Author's Note: Sorry it takes me so long to update, but college has made me extremely busy. I try to update all my stories evenly, so it takes me a bit to get back to the same one. Thanks for your support, guys! Please review!
The longer Ryan stayed with the Kents, the more unwelcome I felt at the farm. Child Protective Services had sent out his picture to numerous agencies so that it was displayed everywhere in the hopes that his family would be able to find him. In the week they advertised him across the country, he was allowed to stay with the Kents. They were happy to have him. Clark had been spending all of his time at the farm supposedly babysitting the stray, but I knew that Martha and Jonathan spent all the time they could with him. He gathered rave reviews for making them breakfast in the morning and being an all-around perfect kid. It wasn't like I didn't understand his situation, but the boy was trying a little too hard to fit in with the family. It made me suspicious. When I decided to spend time with Clark earlier in the week, Ryan had deliberately stolen him away with a furtive glare at me.
It wasn't jealousy. I didn't hate Ryan because he took Clark away from me. I was happy that Clark finally had someone else to brighten his day, and I knew what it was like to want a little brother. This kid wasn't normal. He was smarter than he appeared. His dodging reminded me of Clark when I didn't know his secret, where the boy pretended to be dumber than he was in the effort to take the pressure off of him. I tried to do some digging, but the list of missing children with the name Ryan was far too long. I had nothing to go on except my own intuition, but it had never failed me before. Ryan had something to hide, and if he was staying with the Kents, I wanted to find out what it was. It was hard to be in danger when Clark was a super-powered alien, but I was sure that they would manage if this kid really was a threat. Smallville wasn't a place to allow something like that to fester until someone got hurt.
At least the Talon was finished. I was kept busy the entire week managing the opening, which was attended by most of Smallville High. Lana's charming offer meant that most of them were men, but they'd brought their girlfriends. I didn't mind. Every customer in there was a blessing. It was that thought that kept a smile on my face the entire night while I mixed and served coffee. There was no lack of confused glances about both my hair and my occupation. All of a sudden, Lionel Luthor's daughter was working in a newly restored coffee shop. I understood their confusion, but luckily there were no embarrassing questions. The kids didn't care enough to ask. They just enjoyed the loud music and the ambiance. It was a place where they could hang out and gossip. I knew from the compliments that they were going to be back. I'd received recipes from some of the premier coffee makers in the world, and there was no shortage of exotic flavors. All in all, about four hundred people showed up through the night. I would have to stay open late to make extra profit, but I was definitely up for it. By the end of the night, the till was four thousand.
Lana was more of a help than I thought she would be. She had things that I didn't, including a solid friendship with most of the town. I could smile all I wanted, but they still liked her better than me, which suited me just fine. She did most of the cleaning up while I transferred most of the money from the bag by the cash register to my personal safe in my bedroom. Since Ryan's appearance, Clark had installed deadbolts on the back and front doors as well as the doors connecting the Talon to my apartment. I appreciated the gesture, but I knew that it was a way for him to stop feeling guilty about spending more time with Ryan than with me. I tried to push thoughts of the stray from my mind as I shut and locked the safe. I only had one more task to take care of before the night was finally over. Sending Lana home would probably be the easiest part of my day. When I entered the Talon again, I surveyed the tables. They were clean, and the seats were back in their proper places after their upheaval at the hands of Smallville's football team. Lana was counting the money in the cash register when I approached her.
It was three in the morning. We were the hot spot for the kids who couldn't catch a ride into Metropolis to go to a club. If we made this much every Friday night, we would be in the black within months. Breaking even sounded like a good idea to me after all the heart and effort I put into this place. Lana's smile wasn't as bright as usual, but I could sense her exhaustion just as well as I felt mine. Her glossy hair was pulled back into a functional ponytail. We were both wearing the dark purple shirts with our insignia on it with black pants. "How are you feeling?" I asked quietly. I didn't want to break her concentration, but she was almost done counting anyway. Her pretty eyes looked worn when she glanced up at me. I didn't blame her. "You did a great job advertising this place. I'm impressed." After all, how could a sixteen-year-old girl be expected to know how to advertise a business? Again, I'd underestimated her. She was an intelligent girl.
