Smallville: A Death In The Family: Part Two: Burial
Chapter Five:
The Kent farm just out side of Smallville had seen many sad days in its years of existence. The father of the current owner, Jonathan Kent, had weathered out the depression on these fertile grounds. This land had seen droughts, floods and a number of storms and tornadoes even in the recent weeks. The people who have lived here over the years have also weathered personal storms. Yet today, for it's youngest occupant, it was the saddest day. Today, Clark Kent was going to say goodbye to and bury his best friend.
Clark stood before the mirror in his private domain of the barn's hayloft, which was affectionately known as his Fortress of Solitude. He fiddled with the dark blue tie and he was wearing with his new black suit. The moment hit him as he remembered back only a few days earlier how he had been here fumbling with a bow tie to wear with his tux at the spring formal and his friend Lex had shown up at just the right moment to help him make the piece of material work. Clark saw the hurt in his own face as he realized that 'today' he would be burying that troubled man.
He sighed with frustration as he finished his knot and looked away from his own reflection.
"You look very handsome," a female voice called as she reached the top of the stairs.
Startled, Clark turned around and saw his mother standing in an ankle length black skirt with a white blouse covered by a smart black blazer that matched the skirt. "Then again, I might be biased."
Clark forced a smile for Martha Kent. "Thanks."
She walked over and reached for the tie adjusting the knot and making sure it were centered. "Your father is already in the car waiting for us. We need to leave now if we are going to make the funeral in Metropolis."
Clark looked down and inspected her work. The tie was straight and the knot perfect, but for all the efforts, he could not have cared less.
"We don't want to be late for the funeral," Martha informed her son. "Lex would be proud to know you were there when they laid him to rest."
"In Metropolis," Clark finally spoke. "Lex wanted to stay here in Smallville. He liked it here."
Martha looked up into her son's strong face that now seemed like a small child's. "Lex will be placed in the family mausoleum next to his mother Lillian. I think it is what Lex would want; to be next to her."
Clark looked sternly at his own reflection again. "Lionel Luthor came here a few weeks ago and closed the plant so he could force Lex to the city, but he fought his father tooth and nail, and now that Lex cannot fight anymore, his father is still forcing him back to Metropolis."
"Honey," she placed her hands on his arms. "Don't think about it like that. Lionel can do what ever he wants with Lex's body. Lex is not in there anymore."
Clark studied his mother's reflection next to his. "Do you," he stopped for a second before finishing his statement. "Do you think Lex is in Heaven?"
Martha brow creased. She didn't want to upset her son, but she didn't want to lie either.
"He didn't believe the way we do," Clark added.
"I don't think actual religion has much to do with it," Martha said. "We don't really know what Lex believed in his head, or if he was following the doctrines in private." She took a deep breath. "I know what I believe and know, and I have to follow what I think is the truth, but I would never attempt to judge weather or not another person is going to Heaven or not. It's not my place to decide nor do I think it's my place to voice an opinion."
Clark put his right hand over hers. "I pray he's in Heaven, Ma."
"So do I, Clark," she patted his other shoulder.
A horn sounded from outside.
Martha chuckled. "I guess that would be your father's way of telling us to get a move on."
Clark smiled too. Then a serious look came across his face. "Do you think Dad is glad that Lex is gone?"
Martha took a step back. "No, of course not," she gasped. "Your father may not have like Lex as much as you did, but he would never want something like this to happen."
A heavy pain came to Clark's heart. "Of course not," he repeated. "Dad would never want anyone to die."
"Clark," Martha gently turned him around to face her again. "You are going through a very emotional time right now, and grief can make you have all types of thoughts and ideas you never would have otherwise, but it is all part of the process. Don't keep hitting yourself in the head thinking you are going out of your mind or something. These thoughts and strange ideas will pass."
Clark stared down at his mother. She had always been a pillar of strength in his life. She and Jonathan did not just raise him up to be a good man, but they raised him as an extension of their beliefs and moral fiber. Clark may have been from another planet for all he knew, but the Kent's had made him human like nothing else in the universe could have. Not knowing who his real parents were had never worried Clark, because he knew the Kents were where he belonged.
Martha touched his hurting face. "Are you going to be okay?"
"Yeah," he forced a grin.
"Good," she smiled. "Just remember that we love you, son."
"I know," he grinned again. "And I love you."
Martha turned and walked towards the steps while Clark took one last sad look at himself in the mirror.
"Ma?" he called out.
"Yes, Clark?" Martha looked back from the steps.
