Note: Thanks to Pat and Elizabeth, you guys are two in a million :) A special thanks to Laurie, Kel, Nemmy and Molly. You guys are my support group, even when I get mad at you and vice versa. :) Thank you for being there.
The Story of Beauty
When I was little, everyone used to tell me "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree". Where the hell does that phrase come from, anyway? Did some fool decide to mind fuck the children of the world with this stupid, world shattering little phrase?
I would hear this palpable little enigma at galas...parties, philanthropic events. Charity auctions. I heard it going down the street, heard it whispered amongst the help when I played...from my fathers associates and friends, and even from he himself. "You know, Lex, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. No matter how much you fight this--you *will* become me, and you *will* run our business, just as every Luthor has for the past six generations. Don't be the weak link."
You aaaahhhh the weakest link. Good bye!
Whenever I heard them say those kinds of things in passing, I would wonder what other boys my age had done in the past. How children in Russia or Yugoslavia or something had dealt with fathers who were devils incarnate and it was their duty to pass on the family business. Did those boys see the darkness within their fathers? Did they rebel? When faced with such menace had they followed into it, continued the legacy, with open arms?
Or had the strong few defied their bloodline? Had they turned away from such monstrosity, such hideous evil, and looked for light?
My head hurt. Really. I know it's a constant ache, but this time pinpoints of fire speared through my temples like the torches of those forgotten boys. My eyes burned. Blood dripped slowly into my vision, skewing what was left of my sight with tendrils of red.
The storm wasn't just raging outside.
"My...son.... please...help me."
The expression he gave me made the strings of my heart yank furiously. How can such a monster even look at me like that, as if he felt some type of intense love for me, and treat me like his animal to be whipped and disciplined? Who did he think he was dealing with? Some child, who could be manipulated and molded to fit his every whim?
It was the support that had fallen. The long, marble column behind my desk with the sketch of Picasso that my mother had given me the year before she was laid in the ground. Cracked glass, paper peeling around the edges with the fire that had snagged from the candles that had been lit on my desk a moment ago.
The column had been supporting the ceiling beams of the old castle, carefully balancing weight and beauty with their strong arms. Or, well, once had. One of the beams had fallen, cracked right down the middle, and slid down from the top of my study like the hand of God. Its splintered, jagged edges were only a few feet away from impaling the atrocity that I called father. Taking his life from him.
Huh.
Closer, closer, closer. Inching.
What an interesting predicament this was. My father, whom moments before had been threatening my public and physical life, was now trapped. Helpless. Needing me, his son, his *dog*, to save what was left of his wretched, dismal life.
Maybe Clark would swoop in and save me from the darkness that was ebbing at my soul. Maybe suddenly he'd be standing right *there*, smiling at me crookedly like he was wont to do and lead me away from the darkness I was fast approaching.
Somehow, I doubted it.
On my own. What to do? Save him; let him continue to live his pitiful, disgusting little existence until there was nothing left of him. Lose my corporation, my freedom, my honor and my integrity and more then likely, my life as well.
Let him die. Gain the family empire, control whatever I chose. Rule the world, if I so desired.
Choices, choices.
Bile rose hot and heavy in my throat, and it nearly came up before I could stop it. Oh, *God*. No. No.
Betrayal. He had betrayed me. He had lunged down and crushed what I had slaved over for 15 months, squashed the foundation of something good and wonderful that had finally begun in my life under his hand like a bug. With five minutes worth of words he had once again proved to me that he was my boss, my lord and master, and not to forget it. Tiny. Insignificant. He had blamed me for something I hadn't done; cost 2500 people their jobs. Their livelihoods. Hundreds of children would go hungry this month and months to come because my father was a bastard who cared for nothing but himself.
The injustice of it, the pure *unfairness* of what he had done tore at my gut and wrenched what was left of my heart with guilt and mourning for people I didn't even know. My father cared for nothing. Not me, not the family we'd once had. Nothing.
Just profit. And himself.
He was going to die if I didn't do something. So why were my feet planted to the ground? Why didn't I move? Why couldn't I move?
"S...son..." The beam was inching closer with each hard gale against the side of my castle. Eyes, wild and full of fear, searched mine as the horrible realization of what I was contemplating came over him. I could see it in his face, even as I watched that hand of God fall on him.
As the beam fell, its sharp, jagged edge pointed straight for my father's heart, I think maybe it *was* God who took over my feet. I've never been very religious, stopped believing in anything the night my mother passed over, but I'm sure something moved me and saved my soul.
A brief resistance.... then nothing, just warm heat as I shielded a man who cared nothing for me. Detached sympathy as I eyed the wood sliding through my shoulder...not enough...god, it wouldn't be enough, and the stark terror in my father's eyes told me a thousand words.
I wasn't sure if the dark smell of urine came from him or me.
Come on. Come *on*. I pushed against the splintered rafter as hard as I was physically able to, as hard as my taxed muscles would allow. Then the weight simply fell, tumbled right off my body and into the ground. Crashed through the tile...deeper.
My father lost consciousness as the splinter slid out through my shoulder and left a gaping, bloody mess.
Shit. I didn't look at it...too much pain to even consider right now.
I'd nearly let my father die.
Die.
Die.
I was behind a steering wheel, staring at the street as the Kansas farmlands whisked by on either side of me. Jesus Christ, Jesus, save me. Aching, aching with unshed tears, with terror. Car. Car. I was in...in the Jag. I was okay. My car. Had gotten in my car.
Jacket. Had put my jacket on. Christ, Lex, what are we doing here? Going out for a Sunday drive?
Car, car, car. Nice car. Couldn't feel the steering wheel, the pleasure I always took from the soft material under my fingers not even existent. Numb.
I looked at them, pale and clammy under the storms light. Interesting. Maybe I'd gotten my shoulder again; maybe it was the same spot my old friend had stabbed me in so many years ago on that dark night.
Somehow, that seemed seriously unlikely.
My poor leather seats...blood never came out of leather seats. How depressing. Maybe if I'd let my father die I could have made a cleaning solution..."Lex's Blood Cleaner- For all those Trials and Tribulations you have no control over." Heh. I'd charge a fortune for it, too. A whole black market for politicians and crack dealers.
It wasn't pain, per se. I've felt pain. This was more like...heat. Burning heat, licking at the inside of my skin. Was this what a breakdown felt like? It was neat, because somehow the little car had hit 100 miles an hour and it felt like I was going 30.
Maybe I was beyond a breakdown. What came after mental instability? A stroke? Insanity?
Too late for that.
The tornadoes were ripping Smallville apart with their wrath. They had Mother Nature at their disposal, and *Goddamn* was she pissed. Everything in their path had been destroyed beyond recognition. The middle of Main Street, as it whizzed by my window, looked like a third world country post-bombing. The Talon, rebuilt and beautiful and once a spot to congregate for coffee and talk now lay in shambles on the street. Or what I think was the Talon.
Couldn't really see it through the haze of pain, and that was a blessing.
Fading, fading, fading. God, I promise that if you get me through this I'll come to every Mass that there is, I'll give all my money to this town, I'll let them all sleep in my fucking *bed*, just don't let me die. Not yet.
Clark.
My beautiful Clark. Dark haired, bright eyed farm boy. My farm boy. Mine. Mineminemine. Be damned if I didn't tell him how I felt before I died. Be damned. Be Goddamned.
The sky rumbled and quaked. Sorry, God. No more vain-ing.
Spinning.
Spinning, spinning, spinning.
*Boom*.
Then nothing.
* * *
Sometimes I really hate having powers.
Okay, that just made me feel bad, just then. I am...but I'm not...you know? I'm not ungrateful for what I can do...not by a long shot. Its fun being able to run exceptionally fast and have x-ray vision and be all...well...super. I'm living a comic geeks dream. Except the part where I wear tights and a cape, of course. I've saved a ton of people...damned less than half that many, and at the end of the day I went do bed knowing I'd done my best.
On the other hand, other times...its like some outside force is testing me. It can be so trying, to be solid and full of control and feel...so powerless.
A personal pet peeve of mine.
A pet peeve which had blown way out of proportion of course. Everything was just about as bad as it could be right now, and that really... really sucked.
Puns for 100, Alex.
Lana was broken in my arms. Unconscious. Her fragile female body had been ripped and cut and tossed around like the proverbial rag doll. Her skin was a mess, and after picking her up, I tried not to look too much. Who knew Clark Kent had a weak stomach?
Well, *I* did, as I am Clark Kent. Okay. Don't lose it yet, Clark. Time for that later. Now. Thinking!
Her weight was solid and heavy in my arms, and I could feel what blood was coming out of her dripping down my chest and legs. However, unfortunately, that wasn't the greatest of my problems. No, because said Mr. Kent can't keep himself out of trouble. In fact, he goes looking for it.
Lex's Jaguar had become a speed racer, and he zoomed at me going way.... way too fast.
Okay. C'mon, Clark. You have all this power, and a very little brain. Think, dammit. Just don't walk through the tornado, cause as funny as flying cows are in that one movie, flying people are dead. C'mon. Think. Think!
Hee. I'd classified myself as "people". I'm so amusing.
Debris was flying around me like airborne missiles, each on a trajectory to try and hit me. It was unbelievable...the most amazing thing I'd ever experienced, to stand in something like this and know it was very possible I was a dead man walking. Or, dead alien walking. Whatever. I've never been in the eye of a storm of this magnitude...never been close enough to experience what a tornado truly was. But this.... this.
And there I stood, in the peace and quiet of the center of all of this, with Lana Lang bleeding to death in my arms and Lex Luthor barreling towards me like a bat out of hell.
To think, I'd missed out on all the Prom shenanigans for *this*. Cause really, I was having *so* much fun. What better fun it is to ditch a beautiful woman in a beautiful dress with beautiful lips and arms and eyes to enter the world of mega death.
Bad things have happened to me before. Horrible, scary things. Been shot at, almost skewered, tied up in a field to die. Thrown into a car, thrown under a car. Been frozen alive, been attacked by bees. Everything that could have happened to me has.
And this still topped the cake.
Wouldn't think about it right now. Couldn't. Too much to digest. Just get through it, Clark. Put away good old terror for now, breathe, and get through this because if you don't, you're going to die, and you're going to take your two best friends with you.
Damnit.
I knew she was badly hurt, and I held her close to me like a sagging blanket, tightly as I could. All of her beautiful hair tumbled calmly down from her head...it, the blades of grass under my feet unmoving as the tempest screamed its wrath. Houses...tractors...cars. People, who I wished with all my heart I could have saved, even as they flopped along in the wind. Couldn't think about that now. No. God, no.
Animal's...entire sets of living room furniture. Glass, sharp as knives. Toys. Tree's. The statues of David and Goliath from downtown.
And through it, through this chaotic mess of humanity, I saw Lex driving towards me like a mad man.
Half-blind with exhaustion, I x-rayed to get a closer look at him.
Half of his shoulder was torn out.
I let the cry of horror escape me. Nearly, *nearly* dropped Lana. God, Christ, what had happened
to him? He was trying to get help, trying to find someone to help him, even as he sagged against the steering wheel and the car started a slow, sickening spin.
Fate had offered up an ultimatum, and it just now dawned on me, like a thunk to the head.
Help Lana, and Lex would die.
Save Lex, and Lana would fly away in the wind to join the rest of the dead.
Fate was so mean to me. No way could this shit happen to normal people.
I would not be given a choice as to who would live. Do you hear me, God? I am not going to choose between two people I love. I'm just not, so you decide what you're gonna do, okay? Because I'll be damned if I'm going to decide who you take and who you leave. I'm not you.
I'm just Cyclops.
* * *
"Hurry! C'mon!"
"I can't...you have to...to slow down!"
He was going too fast... couldn't keep up. Calves burning, feet numb, breath coming in short puffs, and I wished he would slow down and wait for me, but he never did. Just turned to laugh and sped on. "You've got to! We're almost there."
"It's just a tree house. Why do we always have to run so fast?"
"Because we do."
"I'm gonna tell my mom."
"What? That the all mighty Lexy can't run for beans?"
"I'm not a freak."
"No, just *slow*. C'*mon* already, I'm here in case anything comes out. I'm gonna be in the second grade before you catch up."
"Oh....wow. Look! The fireflies are back, they're back!"
"Yeah, and we can see them if you move your legs."
Running, more running, and if felt so good to be able to breathe without gasping for asthmatic air. "Look. Look at that."
"I can see it, Lex. I see. Can you hear me?"
"What?"
My childhood friend took on the face of my adult one, and bright green eyes the same color of that glade stared into mine.
Ohh.
Then sharp, bright, *piercing*, ithurtsbadpleasehelpme and I'm pretty sure that long wail of agony was from me. God, oh GodohJesus in heaven help me.
"Help me, it hurts, Clark please, help me, it hurts, knife, stabbing me, it hurts, take it, take it away, ayudame, por el amor de dios, ayudame!"
Nothing compared to this. Nothing was even close to this.
Except for emptiness.
* * *
There was nothing I could do. Nothing. Blood, so much blood. Everywhere, hands and legs and chest and head. On that lovely soft scalp. It was like stepping into a pool of red...I'd felt it dripping everywhere, everywhere down my back and legs, running from a monster created by nature who very badly wanted us to join the ranks of the dead.
