A Death In The Family Part One: Chapter Three:
Metropolis General had many amenities that the Smallville Medical Center did not; among them was and atrium just off the main floor across from the cafeteria. It was in this glass encased sunny room surrounded by all the various plants that Clark found a seat on a stone bench and stared out towards the courtyard. He thought of how much he hated the fact that the sun still shined so bright when his world was at one of its darkest points.
Several people in hospital garments and suits walked pass as he sat silently. Trying to stop the fast pace of his thoughts. His mind had been reeling from the first moment he heard about the accident, and it seemed to move faster at each revelation. All Clark wanted was silence from hearing more bad news about Lex, and from the loud crashing sounds of his own thoughts. He thought that this would be as good a place as any, but he could not find solace here anymore than he could in his head. The thoughts of his mind, and the sounds of the people around him only echoed in his mind.
He felt as if his head were about to explode until he heard the one distinct sound pierce through all the others. The sound was his name being spoken by a close voice.
Shaking his head from the clutter of thoughts, he looked up and saw the handsome, super jock himself, Whitney Fordman standing over him.
Much to his surprise, Whitney had a warm comforting smile on his face, and did not seem angry for the show he had made about Lana's parents ten minutes earlier.
"Can I join you?" Whitney gestured to the empty space on the bench to Clark's right.
Clark eyed him suspiciously for a second, not knowing what to make of Whitney's gentle demeanor. "Sure," he finally decided to answer.
Whitney sat down and remained silent for a few seconds trying to admire the man made beauty that surrounded them.
Clark took a deep breath and began to speak. "If you are here to beat me to a pulp for what I said to Lana, then don't bother. I'm doing a fine job on my own."
"Lana will be fine," Whitney looked at him. "Like a friend once told me, she's a lot stronger than we think."
Clark smiled slightly at his own words coming back at him.
"She's a good person," Clark remarked.
"So are you, Clark," Whitney added. "You don't deserve half the stuff people dump on you all the time, but you still continue to help them."
Clark was surprised by his statement and was struck speechless.
"Even when some idiot ties you to a pole in a corn field, you continue to be there for him and try to show him the error of his ways without being judgmental or condescending," Whitney told him. "I never thank you for not holding it against me, and for not having me arrested."
"Maybe I just didn't want anyone to know that I was stupid enough to let it happen," Clark said pulling a dead leaf off the plant next to him.
"I was the stupid one," Whitney admitted with a rye smile.
"Thanks, for that," Clark returned.
"So," Whitney sighed placing his hands on the bench. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"I wouldn't know where to start," Clark told him looking away. "My head is a jumble of thoughts and emotions right now."
Whitney nodded. "I know what that is like. The waiting and not knowing are always the worst. Sudden death is always hard and shocking, but at least it is over fast."
Clark turned back to face the other teen.
Whitney was compassionate when he looked into Clark's eyes. "I've been there, Clark. I was in the limbo of waiting for months. You see, my Dad may have been my father, but he was also my best friend in many ways. He helped to make me the man I am today. He gave me my love of sports and cheered on my desire to be a football star."
His eyes drifted down at his raised hands as Whitney continued. "I have a ton of friends, Clark, but my old man was the only person I ever felt I could talk to about the problems in my life. Unlike my jock buddies, he was always willing to listen and share his knowledge if need be. He never forced the father stuff, but always was willing to share the friendly advice."
"You must miss him," Clark commented.
"Every minute of every day," Whitney returned. "It was really hard at first when he died, but I know he's a lot better off now. He's not suffering anymore. The waiting is over, and the worst has happened."
Whitney looked up at Clark again. "It may sound sad, but in a way, I am glad the worst has happened. Besides the fact that he's not in pain any longer, I saw what his illness was doing to my Mom and to me."
He stood up and began to slowly pace before Clark. "I know what you are feeling right now, Clark. I remember waking up every morning wondering, 'is this the day that he breathes his last breath?' Will he be at rest, or will he be in pain like he was with all those heart attacks?"
"I'm sorry, Whitney," Clark spoke softly.
