After sitting at the breakfast table for some minutes toying with his toast, Lex decided to take Chloe's advice and sleep for a few more hours. The voice of his father spoke sternly in his head, but he pushed it back and locked it behind one of the doors in his mind. Yes, Luthors didn't give in to weakness but damn it, the thought alone of turning on his laptop sent spikes of agony through his eyes. He took his paracetamols like a good boy, dragged his weary carcass back up the stairs and was pleasantly surprised to find his bed changed, made up and ready for sleep. Really, household staff was not to be frowned upon! Strange, he'd never really noticed before. They worked incredibly fast. Maybe he should give them a raise for Christmas.
It was only a little past seven; outside, it was as dark as deepest night. Briefly, he thought about Chloe driving in that pitch dark, and hoped she'd be ok. She probably was. Why shouldn't she be? The dark inspired his body to hibernate, making his bed even more desirable. He could sleep until nine, check in with Mary, and then get some more work done on the China project. And Smith. He shouldn't forget about Chloe's informant. And the LuthorCare business. But first, sleep. He'd barely been up for an hour but already his batteries were running low.
"Even those bunnies keep it up longer," he grumbled to himself, and crawled back into bed, shivering as the cool sheets touched his arms. "Luthor batteries are supposed to outlast Duracell."
His usual position—sprawled all over the bed, taking up as much space as possible and hiding the fact that a bed this size was actually meant to hold two persons—didn't work; it made his back hurt, and he couldn't get warm this way. So he curled up into a tiny ball that barely covered one fourth of the mattress, tucked the duvet up and under and all around him like a little nest and closed his eyes. Almost immediately sleep grabbed him and pulled him under like the Kraken in a hot sea, where fish danced to the tune of the tide between the coral reefs.
He was woken, gasping and completely disoriented, by a sharp knock, and only when it was repeated he realized where he was, who he was, and where the sound came from.
"Yes?" he rasped, casting a quick glance at his alarm clock. It just flicked to 10:12—he'd forgotten to set it. James opened the door and entered, holding a tray with Lex's mobile on it.
"Someone called, sir. I wasn't sure if you expected a call, or if it would be urgent." He paused, studying his employer with a slight frown. When Lex did not respond, as he was trying to fit in James' appearance into his dreams of uninhabited islands and boiling seas, the butler took a few steps towards the bed and asked, "Are you quite alright, sir?"
"What?" Lex rubbed his forehead. It felt hot and dry, as if there was a small fire burning in the middle of his skull. Heat. Bad for the processor. He should probably have some ventilators installed. "Yes, I'm fine. Thank you."
He took the phone from the tray, absentmindedly marveling about the presence of a butler who brought him his own phone on a tray. James also did that with any letters Lex hadn't picked up himself: put them on a silver dish and offer them like…like…cookies, or something. He checked his information; the missed call was from Mary. Sighing, he pressed the 'return call' button. James silently, unobtrusively, floated out of the room, backwards.
Mary picked up after the first ring.
"Good morning, Lex."
"Good morning." He cleared his throat, but sleeping had done it more harm than good, he was even hoarser than before.
Mary made a sound that could either be sympathetic or completely unsympathetic. "Are you still ill, sir?" She had the charming habit to call him by his first name—which, since she was about twenty years older than him, was only natural—but dropping a sir here and there when she was actually berating him.
"I believe so," he muttered. Headache, check. Shaking hands, check. Voice like bad porn actor, check. Did I ever witness a storm on the island? Did I really build a boat or was that another hallucination?
"Right. Lex, is it true that you let that wo—Miss Sullivan from the Planet interview you?"
"Chloe?" Move it! he screeched at the sluggish mass of syrup that was his train of thought. "Yes…Yes, I did, this morning. Why?"
"Lex…" she all but moaned, "You can't cancel all your interviews and then do only one of them after all. Not without consulting me and giving me a rood explanation to feed the other papers."
"What? She's already published it?" he asked dumbly. "Impossible, she can't even have reached Metropolis yet."
"Actually, she has," Mary said, "Nothing's printed yet. But she did call some of her colleagues and you know how it goes in that little vile world. Lex…sir…please don't take PR into your own hands."