Shudders wracked over me for a half a moment of weakness, and I took an opportunity to look at our surroundings, survey where I'd brought us. A storm cellar...old Mrs. Beagleman's. The sweet old lady had died a few weeks back, and I guess no one had cleaned out her basement yet. Pickled jars of jelly and fruits sat on low shelves...some cracked and broken on the ground from the rumblings and shakings of the earth.
The walls and floor were nothing but gravel and dirt, with a large enough rug against one wall, where Clark and Lana lay now. The stairs were behind Lana's still form, caved in from the pure velocity of the storm...and the doors were 8 feet above.
Trapped.
I didn't let it bother me for the moment...I could figure out a plan in a pinch and get us out of here if the situation called. But right now....the situation was calling for something completely different.
I scanned over the room with my x-ray vision, looking for...--
Bingo.
As gently as I could possibly muster I lay Lex down on one of the blankets I'd found, keeping my balled up suit jacket tight on his wound. A look to Lana, who looked like she was taking a light nap and I. Could not. Think. She was...there wasn't....
Concentrate, Clark.
I crawled around the two carefully, not bothering to climb to my feet in the low ceiling room, and dragged an old box out from behind the crumbled stairs.
There was a first aid kit, three more tightly wrapped blankets, a flashlight that worked despite its dim glow, water, and vanilla wafers inside. No cell phone or walkie-talkie, but there was a ham radio. We'd make do.
God bless you, Mrs. Beagleman.
I sat back on my haunches, wiped my dirty hands over my dirtier dress pants, and dragged the box back over to where I'd been sitting next to Lex. The storm itself screamed right over us, loud and piercing and furious. What do you want with me, tempest? Huh? Another chew toy? Fuck you. Fuck all of you.
Fuck. You. Do you hear me? *Fuck you*!
Tears fell from eyes that burned. "Fuck you, *fuck you*. We're going to live, goddamn you, we're going to live and you're not! Leave us *alone*!"
Oh, God, God all mighty. Was it the adrenaline that'd done it? The fear, the fury at the earth itself?
It was fuzzy in my minds eye...so much debris to look through, the wind as fast and furious as anything I'd ever seen. Lex Luthor barreling towards me.
Something had come out of my eyes.
I touched my closed, wet lids as if they would give me the answer. Another power. Jesus. I wish I could just get all of them at once and be done with it. This one had scared the life out of me with its intensity. Like...almost like lasers, red as blood and *strong*, and--
He groaned. Deep, moving, and I looked on with a dull terror. Oh, Lex. Don't wake up, it's going to--
Gasping, heavy gasping, and a dark groan of pain. He was so dirty...all those miles of clean, hairless skin were marred with dirt and red, his bright blue eyes like beacons in the soot. "C...Cl..."
"Yeah...Lex, hey." I touched his hand...took it in mine, and squeezed. "Hey there."
He looked at me with a sort of hazy blinking, as if he almost couldn't believe I was sitting here with him. Yeah, well, where else would I be? "Clark?"
"Yeah...it's...it's definitely me. Can you see me okay?"
He closed his eyes, and despite it, a tight smile slipped across his face. "Which one of you?"
"So. Not. Funny." A shake of my head, and I curled up Indian style, murmuring softly. "How're you...." Pause. "I'm gonna slip something under your head, okay? Hold on a second." I rooted in the box for a moment and came out with one of the thick blankets, turning to face him with apologetic eyes. "I'm gonna.... here we go." I slid my palm under his warm neck and lifted.... his cry loud and in my ear, fingers grasping weakly at my shirt and sliding off. I winced, folding the blanket into a makeshift pillow under him, and came back with blood on my hands.
As I lay him back down there were tears in his eyes.
"Hey...there we go. Better?"
"Oh," --gasp-- "yeah, the knives shooting through m...my back are spectacular."
"Smart-ass." I bit my lip softly. He was so pale...not unlike always, but just...*pale*. The cut above his eyebrow was small but deep, and I gently wiped away the smear of red down his cheek. He was losing too much blood. C'mon, Kent. C'mon. Pull it together, just for a little while longer, you can do this. You *have* to do this. "Lex...I've gotta.... gotta clean you up a little. I...its gonna hurt like shit, but..."
I almost saw it click into place in his eyes. "I'm dying, huh?"
"No." *No*. "Not dying, but you're loosing a little too much...too, ah, much. Blood. Don't worry, okay?" I tried for a light tone and only came out sounding strangled. "I took first aid like a good little farm boy."
His chuckle sounded like hysteria. "Okay." He shifted a little.... probably feeling for feet and arms and knees, making sure everything was still in place. His left leg was fractured.... I'd seen it with my handy dandy x-ray vision, and he winced almost silently, not moving anymore. Instead, he watched me start to pull things from the small kit.... peroxide, tape, bandaging that wouldn't be enough. What can you use for bandaging, Clark? Don't waste any more blankets...you...your shirt. Use the dress shirt, your T-shirts fine. Unbuttoned it.... pulled it off. Tore the little tie off, then systematically ripped the shirt into ten long strips. Enough? Would it be enough? Thank God I was a big guy. Flashlight. What about a splint? What can you...?
"C...Clark...is she..?..."
he startled me from my thoughts and I looked down at him before traveling his gaze to Lana's quiet form. The frog in my throat leapt hard and high, choking me for a minute before I could speak. "There...there's nothing I can do."
And we left it at that.
It took me a minute to be able to speak again, and felt his gaze travel over my face. "O...okay, Lex. Ah...erm. Can you maybe sit up?"
"You've got to be kidding."
"Okay. Point." I had to get his jacket off. Okay. Okay. Leather jacket. A glance at his face told me he wasn't all together with me, so if I ripped his coat up with my bare hands, he wouldn't mind. Or probably notice.
I did just that, ripping the sleeves length wise down the sides of his body, so it sort of fell off of him. Warming his back and protecting his wound from any dirty, but not impeding what I had to do.
Go. Clark.
"Lex, what the hell happened?"
I watched his expression get dark and glassy with anger and fatigue and fury, and a chill raced down my spine. "A beam from the ceiling in my office fell. Got me, in my shoulder. Through the back."
It didn't just get your shoulder, baby.
"Okay. That explains why" the front of your chest looks like chopped beef. "You're bleeding so much. Okay. um." I lifted my suit jacket off his wound slowly; the lingering, sticky sound of congealed blood making the both of us wince. The spray of it almost hit me in my face, and I quickly pressed the jacket back on with surprise. Damn this was...damn. Don't faint, Clark. "Lex...don't look, okay?"
"How c....can I n...n-not?" He gasped and looked at the ceiling as his face went sheet white.
"By not looking down." Firm nod. Don't. Faint. Clark. Do not faint. Not only is it supremely non-manly, but you'll leave your best friend with no one to help him, and probably bleed to death. Okay? So, breathe.
Inhale. Exhale.
A tiny gasping laugh, and my patient murmured, "You're paler then me, farm boy."
"So not any type of amusing." I whispered, and I unscrewed the cap of peroxide. "I gotta clean it, Lex. This stuff isn't supposed to sting, but, you know, bullshit. So...." I rolled one of the strips of shirt into a square and poured the peroxide onto it. "I.... I've never had to do this, so.... em, if you wanna, you know, yell, its okay."
He looked at me with sharp, hooded eyes, and before he could say anything, I slipped my hand underneath the jacket and pressed the cloth to the wound itself. Okay. Good! He shuddered, but better a shudder then a scream of pain. I pulled the jacket up and off, pressing more of the material to the wound as the first strip began to stain red. Five long strips, for the front, and blood...blood was everywhere. Everywhere. He was shaking, eyes glassy and lips a light shade of blue. "Don't...Lex, stay with me! Don't pass out, I need you to help me, stay...stay awake."
My ears were ringing. My eyes were trapped with black spots.
Without looking too much, I found the back wound...not bleeding as badly. Okay. Okay, good. C'mon, Clark, just like the summer where you found the cow impaled with a piece of wood. Remember? Just like that. Lex isn't Lex, he isn't gasping and grasping your arm in pain, he's just like that cow. It's okay.
I pressed the shirt pieces to the back as well, and took his trembling, soft fingers, pressing them to the wound on his chest. "Here. Keep your hand here." I let go of his wrist and his hand shook so badly it slipped off. "*No*." I looked him in his eyes. Christ. He was fading out. "Don't. Let. Go. Keep it on."
I wrapped the light gauze across his chest, trapping the strips of shirt each time I passed. I wrapped two rolls around him, securing them as tightly as I could to staunch the flow.
His fingers still held on, lifting with each pass of the gauze, slipping now until finally his eyes rolled back and he fell unconscious. He was such a strong man, so brave. Who else would have been able to keep a bandage on their chest like that? Not me, that's for sure.
Done. The bandages were taped and done.
The last thing I was aware of before I passed out was my heart beating in time with the furious tornado.
* * *
Fingers woke me up. Strong, long jointed, thick. Heavy male hands.
*Pain*.
I inhaled stiffly around it, trying to squirm, get me away from it, it hurts, it *hurts*.
"Lex...shhh...hey, Lex."
Its not okay, its very far from being okay, it *hurts*! Can't you see that? Help me, Goddamnit! Help me!
"Lex...Lex...I'm here...hold on to me, here. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. Just breathe...take deep breaths."
I squeezed my eyes tightly before opening them...to blindness. Christ. I couldn't see, I was...
Clark.
There, there he was. Huge, burly and protective, his enormous hands wrapped around one of my own, rubbing the warmth back into them. God, I remembered. My father.... the accident. Then here, Clark, pale and shaking and bandaging me up like a good little soldier. This was my punishment. It had to be. To finally have Clark, here, so close, and I was in too much pain to do anything about it.
My punishment for nearly letting my father die. Pain.
This couldn't be any worse than the time I decided to try ecstasy while blown on vodka. *That* had been out of this world. Literally. There's only so many times a doctor can scream "Clear!" before they have you on their permanent "Resuscitated" list. There had been a time when they reserved a room just for me every weekend.
Good old days that weren't so good.
Just another screw up on my part. My whole life had been nothing but screw-ups...from a young, innocent child to the well fucked, wracked in pain, humble old soul I was today. I could see it in his eyes when he came in to tell me my plans, *my* plans, for *my* plant, were fruitless. That he would destroy the lives of anyone who joined, destroy innocent people who were just trying to save their families from poverty.
The fucking *bastard*. I hated him, so much, so--
"Lex...hey, Lex. Stay with me here."
Clark. Beautiful, innocent boy. Looking at me with fear and loneliness and a dark kind of stark terror. God, I remember. Driving through Smallville like it was my personal highway, then....*then*. Clark standing in that storm with Lana in his arms, and I knew I was going to hit him again. *Again*. I knew it, but I couldn't stop myself. Couldn't push the brake...it was almost as if my body had stopped responding. No matter how much I wanted to move, I couldn't bring myself to even raise a finger as I watched my destiny come rushing at me.
Then here, this cellar. Waking up to shocking pain, and his face. His worried eyes.
The storm was over our heads, screaming its wrath and fury, and wasn't that something?
"Cl...Clark." My throat felt like it had needles in it. "Clark..."
"Hey...yeah, hey. It's me. How are you holding up?"
Sweet. So naive. "Al...all right. What..."
"We're...uh...we're still in the cellar. The tornadoe's are about a mile or so to the west...but they're not moving. So...we're gonna be here for a while."
The cellar. I remembered...I could smell it now, berries. Fruits. Strange. "C...Clark..." I focused in on his face. "Are t...there any drugs?"
Wish I could have explained myself a little better, because I didn't have the energy and he was blinking at me strangely. "Do I have any drugs? No....um....." Click. Good boy. "Oh! You mean...yes! Theirs some Motrin in here. I was trying to decide how much to give you without you ODing on me, but--"
"I can take...take four." I'd only taken them every morning for the better part of my adolescence. Nothing better to break a headache and calm the nausea.
"Okay." He nodded and let go of my hand, disappearing from my view before returning with pills in the palm of his hand and a tiny plastic cup of water that looked even more minature in his large hand. He set them aside a moment, getting close...closer...until his warm breath was on my face and his hands were starting to wrap around me. "You gotta.... gotta sit up a little, Lex."
Yeah, and my sucking chest wound was gonna allow that. Sure. "N...no. I can't."
"Sorry. No choice." He nodded and....oh sweet mother of God.
He swung his legs on either side of me...straddling me, and slipped his hands under my armpits. Close, very very very close, and I wish to God I could have enjoyed the sweet honey of his skin. Instead, the agony had me biting a hole through my lip and trying very hard not to start screaming like the chicken shit I was starting to feel like. He lifted...gently, very gently, and *strong*, sitting me up in more of a recline then just sitting down. I could see a little more of our homey abode of death, and my chest.
The bandage was tight, trapping the wound carefully, and stained with blood. Lovely.
He sat there on his left leg; the other pulled up to his chest as he held out the water and pills. Oh, Clark, I'm sorry.
I tried, honestly, I did. I didn't want to show him I was this badly along, didnt want him to see me in my moment of weakness. Of all people, he was here to witness what a pansy ass I was.
Shame.
As soon as he set the cup in my hand it shook so badly it fell, and I gasped in pain at the immediate attempt to grab it before it splashed everywhere.
The world swam for several seconds and he called for me...fuzzy...hard to hear.... then a cool rush in my mouth that I could barely choke down around the needles. I could feel his fingers on my lips, the far away order to swallow, and I did. Two pills.... gone. Third, swallowed. The fourth heavy and hard and I could barely get it down without choking. Christ.
