He kept picturing his face. The way the jaw slowly tightened and wide eyes gradually narrowed, as shock gave way to anger, and then outrage. The myriad of emotions that flickered inside those ice blue eyes, made Clark hold his breath in anticipation, dreading the final gaze Lex would level at him.
But then, Lex did something else, something worsehe turned away.
Clark had stood paralyzed with fear, staring at the receding bald head, listening to the quick, determined footsteps growing ever fainter. He just stood there, hand still gripping the handle of the knife, not sure what to do. Clark remembered clumsily picking up the shards of steel, the only remnants of the knife that lost its battle against his impenetrable skin, from the marble kitchen floor.
His hands were shaking and unshed tears burned his eyes. He always wanted Lex to know, but not like this. What dumb luck that Lex walked in just as he, caught in another panic attack about his father's condition, forgot what he was doing, and let the knife slip. He'd been concentrating on cutting plump tomatoes for a breakfast of omelets and toast to surprise Lex and thank him for letting him crash in his mansion the night before.
Clark showed up there, soaked to the bone, well after it was polite to call on a friend. Lex didn't bring up the late hour, just ushered Clark out of one of Smallville's worst summer storms and asked one of his servants to draw him a hot bath in a guest room.
Clark found Lex waiting for him in his study. He was dry and wore a t-shirt and flannel pajama bottoms that were magically waiting for him at the edge of the bed after his bath. The fire roaring in the open hearth felt so warm and comforting. A cup of hot chocolate sat on the table in front of the fireplace. He crept cautiously over to an overstuffed chair, and sank into it.
Lex came over after awhile and sat opposite him; Clark still remembered the clicking of his shoes on the stone floor. He reached behind him and picked up Clark's untouched cup and thrust it forward, imploring him to drink it, in that ridiculously calm voice of his. The voice felt like a strong embrace, and Clark, on the edge for so long, broke finally. He held his head down, terrified to look up. He cried so rarely, it shocked him as much as it seemed to shock Lex. When Lex finally spoke, his voice was low and full of concern. "Clark? Did something happen? Clark look at me…its ok."
And he did finally look up. Face flushed and wet with tears, he told Lex about his father, about the heart attack the night before. He'd been at the hospital all night. Lex didn't question him when he choked out how it was 'all his fault'. He probably just thought he was being irrational and upset.
Clark wondered what he thought now.
Then there was the conversation they had when Lex showed up at his loft two days later….but Clark didn't want to think about that now. Clark turned over again in the bed, groaning in frustration into his lumpy pillow. Apparently this particular motel hadn't changed its pillows in about thirty years; Clark didn't want to think about that either. A city as big as Metropolis probably had a few hundred hotels, but Clark stopped at the first one he saw with a vacancy sign as soon as he entered the city limits. He looked around the dismal room now, regretting his decision, though he doubted he could afford much more comfort than this. He pulled at the thin gray coverlet, covering his boxer-clad body, and tried, once again to drift into a dreamless slumber.
But sleep wouldn't come.
Finally, he gave up and climbed out of bed, shrugging off the thin sheet of cotton draped over his body. He began walking around the room. It only took six normal strides to walk the length of the room, and four to go across it. Clark computed a few math equations in his head to try and keep his mind off the reason he now stood in a dingy motel room in the outskirts of Metropolis. He stopped computing and walked over toward the window, tugging it further open, careful not to pull it completely off its tracks.
Even the cool breeze that stirred the horrible floral patterned curtains—someone's idea of injecting cheer into the room he guessed—didn't penetrate the thick dank air of the room. He leaned his naked torso out the window and inhaled deeply. His sensitive nostrils picked up scents of rotting garbage, spilled whiskey, and human sweat and decaying flesh. Somehow, he promised himself, I'm finding a better place to stay tomorrow. There was nowhere else to go tonight.
Clark moved back into the room and walked over to the bed. He stood staring down at it, letting the full weight of the realization of being far away from the farm, from his family and his friends, and not knowing when he could see them again. He didn't even know if he could stay in Metropolis. Moving even further away would probably be necessary soon. The mattress groaned beneath his weight, as he sat down heavily, leaning his head forward into his palms.
He thought back again on the night Lex came to see him.
As soon as he heard the familiar gait, he fought the urge to immediately stand up and go towards the stairs. His ready smile fell as soon as he saw the expression on Lex's face—or the absence of one. There was no warmth, and almost no familiarity. Clark's felt sick when he realized that nothing had changed, that Lex was still angry, or worse. When Lex spoke, his voice was calm and calculated, as he relayed some information he thought would be useful to Clark, as if it were simply his duty.