Clark looked away from the mirror over to her. "Do you think Lionel ever told Lex that he loved him?"
Martha had to think for a minute. She wanted to assure Clark that his father had loved his best friend while he was still alive, but she could not bring herself to really examine the thought. Lex had suffered in his own way, and now the pain was over. It was best not to dwell on it.
"Let's not try and dissect the Luthor family, Clark," she told him with a strained smile. "Let us just linger on what Lex meant to us."
Clark had been silent for the entire ride up to Metropolis. He sat in the back seat of the Kent's car and stared at the passing landscape around them. He simply watched and thought back of his time with Lex.
When they arrived at the large church, they were directed to the front door where valets had been stationed to park the cars of the arriving mourners in the proper rows of how they would follow the body to the cemetery. The Kent's got out and Jonathan handed the keys to the young man waiting.
Just as they were about to walk up the steps they heard a horn blow just behind them.
"Chloe, Lana and Pete," Martha announced as Chloe slid her small red vehicle behind the Kent's car. They waved with smiles and the Kent's politely waved back.
They each disembarked from the car and Chloe approached the valet. "I know every scratch that's already on it, so be careful." She smiled holding out the keys.
"I beg your pardon," a stately looking elderly gentleman seemed to appear out of nowhere, but this car is most inappropriate for the procession. Would you please park it across the street in the public lot."
"Wait a minute," Chloe frowned. "This is the only ride I have. How are we going to get to the cemetery?"
"It's alright," Martha stepped in. "You Pete and Lana can ride with us, it will be a snug ride, but we'll make it work."
She took the keys from Chloe's hands and gave them to the elderly man. "And I am sure these nice people would be happy to park the car across the road for you and then bring your keys back inside to you." She gave the gentleman a polite smile that also told him that this was not up for debate.
"Of course," he took the keys. "I shall have them returned momentarily."
"Personally," Martha added.
"Of course," he forced a bitter grin.
Lana approached Clark who stood off to the side waiting. She gave him a sweet smile. "How are you doing, Clark?"
"I'm fine, Lana," he returned politely with a lost look on his face.
"Whitney was sorry he couldn't be here, but he couldn't put off his recruiter any longer," she explained. "The storms bought him an extra week of time already. He couldn't ask for anymore."
"I understand," Clark lied. He knew that Whitney had to leave, but he also knew that he was also the only other person who had a close and personal connection to the pain that Clark was in right now. He needed Whitney, even if he could not admit it. First Lex was gone, and now Whitney. Who would leave Clark next; he wondered.
"Hey Clark," Pete padded him on the shoulder. "How are you holding up?"
"Let's see," Clark said with a sigh. "Lex has been dead three days, seventeen hours and thirty nine minutes and I haven't thought about anything else since. Not bad, I guess."
"Oh Clark," Lana leaned in and hugged him. "Lex thought allot of you. With the exception of the Talon, you were about the only thing we ever talked about."
Clark hugged her back. "Thanks, Lana."
"Hey, I spoke with Pastor Springs, and he was real sorry you weren't going to be going to the summer camp this year. Not even for your usual week," Pete cut back into the conversation. "He told me to send his regards and to tell you he's praying."
"Summer camp?" Clark questioned pulling away from Lana. "I forgot all about it. And with all the work around the farm, there is no way I would be able to go this year."
"Well, I'm going to miss you," Pete smiled.
"So you are still going?" Clark asked.
"Yeah," he replied. "Pastor Springs told me they were short handed for counselors with the younger kids, he asked me to sign on for the whole run as a camp councilor. Since my political intership fell through, I didn't see a reason not to."
"The whole run?" Clark's eyes got wide.
Pete realized what this meant to Clark, and he hesitated before answering. "Ah, yeah, Clark. I signed up before this all happened with Lex. I kinda assumed between your farm and you hanging with him, you wouldn't have much time to miss me."
"So you're leaving for camp?" Clark sorted out the facts. "How long?"
"Six weeks," Pete said with a worried look. "I'm sorry, Clark. If I had known you would be alone, I would have never signed on, but now I have to do it. They are counting on me."
"Oh man," Clark sighed heavily. "This can't be happening."
"I'm sorry, Clark," Pete said shrugging his shoulders. "My bus leaves in the morning."
Again Clark's eyes open wide and his jaw dropped. "Chloe starts her internship here in the city with the Daily Planet tomorrow. That means Lana and I will be the only ones left in Smallville."