A few more moments to orient myself...and I was okay. Things were okay, or as okay as they were going to be for the time being.... which now that I thought about it, weren't really that okay. He was staring at me with fear, friendship....and something else, but with a single touch to his hand I reassured him. It's gonna be okay, Clark. I won't leave you with two dead people, don't worry.
I nodded my thank you to him, closing my eyes for a second until the vertigo calmed itself down. "How...how's Lana?"
I glanced up just in time to see the purest expression of guilt I'd ever seen on a human beings face. "She...she...um...." Then a moment later, realized it wasn't guilt. Just *sadness*. Horrible, wrenching sadness I never thought I'd see him wear. "She's not dead, but.... her head is...it's bad. I fixed it as well as I could, but..." He shook his head and trained his eyes to the ground.
Tears coated his throat; I could hear them as he spoke softly, as he tried to hide his emotions from me. Trying to be a man, when he was nothing more then a scared kid with a half dead rich guy sitting in front of him and a tornado over his head.
I chuckled.
His gaze was so surprised I almost choked on it. Touched his arm softly, shook my head with apology. "Just thinking. Only...only you would be stuck with a playboy billionaire in Kansas in a basement in the middle of a tornado."
Classic, if not slightly dim, Clark Kent smile, and it warmed my heart. "I'm glad I'm not alone. I'm glad you're here."
I could now die happy. "What is it that you young whipper sn...snappers say these days? Ditto?" Cheesed out grin that must have looked like a grimace to him. "Ditto."
He smiled a bit and turned away.... and out of the corner of my eyes I saw him skim his fingertips over Lana's cool face, watched as he bowed his head to listen to her breathe.
"How is she d...--"
"Lex, what the hell happened to you?"
I blinked a little and tipped my head to watch him as he turned back to me, catching the guarded expression and moving on. "How...how'd you get "what the hell happened to you" f-from "ditto"?"
Dizzy, dizzy. It was so warm in here.
"Just did. You weren't answering me before." He was like a stern parent, giving me the eagle eye as if that still worked. Take lessons from my dad, Clark, he can make you piss your pants with fear. "Lex, what happened?" His mouth was hard, but his voice had such a note of concerned sadness that I had to give in. Had to.
Damn him and his doe eyes.
I was aware of my voice getting quiet, as the emotion choked at my lungs. Suppressed saying anything for a moment, fighting the internal war that was a side effect of dealing with my family. Hard to get emotion out...impossible to stop once it started.
What the hell. You're dying, Lex. You might as well be open.
"I almost let him die."
Green iris's looked into my blue. "What?"
"My father." Soft murmur. "He was trapped...I almost let him die."
"But...your shoulder...."
"I saved him."
"Then why....?"
"I was almost a murderer. I almost let him die, in payment of all the times he's made me suffer. Clark, I'm a murderer."
"You're not." Steady hand on my shoulder. "You're not. You had a normal reaction to someone who's hurt you time and time again, that's all. Normal. You had mercy for him because you're a good man."
"I can remember the day I realized my father didn't love me."
"Lex..." He looked at me with grief in his eyes.
"My seventh birthday." I interrupted quietly, staring at the ceiling over his head. "All my friends from school were over...the sun was shining. We were sitting on the floor in a circle in my parents' living room, with cupcakes and presents and paper...laughter. My dad wasn't there...I didn't know what happened to him, he'd always been there for my birthday. So I opened all my presents..." My voice was hitching; eyes were burning with filmy tears. My chin kept quivering so hard, and I hoped to God he wouldn't be embarrassed. "He came in after everyone had gone home, wearing his suit and tie. He told me he'd forgotten." I paused a moment, shifting my eyes to him. "Clark, do you know what that does to a seven year old little boy? This man was my *hero*. I would sit next to him every night after dinner and he would tell me stories about when he was a little boy...he'd put me to bed, kiss my cheeks and tell me he loved me. This man had forgotten my *birthday*? The same birthday I had hinted at for two weeks?"
"After that things went downhill. I was still upset with him when Little Julian died, and that was the first step in his total alienation from me. I think he thought Julian would be the boy who wouldn't be so delicate...who would carry on the family business. I think I realized he wasn't the man I thought he was.... the stories stopped, and it became so he never even told me he loved me. After the meteor shower and the accident...he barely even looked at me. Like I was a monster, a freak, a waste of space. My mother died, soon after. He stopped kissing me goodnight. I stopped spending any time with him at all...days would go by and I wouldn't see him. It destroyed me inside, Clark. I was a little kid and the man I worshipped, the only person I had left, stopped acknowledging I existed. Everything became about proving to him that I was someone to be recognized." My voice broke on the last words, nausea taking over my belly. "He's forgotten my birthday every year since."
The cellar was deathly quiet for a long moment before he spoke. "You love him, even now."
"Yes." The tears were going to come, and there was nothing I could do. "Yes."
With ancient wisdom is his movements he took my hand, squeezed it softly between both of his. His face was very strangely hooded, as if he was trying to make a decision. Like he was fighting a demon waging inside of him. "In a strange way...I understand, Lex." Before I could ask, he spoke, eyes clear and tight. "My parents sent me away. Not because they didn't love me.... the opposite. They loved me too much. They put me into a space pod and sent me away from their planet to save my life, not knowing if I would live or die, be enslaved or ripped apart by other peoples, killed on other planets. They're dead...my people are dead. All of them are gone; it's just me. I'm unique, in the entire galaxy. And I'm alone."
I've never felt so speechless in all my life. Never been at a loss for words. Never felt so close, so cold.
"I was the cause of the meteor shower. The meteors are actually fragments of my home that became charged with a negative energy and caused me to crash into the earth. A part of my family is still with me, in a way. I see them in my heart, and I think sometimes they're proud of me. They've been with me every step of the way. Martha and Jonathan.... my parents here, my *family*, found me after their truck overturned. I think a part of them knew what I was...but they took me into their home, made me a part of them, anyway."
"Clark..."
"Let me finish. About a year and a half ago, when I hit puberty, my powers started to emerge. My birth records say I'm 15.... but my heart says that's not true. I'm at least 19, or 20, by earth years." A self indulgent, very small smile. "At least physically, anyway."
"Clark...I...why are you..?..."
"Because. You trusted me to dig into your wound when didn't know what the hell I was doing. You trusted me with why you and your father are always at war, and I know you've never told anyone else. I trust you, with my secret."
Speechless. Speechless.
"Powers?"
"Yeah." He said it quietly, slipping down to sit cross-legged and close to me. "The summer of the seventh grade I found out I could run...really fast. Really."
"How fast?"
"Speed of sound."
"Oh." Hysteria bubbled in my chest.
"I have x-ray vision. I'm very, very strong. I can float for a few seconds at a time, but not consciously...I'm usually asleep for it."
I couldn't help it...I laughed, very softly, and the churning in my gut leapt. "Wet dream?"
"Perv." He grinned at me sideways, and I hoped he saw the understanding, the acceptance I felt, not the sickness. "And....a few hours ago, I found out I can shoot laser beams out of my eyes."
A moment passed, as I tried to gather my thoughts. Thoughts, thoughts, swimming in different directions.
"Clark?"
"Yeah?"
"You're a comic book geeks dream."
He stared at me for a moment before bursting out laughing, shifting until.... until he was lying next to me, watching the ceiling. Close. So close. So. Close. "Don't I know it." Warm.
A while passed and I didn't say anything, just inched closer. I hoped he didn't get the wrong idea, or feel strange about this, but I had to. I had to. Some invisible driving force was pushing me to his center of heat...like an inferno laying right next to the cold. Closer still, and he shifted a bit to accommodate my movement. Well, tough noogies for him. I lay my head on his chest abruptly, the blissful heat warming the side of my face.... and suddenly he was up on his elbow, looking down at me strangely, and taking his heat with him. "Lex?"
"Mmm?" Please don't be insulted if I barf.
"How're you feeling?"
"Okay."
"You...um." Without warning Clarks palm slid across my face, and I wish to God I had the energy to feel anything other than how cool he felt against my skin. How incredibly refreshing and good, the nausea settling down to a dull ache in the pit of my belly.
He gasped.
"Lex.... Lex. You're burning up."
"What?" I stared at him incredulously as he sat up and peeled the blanket off me. Shit. The cold air hit me and I shivered violently, groaning softly with loss. "W...Why'd you t...take the blanket, for?" Bastard.
"Fever. You have a fever."
"I don't have any fever. I'm fine." And cold and clammy and my face was too hot and my belly was in knots and my shoulder hurt so badly. "I feel fine."
* * *
He didn't look fine. He looked the opposite of fine. Fine was on the other side of the planet. Cheeks flushed, lips pale, body shuddering in cold. His eyes told me he was fading out, glassy and vacant.
God. Oh Jesus, God, someone come find us.
"Not gonna leave you here with two dead people." He murmured, meeting my eyes as my shaking fingers uncapped the jug of water. "Not gonna make you sleep with corpses."
Why hadn't I seen how bad he was earlier?
No more clothe. I didn't have any more clothe for a compress.
Wait...Clark. Yes, you do.
I pulled my T-shirt over my head and tipped the gallon over slowly, dropping a good amount on the shirt until it sopped grey. I squeezed it out just a little and set it on Lex's overly warm forehead, his low gasp and shudder breaking my heart. "I'm c-cold, Clark, take it....take it away, I'm cold, so cold."
No more blankets. Lana and Lex both were lying on one. She had one over her cool body, one was keeping Lex alive by putting pressure on his back. Another wrapped around his body...and I was out of choices.
Not enough. Not enough.
I couldn't leave them to find help. I couldn't move them and take them with me; Lana was a few short hours away from death, with Lex right on her tail. I couldn't leave...Lex needed me right now so much. I needed to be here, in case....in case he stopped being able to breathe. In case anything.
So I did what Id been trained to do by the good old Boy Scouts.
Slowly, carefully, I stretched out beside him, as close as I could get. Turned on my side and wrapped my arms around his pale, shaking body, one across his chest and the other around his belly, feeling the shivers and the chatters of his teeth in my ear. I scooted close...closer, pulling one of his legs between mine. Hip to hip, chest to chest, face to face.
He stared at me, and though he was half out of his mind with fever, I could tell that he knew what I was doing, and didn't mind anyway. "So...so many t-times I...I dreamt of this." A soft chuckle that was all sadness, pressing his uninjured hand to my chest. "Now I can't even...even enjoy it."
Something quiet clicked into place in my heart, and I watched his face as his eyes closed, as his head slid forward.
Oh.... my God.
"Lex?" Let me think, give me just a minute here. Don't break my heart just yet.
"Super powers, mm? C-can you...take me to California on foot?"
I watched him with surprise, sliding my fingertips over his scalp as my mind raced. "In an hour and ten minutes."
A chuckle, a wince, and he smiled. "T-that...that's got to be cool."
"Oh yeah. Gives me windburn, though." I teased gently. He let his eyes flutter closed and his long, lean body finally settled against mine. Quiet with rest, his wound permeating awesome amounts of heat. Infection. Infection, Clark.
A while passed without anything said, just the calm, comfortable silence of friends.
Of lovers.
"Clark?"
"Mmhmm?" I murmured, stroking his back softly.
"How long? H...have we....we been in here?"
"About...mmm...4 hours."
"T...the tornado...its g-gone. Why...?...."
"I can't leave you." Soft mumble into his scalp. "You might need me."
You might die without me here.
"B..but...Lana?"
The hardest decision I'd ever had to make. "She's....Lex, her brain is....is not inside anymore."
He keened his sadness softly, not moving from his spot on my chest. "Nothing?"
"No. I tried, Lex, while you were unconscious. She..."
"I....I understand." He muttered softly.
A moment went by...then another, before I spoke again. "Lex?"
"Mmmm?"
"Do you have dreams about the future?"
"What do you mean?"
"About what--" Light chuckle. "About what you want to be when you grow up."
Quiet for a moment, before he nodded just a little against my chest. "Yes. But not the kind you think."
"Yeah?"
"Yes." A pause. "What about you?"
"Oh yeah...most definetly."
"Tell me?"
"I want to be a fireman."
I think he laughed so he wouldn't cry. "A fireman, huh."
"Yep. Or, you know, a reporter for a newspaper."
"Clark...you c-couldn't be a media h...hound even if you wanted to be."
Pointedly ignored his pain laced voice. "Sure I could. I bug you all the time, don't I?"
He snickered very softly. "Y...your point is very pointy."
"Lex?"
"Mmmm?"
"What do you watch on TV?"
"Clark, are...are you gonna l-let me sleep?"
"No."
Sigh. "I don't watch TV."
"Liar."
"I...I don't."
"I bet you watch Gilmore Girls, don't you?"
He laughed again and it warmed me. "A...actually, I w-watch..." He shifted slightly, winced. "Farscape."
"Farscape?"
"Farscape."
"The show about the aliens?"
"Mmm."
Amusement was bitter in my throat. "So you like aliens, then?"
"I l-like you, don't I?"
"Now *your* point is pointy."
"C...Can I ask...ask you something?"
"Yeah...hold on a sec." I shifted again, pulling him tighter against me and angling his shoulder a bit so there wasn't a lot of pressure against it. He groaned softly, the fingers of his good hand weak against my back, and I soothed him gently with warm strokes down the long length of his. "Okay, be asky guy."
"H...have you ever...been in love?"
