Fly Me Courageous

By Annabell

Disclaimer: I do not own anything to do with Smallville or its characters. This is done purely for fun.

Warnings: This fic will contain swearing, much violence and angst. Yet I can't resist some humor either.

This is un-beta-ed. So any errors are mine own.

Note: This takes place as though Tempest never happened. Lex is 22 and Clark is 16.

Archive: Hell yeah!

Chapter 4

Lex tried to think clearly. He had no idea where they had taken him, only that it wasn't near a city, yet not far from Smallville, judging by the length of the drive they had taken. It was dark by the time they had finally stopped the pickup truck and hauled him out. There were no lights visible in the distance. Not getting a chance to take a look around, one of the thugs half-dragged him through tall, tangled grass by his elbow while the other walked ahead, apparently looking for something. The gag prevented him from asking questions.

Trying to get his eyes to focus, he forced his feet to move. He didn't want that jerk to pull on his arms any more than necessary, rubbing the already raw spots where the rope was digging into his wrists. A hollow grassy thump reached his ears from in front of him. He tried to hesitate, but was propelled forward by a shove at the small of his back. A large hole gaped at his feet. At the back of his mind, Lex thought he could identify a storm cellar. Very few houses in the lower mid-west had basements. The ground simply was not suitable for digging large holes. So in an effort to escape the deadly tornados that spawned during the summer months, settlers had to make do with storm cellars. Barely more than holes in the ground, they provided adequate refuges when the killer winds descended on the Great Plains. Like the one the Kents had. Throwing himself backward in alarm, two sets of hands pushing him resolutely forward. Panic was starting to set in and he dug in his heels, trying to shout through the gag.

A heavy blow exploded at the base of his skull, making him see stars and his knees go weak. Unable to form a coherent thought, let alone marshal the coordination to fight back, he was helpless to prevent them from shoving him into the pit. Stumbling at the rough cement lip of the hole, a stab of pure terror shot through him as he fell forward, knowing that he couldn't use his hands to save himself. He twisted his body in a futile effort to save himself from serious hurt.

He landed hard on the set of ancient wooden step with his left shoulder. The steps held his weight briefly, before giving way and letting him crash to the stone floor below. Pain tore through him, darkening his already nonexistent vision. Distantly he heard a muffled thud, some scuffling, and then the only thing he could hear was the beating of his own heart, accompanied by his breathing. He forced himself to focus past the pain, to push it to the back of his mind. After a while, he was able to ignore the pain enough for Lex to sit up and consider his situation logically.  He couldn't see and there was nothing to hear. He could smell old water, dampness and underneath that was the distinct odor of decay.

Forcing back the instinctive panic that stirred in the back part of his mind that controlled the primitive functions of the human behavior, Lex made himself think logically.

'Okay you can deal with this. First things first, get untied.' 

It was a sound strategy in theory, but putting it into practice was another thing. Twisting his hands in order to get his fingers near enough to the knots required intense concentration and a huge application of will, not to mention the cramps in his fingers. Lex's will had always been ironclad, and he never, ever gave up, even when the constant motion had rubbed his wrists to the point that blood was steadily dripping down into his hands, making the knots slippery. The cool dampness of the storm cellar did not prevent sweat from beading on his face, dripping into his eyes, making them sting.

'Why…why…won't these damned knots…come loose?'

Finally, after an eternity, Lex felt the knots give and, shaking violently, eased his blood-soaked hands around to cradle in his lap. He allowed himself to rest for a moment before reaching up with his right hand and pulling the gag out of his mouth, leaving a damp smear of blood along his cheek. He couldn't raise his left arm any higher than his ribs.

He looked around, but there was nothing to see, it was simply too dark to make out anything about where he was. Feeling around, he located a wall. Using the rough, damp stone as a starting place, he slid his hand along the wall until he came to a corner.  It took him only a few minutes to determine that his prison was about fifteen feet across and twenty feet long. Reaching up, he was unable to touch the ceiling and thus determine how deep it was. Due to the steps breaking under his rapid descent, he had no way up either.

'Options, Lex?'

Feeling his way back to a corner, he put his back to the wall and slid down until he was sitting on the cold stone floor once again. Pulling his knees up to his chest, he let his head fall back against the wall and stared sightlessly at the ceiling. Lex had discovered in the past that for a time, when the body is injured, the mind becomes curiously unclouded. A kind of crystalline clarity that can be utilized if a person had the fortitude to bear the pain.

Lex had that kind of fortitude. He focused past the aches and stings, instead considering the situation. After thinking about it from every angle he could imagine, he came up with several conclusions. The first one was that the men who had grabbed him had known where he was. That implied some type of inside knowledge, which meant that there had been a spy that Lex had missed. Or that someone had planted a tracking device on his car. Both scenarios were possible, and the more he pondered it, the more Lex favored the second.

The next conclusion he came to was that they would be coming back for him within a day or so. There was no food or water down in the cellar, and the human body cannot go very long without water. Two days would be about the limit of safety. The one guy had told him that they were after what was in his head, and so Lex concluded that they knew about his plans.

But he still had no real idea who had done this. The list was incredibly long only if the people behind this had known what Lex had been working on. Very, very few people had any real idea and none of them with the exception of Lex himself knew the whole formula.

First on his list of probable suspects would be his father, except this was far too tacky for Lionel to be behind this. Lionel was about subtlety and this situation was anything but. But the stakes were so high that maybe his father was resorting to desperation tactics? Lex shuddered at the thought of his familial situation was so fucked up that he could easily see his father doing this to him and not be too bothered by it.

Lex's eyes focused abruptly when he though he heard a noise from up above. Shoving himself to his feet, he braced his good arm against the wall. Listening with all his might, he thought he heard….something. It might have been footsteps. Had his kidnappers come back? Lex was betting that it was too soon. He figured they'd leave him down there for a day or so, to try to soften him up for when they came back to question him. Drawing in a breath, he decided to go for it.  

"Hey! Is someone there? I could really use a hand here." His voice was hoarse and he had to clear his throat several times to get the words out.

Silence. The sounds coming from above stopped, and Lex froze.  Had they heard him?

"Is anybody there? I'm locked down here."

Silence. There was nothing, no response. Not willing to give up hope, he tried again.

"Somebody? I need some help."

Silence.

Softer. His voice was giving out, as was his hope. "Help me?"

"please?"

It had been nothing. The hope that had flickered in his chest died just as quickly as it had been born. He slid back down, and started shivering. The silk did nothing to warm him against the cool dampness that pervaded the cellar. His wrists burned worse than ever and his shoulder throbbed. A ringing in his head was getting louder. The clarity that he had enjoyed was waning and his injuries were starting to cloud his thoughts. The only thing he could do was vow that he would endure this, get out of there, and get his revenge.

No one reduced Lex Luthor to pleading and lived to tell about it. No one.

Not even dear old dad.

TBC

Note: the rating of this fic will be going up to R.