"Actually," Lana cut in. "I won't have a whole lot of time either, Clark. Since Lex was owner of the Talon and we want to prove it's worth to Lionel Luthor so he won't close it down, Nell and I will be spending just about all our time there and at various seminars that will train us how to run the business better, here in the city. With Whitney gone, I thought the plan to tie up all my time would be a good idea."
Clark hung his head. "So everyone is leaving?"
"We'll all be back in the fall," Lana said softly patting his arm. "We all thought you would use up all your time at the farm and..." she stopped thinking better of it.
"And hanging around with Lex," Clark finished for her. His eyes were slightly dancing not knowing were he should look and at the same time trying not to show any more hurt than he had too.
"I'm sorry, Clark," Lana added with another pat on his arm.
Jonathan walked up to them as Chloe and Martha had joined the group. "I spoke with the chief attendant, and we all need to be seated before they bring in the coffin."
"Let's go find a seat," Martha coaxed the girls and lead them off.
Pete looked at Jonathan who was staring at an unmoving Clark. He decided not to say anything, and followed the girls into the church.
"Clark," Jonathan spoke softly to his son as they stood on the steps of the large church building. "Are you going to be able to do this, son?"
"Yeah," Clark rubbed his face.
"Lex needs you this last time, Clark," Jonathan told him. "He would be proud to know that you were here for him, son."
Clark put his hand on his father's shoulder and leaned into it. "I think he would have been prouder if I were there when he needed me at the accident, Dad. I should have been there to save my friend like I always have been."
"You can't be everything to everyone," Jonathan hugged his son. "You're not a comic book superhero. People don't always get saved in the real world."
The next two hours dragged by for Clark as he watched motionlessly as the casket containing his friend's remains were wheeled into the church and placed before the several hundred mourners to be prayed over in their grief. The box was kept closed at Lionel's request. He would not let a Luthor be seen in such a battered state. Clark had thought of using his x-ray vision to pear through the metal box, but decided not to. He could not get the picture of Lex's beaten and battered body out of his mind, and he did not want to add the sight of him in is coffin to those images.
Sitting near the back of the church, Clark could not help but notice that grief was not the emotion of the day, but rather a curiosity factored in by the mourners waiting to see what a Luthor funeral would be like, and who would be there. The whole circus that the event had become only turned Clark off even more so. He allowed his thoughts and body's reactions to slip into autopilot and he drifted off into his own mind. He only allowed himself to take notice of his surroundings only a few times the whole afternoon. Once he was following his parents back to the car, then he was seated between them in front seat with Pete and the girls in the back. There was the walk from the car to the grave sight, and finally he was standing at the side of the coffin when most of the people had seemed to have already left. It was then Clark realized he stood with his hand on the cool steel box with the large white carnations on the lid.
He stood silent as a stray tear rolled down his left cheek. He wanted to say something, but his throat was too tight from the built up hurt, that even if he did speak, it would have been a broken harsh raspy sound.
Clark stood by the box for several minutes as the mourners left behind mingled among themselves. Some even took pictures that he was sure would show up in the weekly tabloids eventually. None of this mattered as Clark stood silent vigil over his friend.
The days drifted off into the summer heat, and Clark busied himself with a number of chores around the Kent farm. He would make it a point to wake up early in the morning, and keep his day filled with the farming needs for the entire day. Even Jonathan marveled at how hard his son worked. He knew that the tasks done by his super human son would have taken close to six months to get done by a normal teenager, but Clark was far from a normal teenager.
Each night Clark would drag his weary body up to his private spot over the barn in the hayloft and collapse on his warn and beaten sofa just lying, as a gentle summer breeze would wash through the large opened door. He would sit here after hours of purposefully demanding work hoping that he would drift off to sleep quickly and not have time to think. He no longer had the desire to sleep in his small dark room in the Kent's house. Clark was alone and he tried hard to keep himself from craving anyone else's company, to the point of even avoiding his parents when ever possible. Solitude was his only friend in the three weeks since Lex's funeral, and for now, that was enough.
The elder Kent's had gone out for the evening, and Clark stayed behind to be with himself. He lay silent for several long minutes attempting to control his breathing so he would drift off more easily, but tonight was one of those nights that the thoughts kept coming in spite of his best efforts. His mind wondered back to better days, which were filled mostly by his memories of Lex.