"Lex.." Clark started.
But Lex cut him off with a simple gesture of his hand, his jaw as tense as it was that morning in the kitchen. "I thought I should warn you about what I found in my father's office. Actually, he came to see me the same evening of the…incident."
Clark closed his eyes and winced a little.
Lex continued. "Apparently after viewing the surveillance tape from one of several cameras he installed in the mansion, unbeknownst to me of course, he decided we needed to have a little chat about you. "
Lex looked at him pointedly. Clark went to speak, obviously alarmed, but Lex silenced him again. He sighed then looked at Clark, like he was seeing him finally.
"My father is a dangerous man, as you know, especially when he's obsessed, and especially if he believes something of extraordinary power could be of use to him.
He has an entire file on you. It seems he saw things you did when he was supposedly blind—I don't know if I ever mentioned he faked being blind long after his eyes had healed." Lex moved toward Clark, stopping a short distance in front of him, looking him directly in the eyes, but it wasn't a friendly gesture. He reached inside of his long black coat and removed a single disc. He held it up to Clark.
"This disc contains all of the information my father has on you, including what he thinks is your weakness. I have to tell you Clark, I don't know whether to believe this is all some twisted delusions of my father's, or that it's actually true. A shattered steel blade sitting at the bottom of my kitchen waste can makes me lean towards the latter."
Clark watched Lex as he paced slowly around his loft. It killed him to see Lex like this, like the Lex everyone else saw—all business—but there was pain there, Clark could see it, and he knew no one else would have been able to. He knew what a leap of faith Lex had to take to truly be a friend to him, and now he must feel like Clark betrayed him too.
Lex finally sat down on Clark's old sofa, leaning over, holding the disk between his fingers. Clark moved closer. "Lex…I wanted to"
Lex looked up "You wanted to tell me. I know. But I can't help thinking about all the times you looked me in the eyes and lied. Even when I asked you directly, you still lied. I was right about the car crash, wasn't I?"
Clark nodded silently.
"What exactly did you think I would do with the information if you told me the truth."
Clark became very interested in his work boots. "I..I'm not sure Lex. I don't know if I thought anything at all…I never…You have to believe I never thought you would hurt me."
"Then why Clark?"
"I was afraid of what you'd think of me."
Clark wasn't really sure if that was the true reason, but he was confident it was part of it.
Lex seemed to weigh his response. He moved the disc deliberately through his fingers, and said nothing. Clark fought the urge to rip it out of his hands, and force him to speak to him.
He finally spoke. "Incidentally, my father hasn't seemed to be able to figure out exactly why you're the way you are."
Lex looked at him. "Care to enlighten me?"
Clark knew this was his chance to make everything right, to let Lex know he trusted him, but he stood silent.
"Clark.." Then Lex shook his head, and got up from the couch.
"Lex.."
He turned. "Yes Clark?"
"What did your father tell you?"
Lex sighed, and a small smirk played across his lips. There was something very cold about it, and Clark shivered slightly.
"Oh yes. My father wants to take you to some lab he's been building for this exact purpose, and find out what you are the only way he knows how. He's sending men tonight to subdue you. He thinks the meteor rocks make you weak. So, anyway. I suggest you leave unless you want to be a lab rat."
Clark's eyes went wide in shock, grabbing Lex by the shoulder "You're..serious.."
Lex shrugged out of his grip "Very. So if you want to live, go. I'll take care of my father. I think I know where he put his lab. I'd warn your parents as well. I doubt they're any safer than you. Contact me in a week."
Lex walked down the stairs, and out of the barn, without another word, leaving Clark in a panic about what to do.
Clark slowly stood up again. Dwelling on painful things wasn't going to help now. He needed to sleep so he'd have a clear head in the morning. He just wished his parents had listened to him when he asked them to leave the farm for a while, until Lex could find a way to stop Lionel. Clark knew what his father's response would be before he even got the words out. There was no way his father would ever risk the farm being idle for even a short while; they simply couldn't afford it. Lex bailed them out once, and it wasn't the sort of favor you could expect a second time.
Still he'd feel better if he knew they were safe, but his father brought up a good point; Lionel Luthor wouldn't want attract too much attention to his strange obsession with Clark, and hurting his family would definitely raise suspicions. He hoped he was right.