Lex watched as the staff went into the rear half of the plane and closed the door, then turned his attention back to Clark. He was awkwardly trying to turn on the bed, and Lex couldn't help but think of a turtle trying to right itself. He went to the cabinet and poured himself a drink, but taking his eyes off Clark only for the few necessary seconds. Clark had the same goal as that overturned turtle, it appeared, and was face down after a few minutes, then turning his face to the side as he lay on his stomach.
The boy's muffled voice interrupted his train of thought. "Lex? Are you still there?"
"Right here." He crossed to sit where Clark could see him, and made a few notes on the papers he had taken out again. Let Clark keep guessing what he wanted.
"I...I don't know what to say. 'Thank you,' you know, it just sounds..."
"Inadequate?"
"Yeah."
Let's give him something to think about. He added a note of amusement to his voice. "Sixty million isn't that much to me, Clark. I only bargained as a matter of principle. And after all, I was so besotted with you, I'd probably have tried to give you twice that much in presents by now, if we'd stayed together."
That got him a wince. "'Was?'" Oh, looks like he might want to make up for lost time, Lex thought, his lips curving upwards.
"Time waits for no man, Clark."
"Yeah."
"Not that there still aren't matters between us, of course."
Clark tried to smile at him, in a pathetic shadow of the grin that once could have outshone the diamonds on any Metropolis dowager's throat. He closed his eyes and Lex took the chance to look more closely at him.
He wanted--and was surprised and angry at how deep the want went--to believe the ludicrous story about aliens and meteors, but it was as feeble as Clark's other inventions. The very preposterousness of the story marked it as Clark's. And everything that gave him cause to try to believe could be explained away. Clark's wasted state--window dressing. People went through ordeals on national television for a paltry one million. For, say, the thirty or more million that he assumed would be Clark's share of the payout, who knows what somebody would do to himself?
The elaborateness of the setup? A bit harder to explain but still eminently possible. A magician's misdirection. Just to return and ask for money would be a bit much. A more conventional kidnapping? They probably knew that LexCorp had enough hired muscle and other resources to find and get a captive out of nearly any facility except the best military ones. So this would keep him from trying to rescue Clark with anything but money. There was that postcard, as well, which indicated that Clark had left voluntarily and was staying away voluntarily.
And he still hated Clark for that. For drawing him closer, enchanting and fascinating him with what seemed like radiant honesty and goodness. For making him think that maybe he wasn't meant to be alone after all. For making him shed every bit of armor and stand naked of body and soul and heart in front of another human being. For making him believe again that he was capable of love. For making him believe again that he could be loved. Only to leave him. And now, to try to manipulate him.
"Lex?" Clark had opened his eyes again and was staring at him. Lex didn't know how much of his thoughts were visible on his face and quickly forced the calm mask back on. "Can I ask you a big favor? Would you, I mean, would it gross you out too much to look at my back? They implanted pieces of the meteor rocks there and maybe if they're sticking out or something, you could pull them out? They...they're hurting pretty badly."
"I'll take a look."
"Thanks."
Whatever they'd done to Clark's back, it had left it a mess. It reminded Lex faintly of photographs he'd seen of necrotic tissues after some kinds of snake bites. Lionel had made sure that Lex read those very closely when he'd visited Costa Rica. "Just keeping you aware of the dangers of the situation, Lex," he'd said, with mock gentleness. Another lesson he'd resented at the time but saw the point of now.
"There's nothing protruding from the surface."
"How...how would you think that I could get it out, then?"
"I'll get Toby to look at you when we're in Metropolis."
"Toby?"
"My very discreet doctor. The one who treated Kyle"
Clark's voice registered alarm. "Lex, I'd really, really rather not have a doctor."
Lex smiled and let Clark stew before responding. "First, he's discreet. Second, he knows that keeping me happy is in his best interest. Third, suppose that he does start talking about treating...an alien. Everybody would assume he'd been sampling his own goods."
"I guess so."
"Remember, Clark, you're in my hands completely."
