A/N: Okay, this actually does feel like the last chapter. Let me know if you think it isn't!
***
Martha was closest to the phone when it rang again.
"Hello?" Jonathan could tell by the look on her face that it was Lex.
"Yes, we'll be waiting." He'd not seen that smile on her face for a long time.
"Thank you again, Lex."
The three hours dragged. It felt absurd to be sitting looking at one another and waiting, but doing anything seemed ridiculous, anti-climactic, absurd. He tried to turn on the television, tried to read, tried to talk about anything, but finally, just settled down to sit next to Martha, her head resting on his shoulder, holding hands tightly in her lap.
Seeing headlights approach and then pass by, he muttered, "There should be a law against that."
"Absolutely."
"Do we have any brownies?"
"I was going to send a batch to the Talon, but if you want some now..."
"No, I was thinking Clark would."
"Uhm hmm."
The three of them sitting in the kitchen eating brownies. He looked at his watch again. Three hours had passed. Probably there was traffic. If he decided that it would be another half-hour, then that would mean that he'd be pleasantly surprised. That was a good, sound policy.
Headlights approached and then pulled in. He and Martha almost stumbled over one another to get to the door, and the limousine had barely stopped before the door opened and Clark emerged.
So thin, so pale, but there. In their arms, finally, and holding on as though letting go was not an option. That was being a family, he thought with satisfaction, after a few minutes had passed, none of them said anything about going inside, they were just suddenly walking inside. Clark looked over his shoulder. "Lex? You coming?"
"In a few. You get settled in first." There was something final about Lex's voice. Damn. The boy might have made all the wrong decisions--and Jonathan couldn't help but think that that particular phase started after Clark had left--but he was sensitive, no, deferential enough, to leave Clark with his family for those first moments. And the look of tenderness on his face as he looked at Clark. Better not think about it. Just about Clark.
There was Martha, putting the milk carton in front of Clark. "No glass?" he asked, looking up at her.
"I thought you said it tastes better that way." Clark grinned.
"What happened, son?"
"I...got caught. some government agency, I'm not sure who. I was running and I guess they picked me up on radar or something. They...actually used a missile to shoot me down." Clark's eyes were haunted again, and they both moved closer to him, enveloping him. "It knocked me out, and when I woke up, I was in this...lab. They had this hydraulic press, they used it to hold me down. They knew who I was, they looked in my wallet. So I had to tell the truth. They...didn't believe me at first, but finally they did, but they didn't want to let me go, just in case. They made me write that postcard, and then they locked me up."
"What did they do to you?" Martha ran her fingers along his pale, emaciated arm.
"They wanted to keep me weak and so they...dug meteor pieces into my back." Some of Jonathan's rage must have shown on his face, as Clark added, hastily, "They didn't do it to...to be mean." He blushed at the childish phrasing. "They didn't try to do things that hurt, they said they had to. Just in case."
Martha spoke up again. "How did you get out?"
"One of them...well, when I was first there, I thought I could...if I told them that Lex would pay them if they let me go, they didn't, of course, but when I started getting really sick, he called Lex, said that he'd make a private deal."
"So Lex ransomed you?"
"Yeah." Clark's voice was awed. "Sixty million."
Jonathan saw his own reluctance mirrored in Martha's eyes. He didn't want Clark to learn what kind of a man his friend, his rescuer, had become. More ruthless and hated and feared than his father. Nothing good ever happened to his enemies and nothing bad was ever proven about him. Hard to believe that about the man who had rescued Clark, who was standing outside.
A huge yawn from Clark let him stop thinking about that. "You're exhausted, young man."
"Go to bed now," Clark was practically purring. The milk traces on his son's lips didn't help Jonathan keep images of cats out of his mind.
"We'll talk more in the morning." It wouldn't all be pleasant, but at least Clark was there again. The Clark they knew.
They walked him up the stairs to his room, again, without even speaking, just moving as a unit. He remembered tucking Clark in as a young child. If anything during the day had upset Clark, the world wasn't quite right again until they'd both kissed and reassured him. Sure enough, he didn't quite settle into the pillows until they'd both leaned down to kiss him. "You don't have to do chores until, oh, seven."
"Daaaad," Clark whined, laughing.
"Sleep well, son."