"There's two-hundred in here," she said proudly as she handed me the money. "I feel great. Tired, but great." She flashed a smile that was bright this time, and it made me forget my earlier feelings of hatred towards her. When I complimented her, her cheeks turned a rosy shade of pink. "Thank you. I tried really hard. I love what you've done with this place." Her eyes glistened with moisture, and I was smart enough to know that she was about to cry. To distract her, I counted out five twenties and held them out to her. "Oh, no, I can't take that much." She waved away the money, but I was definitely known for my persistence.
"Come on. You made this whole opening night a huge success. You deserve a little extra. Besides, you still have to put up flyers for movie night." She gave me a considering glance, and I couldn't help my mischievous smirk as I dangled the money from my hand. "In fact, if it were my choice, I would give you twice that for how much effort you've put into this place." Her eyes widened. My tactics worked as she took the money and tucked it into her pocket. I did the same with the rest of the money. I would probably end up putting it back into the register in the morning just so we had some change.
"You win." I could tell that she was secretly pleased about the amount of money, but she was surprisingly modest about it. "So, I didn't see Clark here tonight. Are you two doing alright?" She asked the question with real concern in her eyes. We didn't have the town on our side, but those who did like us hated when we fought. When Nell came in, she'd given me a knowing glance after seeing my serious expression throughout the night with Clark's absence. She'd been supportive of both of us. I would have to get used to Lana and her aunt being nosy now that I was working with Lana on a daily basis.
"I think we're okay." That answer said it all for me. Luthors weren't supposed to be uncertain about things like that. I picked up a rag and idly began scrubbing the counter. I had no idea that I'd picked up cleaning as a distraction technique from Martha. "I mean, I've been busy here, and he's been busy with Ryan. He's always wanted a little brother. He's trying to enjoy it while it lasts." The unsettling thought that crept into my mind questioned what would happen if they didn't find his parents. Would the Kents offer to keep him? Could they legally adopt him? There would be no escaping from that. I wasn't about to let that kid steal Clark from me permanently. "CPS is supposed to drop by tomorrow to pick him up." The naked truth was that I wanted him to go. I wanted to return to normal with the Kents.
"Well, why don't you have him bring the little guy here so I can meet him?" Ryan was local news, and Lana seemed like another one of those people who naturally loved children. Why didn't I have that kind of maternal instinct? It was something that I'd been living without for years, but I'd never noticed it until now. Now that I was going to have a child of my own, I was worried about what kind of mother I might be. My mother had been a great example, but she wasn't here to guide me. I could definitely rely on Martha, but I was so afraid that I wouldn't be able to connect with it. What if it came out and made me feel nothing? What if all I could see was just a crying brat? What if my father was right?
"Sure," I answered mutely. I snapped back into reality and forced myself to push back my personal problems until I was only wasting my own time. "Do you need a ride home?" Lana shook her head. I remembered her telling me that Nell had bought her a decent car. "Go home and get some sleep. You'll need it for tomorrow." We opened at twelve. I was used to strenuous work hours, but she wasn't. The flower shop wasn't open nearly this late. "Drive safe." She surprised me by pulling me into a hug, which I still hadn't gotten used to yet. She gave me a sweet smile before going out the door. I locked up behind her. The shades were drawn over the glass so that no one could see inside. I made sure that everything was in order before retreating to my apartment and locking those doors too. The first thing I did was send a text to Clark asking if he could bring Ryan over tomorrow for Lana. I knew that he would be sleeping, but it would be there for the morning.
I set my alarm and went to sleep shortly after my head hit the pillow. My dreams were the same as they'd been all week. They were dark and twisted. My father usually starred in them, and the first night, I could swear that I felt his touch. Tonight was worse. I woke up in the dream the same way. My wrists and ankles were attached to the posts of a bed with black silk sheets, and my skin was bare. Everything in the room was caste in shades of red. The sheen of the sheets resembled a dark pool of blood. Something with glowing eyes came out of the shadows. The dark figure was always my father, and his white teeth were unnaturally sharp. It took no time at all for him to go from standing at the foot of the bed to right on top of me, suffocating me. All the air in the room seemed to disappear all at once, and I found myself gasping for breath.
