6. Seen Through Other Eyes
LEX
Late at night, and we've talked our way round the subject. Come to the horrible conclusion that our mutual friend Clark is a meteor mutant. And we still can't believe it. Chloe, a little numb, has gone to bed. I came back downstairs, because I can't sleep when my brain is turning like this.
I wouldn't have seen it, if I hadn't looked up at that precise moment, just a red flicker in the corner of my eye. A thin line in the panelling, a crack that shouldn't be there. I know what it is, even as I lever the panel up with a pool cue. Smash it to bits.
There is a video-camera in my library.
How many more of these fucking things are there in my house? I feel soiled, enraged.
I am going to kill someone. My life on tape - not just photos but systematic surveillance. My life with Chloe. I know exactly who put the cameras there, where they will be.
CHLOE
I wake up when the door crashed open, unsure of where I am for a moment. Lex charges in, and he looks dangerous, wickedly angry. It's like he doesn't even see me, sweeps his eyes round the room, bashing a hole in the panelling, holding a handful of mangled metal and plastic.
This is real. He pulled a camera out of the wall.
I can't think. And then I'm throwing up in the toilet, and I just want to stand under the shower and -scrub-. Shaking and crying, and there's a hand on my back, and I whirl,
"Don't -touch- me!"
I might as well have hit him. Lex's face blanches, stark misery. Then I feel my shoulders go rigid under his hands, as he tells me it's going to be all right, and that he's going to kill whoever did this, and we both know who he means. Standing there, me in my t-shirt, him in a suit that cost more than my dad's car, soaked to the skin, and I can't tell if that's just water on his face or not.
I can't stay in this house. And I can't talk to Lex.
LEX
She won't look at me, talk to me, just insists on getting out of the room, the house.
After I take Chloe home, I make a call I never thought I would make.
"Did I wake you? I need...a favour."
Two people have ever scared me in my life. My father is the other one.
One of my many schools, blowing off another counsellor, another boy in the waiting-room, younger. He'd lost both parents, not just one, though for all the notice my father took of me...Strange silent child, who took to following me around. I was never big on sleeping, too many nightmares, so I would slip downstairs, watch movies. And I would find this silent shadow, another night-owl. We didn't talk, just watched the bright alien images, absorbed the violence and glory, until I got expelled again. Strangest thing, finding him up on the roof of the school, outlined against the moon. I'd gone up there, for a drink and a smoke, and when I turned round, there was this kid watching me. Part of the fucking night, because I never even heard him. We haven't seen each other or spoken properly for a few years, since we each went off to do our own variation of rich-kid crazy. I've met him a few times since, and he talks now, works the room well, but he still has those blank eyes. I think my nightmares are bad, but I suspect his might be worse.
He's the only person I can think of who would have an electronics expert to rival anyone my father can bribe. Two little rich boys with their toys.
I am going to rip this house apart.
***
CHLOE
I saw the vans go past today. Two sleek black anonymous vehicles that still managed to scream money.
I still feel dirty.
I still can't face Lex. I know he's tearing the place apart, feels as...violated as I do. But my skin crawls at the thought of being in that house again.
I stood under the shower until the water went cold. Until my skin was raw with scrubbing. And I still felt - dirty. I can't tell my father - he thinks I had a fight with Lex, a teenage snit.
Comes into my room, wants me to talk to him. How can I tell my father, a decent man, that his boss, his daughter's boyfriend, had -his- house bugged by the chairman of the company, -his- father. And that this is how their family is. And that the chairman has seen our private life, our sex life, up on screen. Make him live with that knowledge in the back of his mind, at work, in board-meetings. This is one of Smallville's secrets that will stay buried.
Part of me knows that we have done the same to Clark, with our computer files and videos and scientific simulations. And when I think that, I know that I need to see Lex.
Dad lets me take the car - wants to drive me, but I need to do this myself, need to drive in through those gates. Those black cars parked like sharks, teams of black-clad and efficient people carrying gizmos in and out, and I can't do this. Then, in the hallway, his face the only colour, Lex. He sees me standing there on the gravel, stills his first step. He understands. One of the black-clad minions steps towards me, is waved back.
I walk up the steps. Through the door, stop in front of him. And it's not so hard to touch him, after all, because this is Lex, and why should I be ashamed of loving him?
