HIDE IN PLAIN SIGHT by ingrid
~*~
Of course, there had to be a maniac at the parade.
The annual Smallville Corn Queen parade in all its dried husk float splendor with Karen Tucker sitting atop her corn cob throne and Clark standing on the bright side of the road with Pete and Chloe, all of them gamely returning Her Majesty's nervous greeting. Clark took a minute to wave cheerily at Lex, who stood watching from the opposite side of the street, leaning against his Porsche, sunglasses on, hiding in plain sight from the rest of the small town crowd.
Clark was just about to cross the street to drag Lex over to the sunlit side when the snap-crack-pop of gunfire filled the air. Screams all around, and Clark shoved his friends to the ground while staying on his knees, alert and searching for the gunman.
It took only a few seconds to discover the gun-toting man in question was Johnny Marks, the Smallville High School senior who'd been acting strangely for the past few weeks, wearing steelworker's gloves all of the time, even indoors at school, becoming angry and threatening when teachers demanded he remove them.
Chloe, with her innate sense of the unusual, had mentioned something about him some days before, and now Clark was sorry he hadn't listened more closely.
But he was certainly interested now. Unfortunately.
Marks caught Clark's intense gaze and pointed the gun at him. "What are you looking at?"
"Someone who needs help," Clark replied gently. "Put the gun down, Johnny."
The gunman strode over, yanked roughly on Clark's collar and Clark had a hell of a time pretending he could easily be hauled to his feet. Had to steady himself and truly restrain his strength when he felt a cold circle of steel against his temple.
The crowd gasped in empathy, and Clark felt more embarrassed than afraid. Ridiculous, he knew, and it only got worse when he caught a glimpse of Chloe's face, filled with fear. Painful charade, but Clark had no choice but to follow as the gunman pulled and pushed him down the street, past the gaudy floats and toward Hidden Creek overpass, less than a quarter mile away.
Clark stumbled along gamely as Johnny screamed and ranted. The sheriff barked into his radio for backup and together they passed by Lex Luthor, the concealing sunglasses removed.
Clark saw no fear in the blue-grey eyes. Only the stealthy glare of a panther, steely and determined.
The strange march continued, all the way to the overpass where Johnny stopped and shoved Clark against its low fence. The crowd followed, ignoring the sheriff's orders to stay back and Clark's felt himself turning red with discomfort.
He was glad to be the victim -- who better than he, really -- but he was having a very hard time figuring out how he was going to "survive" the situation. If Johnny pulled the trigger at this range, then Clark, like Lucy Ricardo, would have some explaining to do to an entire town.
Maybe to an entire planet.
He glanced over his shoulder to the creek below. He could make a jump for it and drag Johnny with him, but the water was far away, and he had no idea as to its depth. Maybe if he landed on his back with Johnny on top and then
"Mr. Marks!" Lex's voice, sharp and authoritative, called out above the murmurs of the crowd. "Please, let him go. I'll get you whatever you want, whatever you need. Just tell me what it is, and it'll be here within the hour."
A hysterical snort. "You, Luthor? Why should I trust you? You and your damned father are the cause of all my problems. I can't touch anything anymore without burning it. I can't even hug my Mom or kiss my girlfriend. I'm a leper!" Marks held up a gloved hand. "I wasn't like this before I started working for your father, delivering those stupid secret packages for him I was normal then. I had a normal life." The gun's barrel tapped against Clark's forehead. "I don't want anything from you. I want an investigation by the police, the newspapers. I want everyone to know exactly what the Luthors are," he snarled. "There'll be no more hiding for you!"
"I can arrange that," said Lex carefully. "So there's no point in holding Clark hostage anymore. Let him go and we can get started on the investigation."
"Clark?" Marks glanced at his captive. "You two know each other?"
Clark bit his lip. Looked back at Lex, who was, as always, just shy of truly understanding how deep and fierce the hatred of his family ran through the collective soul of Smallville.
"Yes," Clark replied tightly.
"How?"
"Friends," Clark whispered.
"Mr. Marks " Lex interrupted sharply.
Marks wasn't paying attention to him anymore. "Good friends?"
Clark shut his eyes for a second and when he opened them, he saw Lex's face, the panic seeping in.
They both knew where this conversation was headed. Straight to the bottom of the creek.
But maybe that would be a good thing. If Clark could get both himself and Marks over and out of the crowd's way out of Lex's way
"Best friends," Clark said firmly. He drew himself up tall and turned to Marks, his voice clear and loud enough for the entire gathering to hear. "Lex is my best friend and he's not an evil person. Not everything bad that happens in Smallville is his fault and he would help you if you'd just give him the chance, instead of standing here and blaming him for everything that's wrong. If you did that, then maybe things would change. For the better."