Before I could get any oxygen, his tongue was in my mouth while his hands had an iron grip on my wrists. I felt an echo of pain in reality, but I couldn't wake myself up. It was different this time. I knew I was dreaming, that I would wake up any second now, but the terror suppressed any notions of escape. I could vividly smell his cologne and feel the scratch of his beard on my chin. In a flash of motion, his mouth was gone from mine as he slashed into my face with unnaturally long fingernails. My cheek burned with the throbbing wounds, and I felt the heat of tears rushing down my cheeks. I saw movement from the corner of my eye, and I turned my head to see Clark in the shadows. I called his name, but no sound came from my throat. He watched my father's teeth sink into my neck with an indifferent expression in his eyes. I strained against my bonds when he turned and walked away, and then Lionel tore into my stomach and pulled the baby loose.
I shot awake with distinct aches in my body and slammed my hand on my alarm to turn it off. Damn. I had to check myself over to make sure it wasn't real, but I was shaking so badly that it was hard to grab my shirt and pull it up. There was nothing there but smooth skin and a small rise in the middle of my stomach. My heart wouldn't stop pounding, and the scent of cologne lingered in my nose. "Fuck." I tried to release the bundled-up tension, but it wasn't going away. I got in the shower anyway. The frightening, too-real dream made my skin feel unbearably hot. The cool water didn't help much. Once I got dressed, I made a doctor's appointment for Monday. It was time to get the baby checked out by someone who knew what they were doing instead of a teenager with x-ray vision. As soon as they knew my name, I was bumped up from two weeks to two days. I would have to leave Lana in charge of the Talon Monday afternoon to go to Metropolis, but that didn't bother me any. She was a trustworthy person now that I really knew her.
Since today was probably going to be a little slow, I wore a white blouse instead of the t-shirt I had made up. Besides, everyone had heard who owned the Talon, and there was no mistaking my bald head for anyone else. I was getting more comfortable with it and adapting like Luthors often had to. Clark had sent me a return text that simply stated "ok," and I shook my head. Was there any hope left for me? At least the kid was getting out of my life tonight. Clark might be forlorn for a while, but at least I wouldn't have to compete for his attention. I grabbed the money from my pocket and went into the main part of the Talon to stock the cash register. There was a variety of bills. I lifted the shades so that the sun shone in through the panes of glass and unlocked the door. While I was outside, I collected my mail, which included a brown package. There was no return address, and both my name and address were typed. I set aside the bills and letters from evangelical activists that told me I would burn in hell for dating a sixteen-year-old boy.
I was wary to open the package, but I had to open it eventually. I only hoped that it wasn't a bomb from my father. When I ripped the tape with a key and opened it, I dropped the box back on the counter and shrank back to the wall with my hand over my mouth in the hopes that I wouldn't throw up. In the light of day, I could see Mandi's blank eyes staring up at me. Her blue-tinted skin was pale and bloated, and her lips were parted in a last, desperate gasp for air. The stench was unbelievable. With that thought, I grabbed the box and took it outside to the dumpster. I didn't think twice as I placed the box in there and put a garbage bag over it. God. Was my father actually capable of cutting off my dead, psychotic ex-girlfriend's head and sending it to me? The shock value was undeniable. It was a warning. His way of saying that he knew I killed her. He wouldn't actually bring it to the police, but if I did anything else out of line, he would turn me in. I wasn't planning on it.
Still, the image that had been imprinted on my mind made my stomach wrench with nausea. I had killed her, yes, but she was trying to boil me alive. That had to be a classic case of self-defense. If I hadn't healed, I would've been dead with her. The severed head had done its job. I was sufficiently unsettled when I returned to the Talon and washed my hands. The smell was no longer in the shop, but I propped the door open anyways. It was a sunny day, and it wouldn't hurt anything to leave it open. I played card games on my laptop over the next two hours. A few customers filtered in and gave good reviews of the coffee, but it would take a little while for word-of-mouth to do its trick. All the while, my mind wandered to the Godfather-esque message that had undoubtedly come from my father. Mandi had been an object of my desire once. The severity of what was in the box made me think back to the time when her sickness was dormant. She'd been a beautiful brunette in a club with beautiful lips. All I'd wanted back then was to make her smile.