We sit in the library whilst they install or programme, or whatever. We don't say much, watch the industry, but his grip on my hand is almost painful.
The leader of the minions suddenly appears at Lex's shoulder. He isn't dressed any differently, but he doesn't need to be. Like Lex, he wears power and wealth like another skin. Strangely, he also reminds me of Clark - same build and colouring, but polished.
"The house is clean now, Lex. Your new system is in, password as requested. Only you and I know it. Any unregistered electronics, signals or microwaves, and you'll have instant lockdown and targeting." He turns to me. "If you have a mobile phone or laptop, ma'am, I suggest you turn it off now."
I do, because I don't like the sound of targeting. Lex holds out his hand.
"Thank you."
"My pleasure. Aren't you going to introduce me?" And he produces a blinding smile, that nearly reaches his eyes. I've recognised him, of course, and he knows it. Hold out my own hand.
"Miss Sullivan. Are you staying in Smallville long?"
"She's a reporter." explains Lex, moving me sideways by my shoulders. "She will try and interview you. Run."
It's the nearest to friendship I've seen him, with anyone but Clark. Maybe that's where the resemblance lies. The other man smiles again.
"Maybe I could be persuaded..."
Lex takes him firmly by an elbow.
"And maybe the Knights will beat the Sharks this year. See you in the Skybox."
He laughs.
"A pleasure to meet you. Next time, I hope we have longer to talk."
Gathers up his team and his rather overwhelming presence, and leaves us.
Lex comes back, stops a little uncertainly, before I take the first step.
LEX
She came back to me. Standing in the sunlight, and I knew she had to make the choice. Was there something symbolic in the fact she had to step out of the light to come to me? Or have I just been up too long without sleep, running on coffee and anger? It no longer matters which one. She came back.
Tentatively, she reaches out, slips her hand inside my shirt. Our own private gesture, fingers above my heart.
***
Later, she tells me what she thought earlier, about what had been done to us, what we have done. And she is right. But. But - I leave her sleeping under the quilt - we avoided -that- bedroom by mutual consent - and pad down to my library.
But - I still need to know. And this makes me no better than my evil bastard of a father. I hate myself, even as I set up the machinery.
LEX
Late at night, and we've talked our way round the subject. Come to the horrible conclusion that our mutual friend Clark is a meteor mutant. And we still can't believe it. Chloe, a little numb, has gone to bed. I came back downstairs, because I can't sleep when my brain is turning like this.
I wouldn't have seen it, if I hadn't looked up at that precise moment, just a red flicker in the corner of my eye. A thin line in the panelling, a crack that shouldn't be there. I know what it is, even as I lever the panel up with a pool cue. Smash it to bits.
There is a video-camera in my library.
How many more of these fucking things are there in my house? I feel soiled, enraged.
I am going to kill someone. My life on tape - not just photos but systematic surveillance. My life with Chloe. I know exactly who put the cameras there, where they will be.
CHLOE
I wake up when the door crashed open, unsure of where I am for a moment. Lex charges in, and he looks dangerous, wickedly angry. It's like he doesn't even see me, sweeps his eyes round the room, bashing a hole in the panelling, holding a handful of mangled metal and plastic.
This is real. He pulled a camera out of the wall.
I can't think. And then I'm throwing up in the toilet, and I just want to stand under the shower and -scrub-. Shaking and crying, and there's a hand on my back, and I whirl,
"Don't -touch- me!"
I might as well have hit him. Lex's face blanches, stark misery. Then I feel my shoulders go rigid under his hands, as he tells me it's going to be all right, and that he's going to kill whoever did this, and we both know who he means. Standing there, me in my t-shirt, him in a suit that cost more than my dad's car, soaked to the skin, and I can't tell if that's just water on his face or not.
I can't stay in this house. And I can't talk to Lex.
LEX
She won't look at me, talk to me, just insists on getting out of the room, the house.
After I take Chloe home, I make a call I never thought I would make.
"Did I wake you? I need...a favour."
Two people have ever scared me in my life. My father is the other one.