He didn't meet my eyes, so I watched his bowed face for a long moment. His eyelashes lay so softly on his cheeks, lips full and soft. Christ. "Yeah...I have to say I still am."
His voice betrayed his calm expression. "Who?"
Only you, baby.
"Lex? Have you ever believed in something....something perfect. Miracles?"
He was quiet for a moment...a long moment, and I thought he might have passed out before he rose his gaze up at me. "I believe in love surviving death into forever."
Chances, Clark. They don't come everyday but when they do, its for a reason.
Take your chance.
Slowly, methodically...tenderly, I dipped my head down and pressed my lips against his. Surprise, but not really. Hadn't you always felt like this, Clark? Seeing him, watching his smile, catching the long gazes.
You've been in love with him the whole time.
Hard and warm, the tender dip at the center of his top lip a lazy place to suck. He groaned something soft in his throat, responding as much as he could as I changed the angle of the kiss. Cupped his cheeks in my palms...his small, slim face in hands that felt too big for the first time in my life, skimming my thumbs over his cheekbones as I tasted. Took. His warm tongue, a mouth that tasted of fever and pain, but I gave him this. Gave him what we both needed. Gave him my heart.
His cheeks tasted like tears as I tenderly pressed my lips to each as that same heart broke. "Cl...Cla..." He was crying. *Crying*, sobs hitching his chest against mine, grasping the hands at his face with a weak one of his own. "Clark, pl...please don't."
Oh. God.
"I'm sorry...Lex, I--"
"No...no..." His tears were furious, tumbling down his face as he grasped my hand tightly to his face before I could pull away. "I'm d-dying. Don't fall i...in love with me. Don't. Don't make me regret."
"You're not. Lex, you're not dying." I grasped his head between my hands, brought his chin up so he could see me. "We just discovered this. We just found out. You can't die, see? You still have to convince me this is normal. We have to eat dinner and make love and watch movies."
He was still weeping as he held onto me, tighter now, as if I would slip away. Like I was some sort of dream. "Tell...tell me. What e-else would we...we do?"
"Let me drive your Lamborghini." Panic in my heart. "You have to see me graduate. We can go to my tree house by the river... I still have to show you how fast I can run...I still have to take you flying." Panic overload. "You can't die. You can't. We have too much to do still."
"Clark." He slipped forward until his cheek pressed to mine, until his arm wrapped around my back in an embrace. His voice was quiet, so tired, in my ear. "Just stay h...here, a while."
I held him until his breath calmed in sleep, until he was at peace in dreams.
And cried.
* * *
"Lex? Lex!"
Nothing.
"Lex! *Lex*!"
"Sir..."
"Don't "sir" me you fucking twit, just find him."
The damned tornado was gone. Finally. After six long hours of natures hateful wrath, the storm had gone of to bother people to the north of us, leaving unbelievable carnage in its wake.
I was a blasted idiot.
I should have never flown out of Metropolis in this weather, for starters. I shouldn't have come to punch family in its mouth with my money, I should have never ranted and raved like a wild man.
He'd saved my life. After all the hateful things I'd said to him, after I'd threatened to stamp him out of the earth, after I backed him into such a corner that he had no choice but to do what I wanted of him, he saved my life. Never again, as long as I live, would I forget the look in his face when the wood impaled him, stabbed right through him. My son. My son, was all I had wanted to scream. My son, who was god knows where, dead for all I knew. My son who had given his life for mine.
He'd hesitated, and now, as the searchers combed the area a mile from where he'd found his car, I offered a rubbed palm against my aching chest. My son, blood and bones and created from my very loins, had hesitated. I'd seen it there as well, written in his eyes. To save me, to let me die.
We'd found his Jaguar, completely destroyed. Burned all along the front, but with surprising minimal damage to the interior.
Just blood. So much blood.
I was ashamed. Lionel Luthor, at the top of the corporate game, king of cut throats.....and I felt a disgrace untopped in my life. It hadn't always been this way...he and I had once been very close, father and son.
Ive had a long time to think about this, usually over my beverage of choice and the old pictures my wife had always took enormous pleasure in taking of our son. It hadnt happened quickly, not by any means; just a slow progression of heavy wounds and misplaced events that tore us apart. It had seemed that we were once on the same tether, rolling around a pin on the same arrow. As time went by, and my family died slowly from the inside, it seemed Lex and I became very strained, until I felt the heavy tug of that same tether pulling us apart.
As time passed the distance between us grew. Julian's death, then Lillian's, and I closed myself off from the world in every possible way that I could. Including my first born son, who I loved with my entire heart. He grew older and lashed out at my inability to show him how I cared with drugs, alcohol, sex. Crime. He spent more time in jail then he did at home.
I'd pushed him away because I loved him too much. I didn't want him a part of my life. I didn't want him to see the monster I'd become.
I'd tried to fix it; I had. Sent him to the best boarding school in the world, got him into Yale; did everything in the world I could possibly do to make sure he didn't turn out like me...and it still wasn't enough. My son, with his powerful mind and huge heart, was going to self destruct if something wasnt done. It had become that Lex and I were on the opposite sides of that same arrow, hurtling towards one another on a path to conquer or be conquered, and I knew if we hit that center at the velocity we were running at, things were going to get ugly.
So I sent him to Smallville a week after he graduated. His last chance, before I gave up on him entirely and declared myself a failure of a father. Instead of the reports of debauched women and drugs I'd expected, he had made me so proud. Unbelievably proud. No more drugs, no more endless amounts of women. No jail time, nothing. Incidents, here and there, but nothing that required stitches or bribes.
Still, it seemed that we were shooting forward, sheer will power driving behind us until this morning. We'd impacted, heavy and hard and it was the wake up call I'd been waiting for all my life.
The storm, the pillar that pinned me to the ground. The wooden ceiling, which if it had fallen and cracked would have taken my life in an instant.
And he was there. He made me proud, saved my life by giving his. Made me feel such impenatrable love.
I'd give my life now to find him alive and well. To tell him how sorry I was, to ask if I could have another chance.
Even as we searched I felt in my soul that when we did find him, I would no longer be able to look into eyes that still sparked with temper and life.
"Lex! *Lex*!"
* * *
"--*lease*, *if you have any information pertaining to the whereabouts of any missing persons it is asked that you call the police station*, *345*-*1265*. *Again*, *if you have any information pertaining to the whereabouts of any missing persons*, *please call 345*-*1265*."
Heh.
"*It is asked that all the citizens of Smallville please congregate in the high school gym*. *Relief efforts and searches for missing family members will begin shortly*. *Again*, *it is asked that you please come to the high school gym on Crawford Street*. *Medical teams are standing by*, *food*, *water*, *and cots are set up for families who have lost their hom*--"
I clicked the radio off and set my chin on upraised knees. It had drowned out the sounds a little, but I couldn't have sympathy for other people in need right now. Not when I was probably the only one in this whole damn town who needed the most.
Soft...barely breathing. Heavy rasp in....soft exhale out. Weak. Weaker.
Lana had died. Nothing I could have done...nothing. Her skull was crushed all along one side...her insides were outside. Nothing I could have done. She hadn't woken up....she hadn't felt any pain. Just slept until she wasn't sleeping anymore.
Couldn't even cry...so numb.
Lex had promised me. He'd promised he wouldn't leave me alone, he promised he wouldn't die.
Gasp in....pause....slow exhale.
My mind had screamed itself out, and now my thoughts simply floated around the room in an endless array of incoherence. Friendship...the cat his dad gave him for Christmas. Cool winter nights spent talking, movies we'd gone to that had made us laugh untill we wept. The overwhelming need to be....normal.
His generosity, his kind spirit. His need to be someone, rise above his father's bigotry and give back to his community.
Why hadn't I seen it before? Why hadn't I acted on my emotions, instead of pretending Lana held the key to my heart? Why had I been so cowardly, so faithless?
So instead I stretched out beside him like before, cradled him gently in my arms.
"Lex?"
Steady inhale, raspy exhale. Slower. Softer.
"You've got to fight it."
Nothing. He was so still.
"It's worth it, Lex, it's worth that battle. Please, stay with me. Don't leave me here."
*I cant even kill myself to be with you*.
"Please, okay?" Hysteria was starting to come up, and I found myself gagging against food I'd eaten hours ago. "I mean, who am I going to get coffee with...share my latest mishap with Chloe with? Who's gonna listen to me bitch about my parents?"
He stirred, murmuring almost soundlessly into my skin. "Y....you'll..." He opened his eyes to look at me. Barely there, a foot in his grave. "You'll find...s...someone."
I'd forever understand what helplessness really felt like.
"Lex...Lex..." Tears choked my voice and I hugged him in the circle of my arms tighter against me, stroking his back and his smooth head, listened to him breathe. "I can't. I can't find someone. There'll never be anyone like you. Never. Lex, I love you. I love you so much. You hear me, you understand me." Slow rock. It was over. It was over. I was going to watch him die, and there was nothing I could do. "You care for people. I love your smile, and your sneer; I love your bald head and your blue eyes and your laugh. I love you. You're the sweetest person I've ever met."
"C...Cl..." He looked into my eyes, watched me with ones already fading. "I...I am nothing wi....without you."
The ceiling broke.
I let out a heavy cry and covered Lex with my body, shielding him from the pounding rock and gravel that rained down on us like a storm.
Light, blinding sunlight streamed down as I looked up.
And met Lionel Luthor's eyes.
His face. I'll never forget his face, the dull, blinding horror as he reached down, as if he could just pick Lex up and bring him up to the light. Guilt, fatigue, pain.
And a heartbreaking, pure love I knew I would see every day from now on.
* * *
The last thing I saw before the peace swept up to take me was my father's nurturing, love filled eyes staring into mine.
* * *
The following days after the tornado were filled with storms. It was almost as if mother nature was salving her wounded earth after the screaming tempests had destroyed the ground, and it poured rain for a week after.
Not that I caught any of it.
The monotonous beeping never stopped. Beep...beep...beep...and I prayed Lex would get so annoyed by it, so deeply frustrated, that he would sit right up and tear it out of the wall.
Drizzle hit the window in the light breeze, the curtains drawn but for the summer time air, only making the room darker than it was. It was faint except for a very dim light above the bed and the monitors themselves, the green lights bouncing away under my eyes. The whooshing and wheezing from the previous few days was gone, as Lex had made the initial efforts to breathe
on his own.
So, now, there was only silence, in some ways worse then the constant suction of air.
Hesitating only briefly from looking at him, I rose my eyes and gazed at his slim, still form under the sheets. Such soft white skin, cast in so many shadows.
It was the third day, and he still hadn't woken up...hadn't made any improvement at all, in my eyes. He'd been badly injured, they said. The wood had slipped right through his heart, left a sliver there, and I'd saved his life by bandaging him and putting pressure on it.
Whatever. He didn't look very saved to me.
I squeezed his hand softly, tracing my thumb over his small white knuckles. Hunger, the need for sleep...his agony. I could feel it like it were my own pain, heavy and thick like a rotten soup, sloshing in my belly heavily.
"Lex...I don't know if you can hear me, but it's Clark," I whispered, swallowing a lump in my throat. I skimmed my fingertips just barely over his scalp, wishing he didn't have crusted blood around his nose from the tube. Wishing his chest didn't hitch every time it rose "Lex, baby, I need you to come back. I need you to wake up and come back to me."
Christ. This was the breakdown Id been waiting for since Lionel had found us. They'd rushed a rescue team to get us out of the cellar...a tractor had been melted over the cellar door. Literally. Its a miracle they'd found us at all...but hadn't Lex himself said he believed in the miracles of love?
The paramedics had pulled me away, and even now I can hear my sobs echoing in the small cavernous room. As they'd dragged fingers over me to make sure I was alright.
The tedious journey from the cellar to the hospital would be one I wouldn't soon forget. They tightened him up right there in the ambulance as blood poured from the disturbed wound, as...
I choked heavily on a sob and bit my lip tightly.
My parents had come to find me...my father was in the hospital already, suffering a broken leg. My mother, with a kind of astonished, glazed look in her eyes, had told me what had happened with the space craft.
At the moment, I could care less.
I lowered my head and kissed the fingers I'd threaded through mine. Trembled, and I could almost pretend it had been his hand shaking...not mine. "I don't think I can find the words...as cliche as it sounds, I know." I pressed the same hand to my forehead and ducked my head. Here I was, crying again...and I'd thought there were no more tears left in me.
"Lex...theirs nothing I can say that could tell you how I feel." I stroked his fingers softly in mine, unable to look at him. "So many people are counting on you to wake up. Your dad, too. Your dads outside, Lex, he hasn't left. He's so scared. He told me he was so proud of you, he'd always been proud of you...he's scared he wont get to tell you himself. See? You have to wake up, you have to talk to him."
I pressed my face into his thigh, choking. Fucking wuss. Fucking cry baby. "I need you to be with me. I need to explore myself with you...I need to be able to see what your face looks like when you wake up. I want to see if your eyes change, if they're different blues when you're mad or happy. I need to cook for you...need to watch your face light up in pleasure. I want a chance, Lex. I want us to have a chance."
I didn't feel the shifting...didn't see the eyes that looked at my bowed head. Just wept, for a man I may never see moving and talking and laughing again. For a man who I wanted with all my being to love. For a man who had shown me grace and humility, courage and strength, and the boundless depths of the human heart. "Lex...please don't leave me. Not now...not after everything. Not after I found you."
Skim....fingers in my hair.
