Mild spoilers for the third season.
They're not mine.
Ghosts
Lex couldn't remember the hospital.
He had no memory of rocking himself back and forth on the floor of his cell, arms clasped around his knees. Desperate for some kind of touch, even if it was only his own. He couldn't remember the way they had come to him in those dark moments, materializing at his side just in time to pull him back from the brink of real madness.
First was Helen, who was always good and loyal in his hallucinations. And truly, desperately in love with him. She would stroke his head and nuzzle the side of his face with her own, murmuring words of comfort in his ear. I love you Lex, she would say, soothing away the fear and shame that he could feel slamming around in his skull as though they were physical things. He would close his eyes and sink into the silence her presence provided, burying himself deeper into her arms. But then, suddenly, he would remember that this Helen had never existed outside of his own imagination. Her voice and arms and comfort would melt away under that realization.
When he next opened his eyes, it would be to find Jonathan Kent beside him, radiating farm-bred toughness and compassion. Lex would start at this vision, confused, as Mr Kent reached out to squeeze his shoulder, as though trying to pass on some of his own strength through that touch alone. Mr Kent would tell him that he was better than this, that he would pull through. You can do it, son, he would say, and at the sound of that word, Lex would begin searching for the strength that Jonathan seemed to think he had. I want you to be proud of me, he would reply.
But when Mr Kent had gone, the fear and confusion would return, and Lex's traitorous mind would conjure up every image he had ever tried to suppress. His mother's waxy, pale face staring blankly out of her coffin on the day that they had buried her. Julian, blue and still. The revulsion in his father's expression when he finally got up the nerve to ask him, full of hope, not to send him away again. Tears would form in Lex's eyes as he tried to push the memories back where they belonged, screaming his throat raw, batting at unseen demons.
A hand on his shoulder would still him, and he would turn to find Lana Lang beside him, her green-gold eyes heavy with concern and understanding. Lana knew what it was like to be alone and scared. She would carefully gather Lex into her arms as he began to cry, her presence warm and soft and solid. It's okay, she would whisper against his skin, holding him tightly, I've got you.
Lex would fall asleep in Lana's arms, and when he woke up it would be to the feeling of a hand on his cheek. He was beginning to forget his mother's face, so this shadow was blurry, less distinct than the others. Sometimes her features would suddenly clarify, revealing the sad blue eyes and thin, smiling lips he remembered, and other times his brain would fill in the holes in his memory with images of Martha Kent. She would stroke his skin lovingly, sadly, as he leaned into her touch. Mother, he would whisper, Mom, please don't leave me. She would kiss his forehead. I'm always with you, darling, she would say as she began to disappear, just as the others had. Lex would grasp at her and then begin to laugh bitterly as she faded into nothingness, the ghost of her touch still against his cheek. He would choke as the laugh became a sob. Mother…
The last figure was Clark, always, though he wasn't sure what this signified. A warm hand against his shoulder and then a more tentative touch to his face would draw Lex's bloodshot eyes up to meet those of the boy kneeling in front of him. Sometimes the eyes were blue and other times they were very green, but the look was always the same. No one had ever looked at him the way Clark did. There was worry there and earnestness and trust. Their mouths committed outrageous lies at every opportunity, but there had always been truth in the way they looked at each other. Something inside of Lex would crack and break at the sight of it. Help me, Clark, he would plead, totally open for once, wearing his vulnerability like armour. Please save me. Clark would pull him forward, arms so strong and secure around him that they stopped everything else, all of the confusion and hurt that was rotting his brain. I will, I'll save you, he would say, and Lex would exhale for what felt like the first time. He wouldn't know if he could believe the loving, lying boy in front of him, but he would find, to his surprise, that he didn't care. Because that moment would be the first time he had ever felt saved, ever felt safe.
Lex couldn't remember any of this.
But sometimes, as he lay in bed at night, listening to the tick of the grandfather clock in the corridor and the singing of the cicadas outside his balcony window, the ghosts of those hallucinations would come back to him. Just as he was growing most desperate, the weight of his thoughts pressing down dangerously on his chest, he would feel the whisper of arms around him, rocking him, telling him that he was going to be okay. Telling him that they loved him. And he would relax into that imaginary embrace and remember to breathe again. He didn't know what this feeling was, but he knew it meant that he would be able to sleep. He knew that the constant ache in his chest where he assumed his heart still was would subside slightly, and he knew that the next morning, when his illusions abandoned him, would be just that much harder.
-the end.