One of my many schools, blowing off another counsellor, another boy in the waiting-room, younger. He'd lost both parents, not just one, though for all the notice my father took of me...Strange silent child, who took to following me around. I was never big on sleeping, too many nightmares, so I would slip downstairs, watch movies. And I would find this silent shadow, another night-owl. We didn't talk, just watched the bright alien images, absorbed the violence and glory, until I got expelled again. Strangest thing, finding him up on the roof of the school, outlined against the moon. I'd gone up there, for a drink and a smoke, and when I turned round, there was this kid watching me. Part of the fucking night, because I never even heard him. We haven't seen each other or spoken properly for a few years, since we each went off to do our own variation of rich-kid crazy. I've met him a few times since, and he talks now, works the room well, but he still has those blank eyes. I think my nightmares are bad, but I suspect his might be worse.
He's the only person I can think of who would have an electronics expert to rival anyone my father can bribe. Two little rich boys with their toys.
I am going to rip this house apart.
***
CHLOE
I saw the vans go past today. Two sleek black anonymous vehicles that still managed to scream money.
I still feel dirty.
I still can't face Lex. I know he's tearing the place apart, feels as...violated as I do. But my skin crawls at the thought of being in that house again.
I stood under the shower until the water went cold. Until my skin was raw with scrubbing. And I still felt - dirty. I can't tell my father - he thinks I had a fight with Lex, a teenage snit.
Comes into my room, wants me to talk to him. How can I tell my father, a decent man, that his boss, his daughter's boyfriend, had -his- house bugged by the chairman of the company, -his- father. And that this is how their family is. And that the chairman has seen our private life, our sex life, up on screen. Make him live with that knowledge in the back of his mind, at work, in board-meetings. This is one of Smallville's secrets that will stay buried.
Part of me knows that we have done the same to Clark, with our computer files and videos and scientific simulations. And when I think that, I know that I need to see Lex.
Dad lets me take the car - wants to drive me, but I need to do this myself, need to drive in through those gates. Those black cars parked like sharks, teams of black-clad and efficient people carrying gizmos in and out, and I can't do this. Then, in the hallway, his face the only colour, Lex. He sees me standing there on the gravel, stills his first step. He understands. One of the black-clad minions steps towards me, is waved back.
I walk up the steps. Through the door, stop in front of him. And it's not so hard to touch him, after all, because this is Lex, and why should I be ashamed of loving him?
We sit in the library whilst they install or programme, or whatever. We don't say much, watch the industry, but his grip on my hand is almost painful.
The leader of the minions suddenly appears at Lex's shoulder. He isn't dressed any differently, but he doesn't need to be. Like Lex, he wears power and wealth like another skin. Strangely, he also reminds me of Clark - same build and colouring, but polished.
"The house is clean now, Lex. Your new system is in, password as requested. Only you and I know it. Any unregistered electronics, signals or microwaves, and you'll have instant lockdown and targeting." He turns to me. "If you have a mobile phone or laptop, ma'am, I suggest you turn it off now."
I do, because I don't like the sound of targeting. Lex holds out his hand.
"Thank you."
"My pleasure. Aren't you going to introduce me?" And he produces a blinding smile, that nearly reaches his eyes. I've recognised him, of course, and he knows it. Hold out my own hand.
"Miss Sullivan. Are you staying in Smallville long?"
"She's a reporter." explains Lex, moving me sideways by my shoulders. "She will try and interview you. Run."
It's the nearest to friendship I've seen him, with anyone but Clark. Maybe that's where the resemblance lies. The other man smiles again.
"Maybe I could be persuaded..."
Lex takes him firmly by an elbow.
"And maybe the Knights will beat the Sharks this year. See you in the Skybox."
He laughs.
"A pleasure to meet you. Next time, I hope we have longer to talk."
Gathers up his team and his rather overwhelming presence, and leaves us.
Lex comes back, stops a little uncertainly, before I take the first step.
LEX
She came back to me. Standing in the sunlight, and I knew she had to make the choice. Was there something symbolic in the fact she had to step out of the light to come to me? Or have I just been up too long without sleep, running on coffee and anger? It no longer matters which one. She came back.
Tentatively, she reaches out, slips her hand inside my shirt. Our own private gesture, fingers above my heart.
***
Later, she tells me what she thought earlier, about what had been done to us, what we have done. And she is right. But. But - I leave her sleeping under the quilt - we avoided -that- bedroom by mutual consent - and pad down to my library.
But - I still need to know. And this makes me no better than my evil bastard of a father. I hate myself, even as I set up the machinery.