He thought about the first time they met when the Lex's car drove off the bridge and how he saved the bald young man. Then there was the time they were trapped with Earl Jenkins on Level three and had to fight to stay alive. There were the quiet times when they would sit in the study at the Luthor Mansion and just talk. The Christmas eve when they almost died driving back from Metropolis. Then fights and mistrust that lingered between them, that seemed to keep them at arm's length for much of the time. A smile came to Clark's face as he remembered all the laughs the two shared over warm drinks at the Beanery and Talon, and the small tug of war they had with each other's intellect. "Our friendship will be the stuff of legends." Lex once said to him, and now with him gone, Clark knew that the story would be incomplete. All these thoughts were enveloping Clark as the final picture of Lex dying in his arms came to his mind. Clark shot up as the pain of reliving that moment rushed through him.
Clark's breathing was heavy and mournful as he buried his face into his hands.
"You have got to stop doing this to yourself, Clark," a familiar voice sounded in the dark.
"What?" Clark jumped up and searched the empty loft.
"You have to stop eating yourself up inside," the voice added.
"Who said that? Who's there?" Clark asked.
As Clark turned to the dim moonlight shining in through the loft's door, he could make out a hazy figure coming into view.
"I'm worried about you Clark," the man said. "You are taking this much harder than you should be."
"Oh my God," Clark gasped as the man stepped into the light. "Lex?"
"Still sulking in your own grief," Lex smiled. He was robust and healthy again, and all the signs from his ordeal were gone. He stood in his smart dark Docker pants and purple turtle neck silk shirt under a navy blue sport coat that matched the slacks and socks with the polished black shoes.
"You're alive," Clark announced wearing his own dirty blue jeans and matted stained t-shirt. "You're alive?"
"Not really," Lex said in a low-keyed voice. "I'm not really here, Clark. I am just a projection of what you want to see in your own mind."
"Another alien ability?" Clark questioned.
"No, this one is strictly human, Clark," Lex told him as he approached. "You needed to see me again, and your mind built this image to help ease the strain. I'm here because you want me here."
"So the real Lex is still dead," Clark reason with a defeated tone. He sat back on the sofa.
"I came to tell you the things that you already know subconsciously and do not want to except," The image told Clark sitting next to him to his right.
"Why would I want to hear what I am keeping suppressed?" Clark sighed.
"You need to remind yourself that this was not your fault, Clark," Lex told him. "You know that there was nothing you could do to prevent this. You were no where near the car when it drove off the road."
"Then why do I still feel like there was something I could have done?" Clark fell back into a slump on the sofa. "Why wasn't I there to save you?"
"You were busy living your life while I was living mine. You were never my guardian angel. Clark. You were my friend who just always happen to be there when I needed you."
Clark turned to meet his gaze. "Like you are now."
"What are you afraid of, Clark?" Lex asked.
"Nothing," his voiced trailed off for a second. "And everything."
"My memory will always be with you," Lex assured with a slight grin.
Hurt darted through Clark's eyes as he lean forward again. "I'm not so sure," his voice let out in a tone just above a whisper.
Clark stood up from the sofa and walked over to the open loft. "Do you smile with your teeth showing, or do you hide them when you grin?" Clark asked out into the wind.
"I don't understand the question," Lex who was now directly behind him responded. "You've seen me a hundred times. You would know about my smile more than I would."
"That's just it," Clark turned quickly to face him again. He took a moment and looked his friend over from head to foot. "This," his voice faulted. "This is the clearest picture I have had of you in my mind for days now. Your face is drifting into the general picture my mind's eye has of just about anyone I've ever seen."
Clark raised his hand as if to touch his friend but stopped short. "I'm losing my memories of you Lex. The details are starting to blur."
"It's all becoming like a slightly blurred snap shot," Lex added. "These things happen, Clark. It's part of the grieving process. Your mind is rounding out the edges of your memories so the corners are not so sharp anymore, and they won't hurt as much when you look at them again."
"But I don't want to forget, Lex," Clark retorted with a harsh tone. "I don't ever want to forget who you were, and how much we meant to each other."
"You won't ever forget, Clark," Lex's image smiled. "Even if you were not special, the mind doesn't forget important things, it just makes them easier to handle. In your case, you can remember more than most. Your mind, like your body, is getting stronger as you get older."
"So I won't forget," Clark breathed a sigh of relief. He smiled again and looked out at the moon over the pasture fields. "It still doesn't stop me from missing you."
"I know," Lex agreed.
Clark took a deep breath and leaned into the frame of the loft's door. "I can't stand the thought of not remembering another important person in my life."
"Like the way you can not remember your real parents?" Lex rounded out the thought as he stood against the opposite side of the frame.
"Yeah," Clark confirmed.