When they went back downstairs, Lex was still outside, leaning against the car. "Come in, Lex," Martha called, her voice warm.
The young man's face looked...pinched. Fish-belly white. He nodded tightly and, clutching two folders, came inside.
"Clark told us...you saved him. There's no way to thank you enough," she continued. They went into the kitchen and after she and Jonathan sat again, with a clear reluctance, he sat on the edge of a chair.
His mouth twisted. "Here's what I have in mind. I don't want him branded as the kind of kid who runs away from a good family, or you branded as the kind of parents who make a person like Clark run. The official story--and I can get it thoroughly documented--can be that he had a brain tumor. Benign, but it caused first a personality change, then increasing memory loss. That explains why he disappeared and never got in touch with anyone. He couldn't get a job any more, as his condition got worse, and was living on the streets. He finally collapsed and somebody took him to the hospital. They found the growth and took it out. Clark recovered his memory, though not what happened after the tumor started, and when he was able, came back. He didn't tell you before because he was uncertain about how he'd be received. That way, if anybody asks where he was or what he was doing, he can easily say that he doesn't remember." Lex's voice was so clipped and precise, it was at odds with the tender--no, loving--look at Clark before.
"Is that acceptable, Mr. Kent, Mrs. Kent?" It sounded as though he were making an offer on a buyout.
Martha nodded, but an expression of confusion on her face, as well.
"I hope you'll let me provide him with tutors to make up for the years he lost of high school. It would be particularly difficult for him to return, and that way, he'd also be likely to complete it faster than three years."
"And take the GED?"
"Yes. If you'll also let me help with college admissions and tuition, I'd appreciate it."
"After sixty million, quibbling over that seems...petty." That was not at all what Jonathan had meant to say.
Lex nodded curtly. "That's in this folder, then." He put it on the table and then paused. "This second folder--copies of press clippings. It will be easier for him to find out that way, I think, than to hear from me or from you."
"Clippings?"
"About me." He got up. "You were wrong about me, Mr. Kent. You always thought I'd turn into my father." He paused and smiled bitterly. "I've become worse. And I know it." His eyes challenged them to contradict him. "He knows, by the way, that I didn't rescue him out of benevolence. I did it for revenge. On him. I slept with your son the night before all this happened. I thought he'd run away from me. I was going to make him pay for that. It turned out, of course, that he didn't. That doesn't matter now. Don't worry, I won't come near you or your son again. The sooner he's relieved by that, the better." He rose, pushing the second folder across the table, and turned to the door.
Jonathan was there before him. Blocking the way. "Coward."
That earned him a flash of anger. "One of the few charges that can't be laid against me, Mr. Kent."
"It's the worst charge that *can.* You're too much of a coward to try to change. Scared of trying and failing? Hmmm?" He couldn't believe he was saying and doing this. Or he could, rather. He just couldn't believe why.
"All right, I'm scared--but *only* of hurting your son." A chilling, almost menacing smile. "The one person in the world I'd actually mind hurting."
"You can't fool me. If you were a real man, if you had guts instead of money and a sneaky little mind, you'd march yourself right up those stairs, wait for him to wake up, and tell him to his face everything you've done. And then you'd make yourself change. God knows what it is about Clark, but he can make people change. Become better. Become more human. But that's too hard for you, isn't it? So you're running away. Isn't that what a coward does?"
Lex's lips were almost as white as his face. "Don't talk to me like that." Jonathan felt the rush of adrenaline. If Lex weren't shaken, he'd argue, not try to give orders.
"I suppose you aren't used to anybody telling you the truth about yourself." As Lex took a step forward, as if to push his way past Jonathan, he focused all his force of will. "I saw how you used to try to prove yourself to me. You failed, Lex, failed each time. Lost every battle. But all you have to do to win the war is go upstairs. You can't do even that. As I said, you're a coward." This was the one moment. The moment when the game would be won or lost. He stepped away from the door.
Lex's eyes dropped. Martha silently rose and stood near him, almost but not quite within arm's reach. "Go up, Lex." He raised uncertain eyes to hers. "Go up. You can do it." Taking a tiny step closer, she raised a hand and placed it, infinitely gently, against the side of his head. He jerked away from the gesture, and Jonathan felt a surge of resignation. They'd lost. Then, as he watched, Lex turned his head to look at the staircase, then slowly, silently, walked up the stairs.