'Lex, sir, if you tell me you're sick, don't sleep around with innocent reporters and then give them an interview, damn it, you spoilt brat!'
Even without seeing her facial expression, he knew her so well he could practically hear her silent yell through the phone. He opened his mouth to say that he hadn't slept with her, that she'd just come round and been the sweetest pillow he'd had for a very long time, but forced his mouth shut. "I'm sure you can fix it," he said coolly.
She sighed. "Yes. I gave them some story of you having an urgent online meeting with your man in China. Unfortunately, Miss Sullivan is rather difficult to fit in. Sir, you really shouldn't…"
Pause.
Lex smiled. Let's see how she voiced this without telling him straight that he was a disgrace.
"It really isn't wise to…"
Pause.
"Yes, Mary?"
"Sir." He envisioned her in heel-clapping German soldier boots, trained defiance all over her stern face. "Please don't interfere with my job, sir. That's what I'm here for. I lie for you. That's what you're paying me for, and that's what I'm really good at. However, it's very difficult to come up with a convincing lie if you go behind my back. Please don't make my job impossible. And," her voice dropped to an urgent whisper, "please don't sleep with the media, sir, please! It always comes back to bite you."
"That's quite enough, thank you," Lex said curtly, though he was touched by her concern.
"Yes, sir."
"What did you tell the…who were they again?"
"The Journal, and Metrophile. I told them you ran into Miss Sullivan on your way to another meeting and had a very quick chat with her." Again she hesitated, but since she was one of those highly capable people who wasn't cowed by Luthor Authority, the pause didn't last long. "How did you manage to run in to her? Sir."
"She came over," Lex said, providing no background at all. Seconds ticked away while Mary waited for more information. Finally, when none proved forthcoming, she sighed.
"Fine. Could you at least tell me what you've told her?"
"Of course." He gave her almost exactly the same story as he'd given Chloe. She couldn't find anything wrong in it; it was the bland truth, unprettified by exciting facts or lies, dry and unpalatable like the sand on a tropical island beach.
There was a storm, I think, at one time, but I can't recall whether it was in my head or outside. There was a lot of lightning, lots of crackling lightning bolts that filled the air with the scent of ozone. And thunder, like earth quakes in the sky…
"Lex?"
He coughed. "I'm still here. Is there anything else?"
"The usual requests and invitations."
"You can cancel every appointment in the coming two days. Reschedule them to next week."
"Ok." The woman was so efficient she didn't even question him. "Even the conference in Maine, on Friday? You are supposed to speak there." Or maybe just a little.
"Especially the conference in Maine," said Lex. He'd forgotten all about the conference anyway, thanks to his fine new non-meteor freakishness. Maybe he should take a turn to the common. Keep an organizer with him.
"I'll call them and tell them you have unfortunately been called away on pressing business. Unless I can tell them you're ill…"
"No, you can't," Lex said wearily. "Tell them it's business." The moment Lionel got hint of his son calling in sick, he'd start a mutiny that would make the Bounty look like a cruise ship. "Now, unless you've got anything else that can't wait until next Monday…"
"No, sir." Again a pause, then, "I hope you'll feel better soon."
He laughed. "I hope so too. Thanks, Mary. And well done."
"My pleasure, sir."
He closed the phone, tapped it against his chin. He wanted nothing more than to curl up again and sleep some more, but there was too much to do. Too many mysteries to solve, too many children dying to close his eyes and ignore them…so he crawled out of bed, splashed a couple of handfuls of cold water into his face, swallowed two of those gay pink ibuprofen pills and installed himself on the couch in the study.
Ten minutes after he touched down, a huge pot of tea appeared—by magic, it seemed to him at first, until he just caught the slips of James' jacket float out of view. Huh. The man could have made a fortune as a magician. No one would notice him removing women's underwear. Adding a healthy dose of brandy to his tea, Lex started the day for the second time.
He ran the names he had taken from the LuthorCare list he'd sent to Chloe and ran them through the Smallville people index (which cost him a bit of hacking but nothing strenuous). These were the people that had once been employed on the Kansas Greenhouse level 33.1, testing out mental stimulants on a handful of homeless volunteers. It wouldn't do to get her anywhere near those names.