Crystal clear blue eyes met mine, and parched, cracked lips opened to say words I would never forget. "My angel. My Clark. There is no one on this earth who I love more than you."
The Story of Beauty
When I was little, everyone used to tell me "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree". Where the hell does that phrase come from, anyway? Did some fool decide to mind fuck the children of the world with this stupid, world shattering little phrase?
I would hear this palpable little enigma at galas...parties, philanthropic events. Charity auctions. I heard it going down the street, heard it whispered amongst the help when I played...from my fathers associates and friends, and even from he himself. "You know, Lex, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. No matter how much you fight this--you *will* become me, and you *will* run our business, just as every Luthor has for the past six generations. Don't be the weak link."
You aaaahhhh the weakest link. Good bye!
Whenever I heard them say those kinds of things in passing, I would wonder what other boys my age had done in the past. How children in Russia or Yugoslavia or something had dealt with fathers who were devils incarnate and it was their duty to pass on the family business. Did those boys see the darkness within their fathers? Did they rebel? When faced with such menace had they followed into it, continued the legacy, with open arms?
Or had the strong few defied their bloodline? Had they turned away from such monstrosity, such hideous evil, and looked for light?
My head hurt. Really. I know it's a constant ache, but this time pinpoints of fire speared through my temples like the torches of those forgotten boys. My eyes burned. Blood dripped slowly into my vision, skewing what was left of my sight with tendrils of red.
The storm wasn't just raging outside.
"My...son.... please...help me."
The expression he gave me made the strings of my heart yank furiously. How can such a monster even look at me like that, as if he felt some type of intense love for me, and treat me like his animal to be whipped and disciplined? Who did he think he was dealing with? Some child, who could be manipulated and molded to fit his every whim?
It was the support that had fallen. The long, marble column behind my desk with the sketch of Picasso that my mother had given me the year before she was laid in the ground. Cracked glass, paper peeling around the edges with the fire that had snagged from the candles that had been lit on my desk a moment ago.
The column had been supporting the ceiling beams of the old castle, carefully balancing weight and beauty with their strong arms. Or, well, once had. One of the beams had fallen, cracked right down the middle, and slid down from the top of my study like the hand of God. Its splintered, jagged edges were only a few feet away from impaling the atrocity that I called father. Taking his life from him.
Huh.
Closer, closer, closer. Inching.
What an interesting predicament this was. My father, whom moments before had been threatening my public and physical life, was now trapped. Helpless. Needing me, his son, his *dog*, to save what was left of his wretched, dismal life.
Maybe Clark would swoop in and save me from the darkness that was ebbing at my soul. Maybe suddenly he'd be standing right *there*, smiling at me crookedly like he was wont to do and lead me away from the darkness I was fast approaching.
Somehow, I doubted it.
On my own. What to do? Save him; let him continue to live his pitiful, disgusting little existence until there was nothing left of him. Lose my corporation, my freedom, my honor and my integrity and more then likely, my life as well.
Let him die. Gain the family empire, control whatever I chose. Rule the world, if I so desired.
Choices, choices.
Bile rose hot and heavy in my throat, and it nearly came up before I could stop it. Oh, *God*. No. No.
Betrayal. He had betrayed me. He had lunged down and crushed what I had slaved over for 15 months, squashed the foundation of something good and wonderful that had finally begun in my life under his hand like a bug. With five minutes worth of words he had once again proved to me that he was my boss, my lord and master, and not to forget it. Tiny. Insignificant. He had blamed me for something I hadn't done; cost 2500 people their jobs. Their livelihoods. Hundreds of children would go hungry this month and months to come because my father was a bastard who cared for nothing but himself.
The injustice of it, the pure *unfairness* of what he had done tore at my gut and wrenched what was left of my heart with guilt and mourning for people I didn't even know. My father cared for nothing. Not me, not the family we'd once had. Nothing.
Just profit. And himself.
He was going to die if I didn't do something. So why were my feet planted to the ground? Why didn't I move? Why couldn't I move?
"S...son..." The beam was inching closer with each hard gale against the side of my castle. Eyes, wild and full of fear, searched mine as the horrible realization of what I was contemplating came over him. I could see it in his face, even as I watched that hand of God fall on him.
As the beam fell, its sharp, jagged edge pointed straight for my father's heart, I think maybe it *was* God who took over my feet. I've never been very religious, stopped believing in anything the night my mother passed over, but I'm sure something moved me and saved my soul.
A brief resistance.... then nothing, just warm heat as I shielded a man who cared nothing for me. Detached sympathy as I eyed the wood sliding through my shoulder...not enough...god, it wouldn't be enough, and the stark terror in my father's eyes told me a thousand words.
I wasn't sure if the dark smell of urine came from him or me.
Come on. Come *on*. I pushed against the splintered rafter as hard as I was physically able to, as hard as my taxed muscles would allow. Then the weight simply fell, tumbled right off my body and into the ground. Crashed through the tile...deeper.
My father lost consciousness as the splinter slid out through my shoulder and left a gaping, bloody mess.
Shit. I didn't look at it...too much pain to even consider right now.
I'd nearly let my father die.
Die.
Die.
I was behind a steering wheel, staring at the street as the Kansas farmlands whisked by on either side of me. Jesus Christ, Jesus, save me. Aching, aching with unshed tears, with terror. Car. Car. I was in...in the Jag. I was okay. My car. Had gotten in my car.
Jacket. Had put my jacket on. Christ, Lex, what are we doing here? Going out for a Sunday drive?
Car, car, car. Nice car. Couldn't feel the steering wheel, the pleasure I always took from the soft material under my fingers not even existent. Numb.
I looked at them, pale and clammy under the storms light. Interesting. Maybe I'd gotten my shoulder again; maybe it was the same spot my old friend had stabbed me in so many years ago on that dark night.
Somehow, that seemed seriously unlikely.
My poor leather seats...blood never came out of leather seats. How depressing. Maybe if I'd let my father die I could have made a cleaning solution..."Lex's Blood Cleaner- For all those Trials and Tribulations you have no control over." Heh. I'd charge a fortune for it, too. A whole black market for politicians and crack dealers.
It wasn't pain, per se. I've felt pain. This was more like...heat. Burning heat, licking at the inside of my skin. Was this what a breakdown felt like? It was neat, because somehow the little car had hit 100 miles an hour and it felt like I was going 30.
Maybe I was beyond a breakdown. What came after mental instability? A stroke? Insanity?
Too late for that.
The tornadoes were ripping Smallville apart with their wrath. They had Mother Nature at their disposal, and *Goddamn* was she pissed. Everything in their path had been destroyed beyond recognition. The middle of Main Street, as it whizzed by my window, looked like a third world country post-bombing. The Talon, rebuilt and beautiful and once a spot to congregate for coffee and talk now lay in shambles on the street. Or what I think was the Talon.
Couldn't really see it through the haze of pain, and that was a blessing.
Fading, fading, fading. God, I promise that if you get me through this I'll come to every Mass that there is, I'll give all my money to this town, I'll let them all sleep in my fucking *bed*, just don't let me die. Not yet.
Clark.
My beautiful Clark. Dark haired, bright eyed farm boy. My farm boy. Mine. Mineminemine. Be damned if I didn't tell him how I felt before I died. Be damned. Be Goddamned.
The sky rumbled and quaked. Sorry, God. No more vain-ing.
Spinning.
Spinning, spinning, spinning.
*Boom*.
Then nothing.
* * *
Sometimes I really hate having powers.
Okay, that just made me feel bad, just then. I am...but I'm not...you know? I'm not ungrateful for what I can do...not by a long shot. Its fun being able to run exceptionally fast and have x-ray vision and be all...well...super. I'm living a comic geeks dream. Except the part where I wear tights and a cape, of course. I've saved a ton of people...damned less than half that many, and at the end of the day I went do bed knowing I'd done my best.
On the other hand, other times...its like some outside force is testing me. It can be so trying, to be solid and full of control and feel...so powerless.
A personal pet peeve of mine.
A pet peeve which had blown way out of proportion of course. Everything was just about as bad as it could be right now, and that really... really sucked.
Puns for 100, Alex.
Lana was broken in my arms. Unconscious. Her fragile female body had been ripped and cut and tossed around like the proverbial rag doll. Her skin was a mess, and after picking her up, I tried not to look too much. Who knew Clark Kent had a weak stomach?
Well, *I* did, as I am Clark Kent. Okay. Don't lose it yet, Clark. Time for that later. Now. Thinking!
Her weight was solid and heavy in my arms, and I could feel what blood was coming out of her dripping down my chest and legs. However, unfortunately, that wasn't the greatest of my problems. No, because said Mr. Kent can't keep himself out of trouble. In fact, he goes looking for it.
Lex's Jaguar had become a speed racer, and he zoomed at me going way.... way too fast.
Okay. C'mon, Clark. You have all this power, and a very little brain. Think, dammit. Just don't walk through the tornado, cause as funny as flying cows are in that one movie, flying people are dead. C'mon. Think. Think!
Hee. I'd classified myself as "people". I'm so amusing.
Debris was flying around me like airborne missiles, each on a trajectory to try and hit me. It was unbelievable...the most amazing thing I'd ever experienced, to stand in something like this and know it was very possible I was a dead man walking. Or, dead alien walking. Whatever. I've never been in the eye of a storm of this magnitude...never been close enough to experience what a tornado truly was. But this.... this.
And there I stood, in the peace and quiet of the center of all of this, with Lana Lang bleeding to death in my arms and Lex Luthor barreling towards me like a bat out of hell.
To think, I'd missed out on all the Prom shenanigans for *this*. Cause really, I was having *so* much fun. What better fun it is to ditch a beautiful woman in a beautiful dress with beautiful lips and arms and eyes to enter the world of mega death.
Bad things have happened to me before. Horrible, scary things. Been shot at, almost skewered, tied up in a field to die. Thrown into a car, thrown under a car. Been frozen alive, been attacked by bees. Everything that could have happened to me has.
And this still topped the cake.
Wouldn't think about it right now. Couldn't. Too much to digest. Just get through it, Clark. Put away good old terror for now, breathe, and get through this because if you don't, you're going to die, and you're going to take your two best friends with you.
Damnit.
I knew she was badly hurt, and I held her close to me like a sagging blanket, tightly as I could. All of her beautiful hair tumbled calmly down from her head...it, the blades of grass under my feet unmoving as the tempest screamed its wrath. Houses...tractors...cars. People, who I wished with all my heart I could have saved, even as they flopped along in the wind. Couldn't think about that now. No. God, no.
Animal's...entire sets of living room furniture. Glass, sharp as knives. Toys. Tree's. The statues of David and Goliath from downtown.
And through it, through this chaotic mess of humanity, I saw Lex driving towards me like a mad man.
Half-blind with exhaustion, I x-rayed to get a closer look at him.
Half of his shoulder was torn out.
I let the cry of horror escape me. Nearly, *nearly* dropped Lana. God, Christ, what had happened
to him? He was trying to get help, trying to find someone to help him, even as he sagged against the steering wheel and the car started a slow, sickening spin.
Fate had offered up an ultimatum, and it just now dawned on me, like a thunk to the head.
Help Lana, and Lex would die.
Save Lex, and Lana would fly away in the wind to join the rest of the dead.
Fate was so mean to me. No way could this shit happen to normal people.
I would not be given a choice as to who would live. Do you hear me, God? I am not going to choose between two people I love. I'm just not, so you decide what you're gonna do, okay? Because I'll be damned if I'm going to decide who you take and who you leave. I'm not you.
I'm just Cyclops.
* * *
"Hurry! C'mon!"
"I can't...you have to...to slow down!"
He was going too fast... couldn't keep up. Calves burning, feet numb, breath coming in short puffs, and I wished he would slow down and wait for me, but he never did. Just turned to laugh and sped on. "You've got to! We're almost there."
"It's just a tree house. Why do we always have to run so fast?"
"Because we do."
"I'm gonna tell my mom."
"What? That the all mighty Lexy can't run for beans?"
"I'm not a freak."
"No, just *slow*. C'*mon* already, I'm here in case anything comes out. I'm gonna be in the second grade before you catch up."
"Oh....wow. Look! The fireflies are back, they're back!"
"Yeah, and we can see them if you move your legs."
Running, more running, and if felt so good to be able to breathe without gasping for asthmatic air. "Look. Look at that."
"I can see it, Lex. I see. Can you hear me?"
"What?"
My childhood friend took on the face of my adult one, and bright green eyes the same color of that glade stared into mine.
Ohh.
Then sharp, bright, *piercing*, ithurtsbadpleasehelpme and I'm pretty sure that long wail of agony was from me. God, oh GodohJesus in heaven help me.
"Help me, it hurts, Clark please, help me, it hurts, knife, stabbing me, it hurts, take it, take it away, ayudame, por el amor de dios, ayudame!"
Nothing compared to this. Nothing was even close to this.
Except for emptiness.
* * *
There was nothing I could do. Nothing. Blood, so much blood. Everywhere, hands and legs and chest and head. On that lovely soft scalp. It was like stepping into a pool of red...I'd felt it dripping everywhere, everywhere down my back and legs, running from a monster created by nature who very badly wanted us to join the ranks of the dead.
Shudders wracked over me for a half a moment of weakness, and I took an opportunity to look at our surroundings, survey where I'd brought us. A storm cellar...old Mrs. Beagleman's. The sweet old lady had died a few weeks back, and I guess no one had cleaned out her basement yet. Pickled jars of jelly and fruits sat on low shelves...some cracked and broken on the ground from the rumblings and shakings of the earth.