***
Martha was closest to the phone when it rang again.
"Hello?" Jonathan could tell by the look on her face that it was Lex.
"Yes, we'll be waiting." He'd not seen that smile on her face for a long time.
"Thank you again, Lex."
The three hours dragged. It felt absurd to be sitting looking at one another and waiting, but doing anything seemed ridiculous, anti-climactic, absurd. He tried to turn on the television, tried to read, tried to talk about anything, but finally, just settled down to sit next to Martha, her head resting on his shoulder, holding hands tightly in her lap.
Seeing headlights approach and then pass by, he muttered, "There should be a law against that."
"Absolutely."
"Do we have any brownies?"
"I was going to send a batch to the Talon, but if you want some now..."
"No, I was thinking Clark would."
"Uhm hmm."
The three of them sitting in the kitchen eating brownies. He looked at his watch again. Three hours had passed. Probably there was traffic. If he decided that it would be another half-hour, then that would mean that he'd be pleasantly surprised. That was a good, sound policy.
Headlights approached and then pulled in. He and Martha almost stumbled over one another to get to the door, and the limousine had barely stopped before the door opened and Clark emerged.
So thin, so pale, but there. In their arms, finally, and holding on as though letting go was not an option. That was being a family, he thought with satisfaction, after a few minutes had passed, none of them said anything about going inside, they were just suddenly walking inside. Clark looked over his shoulder. "Lex? You coming?"
"In a few. You get settled in first." There was something final about Lex's voice. Damn. The boy might have made all the wrong decisions--and Jonathan couldn't help but think that that particular phase started after Clark had left--but he was sensitive, no, deferential enough, to leave Clark with his family for those first moments. And the look of tenderness on his face as he looked at Clark. Better not think about it. Just about Clark.
There was Martha, putting the milk carton in front of Clark. "No glass?" he asked, looking up at her.
"I thought you said it tastes better that way." Clark grinned.
"What happened, son?"
"I...got caught. some government agency, I'm not sure who. I was running and I guess they picked me up on radar or something. They...actually used a missile to shoot me down." Clark's eyes were haunted again, and they both moved closer to him, enveloping him. "It knocked me out, and when I woke up, I was in this...lab. They had this hydraulic press, they used it to hold me down. They knew who I was, they looked in my wallet. So I had to tell the truth. They...didn't believe me at first, but finally they did, but they didn't want to let me go, just in case. They made me write that postcard, and then they locked me up."
"What did they do to you?" Martha ran her fingers along his pale, emaciated arm.
"They wanted to keep me weak and so they...dug meteor pieces into my back." Some of Jonathan's rage must have shown on his face, as Clark added, hastily, "They didn't do it to...to be mean." He blushed at the childish phrasing. "They didn't try to do things that hurt, they said they had to. Just in case."
Martha spoke up again. "How did you get out?"
"One of them...well, when I was first there, I thought I could...if I told them that Lex would pay them if they let me go, they didn't, of course, but when I started getting really sick, he called Lex, said that he'd make a private deal."
"So Lex ransomed you?"
"Yeah." Clark's voice was awed. "Sixty million."
Jonathan saw his own reluctance mirrored in Martha's eyes. He didn't want Clark to learn what kind of a man his friend, his rescuer, had become. More ruthless and hated and feared than his father. Nothing good ever happened to his enemies and nothing bad was ever proven about him. Hard to believe that about the man who had rescued Clark, who was standing outside.
A huge yawn from Clark let him stop thinking about that. "You're exhausted, young man."
"Go to bed now," Clark was practically purring. The milk traces on his son's lips didn't help Jonathan keep images of cats out of his mind.
"We'll talk more in the morning." It wouldn't all be pleasant, but at least Clark was there again. The Clark they knew.
They walked him up the stairs to his room, again, without even speaking, just moving as a unit. He remembered tucking Clark in as a young child. If anything during the day had upset Clark, the world wasn't quite right again until they'd both kissed and reassured him. Sure enough, he didn't quite settle into the pillows until they'd both leaned down to kiss him. "You don't have to do chores until, oh, seven."
"Daaaad," Clark whined, laughing.
"Sleep well, son."
When they went back downstairs, Lex was still outside, leaning against the car. "Come in, Lex," Martha called, her voice warm.