Then he checked his mail, answered an outraged message from Mister Wong from China, sighed over yet another lawsuit hanging over his head, wrote a budget plan for one of his corporations and approved the notes of four meetings.
By then it was twelve-thirty and his headache was blooming like a malevolent flower. He took more ibuprofen, had a very modest lunch and took an unplanned cat-nap on the couch. He was woken by the pinging of his laptop; the names had all been checked against the Smallville data, and nothing of interest had come out.
At four, his phone started acting up again, and he spent the next 45 minutes in conversation with various people, discussing subjects that ranged from dinner parties to test results to dates that should be reserved for appearances in court.
Scanlan called him to say that his blood test had come back, and that it was, as he had expected, fine, as far as normal people could be considered fine. He spoke with glee about the presence of the flu virus, that had been dormant at the time Lex had stepped into his office.
"No sign of any kind of…poison?" Lex asked tentatively. He'd been pronounced fully cured of Lionel's little attempt at filicide half a year ago, but with the luck he was having these days it would be typical to find himself in an early grave because his immune system gave out.
"Poison?" Scanlan repeated, then, more firmly, "Ah, poison. No. Not a trace. Your blood is clean; apart from the flu you have a perfectly clean bill of health."
He was just gulping down more tea-diluted whiskey when the phone rang again, and he answered it with a sigh.
"Lex Luthor."
"Hello Lex," a warm woman's voice spoke. "This is Valerie Decan. I…uh, opportunistically added your number to my phonebook when you called a few days ago. I hope you don't mind me calling."
Lex didn't, not really. "I guess it's only fair," he said, "since I have your number too. How can I help you?"
There was a rustle in the background—the phone against her hair, he guessed, or the collar of her blouse. "I'm with the kids at the moment," she began.
"How are they? I didn't get my update yet."
"How they are? Most of them are no worse off than before, and with the very sick children moved to quarantine the others aren't constantly reminded of what's happening…but especially the older ones, Jessica, Beatrice, Michael and Lisa…They're worried and uncomfortable."
"And Emmy?" he asked, even though he was afraid to know.
Valerie sighed. "She's still alive. She's reacting well to the new treatment, but it makes her nauseous and she can't keep anything inside. We're feeding her intravenously now, but she's very frail…Still, she's alive and that's more than we were expecting last night."
"That bad?" Lex murmured, feeling an odd cramp in his stomach. Poor girl. Poor, beautiful girl with her wide blue eyes.
"Jessica was asking for you," Valerie continued. "For some reason she seemed to be worried about you."
"About me?" Children were so very, very amazing. "Why?"
"I wouldn't know. But they'd all like it if you could come by again. And like I said, Jessica…I don't know what it is that's bothering her, but it has something to do with you."
"Did she remember anything about Amy's disappearance, perhaps?"
"No," Valerie said slowly, "No, I don't think it has anything to do with Amy. It's you. I know it's much to ask, and you're probably very busy, but do you think you could come by and talk to her?"
"Of course," Lex agreed, already pushing himself to his feet. "I'm in Smallville now, but I can make it in…" He dropped down again. "No. I can't come."
"It doesn't need to be right now, tonight, or tomorrow…"
"I can't."
"I understand if you're busy, but…"
"I'm not," Lex interrupted her, annoyed by both her tendency to keep on fishing. "I have time to spare, at the moment. It's just that they wouldn't let me in." Ok, you can say it. You won't turn into salt or anything. "I have the flu."
"The flu? You?"
"Yes," Lex said irritably, "Me. I probably caught it from you."
"How…unexpected." The pleading note had left her voice; now she sounded uncomfortably like a researcher. "I didn't think you were every ill. After all, they based the treatment on your healing ability, which was to say the least spectacular." She trailed off, and he could swear he heard the clicking of cogs in her head. He spared her the trouble.
"Yes, it was, until I met Amy."
"Amy. Amy…Oh god, she did it to you as well?"
"Don't you watch television?" Lex asked dryly. "Didn't you see my flowing locks?"