The walls and floor were nothing but gravel and dirt, with a large enough rug against one wall, where Clark and Lana lay now. The stairs were behind Lana's still form, caved in from the pure velocity of the storm...and the doors were 8 feet above.
Trapped.
I didn't let it bother me for the moment...I could figure out a plan in a pinch and get us out of here if the situation called. But right now....the situation was calling for something completely different.
I scanned over the room with my x-ray vision, looking for...--
Bingo.
As gently as I could possibly muster I lay Lex down on one of the blankets I'd found, keeping my balled up suit jacket tight on his wound. A look to Lana, who looked like she was taking a light nap and I. Could not. Think. She was...there wasn't....
Concentrate, Clark.
I crawled around the two carefully, not bothering to climb to my feet in the low ceiling room, and dragged an old box out from behind the crumbled stairs.
There was a first aid kit, three more tightly wrapped blankets, a flashlight that worked despite its dim glow, water, and vanilla wafers inside. No cell phone or walkie-talkie, but there was a ham radio. We'd make do.
God bless you, Mrs. Beagleman.
I sat back on my haunches, wiped my dirty hands over my dirtier dress pants, and dragged the box back over to where I'd been sitting next to Lex. The storm itself screamed right over us, loud and piercing and furious. What do you want with me, tempest? Huh? Another chew toy? Fuck you. Fuck all of you.
Fuck. You. Do you hear me? *Fuck you*!
Tears fell from eyes that burned. "Fuck you, *fuck you*. We're going to live, goddamn you, we're going to live and you're not! Leave us *alone*!"
Oh, God, God all mighty. Was it the adrenaline that'd done it? The fear, the fury at the earth itself?
It was fuzzy in my minds eye...so much debris to look through, the wind as fast and furious as anything I'd ever seen. Lex Luthor barreling towards me.
Something had come out of my eyes.
I touched my closed, wet lids as if they would give me the answer. Another power. Jesus. I wish I could just get all of them at once and be done with it. This one had scared the life out of me with its intensity. Like...almost like lasers, red as blood and *strong*, and--
He groaned. Deep, moving, and I looked on with a dull terror. Oh, Lex. Don't wake up, it's going to--
Gasping, heavy gasping, and a dark groan of pain. He was so dirty...all those miles of clean, hairless skin were marred with dirt and red, his bright blue eyes like beacons in the soot. "C...Cl..."
"Yeah...Lex, hey." I touched his hand...took it in mine, and squeezed. "Hey there."
He looked at me with a sort of hazy blinking, as if he almost couldn't believe I was sitting here with him. Yeah, well, where else would I be? "Clark?"
"Yeah...it's...it's definitely me. Can you see me okay?"
He closed his eyes, and despite it, a tight smile slipped across his face. "Which one of you?"
"So. Not. Funny." A shake of my head, and I curled up Indian style, murmuring softly. "How're you...." Pause. "I'm gonna slip something under your head, okay? Hold on a second." I rooted in the box for a moment and came out with one of the thick blankets, turning to face him with apologetic eyes. "I'm gonna.... here we go." I slid my palm under his warm neck and lifted.... his cry loud and in my ear, fingers grasping weakly at my shirt and sliding off. I winced, folding the blanket into a makeshift pillow under him, and came back with blood on my hands.
As I lay him back down there were tears in his eyes.
"Hey...there we go. Better?"
"Oh," --gasp-- "yeah, the knives shooting through m...my back are spectacular."
"Smart-ass." I bit my lip softly. He was so pale...not unlike always, but just...*pale*. The cut above his eyebrow was small but deep, and I gently wiped away the smear of red down his cheek. He was losing too much blood. C'mon, Kent. C'mon. Pull it together, just for a little while longer, you can do this. You *have* to do this. "Lex...I've gotta.... gotta clean you up a little. I...its gonna hurt like shit, but..."
I almost saw it click into place in his eyes. "I'm dying, huh?"
"No." *No*. "Not dying, but you're loosing a little too much...too, ah, much. Blood. Don't worry, okay?" I tried for a light tone and only came out sounding strangled. "I took first aid like a good little farm boy."
His chuckle sounded like hysteria. "Okay." He shifted a little.... probably feeling for feet and arms and knees, making sure everything was still in place. His left leg was fractured.... I'd seen it with my handy dandy x-ray vision, and he winced almost silently, not moving anymore. Instead, he watched me start to pull things from the small kit.... peroxide, tape, bandaging that wouldn't be enough. What can you use for bandaging, Clark? Don't waste any more blankets...you...your shirt. Use the dress shirt, your T-shirts fine. Unbuttoned it.... pulled it off. Tore the little tie off, then systematically ripped the shirt into ten long strips. Enough? Would it be enough? Thank God I was a big guy. Flashlight. What about a splint? What can you...?
"C...Clark...is she..?..."
he startled me from my thoughts and I looked down at him before traveling his gaze to Lana's quiet form. The frog in my throat leapt hard and high, choking me for a minute before I could speak. "There...there's nothing I can do."
And we left it at that.
It took me a minute to be able to speak again, and felt his gaze travel over my face. "O...okay, Lex. Ah...erm. Can you maybe sit up?"
"You've got to be kidding."
"Okay. Point." I had to get his jacket off. Okay. Okay. Leather jacket. A glance at his face told me he wasn't all together with me, so if I ripped his coat up with my bare hands, he wouldn't mind. Or probably notice.
I did just that, ripping the sleeves length wise down the sides of his body, so it sort of fell off of him. Warming his back and protecting his wound from any dirty, but not impeding what I had to do.
Go. Clark.
"Lex, what the hell happened?"
I watched his expression get dark and glassy with anger and fatigue and fury, and a chill raced down my spine. "A beam from the ceiling in my office fell. Got me, in my shoulder. Through the back."
It didn't just get your shoulder, baby.
"Okay. That explains why" the front of your chest looks like chopped beef. "You're bleeding so much. Okay. um." I lifted my suit jacket off his wound slowly; the lingering, sticky sound of congealed blood making the both of us wince. The spray of it almost hit me in my face, and I quickly pressed the jacket back on with surprise. Damn this was...damn. Don't faint, Clark. "Lex...don't look, okay?"
"How c....can I n...n-not?" He gasped and looked at the ceiling as his face went sheet white.
"By not looking down." Firm nod. Don't. Faint. Clark. Do not faint. Not only is it supremely non-manly, but you'll leave your best friend with no one to help him, and probably bleed to death. Okay? So, breathe.
Inhale. Exhale.
A tiny gasping laugh, and my patient murmured, "You're paler then me, farm boy."
"So not any type of amusing." I whispered, and I unscrewed the cap of peroxide. "I gotta clean it, Lex. This stuff isn't supposed to sting, but, you know, bullshit. So...." I rolled one of the strips of shirt into a square and poured the peroxide onto it. "I.... I've never had to do this, so.... em, if you wanna, you know, yell, its okay."
He looked at me with sharp, hooded eyes, and before he could say anything, I slipped my hand underneath the jacket and pressed the cloth to the wound itself. Okay. Good! He shuddered, but better a shudder then a scream of pain. I pulled the jacket up and off, pressing more of the material to the wound as the first strip began to stain red. Five long strips, for the front, and blood...blood was everywhere. Everywhere. He was shaking, eyes glassy and lips a light shade of blue. "Don't...Lex, stay with me! Don't pass out, I need you to help me, stay...stay awake."
My ears were ringing. My eyes were trapped with black spots.
Without looking too much, I found the back wound...not bleeding as badly. Okay. Okay, good. C'mon, Clark, just like the summer where you found the cow impaled with a piece of wood. Remember? Just like that. Lex isn't Lex, he isn't gasping and grasping your arm in pain, he's just like that cow. It's okay.
I pressed the shirt pieces to the back as well, and took his trembling, soft fingers, pressing them to the wound on his chest. "Here. Keep your hand here." I let go of his wrist and his hand shook so badly it slipped off. "*No*." I looked him in his eyes. Christ. He was fading out. "Don't. Let. Go. Keep it on."
I wrapped the light gauze across his chest, trapping the strips of shirt each time I passed. I wrapped two rolls around him, securing them as tightly as I could to staunch the flow.
His fingers still held on, lifting with each pass of the gauze, slipping now until finally his eyes rolled back and he fell unconscious. He was such a strong man, so brave. Who else would have been able to keep a bandage on their chest like that? Not me, that's for sure.
Done. The bandages were taped and done.
The last thing I was aware of before I passed out was my heart beating in time with the furious tornado.
* * *
Fingers woke me up. Strong, long jointed, thick. Heavy male hands.
*Pain*.
I inhaled stiffly around it, trying to squirm, get me away from it, it hurts, it *hurts*.
"Lex...shhh...hey, Lex."
Its not okay, its very far from being okay, it *hurts*! Can't you see that? Help me, Goddamnit! Help me!
"Lex...Lex...I'm here...hold on to me, here. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. Just breathe...take deep breaths."
I squeezed my eyes tightly before opening them...to blindness. Christ. I couldn't see, I was...
Clark.
There, there he was. Huge, burly and protective, his enormous hands wrapped around one of my own, rubbing the warmth back into them. God, I remembered. My father.... the accident. Then here, Clark, pale and shaking and bandaging me up like a good little soldier. This was my punishment. It had to be. To finally have Clark, here, so close, and I was in too much pain to do anything about it.
My punishment for nearly letting my father die. Pain.
This couldn't be any worse than the time I decided to try ecstasy while blown on vodka. *That* had been out of this world. Literally. There's only so many times a doctor can scream "Clear!" before they have you on their permanent "Resuscitated" list. There had been a time when they reserved a room just for me every weekend.
Good old days that weren't so good.
Just another screw up on my part. My whole life had been nothing but screw-ups...from a young, innocent child to the well fucked, wracked in pain, humble old soul I was today. I could see it in his eyes when he came in to tell me my plans, *my* plans, for *my* plant, were fruitless. That he would destroy the lives of anyone who joined, destroy innocent people who were just trying to save their families from poverty.
The fucking *bastard*. I hated him, so much, so--
"Lex...hey, Lex. Stay with me here."
Clark. Beautiful, innocent boy. Looking at me with fear and loneliness and a dark kind of stark terror. God, I remember. Driving through Smallville like it was my personal highway, then....*then*. Clark standing in that storm with Lana in his arms, and I knew I was going to hit him again. *Again*. I knew it, but I couldn't stop myself. Couldn't push the brake...it was almost as if my body had stopped responding. No matter how much I wanted to move, I couldn't bring myself to even raise a finger as I watched my destiny come rushing at me.
Then here, this cellar. Waking up to shocking pain, and his face. His worried eyes.
The storm was over our heads, screaming its wrath and fury, and wasn't that something?
"Cl...Clark." My throat felt like it had needles in it. "Clark..."
"Hey...yeah, hey. It's me. How are you holding up?"
Sweet. So naive. "Al...all right. What..."
"We're...uh...we're still in the cellar. The tornadoe's are about a mile or so to the west...but they're not moving. So...we're gonna be here for a while."
The cellar. I remembered...I could smell it now, berries. Fruits. Strange. "C...Clark..." I focused in on his face. "Are t...there any drugs?"
Wish I could have explained myself a little better, because I didn't have the energy and he was blinking at me strangely. "Do I have any drugs? No....um....." Click. Good boy. "Oh! You mean...yes! Theirs some Motrin in here. I was trying to decide how much to give you without you ODing on me, but--"
"I can take...take four." I'd only taken them every morning for the better part of my adolescence. Nothing better to break a headache and calm the nausea.
"Okay." He nodded and let go of my hand, disappearing from my view before returning with pills in the palm of his hand and a tiny plastic cup of water that looked even more minature in his large hand. He set them aside a moment, getting close...closer...until his warm breath was on my face and his hands were starting to wrap around me. "You gotta.... gotta sit up a little, Lex."
Yeah, and my sucking chest wound was gonna allow that. Sure. "N...no. I can't."
"Sorry. No choice." He nodded and....oh sweet mother of God.
He swung his legs on either side of me...straddling me, and slipped his hands under my armpits. Close, very very very close, and I wish to God I could have enjoyed the sweet honey of his skin. Instead, the agony had me biting a hole through my lip and trying very hard not to start screaming like the chicken shit I was starting to feel like. He lifted...gently, very gently, and *strong*, sitting me up in more of a recline then just sitting down. I could see a little more of our homey abode of death, and my chest.
The bandage was tight, trapping the wound carefully, and stained with blood. Lovely.
He sat there on his left leg; the other pulled up to his chest as he held out the water and pills. Oh, Clark, I'm sorry.
I tried, honestly, I did. I didn't want to show him I was this badly along, didnt want him to see me in my moment of weakness. Of all people, he was here to witness what a pansy ass I was.
Shame.
As soon as he set the cup in my hand it shook so badly it fell, and I gasped in pain at the immediate attempt to grab it before it splashed everywhere.
The world swam for several seconds and he called for me...fuzzy...hard to hear.... then a cool rush in my mouth that I could barely choke down around the needles. I could feel his fingers on my lips, the far away order to swallow, and I did. Two pills.... gone. Third, swallowed. The fourth heavy and hard and I could barely get it down without choking. Christ.