Marks pressed the gun harder against Clark's cheek. Obviously, the speech hadn't made much of an impact. "Best friends, huh?" he said thoughtfully. He brightened and called out to Lex. "This might work, Luthor. We can make a little trade."
"What kind of trade?" Lex asked haltingly. Clark could see Lex's gloved hands; they were trembling. "Listen to me, Marks "
Marks shrugged. "Trade in my misery for a little of your own." He turned viciously on Clark. "Sorry, pal. Nothing personal, but this bastard has to pay."
The brutal shove that followed caught Clark off-guard, making him lose his already precarious balance. There wasn't enough time to grab Marks and take him along for the ride, so Clark tumbled and flailed through the air alone, stomach lurching when he saw the flowing creek and rocks getting closer. Clark heard the shriek of the crowd, along with a single gunshot before he hit the water, feeling annoyed when he remembered he was wearing his brand-new winter coat.
His head hit something sharp and Clark shook off the dull ache without another thought. Tried to get his bearings and took a stroke backwards in shock when something else plunged into the water a few feet away, entering with a dull splommph! and churning up a white torrent of foam and green-gray silt in its wake.
Clark peered through the murky water, finally discerning a fully dressed figure in a long black coat ... a person frantically reaching out through the surrounding water, as if looking for something.
It was Lex.
Clark nearly drew in a lungful of water at the sight. Lex had leapt into the creek after him and was swimming in unsteady beats underwater, his eyes open and actively searching. Clark immediately went limp and let himself float up to the surface, desperately hoping Lex would follow him up to the air and light.
Praying Lex would follow him back to what humans called safety.
It was only a few seconds before Clark felt a strong arm curl around his chest and heard frantic, pained gasps as Lex hauled him toward the land. He helped as much as he could, with surreptitious kicks and waves of his hands before the water became too shallow and he felt the sharp sting of gravel against the back of his neck, scraping along his wet denim-clad legs.
There was more heaving and dragging and Clark felt himself placed down on the ground tenderly, with Lex's shaking hand shielding his head from the rock it was placed on.
"Clark," Lex choked. Light taps against Clark's face, along with a rough, almost angry, shake to his shoulders. "Please. Please wake up. Please don't leave me."
Clark let his eyes slowly flutter open. Coughed a few times for good measure and had to bite back a smile at the stark relief outlined on Lex's face. "Hey there," he croaked. "I'm okay, Lex."
He felt a cold forehead against his then, with wet skin sticking and Lex's eyes were closed, creek water and tears dripping down his cheeks. "Oh, God. Clark "
"S'okay," Clark whispered, his breath bouncing back warm from Lex's pale face. He watched as Lex's eyes slowly opened and there was something there, something more than friendship and strangely, he wondered if mouth-to-mouth was really only for people who weren't awake and breathing. "I'm okay. I really am."
"Yes, you are," said Lex, leaning back on his haunches, the stoic mask fallen once again, leaving something unreadable in its wake. "And by that same token, I am too."
Clark didn't know what to say then, so he stayed silent, as the sirens surrounded them and Smallville's typical chaos took the place of all things sane.
~*~
"You have to go to a hospital."
"No, Lex. I don't want to."
Annoyed was never a good look for Lex. "You're not a baby, Clark. You don't need your parents with you for everything. I called them, they'll be back from Coast City in a few hours so acting like a two-year-old about going to the emergency room for a checkup is silly."
"I don't see you running into the ambulance to get yourself checked out," Clark replied archly. He hunkered down further into the Porsche's fine leather seating. "So I'm not going either."
Lex slid him an irritable glance, but said nothing.
Clark stared at the car floor and pulled the scratchy EMS blanket a little higher around his shoulders. "Can you just drive me home, Lex? Please?"
"No," replied Lex pointedly. "I'm not taking you home." He started the engine and shoved the Porsche's gears into drive. "You're staying at my house, at least until your parents show up and then they can kick your ass to the damned doctor's."
"Oh. Okay." Clark looked at the still-gawking crowd. Thankfully, they were busy staring at the ambulance where Marks was being treated for a gunshot wound to the leg after being taken down by one of the sheriff's deputies.
Clark sighed, his heart heavy. He wondered exactly what part of this mess could have been avoided and if he was ever going to learn how to manipulate events in such a way so their positive outcomes couldn't be traced back to his alien origins.
Breaking down a wall was easy, it seemed.
Convincing the world he had nothing to do with that wall's breakdown was much, much harder.