"They must have loved you, Clark," Lex said.
"They sent me away," Clark stated.
"In a rocket ship to another planet," Lex reminded him. "If you want to loose a child, you drop them on a front stoop, you don't spend the time or expense on space travel."
Clark took another deep breath as he pondered what his friend was saying. "Nothing I am saying is new, Clark," Lex told him. "I am relating the very thoughts you are having in your own head, only it seems to be more logical with another person's voice behind it."
"I trust you so much, but you and I had so many secrets from each other," Clark recalled staring out at the night sky. "We had so many lies between us, yet I always felt like I trusted you more than anyone else."
"We were a lot alike," Lex grinned. "As different as we were, we were both outsiders in this world called Smallville. You were from another planet and I might as well have been for all the reactions I got from the locals."
"No one felt they could trust you," Clark reminded him, as he stood straight again.
"And with good reasons," Lex added.
"What am I going to do without you, Lex?" Clark's eyes grew with sorrow again. "You are my best friend."
"Some people thought we were too close, Clark."
"I never cared what people thought," Clark sneered. "I've heard some of things people in this town have said about us, but they don't understand how two lost outsiders can be brought together and become so close without something being sick or twisted between them."
"They all thought I was using you somehow," Lex said following Clark back to the sofa. "You were my friend, Clark. I would have never hurt you."
"I know, Lex." Clark turned back towards him. "Now the whole world thinks I did something careless to let you hurt yourself. They think I would have let you drive away drunk."
"Like I would have had a chance," Lex laughed. "You would have picked my car up over your head and smashed in into a rock if it were the only way to stop me."
Clark was laughing along with Lex as they stood left shoulders to shoulders face opposite directions. He stopped and turned his head towards his friend. "What happens now, Lex? If this is all in my head, then where do I go from here?"
Lex looked down at his feet. "We say goodbye, and I return to your mind to take my place in those foggy pictures."
Clark rubbed his face. "I already said goodbye once, Lex. I don't know if I can say it again."
"You don't have to," Lex turned to face him. "I came here so you could see me one last time, and to let you know that what ever happens, you will be okay. I came to tell you that what happened to me, was not your fault. I came so you could hear me say goodbye to you."
"Can't you stay a while longer?" Clark pleaded.
"No rubber room could ever hold you, Clark," Lex smiled. "And if I stayed any longer, then that is where they would have to put you. I am all in your head, and I need let you return to your own life."
"This is my own head trying to convince me that I am not at fault."
"No, Clark," Lex's eyes grew slightly angry. "I may be of your making, but I have not said anything that you know the real Lex wouldn't have said. He wants you to forgive yourself and to move on with your life."
Clark didn't need another image to tell him this one was telling him the truth. "I'll miss you."
Lex took a step forward until he was inches from Clark's face. "Goodbye, Clark." He took another step and disappeared into Clark's head.
"Lex, come back!" Clark screamed himself awake from where he had fallen asleep on the sofa in the loft. His body was covered in a cold sweet and his clothes were drenched. He quickly scanned the room to find that he was alone. The cool, summer breeze was steadily coming in from the open loft door and seemed all the colder in his wet t-shirt.
Clark took a few more deep breaths as if to assure him self that he was awake and buried his face in his hands. "It was just a dream," he moaned. "Lex is still dead."
The wind outside his fortress of solitude was beginning to pick up and thought he could hear something in the whisper of the rushed air. He walked over to the opened door and listened. After a few more seconds, he heard it again.
"The phone," he exhaled.
With a flash of colors, Clark made a quick sprint to the farmhouse and stepped inside to answer the phone.
"Kent farm," he called into the receiver.
"Clark, thank God I finally got through to you," the familiar voice said to him.
"Who," Clark stuttered at the sound of the man's voice. "Who is this?"
"Clark, has it been that long?" the voice replied. "It's me, Lex. Listen I don't have much time, they're coming for me."
The voice of his friend was becoming hastened. "I think I'm in real trouble here, Clark. I need your help."
"Is this some sick joke?" Clark clenched his jaw.
"No, don't do that," the voice spoke to someone else on the other end. Then the phone clicked and the dial tone returned. The voice was gone.
Clark held the receiver before his face. "This can't be happening," he moaned. He let his body slump to the floor still holding the phone.
"Lex is dead," he cried. "I saw him die myself. Who would do this to me? Lex is dead."
Clark pulled his knees close up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. He gently began to rock himself backwards and forwards. He kept repeating the same sentence: "Lex is dead."
To Be Continued...