The young man's face looked...pinched. Fish-belly white. He nodded tightly and, clutching two folders, came inside.
"Clark told us...you saved him. There's no way to thank you enough," she continued. They went into the kitchen and after she and Jonathan sat again, with a clear reluctance, he sat on the edge of a chair.
His mouth twisted. "Here's what I have in mind. I don't want him branded as the kind of kid who runs away from a good family, or you branded as the kind of parents who make a person like Clark run. The official story--and I can get it thoroughly documented--can be that he had a brain tumor. Benign, but it caused first a personality change, then increasing memory loss. That explains why he disappeared and never got in touch with anyone. He couldn't get a job any more, as his condition got worse, and was living on the streets. He finally collapsed and somebody took him to the hospital. They found the growth and took it out. Clark recovered his memory, though not what happened after the tumor started, and when he was able, came back. He didn't tell you before because he was uncertain about how he'd be received. That way, if anybody asks where he was or what he was doing, he can easily say that he doesn't remember." Lex's voice was so clipped and precise, it was at odds with the tender--no, loving--look at Clark before.
"Is that acceptable, Mr. Kent, Mrs. Kent?" It sounded as though he were making an offer on a buyout.
Martha nodded, but an expression of confusion on her face, as well.
"I hope you'll let me provide him with tutors to make up for the years he lost of high school. It would be particularly difficult for him to return, and that way, he'd also be likely to complete it faster than three years."
"And take the GED?"
"Yes. If you'll also let me help with college admissions and tuition, I'd appreciate it."
"After sixty million, quibbling over that seems...petty." That was not at all what Jonathan had meant to say.
Lex nodded curtly. "That's in this folder, then." He put it on the table and then paused. "This second folder--copies of press clippings. It will be easier for him to find out that way, I think, than to hear from me or from you."
"Clippings?"
"About me." He got up. "You were wrong about me, Mr. Kent. You always thought I'd turn into my father." He paused and smiled bitterly. "I've become worse. And I know it." His eyes challenged them to contradict him. "He knows, by the way, that I didn't rescue him out of benevolence. I did it for revenge. On him. I slept with your son the night before all this happened. I thought he'd run away from me. I was going to make him pay for that. It turned out, of course, that he didn't. That doesn't matter now. Don't worry, I won't come near you or your son again. The sooner he's relieved by that, the better." He rose, pushing the second folder across the table, and turned to the door.
Jonathan was there before him. Blocking the way. "Coward."
That earned him a flash of anger. "One of the few charges that can't be laid against me, Mr. Kent."
"It's the worst charge that *can.* You're too much of a coward to try to change. Scared of trying and failing? Hmmm?" He couldn't believe he was saying and doing this. Or he could, rather. He just couldn't believe why.
"All right, I'm scared--but *only* of hurting your son." A chilling, almost menacing smile. "The one person in the world I'd actually mind hurting."
"You can't fool me. If you were a real man, if you had guts instead of money and a sneaky little mind, you'd march yourself right up those stairs, wait for him to wake up, and tell him to his face everything you've done. And then you'd make yourself change. God knows what it is about Clark, but he can make people change. Become better. Become more human. But that's too hard for you, isn't it? So you're running away. Isn't that what a coward does?"
Lex's lips were almost as white as his face. "Don't talk to me like that." Jonathan felt the rush of adrenaline. If Lex weren't shaken, he'd argue, not try to give orders.
"I suppose you aren't used to anybody telling you the truth about yourself." As Lex took a step forward, as if to push his way past Jonathan, he focused all his force of will. "I saw how you used to try to prove yourself to me. You failed, Lex, failed each time. Lost every battle. But all you have to do to win the war is go upstairs. You can't do even that. As I said, you're a coward." This was the one moment. The moment when the game would be won or lost. He stepped away from the door.
Lex's eyes dropped. Martha silently rose and stood near him, almost but not quite within arm's reach. "Go up, Lex." He raised uncertain eyes to hers. "Go up. You can do it." Taking a tiny step closer, she raised a hand and placed it, infinitely gently, against the side of his head. He jerked away from the gesture, and Jonathan felt a surge of resignation. They'd lost. Then, as he watched, Lex turned his head to look at the staircase, then slowly, silently, walked up the stairs.