"You've grown hair?"
So she didn't watch TV, or she was less daunted by him than he'd hoped for and hadn't noticed he was now a red-head. And damn, she sounded horribly like Chloe.
"Yes."
"And you immediately caught the flu."
"Yes."
"But your blood…"
"I just had the test results back. I'm as healthy as a…" Blank. "as can be. I just get sick, like everyone else, and that's why I can't come over." Apart from the fact that I really don't want to drive for two and a half hours at the moment. He shivered at the thought of sitting in the same position for longer than ten minutes, and of having to concentrate on the road. While it was snowing. He rubbed his eyes.
"I should be better by Saturday. Or at least no longer contagious, if I can believe the internet. If you don't mind I could come by LuthorCare at twelve."
"I'm working there on Saturday anyway," she said. "That would be great. I'm really concerned about Jessica—although she might just be worried about you, and nothing else. The parents won't come until two, so you'd have almost two hours to talk to them. The children, I mean."
"Fine, then." Lex made a mental note to notify Mary of his appointment. She might become vicious otherwise. "I'll see you there."
Valerie said goodbye, her tone once again warm: a woman who'd gotten what she wanted, which was an appointment between him and her kids, this time. He only hoped he really would feel better by Saturday. At the moment, he rather wished he was back in bed.
"Samson reversed," he scoffed aloud, rubbing his hand over his spiky head. "Wouldn't you love the symbolism, Dad?"
The phone rang again. With a deep sigh, he took another swig of whiskey-tea and answered it.
Chloe drove back through the simultaneously darkening and lightening city of Metropolis, sighing at the traffic. As night descended on the city, lamppost flickered on, windows glowed yellow, Christmas lights started to twinkle and a long snake of car lights wound itself around the blocks.
"You have to see the beauty of it," Chloe told herself as she inched forwards. The woman in the car in front of her was shouting at someone sitting in the back; a child, probably, because Chloe couldn't see the person's head. That woman was having a much harder time than Chloe, who was driving on her own, with the radio on, her mind pleasantly bruised after listening to interesting but heavy material the entire afternoon. She felt languid and safe in her car, and since she'd had the foresight to bring a package of Oreos she was peckish but not starving.
My, but that was some family row they were having in the station wagon in front of her. A tiny fist shot up in the air, its shrimp-like middle finger protruding. The mother's mouth opened even wider, so wide something that looked pretty much like a Barbie's head hit her full in the teeth. Chloe giggled.
"Children. Gotta love 'em."
They moved another yard. If she was lucky she might make it through the traffic light the next time it turned green. Chloe popped another cookie into her mouth.
The evening was spread open in front of her, like a sandwich she could top with whatever filling she chose. What filling to choose, though? Should she be sociable and hang out with her friends? Or work on her figure and hit the gym? Or, and even as the thought entered her head her entire body agreed enthusiastically, should she take an outrageously long, hot bath, couch-potato in front of the TV and watch some non-stimulating chickflick, like Four Weddings and a Funeral, Bridget Jones's Diary or anything else with Hugh Grant in it?
The bath was a definite yes. Hugh Grant…she'd have to think about it. Sex and the City was also nice, and required even less brainpower. Or Coupling. She'd never liked Friends, because all the women were dumb, and none of them was bigger than size M. M for Minuscule.
She whooped as she managed to pass the traffic light, then sighed when another traffic jam clogged her way. Ah well. She might just as well call Lex and see how he was holding up.
Clark, she'd already found out by phone message, had returned safe and sound, bringing with him a memory stick full of hopefully incriminating evidence, or at least information about the identity of their Orizon contact, the elusive Mr. Jones. Or Tippitt. Chloe, thought mildly interested in Lois' investigation, wasn't planning to offer her her computer skills—at least not this evening. Tonight was bathing night; she'd got up way earlier than she was used to, this morning, and she was tired after a hard day's work.