"Yeah." Clark hadn't picked up on the hint of a threat, or thought that his manipulation of Lex was complete, as his sigh sounded almost contented, Lex reflected as he saw Clark's eyes close again.
The boy's muffled voice interrupted his train of thought. "Lex? Are you still there?"
"Right here." He crossed to sit where Clark could see him, and made a few notes on the papers he had taken out again. Let Clark keep guessing what he wanted.
"I...I don't know what to say. 'Thank you,' you know, it just sounds..."
"Inadequate?"
"Yeah."
Let's give him something to think about. He added a note of amusement to his voice. "Sixty million isn't that much to me, Clark. I only bargained as a matter of principle. And after all, I was so besotted with you, I'd probably have tried to give you twice that much in presents by now, if we'd stayed together."
That got him a wince. "'Was?'" Oh, looks like he might want to make up for lost time, Lex thought, his lips curving upwards.
"Time waits for no man, Clark."
"Yeah."
"Not that there still aren't matters between us, of course."
Clark tried to smile at him, in a pathetic shadow of the grin that once could have outshone the diamonds on any Metropolis dowager's throat. He closed his eyes and Lex took the chance to look more closely at him.
He wanted--and was surprised and angry at how deep the want went--to believe the ludicrous story about aliens and meteors, but it was as feeble as Clark's other inventions. The very preposterousness of the story marked it as Clark's. And everything that gave him cause to try to believe could be explained away. Clark's wasted state--window dressing. People went through ordeals on national television for a paltry one million. For, say, the thirty or more million that he assumed would be Clark's share of the payout, who knows what somebody would do to himself?
The elaborateness of the setup? A bit harder to explain but still eminently possible. A magician's misdirection. Just to return and ask for money would be a bit much. A more conventional kidnapping? They probably knew that LexCorp had enough hired muscle and other resources to find and get a captive out of nearly any facility except the best military ones. So this would keep him from trying to rescue Clark with anything but money. There was that postcard, as well, which indicated that Clark had left voluntarily and was staying away voluntarily.
And he still hated Clark for that. For drawing him closer, enchanting and fascinating him with what seemed like radiant honesty and goodness. For making him think that maybe he wasn't meant to be alone after all. For making him shed every bit of armor and stand naked of body and soul and heart in front of another human being. For making him believe again that he was capable of love. For making him believe again that he could be loved. Only to leave him. And now, to try to manipulate him.
"Lex?" Clark had opened his eyes again and was staring at him. Lex didn't know how much of his thoughts were visible on his face and quickly forced the calm mask back on. "Can I ask you a big favor? Would you, I mean, would it gross you out too much to look at my back? They implanted pieces of the meteor rocks there and maybe if they're sticking out or something, you could pull them out? They...they're hurting pretty badly."
"I'll take a look."
"Thanks."
Whatever they'd done to Clark's back, it had left it a mess. It reminded Lex faintly of photographs he'd seen of necrotic tissues after some kinds of snake bites. Lionel had made sure that Lex read those very closely when he'd visited Costa Rica. "Just keeping you aware of the dangers of the situation, Lex," he'd said, with mock gentleness. Another lesson he'd resented at the time but saw the point of now.
"There's nothing protruding from the surface."
"How...how would you think that I could get it out, then?"
"I'll get Toby to look at you when we're in Metropolis."
"Toby?"
"My very discreet doctor. The one who treated Kyle"
Clark's voice registered alarm. "Lex, I'd really, really rather not have a doctor."
Lex smiled and let Clark stew before responding. "First, he's discreet. Second, he knows that keeping me happy is in his best interest. Third, suppose that he does start talking about treating...an alien. Everybody would assume he'd been sampling his own goods."
"I guess so."
"Remember, Clark, you're in my hands completely."
"Yeah." Clark hadn't picked up on the hint of a threat, or thought that his manipulation of Lex was complete, as his sigh sounded almost contented, Lex reflected as he saw Clark's eyes close again.