A few more moments to orient myself...and I was okay. Things were okay, or as okay as they were going to be for the time being.... which now that I thought about it, weren't really that okay. He was staring at me with fear, friendship....and something else, but with a single touch to his hand I reassured him. It's gonna be okay, Clark. I won't leave you with two dead people, don't worry.
I nodded my thank you to him, closing my eyes for a second until the vertigo calmed itself down. "How...how's Lana?"
I glanced up just in time to see the purest expression of guilt I'd ever seen on a human beings face. "She...she...um...." Then a moment later, realized it wasn't guilt. Just *sadness*. Horrible, wrenching sadness I never thought I'd see him wear. "She's not dead, but.... her head is...it's bad. I fixed it as well as I could, but..." He shook his head and trained his eyes to the ground.
Tears coated his throat; I could hear them as he spoke softly, as he tried to hide his emotions from me. Trying to be a man, when he was nothing more then a scared kid with a half dead rich guy sitting in front of him and a tornado over his head.
I chuckled.
His gaze was so surprised I almost choked on it. Touched his arm softly, shook my head with apology. "Just thinking. Only...only you would be stuck with a playboy billionaire in Kansas in a basement in the middle of a tornado."
Classic, if not slightly dim, Clark Kent smile, and it warmed my heart. "I'm glad I'm not alone. I'm glad you're here."
I could now die happy. "What is it that you young whipper sn...snappers say these days? Ditto?" Cheesed out grin that must have looked like a grimace to him. "Ditto."
He smiled a bit and turned away.... and out of the corner of my eyes I saw him skim his fingertips over Lana's cool face, watched as he bowed his head to listen to her breathe.
"How is she d...--"
"Lex, what the hell happened to you?"
I blinked a little and tipped my head to watch him as he turned back to me, catching the guarded expression and moving on. "How...how'd you get "what the hell happened to you" f-from "ditto"?"
Dizzy, dizzy. It was so warm in here.
"Just did. You weren't answering me before." He was like a stern parent, giving me the eagle eye as if that still worked. Take lessons from my dad, Clark, he can make you piss your pants with fear. "Lex, what happened?" His mouth was hard, but his voice had such a note of concerned sadness that I had to give in. Had to.
Damn him and his doe eyes.
I was aware of my voice getting quiet, as the emotion choked at my lungs. Suppressed saying anything for a moment, fighting the internal war that was a side effect of dealing with my family. Hard to get emotion out...impossible to stop once it started.
What the hell. You're dying, Lex. You might as well be open.
"I almost let him die."
Green iris's looked into my blue. "What?"
"My father." Soft murmur. "He was trapped...I almost let him die."
"But...your shoulder...."
"I saved him."
"Then why....?"
"I was almost a murderer. I almost let him die, in payment of all the times he's made me suffer. Clark, I'm a murderer."
"You're not." Steady hand on my shoulder. "You're not. You had a normal reaction to someone who's hurt you time and time again, that's all. Normal. You had mercy for him because you're a good man."
"I can remember the day I realized my father didn't love me."
"Lex..." He looked at me with grief in his eyes.
"My seventh birthday." I interrupted quietly, staring at the ceiling over his head. "All my friends from school were over...the sun was shining. We were sitting on the floor in a circle in my parents' living room, with cupcakes and presents and paper...laughter. My dad wasn't there...I didn't know what happened to him, he'd always been there for my birthday. So I opened all my presents..." My voice was hitching; eyes were burning with filmy tears. My chin kept quivering so hard, and I hoped to God he wouldn't be embarrassed. "He came in after everyone had gone home, wearing his suit and tie. He told me he'd forgotten." I paused a moment, shifting my eyes to him. "Clark, do you know what that does to a seven year old little boy? This man was my *hero*. I would sit next to him every night after dinner and he would tell me stories about when he was a little boy...he'd put me to bed, kiss my cheeks and tell me he loved me. This man had forgotten my *birthday*? The same birthday I had hinted at for two weeks?"
"After that things went downhill. I was still upset with him when Little Julian died, and that was the first step in his total alienation from me. I think he thought Julian would be the boy who wouldn't be so delicate...who would carry on the family business. I think I realized he wasn't the man I thought he was.... the stories stopped, and it became so he never even told me he loved me. After the meteor shower and the accident...he barely even looked at me. Like I was a monster, a freak, a waste of space. My mother died, soon after. He stopped kissing me goodnight. I stopped spending any time with him at all...days would go by and I wouldn't see him. It destroyed me inside, Clark. I was a little kid and the man I worshipped, the only person I had left, stopped acknowledging I existed. Everything became about proving to him that I was someone to be recognized." My voice broke on the last words, nausea taking over my belly. "He's forgotten my birthday every year since."
The cellar was deathly quiet for a long moment before he spoke. "You love him, even now."
"Yes." The tears were going to come, and there was nothing I could do. "Yes."
With ancient wisdom is his movements he took my hand, squeezed it softly between both of his. His face was very strangely hooded, as if he was trying to make a decision. Like he was fighting a demon waging inside of him. "In a strange way...I understand, Lex." Before I could ask, he spoke, eyes clear and tight. "My parents sent me away. Not because they didn't love me.... the opposite. They loved me too much. They put me into a space pod and sent me away from their planet to save my life, not knowing if I would live or die, be enslaved or ripped apart by other peoples, killed on other planets. They're dead...my people are dead. All of them are gone; it's just me. I'm unique, in the entire galaxy. And I'm alone."
I've never felt so speechless in all my life. Never been at a loss for words. Never felt so close, so cold.
"I was the cause of the meteor shower. The meteors are actually fragments of my home that became charged with a negative energy and caused me to crash into the earth. A part of my family is still with me, in a way. I see them in my heart, and I think sometimes they're proud of me. They've been with me every step of the way. Martha and Jonathan.... my parents here, my *family*, found me after their truck overturned. I think a part of them knew what I was...but they took me into their home, made me a part of them, anyway."
"Clark..."
"Let me finish. About a year and a half ago, when I hit puberty, my powers started to emerge. My birth records say I'm 15.... but my heart says that's not true. I'm at least 19, or 20, by earth years." A self indulgent, very small smile. "At least physically, anyway."
"Clark...I...why are you..?..."
"Because. You trusted me to dig into your wound when didn't know what the hell I was doing. You trusted me with why you and your father are always at war, and I know you've never told anyone else. I trust you, with my secret."
Speechless. Speechless.
"Powers?"
"Yeah." He said it quietly, slipping down to sit cross-legged and close to me. "The summer of the seventh grade I found out I could run...really fast. Really."
"How fast?"
"Speed of sound."
"Oh." Hysteria bubbled in my chest.
"I have x-ray vision. I'm very, very strong. I can float for a few seconds at a time, but not consciously...I'm usually asleep for it."
I couldn't help it...I laughed, very softly, and the churning in my gut leapt. "Wet dream?"
"Perv." He grinned at me sideways, and I hoped he saw the understanding, the acceptance I felt, not the sickness. "And....a few hours ago, I found out I can shoot laser beams out of my eyes."
A moment passed, as I tried to gather my thoughts. Thoughts, thoughts, swimming in different directions.
"Clark?"
"Yeah?"
"You're a comic book geeks dream."
He stared at me for a moment before bursting out laughing, shifting until.... until he was lying next to me, watching the ceiling. Close. So close. So. Close. "Don't I know it." Warm.
A while passed and I didn't say anything, just inched closer. I hoped he didn't get the wrong idea, or feel strange about this, but I had to. I had to. Some invisible driving force was pushing me to his center of heat...like an inferno laying right next to the cold. Closer still, and he shifted a bit to accommodate my movement. Well, tough noogies for him. I lay my head on his chest abruptly, the blissful heat warming the side of my face.... and suddenly he was up on his elbow, looking down at me strangely, and taking his heat with him. "Lex?"
"Mmm?" Please don't be insulted if I barf.
"How're you feeling?"
"Okay."
"You...um." Without warning Clarks palm slid across my face, and I wish to God I had the energy to feel anything other than how cool he felt against my skin. How incredibly refreshing and good, the nausea settling down to a dull ache in the pit of my belly.
He gasped.
"Lex.... Lex. You're burning up."
"What?" I stared at him incredulously as he sat up and peeled the blanket off me. Shit. The cold air hit me and I shivered violently, groaning softly with loss. "W...Why'd you t...take the blanket, for?" Bastard.
"Fever. You have a fever."
"I don't have any fever. I'm fine." And cold and clammy and my face was too hot and my belly was in knots and my shoulder hurt so badly. "I feel fine."
* * *
He didn't look fine. He looked the opposite of fine. Fine was on the other side of the planet. Cheeks flushed, lips pale, body shuddering in cold. His eyes told me he was fading out, glassy and vacant.
God. Oh Jesus, God, someone come find us.
"Not gonna leave you here with two dead people." He murmured, meeting my eyes as my shaking fingers uncapped the jug of water. "Not gonna make you sleep with corpses."
Why hadn't I seen how bad he was earlier?
No more clothe. I didn't have any more clothe for a compress.
Wait...Clark. Yes, you do.
I pulled my T-shirt over my head and tipped the gallon over slowly, dropping a good amount on the shirt until it sopped grey. I squeezed it out just a little and set it on Lex's overly warm forehead, his low gasp and shudder breaking my heart. "I'm c-cold, Clark, take it....take it away, I'm cold, so cold."
No more blankets. Lana and Lex both were lying on one. She had one over her cool body, one was keeping Lex alive by putting pressure on his back. Another wrapped around his body...and I was out of choices.
Not enough. Not enough.
I couldn't leave them to find help. I couldn't move them and take them with me; Lana was a few short hours away from death, with Lex right on her tail. I couldn't leave...Lex needed me right now so much. I needed to be here, in case....in case he stopped being able to breathe. In case anything.
So I did what Id been trained to do by the good old Boy Scouts.
Slowly, carefully, I stretched out beside him, as close as I could get. Turned on my side and wrapped my arms around his pale, shaking body, one across his chest and the other around his belly, feeling the shivers and the chatters of his teeth in my ear. I scooted close...closer, pulling one of his legs between mine. Hip to hip, chest to chest, face to face.
He stared at me, and though he was half out of his mind with fever, I could tell that he knew what I was doing, and didn't mind anyway. "So...so many t-times I...I dreamt of this." A soft chuckle that was all sadness, pressing his uninjured hand to my chest. "Now I can't even...even enjoy it."
Something quiet clicked into place in my heart, and I watched his face as his eyes closed, as his head slid forward.
Oh.... my God.
"Lex?" Let me think, give me just a minute here. Don't break my heart just yet.
"Super powers, mm? C-can you...take me to California on foot?"
I watched him with surprise, sliding my fingertips over his scalp as my mind raced. "In an hour and ten minutes."
A chuckle, a wince, and he smiled. "T-that...that's got to be cool."
"Oh yeah. Gives me windburn, though." I teased gently. He let his eyes flutter closed and his long, lean body finally settled against mine. Quiet with rest, his wound permeating awesome amounts of heat. Infection. Infection, Clark.
A while passed without anything said, just the calm, comfortable silence of friends.
Of lovers.
"Clark?"
"Mmhmm?" I murmured, stroking his back softly.
"How long? H...have we....we been in here?"
"About...mmm...4 hours."
"T...the tornado...its g-gone. Why...?...."
"I can't leave you." Soft mumble into his scalp. "You might need me."
You might die without me here.
"B..but...Lana?"
The hardest decision I'd ever had to make. "She's....Lex, her brain is....is not inside anymore."
He keened his sadness softly, not moving from his spot on my chest. "Nothing?"
"No. I tried, Lex, while you were unconscious. She..."
"I....I understand." He muttered softly.
A moment went by...then another, before I spoke again. "Lex?"
"Mmmm?"
"Do you have dreams about the future?"
"What do you mean?"
"About what--" Light chuckle. "About what you want to be when you grow up."
Quiet for a moment, before he nodded just a little against my chest. "Yes. But not the kind you think."
"Yeah?"
"Yes." A pause. "What about you?"
"Oh yeah...most definetly."
"Tell me?"
"I want to be a fireman."
I think he laughed so he wouldn't cry. "A fireman, huh."
"Yep. Or, you know, a reporter for a newspaper."
"Clark...you c-couldn't be a media h...hound even if you wanted to be."
Pointedly ignored his pain laced voice. "Sure I could. I bug you all the time, don't I?"
He snickered very softly. "Y...your point is very pointy."
"Lex?"
"Mmmm?"
"What do you watch on TV?"
"Clark, are...are you gonna l-let me sleep?"
"No."
Sigh. "I don't watch TV."
"Liar."
"I...I don't."
"I bet you watch Gilmore Girls, don't you?"
He laughed again and it warmed me. "A...actually, I w-watch..." He shifted slightly, winced. "Farscape."
"Farscape?"
"Farscape."
"The show about the aliens?"
"Mmm."
Amusement was bitter in my throat. "So you like aliens, then?"
"I l-like you, don't I?"
"Now *your* point is pointy."
"C...Can I ask...ask you something?"
"Yeah...hold on a sec." I shifted again, pulling him tighter against me and angling his shoulder a bit so there wasn't a lot of pressure against it. He groaned softly, the fingers of his good hand weak against my back, and I soothed him gently with warm strokes down the long length of his. "Okay, be asky guy."
"H...have you ever...been in love?"
He didn't meet my eyes, so I watched his bowed face for a long moment. His eyelashes lay so softly on his cheeks, lips full and soft. Christ. "Yeah...I have to say I still am."