She'd been sitting with her boyfriend in the VIP section and looked utterly bored. Her body was slightly turned away from him on the couch. All I could think back then was that she had a great body. Her slim, toned legs were encased in skin-tight jeans. The black tank top she wore had been cropped just under her breasts so that her muscled abdomen was exposed along with a sparkling jewel in her navel. I wanted to feel her under me within seconds of seeing her. Her long, brown hair had been ironed straight and framed her pretty face perfectly. She had high cheekbones and beautiful dark eyes. Her full lips called to me, even though the guy sitting next to her was obviously her boyfriend. I could smell his cologne from here. He was the kind of guy that reeked of false bravado. He was talking to another couple across the table, but his eyes kept straying to the woman. Her short skirt kept riding up her legs. I had no doubt that he was a cheater.
It was fair to steal her if he deserved it. I'd waited in the shadows until she got up to get a drink. The ironic thing was that I'd started as the stalker and followed her down the steps. Her hair smelled of fresh flowers instead of burnt cinders. I bumped into her in the bar and asked her what she was drinking. I'd put it on my father's card. She knew who I was once she saw the name on the card. I had a reputation in these clubs, and she told me that she wasn't into girls. I remembered leaning into her, watching her lips quiver when I got near, and telling her that it wouldn't matter. I'd converted girls like her before. All it took was the sense of excitement and a little bit of skill.
Then she'd smiled. She was only pretty when she looked serious; she was beautiful when she smiled. I'd felt a pang in my chest, like my heart had stopped for a moment. She could've been the girl I fell in love with. If she wasn't just as paranoid as I was. Mine had been under control with medication. Hers was not. I remembered glancing over my shoulder a few weeks later and seeing her trying to blend in with the crowd behind me. She hadn't been beautiful anymore. She'd become frightening. My thoughts were interrupted by a tall man at the counter. I glanced up and smiled even though I was in a bad mood. "How can I help you?" My smile faded when he flashed a badge. He didn't keep the flip wallet open for long, but the image was imprinted in my memory. It was a badge from a town police force in Ohio. What was he doing in Kansas?
He had a pointed jaw with a dimple in his chin and thick eyebrows. His face was weathered, and his hair was brown and curly. He wore a khaki trench coat that was ripped off from bad detective movies. I immediately knew that this guy wasn't a police officer. I'd seen and been arrested by enough of them to know that detectives liked to remain subtle. This guy was anything but. He was trying too hard to look like something he wasn't. "I'm private detective Gibson Burch. I've talked to all the shopkeepers in the area, and I was wondering if you've seen this boy. His name is Ryan." He slid a black-and-white printout across the counter, and I pretended to examine it closely. It was Ryan, all right. But this Burch guy wasn't on the level. I knew that wasn't his real name, either. The name on the license that accompanied the badge was James Gibson.
I feigned total innocence and shook my head. "Only in the paper. They said he was in the hospital." There had been an article run in the front page of the Ledger. If I hadn't mentioned something about it, it would've seemed suspicious. "Poor boy. Did they finally manage to find his family?" I could see that his chestnut-colored eyes looked speculative. He was trying to decide if I was being honest or not. I kept my face totally blank and pretended that I was just another dumb local. He was sharper than the average man, but he was definitely no detective. A detective would've done his research before coming. He would've known exactly who I was. Only outsiders didn't know who I was without knowing that my father was Lionel Luthor.
"Yes, ma'am. That's why it's important for us to find out where he is. The hospital couldn't release any information." It might've worked on someone else, but I was a Luthor. I didn't submit to intensive questioning under pressure without my lawyer, much less some shady guy asking questions about a boy who had been practically adopted by my new family. I'd learned at a very young age to keep my mouth shut around cops so that my father could get me out of whatever trouble I was in. This guy didn't come close to Metropolis PD. He seemed to be satisfied with my evident lack of knowledge, because he started to write down a phone number on the flyer. He tore it off the bottom corner of the page. "This is my cell phone number. If you find anything out, give it a call."
Mistake number two. Any credible detective would have a card with all their information printed on it. It was some unspoken rule that once you got a cool job, you got a thousand cards printed up to look professional. I nodded again and smiled. "I'll be sure to let you know, sir." He seemed amicable enough, but I was nowhere near fooled. I was glad that Lana wasn't in yet. She would've given away the game. I put the number in my pocket for later use, and the guy exited the Talon. Immediately after he was out of sight, I went on my laptop to the nearest criminal database and typed in the name. James Gibson. A mug shot popped up with the same man's face, and I read down the long list of things they'd charged him with. Aggravated assault, petty thievery, and impersonating a federal officer. I looked at known associates and found out something chilling. His son's name was Ryan James. The kid's mother was long dead, but he'd married again soon after to another woman with a rap sheet just as long as his.