Clark barely had time to think more on the matter, as the drive to Lex's castle was accomplished at a breakneck speed and Lex barked and pushed him up the stairs mere seconds after they arrived. He threw towels at Clark, ordering him to take a hot shower in Lex's private bath, while Lex himself stood shivering in still-dripping clothing. All of Clark's protests were met with a cold glare and Clark meekly obeyed, groaning with relief as the pounding hot water cleared his skin and his mind of much of their troubles.
When he came out, a baggy sweatshirt and drawstring pants came flying through the air at him. "Put those on," Lex ordered. He nodded toward the bed that was already turned down. "Get in there and if you make one false move out of it, you'll be sorry."
"I'm not a little kid, Lex," Clark groused, then winced as Lex fixed him with a look that would have seared a side of beef just as well, if not better, than Clark's heat vision ever could.
"Just do as I say." Lex snatched his own towel from the linen closet. He pulled off his soggy dress shirt with distaste and strode into the bathroom.
"Jeez, you're grumpy," Clark grumbled, but sank down beneath the comforter with a contented burble anyway. Everything felt soft and warm and full of fluffy goose feathers and Clark watched the trees outside the huge picture window wave in the autumn breeze, hypnotizing him into a light doze. A few minutes later, Lex emerged from the shower looking more relaxed, but a sharp, pained intake of breath was enough to make Clark's eyes snap open to examine him closely.
He could hardly believe what he saw.
A huge bruise that ran from his shoulder down the small of Lex's back was already starting to form, no doubt a result of Lex's dive into the creek. It was an ugly wound, mottled yellow and blue and Clark bolted upright in the bed. "Lex! Your back!"
"Yes, I know. It's all right, Clark." Lex hurriedly yanked a T-shirt over his head. "It's just a bump."
"How can you say that? Did you even look at it?" Clark swung his feet over the side of the bed. "Let me see."
"Get back into that bed," Lex snapped. "I mean it."
"But you're hurt," Clark insisted. "Look in the mirror if you don't believe me."
"I'll be fine. I always am, aren't I?" Lex's tone softened. "Seriously, Clark. If you're okay, I'm okay. All right? Now get back under the blankets and keep warm. Please."
Such a soft plea, and slowly, Clark obeyed. "What about you?"
Lex chuckled. "Want me to get under the blankets too?"
Clark felt himself flush all the way down to his toes. "Um, well " He took a deep breath. "If you're cold, yeah." He slid to one side. "Plenty of room."
"I'm fine."
"Well, I'm sort of cold." He tried a pout. "This bed's too big."
Lex laughed weakly. "You're a character, you know that?"
"Me?" Clark asked innocently.
"Yeah, you, Goldilocks. Shove over some more," Lex said, before he slid beneath the comforter.
Clark rolled over onto his side, trying not to laugh when he looked at Lex lying stiffly beside him, frowning and tugging the comforter up into a tight line beneath his chin. "So I guess this is where I thank you for saving my life."
Gray eyes rolled, only slightly. "Clark, the time for scorekeeping is over. I lost count at your seven to my two. Let's just cry "Yatzhee!" and forget it."
"You've played Yatzhee?"
"And Monopoly and Parcheesi too. Is that such a surprise?"
"Yeah, kind of. Maybe not the Monopoly, but "
"Why? Because it's the signature downtime game for us budding baby capitalists?"
"Something like that. Lex " Clark propped himself on his elbow. "Look at me please."
The comforter was pulled higher. Tighter. "What?"
"You're not looking at me."
"Clark "
He forged ahead. "I want you to promise me, Lex, promise you won't do that anymore."
"Do what?"
"You know what," Clark replied accusingly. "Risk your life like that, to save mine." His voice cracked on the word "save." "Please, don't do that again."
"Just like you've never risked your life to save mine?" Lex stared at the ceiling, unblinking.
Clark wanted to tell Lex that was different. That Clark's risks were so much less than any of Lex's could ever be. But he couldn't tell him that, ever. It was part and parcel of the great secret, the one that kept his true self in the shadow just beyond truth. "Then ... " Clark paused. "Then just make sure whatever risks you take are sensible ones. Jumping in a creek off of an overpass isn't very sensible."
"Decisions between life and death are never sensible, Clark. And saving the life of a loved one, even if the chances of failure are high, is always an acceptable risk."
Clark plopped down and slipped a little lower beneath the blankets, his face turning hot with embarrassment and maybe ... maybe something else. "A loved one?" Shyly.
Slim, pale fingers clutched at cotton. "Yes. A loved one. Now, can we rest a little until your parents show up? I want to be able to explain this all to them without giving your father more reasons to hate me. More than he already has, that is."