His voice betrayed his calm expression. "Who?"
Only you, baby.
"Lex? Have you ever believed in something....something perfect. Miracles?"
He was quiet for a moment...a long moment, and I thought he might have passed out before he rose his gaze up at me. "I believe in love surviving death into forever."
Chances, Clark. They don't come everyday but when they do, its for a reason.
Take your chance.
Slowly, methodically...tenderly, I dipped my head down and pressed my lips against his. Surprise, but not really. Hadn't you always felt like this, Clark? Seeing him, watching his smile, catching the long gazes.
You've been in love with him the whole time.
Hard and warm, the tender dip at the center of his top lip a lazy place to suck. He groaned something soft in his throat, responding as much as he could as I changed the angle of the kiss. Cupped his cheeks in my palms...his small, slim face in hands that felt too big for the first time in my life, skimming my thumbs over his cheekbones as I tasted. Took. His warm tongue, a mouth that tasted of fever and pain, but I gave him this. Gave him what we both needed. Gave him my heart.
His cheeks tasted like tears as I tenderly pressed my lips to each as that same heart broke. "Cl...Cla..." He was crying. *Crying*, sobs hitching his chest against mine, grasping the hands at his face with a weak one of his own. "Clark, pl...please don't."
Oh. God.
"I'm sorry...Lex, I--"
"No...no..." His tears were furious, tumbling down his face as he grasped my hand tightly to his face before I could pull away. "I'm d-dying. Don't fall i...in love with me. Don't. Don't make me regret."
"You're not. Lex, you're not dying." I grasped his head between my hands, brought his chin up so he could see me. "We just discovered this. We just found out. You can't die, see? You still have to convince me this is normal. We have to eat dinner and make love and watch movies."
He was still weeping as he held onto me, tighter now, as if I would slip away. Like I was some sort of dream. "Tell...tell me. What e-else would we...we do?"
"Let me drive your Lamborghini." Panic in my heart. "You have to see me graduate. We can go to my tree house by the river... I still have to show you how fast I can run...I still have to take you flying." Panic overload. "You can't die. You can't. We have too much to do still."
"Clark." He slipped forward until his cheek pressed to mine, until his arm wrapped around my back in an embrace. His voice was quiet, so tired, in my ear. "Just stay h...here, a while."
I held him until his breath calmed in sleep, until he was at peace in dreams.
And cried.
* * *
"Lex? Lex!"
Nothing.
"Lex! *Lex*!"
"Sir..."
"Don't "sir" me you fucking twit, just find him."
The damned tornado was gone. Finally. After six long hours of natures hateful wrath, the storm had gone of to bother people to the north of us, leaving unbelievable carnage in its wake.
I was a blasted idiot.
I should have never flown out of Metropolis in this weather, for starters. I shouldn't have come to punch family in its mouth with my money, I should have never ranted and raved like a wild man.
He'd saved my life. After all the hateful things I'd said to him, after I'd threatened to stamp him out of the earth, after I backed him into such a corner that he had no choice but to do what I wanted of him, he saved my life. Never again, as long as I live, would I forget the look in his face when the wood impaled him, stabbed right through him. My son. My son, was all I had wanted to scream. My son, who was god knows where, dead for all I knew. My son who had given his life for mine.
He'd hesitated, and now, as the searchers combed the area a mile from where he'd found his car, I offered a rubbed palm against my aching chest. My son, blood and bones and created from my very loins, had hesitated. I'd seen it there as well, written in his eyes. To save me, to let me die.
We'd found his Jaguar, completely destroyed. Burned all along the front, but with surprising minimal damage to the interior.
Just blood. So much blood.
I was ashamed. Lionel Luthor, at the top of the corporate game, king of cut throats.....and I felt a disgrace untopped in my life. It hadn't always been this way...he and I had once been very close, father and son.
Ive had a long time to think about this, usually over my beverage of choice and the old pictures my wife had always took enormous pleasure in taking of our son. It hadnt happened quickly, not by any means; just a slow progression of heavy wounds and misplaced events that tore us apart. It had seemed that we were once on the same tether, rolling around a pin on the same arrow. As time went by, and my family died slowly from the inside, it seemed Lex and I became very strained, until I felt the heavy tug of that same tether pulling us apart.
As time passed the distance between us grew. Julian's death, then Lillian's, and I closed myself off from the world in every possible way that I could. Including my first born son, who I loved with my entire heart. He grew older and lashed out at my inability to show him how I cared with drugs, alcohol, sex. Crime. He spent more time in jail then he did at home.
I'd pushed him away because I loved him too much. I didn't want him a part of my life. I didn't want him to see the monster I'd become.
I'd tried to fix it; I had. Sent him to the best boarding school in the world, got him into Yale; did everything in the world I could possibly do to make sure he didn't turn out like me...and it still wasn't enough. My son, with his powerful mind and huge heart, was going to self destruct if something wasnt done. It had become that Lex and I were on the opposite sides of that same arrow, hurtling towards one another on a path to conquer or be conquered, and I knew if we hit that center at the velocity we were running at, things were going to get ugly.
So I sent him to Smallville a week after he graduated. His last chance, before I gave up on him entirely and declared myself a failure of a father. Instead of the reports of debauched women and drugs I'd expected, he had made me so proud. Unbelievably proud. No more drugs, no more endless amounts of women. No jail time, nothing. Incidents, here and there, but nothing that required stitches or bribes.
Still, it seemed that we were shooting forward, sheer will power driving behind us until this morning. We'd impacted, heavy and hard and it was the wake up call I'd been waiting for all my life.
The storm, the pillar that pinned me to the ground. The wooden ceiling, which if it had fallen and cracked would have taken my life in an instant.
And he was there. He made me proud, saved my life by giving his. Made me feel such impenatrable love.
I'd give my life now to find him alive and well. To tell him how sorry I was, to ask if I could have another chance.
Even as we searched I felt in my soul that when we did find him, I would no longer be able to look into eyes that still sparked with temper and life.
"Lex! *Lex*!"
* * *
"--*lease*, *if you have any information pertaining to the whereabouts of any missing persons it is asked that you call the police station*, *345*-*1265*. *Again*, *if you have any information pertaining to the whereabouts of any missing persons*, *please call 345*-*1265*."
Heh.
"*It is asked that all the citizens of Smallville please congregate in the high school gym*. *Relief efforts and searches for missing family members will begin shortly*. *Again*, *it is asked that you please come to the high school gym on Crawford Street*. *Medical teams are standing by*, *food*, *water*, *and cots are set up for families who have lost their hom*--"
I clicked the radio off and set my chin on upraised knees. It had drowned out the sounds a little, but I couldn't have sympathy for other people in need right now. Not when I was probably the only one in this whole damn town who needed the most.
Soft...barely breathing. Heavy rasp in....soft exhale out. Weak. Weaker.
Lana had died. Nothing I could have done...nothing. Her skull was crushed all along one side...her insides were outside. Nothing I could have done. She hadn't woken up....she hadn't felt any pain. Just slept until she wasn't sleeping anymore.
Couldn't even cry...so numb.
Lex had promised me. He'd promised he wouldn't leave me alone, he promised he wouldn't die.
Gasp in....pause....slow exhale.
My mind had screamed itself out, and now my thoughts simply floated around the room in an endless array of incoherence. Friendship...the cat his dad gave him for Christmas. Cool winter nights spent talking, movies we'd gone to that had made us laugh untill we wept. The overwhelming need to be....normal.
His generosity, his kind spirit. His need to be someone, rise above his father's bigotry and give back to his community.
Why hadn't I seen it before? Why hadn't I acted on my emotions, instead of pretending Lana held the key to my heart? Why had I been so cowardly, so faithless?
So instead I stretched out beside him like before, cradled him gently in my arms.
"Lex?"
Steady inhale, raspy exhale. Slower. Softer.
"You've got to fight it."
Nothing. He was so still.
"It's worth it, Lex, it's worth that battle. Please, stay with me. Don't leave me here."
*I cant even kill myself to be with you*.
"Please, okay?" Hysteria was starting to come up, and I found myself gagging against food I'd eaten hours ago. "I mean, who am I going to get coffee with...share my latest mishap with Chloe with? Who's gonna listen to me bitch about my parents?"
He stirred, murmuring almost soundlessly into my skin. "Y....you'll..." He opened his eyes to look at me. Barely there, a foot in his grave. "You'll find...s...someone."
I'd forever understand what helplessness really felt like.
"Lex...Lex..." Tears choked my voice and I hugged him in the circle of my arms tighter against me, stroking his back and his smooth head, listened to him breathe. "I can't. I can't find someone. There'll never be anyone like you. Never. Lex, I love you. I love you so much. You hear me, you understand me." Slow rock. It was over. It was over. I was going to watch him die, and there was nothing I could do. "You care for people. I love your smile, and your sneer; I love your bald head and your blue eyes and your laugh. I love you. You're the sweetest person I've ever met."
"C...Cl..." He looked into my eyes, watched me with ones already fading. "I...I am nothing wi....without you."
The ceiling broke.
I let out a heavy cry and covered Lex with my body, shielding him from the pounding rock and gravel that rained down on us like a storm.
Light, blinding sunlight streamed down as I looked up.
And met Lionel Luthor's eyes.
His face. I'll never forget his face, the dull, blinding horror as he reached down, as if he could just pick Lex up and bring him up to the light. Guilt, fatigue, pain.
And a heartbreaking, pure love I knew I would see every day from now on.
* * *
The last thing I saw before the peace swept up to take me was my father's nurturing, love filled eyes staring into mine.
* * *
The following days after the tornado were filled with storms. It was almost as if mother nature was salving her wounded earth after the screaming tempests had destroyed the ground, and it poured rain for a week after.
Not that I caught any of it.
The monotonous beeping never stopped. Beep...beep...beep...and I prayed Lex would get so annoyed by it, so deeply frustrated, that he would sit right up and tear it out of the wall.
Drizzle hit the window in the light breeze, the curtains drawn but for the summer time air, only making the room darker than it was. It was faint except for a very dim light above the bed and the monitors themselves, the green lights bouncing away under my eyes. The whooshing and wheezing from the previous few days was gone, as Lex had made the initial efforts to breathe
on his own.
So, now, there was only silence, in some ways worse then the constant suction of air.
Hesitating only briefly from looking at him, I rose my eyes and gazed at his slim, still form under the sheets. Such soft white skin, cast in so many shadows.
It was the third day, and he still hadn't woken up...hadn't made any improvement at all, in my eyes. He'd been badly injured, they said. The wood had slipped right through his heart, left a sliver there, and I'd saved his life by bandaging him and putting pressure on it.
Whatever. He didn't look very saved to me.
I squeezed his hand softly, tracing my thumb over his small white knuckles. Hunger, the need for sleep...his agony. I could feel it like it were my own pain, heavy and thick like a rotten soup, sloshing in my belly heavily.
"Lex...I don't know if you can hear me, but it's Clark," I whispered, swallowing a lump in my throat. I skimmed my fingertips just barely over his scalp, wishing he didn't have crusted blood around his nose from the tube. Wishing his chest didn't hitch every time it rose "Lex, baby, I need you to come back. I need you to wake up and come back to me."
Christ. This was the breakdown Id been waiting for since Lionel had found us. They'd rushed a rescue team to get us out of the cellar...a tractor had been melted over the cellar door. Literally. Its a miracle they'd found us at all...but hadn't Lex himself said he believed in the miracles of love?
The paramedics had pulled me away, and even now I can hear my sobs echoing in the small cavernous room. As they'd dragged fingers over me to make sure I was alright.
The tedious journey from the cellar to the hospital would be one I wouldn't soon forget. They tightened him up right there in the ambulance as blood poured from the disturbed wound, as...
I choked heavily on a sob and bit my lip tightly.
My parents had come to find me...my father was in the hospital already, suffering a broken leg. My mother, with a kind of astonished, glazed look in her eyes, had told me what had happened with the space craft.
At the moment, I could care less.
I lowered my head and kissed the fingers I'd threaded through mine. Trembled, and I could almost pretend it had been his hand shaking...not mine. "I don't think I can find the words...as cliche as it sounds, I know." I pressed the same hand to my forehead and ducked my head. Here I was, crying again...and I'd thought there were no more tears left in me.
"Lex...theirs nothing I can say that could tell you how I feel." I stroked his fingers softly in mine, unable to look at him. "So many people are counting on you to wake up. Your dad, too. Your dads outside, Lex, he hasn't left. He's so scared. He told me he was so proud of you, he'd always been proud of you...he's scared he wont get to tell you himself. See? You have to wake up, you have to talk to him."
I pressed my face into his thigh, choking. Fucking wuss. Fucking cry baby. "I need you to be with me. I need to explore myself with you...I need to be able to see what your face looks like when you wake up. I want to see if your eyes change, if they're different blues when you're mad or happy. I need to cook for you...need to watch your face light up in pleasure. I want a chance, Lex. I want us to have a chance."
I didn't feel the shifting...didn't see the eyes that looked at my bowed head. Just wept, for a man I may never see moving and talking and laughing again. For a man who I wanted with all my being to love. For a man who had shown me grace and humility, courage and strength, and the boundless depths of the human heart. "Lex...please don't leave me. Not now...not after everything. Not after I found you."
Skim....fingers in my hair.
Crystal clear blue eyes met mine, and parched, cracked lips opened to say words I would never forget. "My angel. My Clark. There is no one on this earth who I love more than you."