I felt a sudden need to protect Ryan as much as I could. He didn't have anyone else besides the Kents. If they took him back to his father, he would be exposed to a life that was almost as bad as mine had been. Why would you want a kid when you were into robbery? Maybe Ryan was their distraction. Their hook. I couldn't figure it out. I picked up my cell phone and dialed Clark's number. I didn't want Ryan in town in case Gibson spotted him. I heard Clark's standard greeting. "Clark, I need you to stay home. I'll explain everything when I get there." After hearing Clark's confirmation, I shut my laptop and dialed Lana's phone this time. When I asked her to come early, she jumped at the opportunity to impress me. It only took her five minutes to arrive, but those five minutes were long. Even longer was the drive home in the Mercedes. I was jumpy. I'd told Lana not to tell anyone anything about Ryan, but I had doubts about her ability to lie.
When I got to the farm, Ryan and Clark were in the loft. I stood at the top of the stairs, unsure of what to say until I saw Ryan's face. His eyes held plain, unabashed fear in them. How did he know? As soon as I saw the look on his face, I knew that there was no way I would allow that asshole to get his hands on him. Everything clicked all at once. The signs of abuse, Ryan's feigned memory loss. He'd hoped that they would never find him. But something about him was important enough to this bastard that he'd been sniffing around. "What's going on?" Clark's question was almost a demand, and I felt faintly annoyed that he was talking to me like that. Then again, maybe he was more concerned about Ryan's safety than I now was.
"This guy came into the Talon looking for Ryan. He said he was a private detective, but his badge didn't match his driver's license. He's a criminal. He's also Ryan's father." The betrayal in the little boy's eyes was almost unbearable. It was as if he wanted Clark to think him perfect so that he would keep him. As a sign of silent support, Clark's arm rested over the back of the couch. His hand squeezed Ryan's shoulder gently. "His name is James Gibson. We need to keep Ryan as far away from him as possible. He's talking to everyone in town. We should warn your parents, too." Ryan curled in closer to Clark, but I could see the gratefulness in his eyes. All the manipulation had made me forget that he was just a kid. He was hiding from his father for a reason. Abuse didn't exactly create high self-esteem, so he was trying to appear as perfect as he could so the Kents would accept him. I could understand the appeal. I'd tried the same thing myself.
"He won't touch you." Clark's voice was strong enough to reassure the poor boy. Clark's sea-green eyes flickered back to me. "He didn't hurt you, did he?" I shook my head and sat down on the extra chair. It was a flimsy little thing, but we rarely needed it. "Ryan, we need to know what he did to you. We need to keep you safe." I could sense that Clark wanted to go to the police. Smallville's cops weren't the brightest, but they were still cops. Even then, they wouldn't offer nearly as much protection as Clark would. I could see the tension in every muscle beneath the boy's better-fitting clothes. The Kents had bought him everything he needed for the week. There was no way I could ever let him go back to the life he had before.
"I know you're hiding something." It was somewhat confrontational, and I got two glares for it. "Gibson doesn't seem like a concerned father, yet he's searching the county for you. If he didn't think you were valuable, he would've let you go without a second thought. But he's here. We need to know what he wants from you." I had refined Clark's quest for information to fit my own ideas, but now Clark was curious. I took a leap. "You know that Clark is special." His eyes glimmered with recognition. "I'm special, too. I can heal very fast. What makes you special, Ryan?" I could see that he was considering whether to tell me or to deny everything. If he didn't say anything, my dogged determination would overcome my politeness, and I would hound the boy for the answer. Clark might stop me, but it wouldn't stop me from finding out. The resolution in his eyes was a good one.
Now Clark's eyes were on Ryan. The little boy took a deep breath that seemed haggard and sighed. "I can hear what people are thinking." That wasn't a surprise. The kid had been reading my mind from the beginning. "Except you, Clark. But I know that you're not from here. I heard it in everyone else's thoughts. You can save me, like Warrior Angel. I don't want to go back." The stray made my heart ache. He was good at manipulating people, but I knew that today, he was being sincere. I took my eyes off of Ryan to look at Clark. Clark returned my gaze. From that moment on, until he was in equally safe hands, he was ours.