A tear began to roll down Whitney's face as he continued. "I know what those long hours of waiting are like. I also know the guilt of having that small part of you, no matter how bleak, just wishing it were over. Hoping that it would end so everyone could be at peace, one way or the other."
"I don't want Lex to die," Clark buried his face in his hands. "But a part of me almost wishes he were gone so I didn't have to remember him like this."
"It's like having two hands in the great divide between here and death, Clark," Whitney added, stopping in front of his friend. "One hand wants to pull him back here so you won't be alone without him, and the other wants to push him forward on his journey so he doesn't have to suffer anymore."
"What do I do, Whitney?" Clark cried.
"You can't do anything, Clark," Whitney put his hand on Clark's right shoulder. "The decision is up to God. God and Lex are the only two who can decide if he should fight to stay alive."
Gently Whitney lifted Clark to his feet until they were face to face. These two men barely could stand each other, but in this moment of despair they could find a solid, common ground. Much to his surprise, Clark took comfort in Whitney's demeanor, and placed his own hand on Whitney's shoulder.
Whitney held onto Clark even as several people gave puzzled looks as they walked by. The man who was afraid to show his emotions and compassion was gone from Whitney. He alone understood Clark's grief, and he would stand by his newly discovered friend. Even if that meant facing him in a gentle stare while Clark forced back the tears.
After a few minutes, Clark pulled himself away and wiped his eyes on his sleeves. "I'm sorry," he spoke softly with a horsed voice.
"Don't be," Whitney gave him a smile. "This is the stuff friends are made for."
Clark nodded his head as he wiped away the last of the few tears that had escaped.
Whitney took Clark's arm again. "Can I offer one more piece of sagely advice before we go back upstairs?"
Clark gave him a questionable look. "Sure."
"Well," Whitney became uneasy again and placed his hands in his jean pockets. "I guess I kinda knew my father was dying for months before he actually did, but I could never admit that to myself, or accept that there were a lot of things I needed to say before he died. The most important thing I regret not saying was how much I loved him, and to just say the word 'goodbye.'"
Clark stared at him. "Are you asking me to say good bye to Lex? To let him die?"
"I regret not letting my father go before he died," Whitney explained with a tear in his own eye now. "Even when they told my Mom and me that he was going and they couldn't do anymore for him. His heart was too badly damaged from his last heart attack, and he was clinging to the last moments of life, they said we needed to say our goodbyes. He was out cold, but my Mom said she knew he could still hear us."
Whitney started to shake as all the emotions came flooding back. "My Mom was able to tell him what she needed to say before he left, but I refused. I didn't want him to think we were giving up on him, so I waited across the room while my Mother held his hand as he passed away. He died without hearing my voice one last time. With out my saying how much I loved him. He died without my blessing."
"Oh, Whitney," Clark now placed his hands on his shoulders. The blond leaned his head forward and cried, and the two once enemies now found comfort with each other. "Your father knew you loved him. He also knew why you couldn't let go. He understands."
Whitney pulled away slightly. "You have to tell him, Clark. You have to let Lex know he can pass peacefully. Lex knows you are one of the few people who would even care."
Clark pulled away drying his eyes one last time as Whitney did the same. The two young men looked at each other.
"I never thought I would say this," Clark spoke. "But I am really going to miss you when you go away. Maybe this time a storm won't delay your trip. You turned out to be a good friend."
"You're not so bad yourself," Whitney smiled.
A moment of uneasy silence stood between them and then Clark stated, "We need to get back to the others before they start to worry."
The two turned to walk towards the elevators when Whitney made one last comment. "Oh, and while I'm gone, Kent," he smiled. "Stay away from my girlfriend." He topped off the statement by patting Clark on the back.
Clark returned the smile and secretly wondered if they would ever see each other again.
The small lobby outside of the ICU was made into a makeshift pressroom with reporters, photographers and other crews from every form of news organizations packed into the confined space. Looking out the small window from the waiting room, Jonathan, Martha, Chloe, Pete and Lana marveled at how many reporters actually had an interest in Lex's well being. Chloe watched intensively as the other reporters began to unpack their palm pilots, note pads and laptops. This was her future, she was sure.