"And I want Ben & Jerry's for desert," she said aloud, although there was no one present to tell her off for her gluttony. "New York Super Fudge Chunk. Or Chocolate Fudge Brownie? Hmmm. Choices, choices. Maybe both. Yes, that'd work…"
While the driver in front of her (a balding old man, this time, in an equally balding, or varnishless Volkswagen) refused close the nine feet to the next car and stubbornly remained where he was standing, Chloe selected Spaghetti and pressed the green phone button.
He picked up after two rings. "Hello Chloe."
He was as hoarse as yesterday, but at least he'd taken the time to check who was calling. That was an improvement at least.
"Hey Lex. How're you doing?"
"Fine." Evasively. "How was your conference?"
"Interesting. I didn't know those mobile breast cancer check-up vans dumped their waste into the sewers, did you? Anyway, there was this French professor who couldn't pronounce the h, and he spoke AND looked almost exactly like Inspector Clouseau from the Pink Panther…" She laughed.
Lex chuckled as well. "So did you bite through any pens?"
"No, I brought chewing gum. Next time I should bring apples, get my vitamins at the same time as my comedy cravings. But yeah, it was ok. How about you? How's your poor head?"
"Well," said Lex, slurring a little, "Let's put it this way. If I were a computer, I used to be a hexa-core Pentium and now I've been downgraded to a crippled 486." He coughed.
"You need a virus scanner," Chloe smiled.
Lex made a sound of disgust. "What I need is more RAM. The random appearance of my screensaver whenever I'm trying to do something is driving me crazy."
"As long as it isn't affecting your hard drive or your floppy drive," Chloe giggled, enjoying the analogy. The old man in front of her finally decided that fifteen feet was a wide enough space to warrant releasing his brakes and crawling forward to meet front to back with the next car. She followed, and stood still again.
Lex snorted. "It's the software that's causing me problems at the moment. You can leave my hard drive out of it."
"Maybe you should just turn the whole thing off and let it cool down for a while?"
"Tried that; it doesn't work, the bloody thing heats up again in no time. I tried smacking it, but that doesn't work either."
"You still have a fever?"
"Fever? I thought we were talking about computers."
"Lex."
"Why is everyone so focused on my temperature? I swear even my house keeper was trying to feel me up…uh…feel my forehead. No. She didn't try to feel me up. She wouldn't. Motherly feelings only."
"Lex. You're rambling. Just take your temperature and tell me what it is."
"…It's her daughter that's starting to give me the creeps. Why is it that house keepers always have fifteen-year-old daughters that get a crush on me? Maybe I should let James spread the rumor that I'm gay. That should free me from headstrong virgins…"
Chloe waited a few seconds. His silence sounded kind of hopeful. "You haven't made me forget about the thermometer, if that's what you're hoping for," she finally said, and he sighed.
"Oh, fine."
There was a crackling sound. "What are you doing, Lex? You're supposed to put it in your mouth, or ear, or…I don't know."
"I have to unpack it first, if I want to put it anywhere," Lex snapped. "Which I don't. I hope you'll remember that I'm doing this to satisfy YOUR curiosity."
"I will, I will, and I'm deeply grateful."
"Hm," huffed Lex, but she could hear the smile in his voice. "Ok. I think I'm supposed to put this in my mouth. How ammoying. How'm I fuppofed oo have a felephone comferfafion this way?"
God, he sounded just like Lois with her cigarette. "You don't. Is it on? You have to turn it on, first."
"Whap oo you fink I am, a mowon? Of courfe ipf on."
Chloe laughed aloud at the 'mowon'. The Volkswagen's traffic indicator blinked on the right side, and she heaved a sigh of relief. At least that horrible driver would go another way. She moved the phone to her other ear, just in time to hear a soft beep on the other side of the line.
"What was that?"
"I think it's got what it wanted," Lex said dryly. "Must be feminine then. Now, let's see. Pay attention, will you, because I will say this only once."
"Yes, Herr Flick."
"It was the Resistance girl, not the Gestapo guy. So…It says 38.2."
"What?!"
"Hang on, that's degrees Celsius. So that is about…100.8 Fahrenheit. That isn't so bad, right?"
"It's almost two degrees higher than it should be. Jesus Christ, Lex, don't you know what's a healthy temperature for a body?"
"98.8?"