"Yeah," Clark breathed. He hauled the comforter up underneath his own chin, until it lay taut between them. "We should rest I think."
"I'm glad you've seen the light," Lex said tersely.
They both lay still for a while then, neither one of them anywhere close to sleep. Clark was never sure afterwards who made the first move, but it was only few moments later when he was tangled in Lex's arms, kissing away all the fears and doubts and chill between them, thanking him with his entire heart and soul for the selfless, wonderful thing he did by jumping in that creek, even though the dark part of Clark's heart knew that unnecessary feats of heroism never had happy endings ... only endings of a sort; vague and without the closure of honesty.
But then, kissing Lex, making love to him with whispering gratitude seemed to be all that was needed to show some truth.
Show the truth of the moment, even if the future would forever be a lie.
~*~
Hours passed. They'd fallen asleep in each others' arms, pleasantly exhausted, and Clark shifted lazily in the bed, disconcerted to find the opposite half cold and empty.
Instantly, Clark was awake. Peered around the room silently, until he saw Lex in the far corner, sitting in front of the mirrored vanity, head held in his hands. He was shirtless, the pale expanse of his back exposed and the skin was ...
White. Perfect. Without a mark on it.
Without a single trace of the huge bruise that marred it just a few short hours before. Clark's mouth fell open and he mouthed a silent oath of shock.
Lex had healed, completely, seemingly within the span of an afternoon.
Clark fell back against the pillows, his eyes wide with sudden understanding. The meteors, the strange otherworldly rocks that fulfilled the wishes of the desperate, of the damned, had granted a sick little human boy, wheezing with asthma and terror, his two greatest desires: never to be sick -- and never to be afraid again.
This, not the baldness, was Lex's true mutation -- his cross to bear -- and his reasons for wanting to know, wanting to know so badly everything that might be the end of them, of whatever it was he and Clark had forged from the moment they'd met.
Because Lex was the alien on this world he thought was once his own, while Clark seemed to be his savior, but in truth ... oh, in truth ...
"Lex ... love ... " Clark whispered, not meaning for the words to be said out loud, but Lex heard them anyway.
Lex quickly yanked on a black T-shirt with two short pulls. Turned to Clark with a tired, but kind, smile. "Yes?"
"Are ... are you coming back to bed?"
"We should be getting up now, don't you think?" Lex walked over the bed's edge and held out his hand invitingly. "Come on, sleepy bear. Let's get downstairs before your mother comes running up here and your father finally has his excuse to kill me where I stand."
"He can't ... " Clark took a deep breath before accepting the offered hand and rising to his feet. "He won't kill you. My father's a fair man."
"Is he?" Lex asked softly. Genial smile. "Of course he is. But we don't want to try his weary soul, now do we?" He pulled Clark to him and kissed him gently on the lips. "Besides, I want to enjoy this ... us ... without fear for just a little while longer, if that's all right with you. Is that so wrong?"
"No, it's not," Clark replied breathlessly. It wasn't wrong, nothing about this could be wrong, no matter how many lies it took. He bent his head to kiss Lex again. "I have no problem keeping quiet."
Lex laughed softly against his mouth. "Such a secret though, Clark. Can we handle it?"
"Yeah," Clark replied. He swallowed past a tight throat. "I think we can."
"Practice makes perfect, I'm sure," Lex murmured, without a trace of irony. "Now," he said crisply. "Let's go and tell your parents the story that suits them best."
"We could leave out the part about Marks hating the Luthors," Clark hedged dryly. He tugged on his clothes slowly ... regretfully.
"That's the only part that rings true," Lex said. He helped pop the sweatshirt over Clark's tousled head. "In all seriousness, we should tell them the facts as we know them, straight and plain, and let them figure out the rest."
"Even about what happened afterward?"
"I'm pretty sure that falls under the category of too much information," Lex replied. He tucked his feet into a pair of well-worn leather slippers and shrugged into his robe.
"I thought there was no such thing as too much information," Clark said, recalling some ancient Beanery conversation he and Lex had long before. Long before all of this ... revelation had happened.
"Sometimes there is, Clark." Lex carefully ran his thumb over the brass doorknob, looking down and refusing to meet Clark's gaze. "Sometimes there is." He turned around suddenly and a warm kiss followed, and much was forgotten. "But let's go downstairs anyway. Nothing says we can't hide ..."
"In plain sight," Clark finished for Lex. He nodded. "Yes, I think that's a good idea." His oversensitive ears heard his father's truck grind to a stop somewhere outside the Luthor castle gate. "A very good idea."
~*~
fin
Reviews are very welcome. Thanks for reading - ingrid