parents or anyone else would reject him out of hand, and had focused many of his efforts on helping Clark become more accepted and more popular among his peers … hoping to overcome that belief. To find out now, that it was accurate, was almost heart breaking, and as he rocked the still sobbing boy, Lex wondered just how much heartbreak the kind soul could take before he finally lost those qualities that made him truly special.

“Don’t believe that it’s because of you. If that was their reason, it only shows you were far better off to come where you… could have … decent parents.” Unbidden tears came to his own eyes as Lex spoke then laid his cheek against Clark’s head and rocked and rocked and rocked.

Finally, Clark’s tears slowed. His soft sobbing turned into tight breaths. And, he stilled in Lex’s arms. Looking down, Lex wiped the remaining tears from Clark’s cheeks, tightened his harms in a gentle hug, but held Clark when he started to sit up. He hated to dredge up any more pain, but Lex realized that there was something he had to know and he felt that while things were still open… it was probably the best time to find out.

“Clark, are you sure? I mean… this birth defect? Do you know for certain that you have it? You’ve always seemed incredibly healthy barring a few explainable circumstances.”

Clark nodded sadly against Lex’s shoulder, then flushed almost guiltily as he sat up pulling away from Lex’s hold. Lex dropped his hands feeling a rush of hurt as he worried that Clark was bothered by his contact until Lex remembered Clark’s earlier comment that he had been frightened that Led would never touch him again.

“When I went to Metropolis, last summer, I … did a lot of things… a lot… and, I really believed that I would never be able to come back home…that I could never see the people I loved, again… the people who I wanted to think I was a good person…the people who I wanted to love me… I felt totally alone… and I didn’t want to be … so I dated a lot of people… only you know… not really dated but went out with a lot of people… and it didn’t matter what they thought of me only what I thought of them…so… I went out with anyone I liked.” Clark paused looking at Lex almost defiantly as he repeated “Anyone!”

Lex quirked a smug eyebrow at him. “Really? I can hardly imagine that, shy Clark Kent, suddenly a playboy.”

“No, I was wasn’t very shy in Metropolis, but I did uhm date anyone I wanted to; in fact, I dated lot of anyones: women… and men.” Clark stressed the word ‘men’ so heavily that Lex had to hide his smirk.

“And?”

“Didn’t you hear me? I said men, too. I’m gay, Lex. I like men more than women. I think about men more than women… a lot more than women, in ways I’m supposed to be thinking about women. Gay-gay.”

“I heard you, and repeat ‘And?’” Lex walked over to stand just behind Clark, asking “Do you really think it would bother me if you were?”

Lex wasn’t surprised that Clark would make that assumption. Even if Clark’s alien parents hadn’t considered the condition to be a deformity, Clark was raised in Smallville, Kansas, USA… the heartland capital of everything wholesome: corn, apple pie, cheer leaders, and the American way… a list the rainbow republic would probably never be included in.

“It doesn’t? It would be okay, you know if it did?”

“No, Clark” Lex answered, wondering how Clark’s voice could carry such heavily mixed tones of hope, anxiety, and curiousity, “Not at all. To be honest, I’ve suspected as much for some time?” He meant to reassure Clark of his acceptance but realized that he had said too much when Clark paled.

“Why? How?” Clark sounded panicky, “I tried so hard to make sure no one could tell. I’ve tried not to act gay.”

“Clark, don’t worry.” Lex was forced to smile at Clark’s naïve assumption that there really was in fact a stereotypical ‘gay’ act. “I’m fairly certain your friends and classmates can’t tell. It would take someone who really knows you to see the differences.” Lex stopped as the blood again drained from Clark’s face.

“My Dad… God, Lex, do you think he knows? Could he tell?”

Lex was stunned. He hadn’t, for a moment considered the possibility that Clark hadn’t told his parents.

“You haven’t told them?” It wasn’t really a question. “Why?”

“I’ve been to the feed store with Dad… some of the jokes they make there… that he makes there… Lex. I don’t think he would understand.”

Lex nodded. “I wouldn’t underestimate your dad, but I understand how hard it can be to tell someone something this delicate. I wouldn’t worry, though, your father has always been pretty straight forward when he has a problem with something. So… either he knows and is fine with waiting until you are ready to talk about it, or he doesn’t know and you can tell him when you’re ready to. But, what about your mom? Surely, she would be someone you could talk to.”

Clark shook his head with certainty. “No, she would tell dad.”

“Okay…” Lex looked back at his friend. As the boy shyly emerged from the labyrinth of panels and light, Lex was struck by the impression he was being reintroduced to his friend—and had the impression that Clark was aware of it also and waiting to be judged.

“So, those are your secrets?”

Clark paused thinking then nodded, “Umhmm. The rest is just details… and….” Clark’s eyes cut away.

“Clark?” After getting so much information, even confidences that weren’t shared with Clark’s parents, Lex felt guilty about wanting every detail—guilty and hurt. Watching Lex’s face, Clark registered Lex’s shift in moods and blurted out, “No, I don’t want to… I’m not trying to hide something else from you or anyone else, but… the way I feel about some of the people in my life has changed, and I need to figure out how I feel about that before I tell them… Okay.”

Lex relaxed immediately. Of course, several major relationships in Clark’s life might change with this admission – particularly Lana’s. It was only natural that Clark would need some time to adjust to that.

“That’s understandable. So, how are you feeling?”

Clark eyed Lex hesitantly. “Well, that sort of depends.”

Lex sighed. Whatever else there was to Clark, his ever present simple desire for Lex’s friendship made him and irresistible and precious entity in Lex’s life that he would accept and protect at all costs. “How many times do I have to tell you that it really doesn’t change anything?”

From Clark’s guilty longing glance, though, Lex’s suspected he would have to say it several more times over the next few weeks, before Clark would really start to accept it—which, really worked out in Lex’s benefit. The more Clark needed to know that Lex still accepted him, the more time Lex would have to prove it… mean while enjoying every bit of the time they spent together. Lex had always had big plans for their friendship.

With the truth finally out in the open, the plans seemed only a bit more complicated with just a few new mysteries: uppermost of these was how he was going to change the minds of two fathers, the laws and moral codes of the state of Kansas, and the homophobic programming of an alien computer—to make an emerald eyed, Kansas farm boy from the stars feel like there was somewhere he could finally belong.