She sighed. Lex laughed, and then began to cough.
"Serves you right," she grumbled.
"Mea culpa."
"Don't you go quoting scripture to me."
"Mea culpa isn't…Never mind."
"You ARE slow."
"Hey! We just established that I'm two degrees too hot for my processor to work correctly, so cut me some slack."
"I'm glad you're feeling better, Lex."
"I'm not. But I'm glad I can once again fool you into thinking that I am."
Chloe winced at that, even though he delivered the words with an audible smile. Yes, he did do that, fooling people into thinking he was fine while he was everything but fine. Then again, if that was the price one had to pay for being the richest man under thirty alive, she guessed there were worse things. Like spending your Honeymoon on an desolate island knowing that your wife had left you there. Or trying to get your own father behind bars. Or being locked up by said father because he'd rather have you mad than dead. I don't think you can fool me ever again, sweetie. But if you want me to, I can pretend you can.
She took a left turn, forcefully pushing those thoughts aside. Lex didn't want her pity. It would do no one any good feeling sorry for him for other reasons than that he was sick and too busy for his own good, so she concentrated on driving and the prospect of her evening of female delight.
Her turn brought her into a blessedly quiet street. Thank god. She could have her bath in less than half an hour. Wait, first she had to get ice cream. And she didn't have any food left in the fridge either. Darn.
"Lex, I'm almost home. I have to hang you up and park."
"Hands-free is such a marvelous concept. But that's fine, go and park, I have some things to do myself."
"Like going to bed early?" Chloe suggested.
Lex sighed wistfully. "Like calling China, more likely."
"Don't call the man's daughter a pig again."
"That was just a figure of speech. I never did that, really. Chinese is just a very complicated language…Anyway, thanks for calling. Remember, 100.8. Write it down somewhere. I wonder how high those things can register…Maybe I'll hang it in my tea for a while."
Chloe laughed. "I don't think they're made for such temperatures."
"It's tepid."
"It will break, Lex."
"Good!"
"Speaking of tea, do you want to go for coffee during the weekend, if you're feeling up to it? Or are you busy?"
Lex fell silent for a while, and she knew, she just knew he had somehow detected the false innocence in her voice. And sure enough, he said, "Smith sent you something new, I take it?" and all the warmth had left his voice.
"That's not the reason I want to have coffee with you," she tried to salvage the conversation, but since it was already at the point of being ended, she was doomed to fail.
"Of course not," he said wearily. "You always have different reasons."
"Lex…" She'd found a parking spot but didn't want to hang up yet, desperate to let him know that she didn't want to see him to accuse him of anything but that she still was a reporter, and that Smith, damn him, was sending currents through all her strings, making her jerk like a marionette. "Lex…"
"I have to go."
"Damn it, listen to me! I can't help being what I am, and yes, he sent me something new. But I want to have coffee with you because I like having coffee with you, and that's why I want to have coffee with you. If you don't want to discuss Smith's stuff, that's fine with me, I still want to have coffee. Ok?"
"The only thing I got," Lex said slowly, "was the word 'coffee'."
Phew. That awfully cold, distant tone was gone. "So we're going out for coffee?"
"We'll see," Lex said coolly. Then, more friendly, "I still have to go. I'll call you if I'm in Metropolis during the weekend, alright?"
"Sure!"
"Good night, Chloe."
"Good—." The phone went dead. Chloe took a deep breath, feeling as if she'd kicked him while he was down, and as if he'd kicked her back just as hard, neither of them knowing exactly why they were fighting. Had this been a fight? Not exactly. Then why did it feel like one?
"Maybe I shouldn't ask him anything at all and just investigate by myself like I did when I was young and reckless," she murmured while she parked her car. "After all, I got some spectacular results in those days. Not to mention exposed to all kinds of toxins, radiations and violent madmen. Huh."
Sighing, she crept out of her car, checked for her wallet, and moved off to the supermarket around the corner. She'd need to consume at least a gallon of Ben & Jerry's IN the bath to get her poise back.
Men.
At least she'd managed to get him use that thermometer.
Men.
Never one to stay down for long, Chloe chuckled.
TBC