"They even got CNN here," Pete remarked with awe to the Kents who stood in the doorframe. "Not to mention GBS, MSNBC, FOX, ABC and CBS."
"The local papers like the Daily Planet and Inquisitor are also represented," Chloe added. "A guy from the Wall Street Journal is here, too."
"It's a feeding frenzy," Lana commented with a worried brow. "How could Lionel want this type of thing around his son?"
Martha looked back at her. "Lionel has always used his family for media purposes," she explained. "Even when his wife Lillian died, he held a press conference from some foreign country to announce her passing."
"Poor Lex," Lana sighed leaning against the window.
The conversation was hushed as they all saw Lionel Luthor enter the lobby from the ICU hall. He was surrounded by a same small group of men who had been with him earlier in the day. He had a somber look on his face, and Martha noticed he had changed into a darker black suite than the one he wore earlier.
The entire room was silent as the first doctor who had spoken to Clark, made his way to the small podium set up by the hospital's staff and was now covered with microphones. He placed a piece of folded paper down on the desk and cleared his throat.
"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen of the press," he read from the statement. "My name is Doctor Philip Burns N.S., M.D. and I am the attending physician overseeing the medical conditions for Mister Alexander Luthor, son of Lionel Luthor, Corporate CEO and owner of Luthor Corps industries."
He shifted his weight from one leg to the other and continued to read. "At about two AM this morning, Mr. Alexander Luthor was transported here to Metropolis General from Smallville Medical Center after he sustained several serous injuries in an automobile accident in the Smallville area. When tested, it was determined that Alexander had consumed an amount of alcohol well over the legal limit at the home of his friends, the Kent family, before getting behind the wheel of his car. It is believe in his impaired state, that young Mr. Luthor lost control of his vehicle and swerved out of control, off the road, into a field where witnesses say he rolled over a number of times as high as seven. Mr. Luthor was not wearing his seat belt, and was thrown around inside the car until it hit a tree in the field, thus bringing the car to a complete stop."
He took a deep breath peeking up at the reporters over his reading glasses and then continued. "Since his arrival, Mr. Luthor has gone through extensive surgery to control and in some cases stop the internal bleeding. He was admitted in a comatose state and remains in that condition. Several other test and procedures have been performed as stated in the hand out we will present after this briefing. The most important and recent test we preformed was a neurological scan and an MRI. It has been determined that the injuries to Alexander's head have been so severe, that he has lost all neural and physiological functions. It has been determined by my highly trained staff, and myself, that young Mr. Luthor is what we consider 'brain dead'. There are no longer electrical impulses or movement in any part of his cerebral functions and is being kept alive by the life support systems he was attached to last night."
Martha gasped as the words were said, from her place in the doorway. Jonathan pulled her close as she began to cry.
Doctor Burns allowed a few seconds for the murmuring to die down before he continued. "At this time, the senior Mr. Luthor would like to make a statement. He will not take any questions, but my staff and I will be happy to accommodate any questions you may have that are not covered in the transcripts at the later medical briefing this afternoon."
He stepped aside, and the flash bulbs began clicking at an alarming rate as Lionel took his place at the podium. He had a solaced, but determined, look on his face. He too cleared his throat and began.
"It is with great trepidation that I must stand before you today and say what I must." Lionel cleared his throat again. "After much consideration for the welfare of my son and what is the best for him, I have made a decision that saddens me."
"Oh, no," Lana cried softly in Pete's arms.
"In nineteen ninety three I lost my beloved wife to a serous health crisis, and today it seems I am to do the same in concerns to my son." Lionel adjusted his reading glasses and cleared his throat again. He was actually having trouble with the words, much to Jonathan's surprise.
"I," he stopped to adjust the paper on the podium. "I have instructed Doctor Burns and his staff to discontinue life support systems on my son's behalf."
Lana and Chloe leaned in and wrapped their arms around each other. They both cried as Martha buried her face in Jonathan's chest.
"I have decided to allow my son to begin his journey back into his mother's arms without holding him here any longer than necessary." Lionel cleared his throat a final time. "At this time I will depart to be with my son at his final moments and I will not return. Doctor Burns and his staff will keep you informed on any further development. I ask that you please allow myself time to grieve for the lost of my family in private. Thank you and good day."
A jumble of movement started around him as he turned away. One reporter even yelled out a question.
"Mr. Luthor, would you like to comment on the pending charges against the Kent family for negligence that lead to your son's accident?" she called out.
This caught everyone's attention and the room became silent again as Lionel stopped in his tracks. He turned back to the podium and looked at the young newsperson. He thought for a moment and then spoke softly into the microphones. "I have considered my options, and at this time have decided not to file any charges against the Kent family. I must deal with my loss and no amount of legal actions will bring my son back. I shall let the Kent family deal with their own involvement in my son's death and let the legal system handle this case in their own way should they see fit to do so."
The bustle continued again as he disappeared into the ICU.
Martha looked up at her husband. "What just happened here, Jonathan?" she asked. "He's not filing a lawsuit, but what does he mean by letting the legal system handle it?"
Jonathan took a deep breath with frustration. "We just got thrown to the wolves, Martha," he pulled her in close. "We may have entered the lion's den."
Whitney had actually gotten Clark to smile a few more times on the elevator ride back up to the ICU floor. They joked about silly high school stuff, and how much Whitney would miss his simpler days. The lobby was nearly cleared out by the time they reached the floor, with the exception of a few straggling reporters.
One stood near the elevator doors in front of the ICU doors when they entered the hall. They stopped to watch the live report in progress
"Again, this Andre Hing speaking to you from the Metropolis General Hospital's Intensive Care Unit where Lionel Luthor has just completed his press conference," the women of Asian decent spoke into the camera. "Word has just been given that young Alexander Luthor has been declared brain dead, and will be removed from life support systems momentarily. We will have the latest breaking developments as they occur."
Clark felt as if someone had just hit him hard in his mid section. He barely made it back to the waiting room with Whitney's help before he doubled over.
"Clark," Martha rushed to his side.
"We just heard the reporter in the hall," Whitney said releasing him to her care. "Is it true?"
Lana wrapped her arms around Whitney. "Oh, Whitney," she cried. "They are going to stop life support on Lex."
Pete was attempting to comfort Chloe in the corner when Jonathan and Martha helped Clark to a seat. He sat silent and rocked back and forth with his arms wrapped around his waist.
For the next few minutes, there were no sounds in the room except a few sobs and sniffles. No one knew what to say, and no one wanted to be the first to speak.
Clark finally looked up and caught Whitney's eye from across the room. Whitney was holding Lana as she cried, but there was no jealousy there. The two men had come to a silent understanding somehow. This was not about Lana or about feuds. This was about the lost of a close friend.
The look Clark gave Whitney seemed to be searching for answers. Clark wanted to move, he wanted to do something, anything, but he found himself glued to the seat by some invisible force.
Whitney unraveled himself from around Lana and kissed her forehead. "I have to do something, Babe," he said in a whisper. "I'll be right back."
He made his way over to Clark and stared down at him.
Clark looked up from his grief. "I can't do it, Whitney."
Whitney looked down at Clark. Clark stood up slowly as Whitney put his hands on his shoulders. The two men stood face to face and looked at each other with great concern.
"You only have the next few minutes," Whitney said softly as they all watched. "This one last chance will determine your regrets for the rest of your life."
Clark let his head fall forward until the top of it was touching Whitney's chest.
Whitney put his hand on the back of Clark's neck. "Let these final few minutes be a blessing, Clark. Not a curse."
Clark pulled his head up and faced him again. He wiped a hand across his face and then smiled politely. "You keep this up, and people might think you actually like me, Whitney."
"Not a chance, Clark." Whitney smiled back releasing his grip on his arms.
Clark patted his shoulder as he passed Whitney. "I'll be back," he announced to the room softly.
"You're not thinking about going in there?" Jonathan protested as he stood up.
Whitney placed his hands lightly against Jonathan's chest to hold him back. "He has to do this, Mr. Kent," he told the older man with a sad voice.
TO BE CONTINUED:
***Notes ***
Thanks to everyone who has written a review, and I am working on the formating. Thanks for the advice.