A Death In The Family Chapter Six, a smallville fanfic

A Death in the Family Part Two: Chapter Six:

The Dodge pickup truck rolled into the Kent's driveway at about nine-thirty when Jonathan Kent, the elder blond male head of the small family, stepped out from the driver's side and his wife Martha, with her long, red, highlighted hair with streaks of gray, stepped out from the passenger side. The two were continuing their conversation that they had started while driving.

"Well, didn't Carl give you any indications as to what they would do next?" The healthy and lovely woman asked her husband as they walked to the back of the truck.

"I told you, Martha," he sighed heavily reaching for the tailgate. "Carl said that Jim sent the file up to Metropolis for some investigators to look over."

He pulled the door down and revealed a large selection of white plastic grocery bags under a blue tarp. "It seems that the sheriff is not clear on how he wants to pursue our case. Proven liability in a drunk driving accident concerning an adult is a tricky situation, and the locals want to make sure that they have a hard case before they make any arrests or file charges."

"It just doesn't make any sense," she said, reaching to pick up some bags. "Forget that we did not even have any alcohol in the house at the time, but Lex has been buried for weeks now and Lionel has decided not to press any charges himself; why would the police even continue with this case?"

Jonathan shook his head, picking up a few handfuls of bags himself. "Lex Luthor was very high profile for a small town like Smallville. This case is being watched by the entire country, and I am sure the local crime enforcers do not want to make it look like they are turning a blind eye to one of it's own 'good old boys.'"

Martha gave her husband a rye smile. "I have known you for almost twenty years Jonathan Kent, and you have never been what I would perceive as a 'good old boy.'"

"Thanks," Jonathan cocked and eyebrow. "I think."

Martha playfully nudged her husband with her elbow and then led the trail to the front door with the provisions in hand.

It was not until they had stepped into the glow of the porch light that they saw Clark sitting on the top step. His head was hung low and he seemed to be lost in deep, sorrow- filled thoughts.

"Clark?" Martha called his name. "Are you alright?"

Clark hardly lifted his head to see his approaching parents.

"What is it, son?" Jonathan asked as they stopped before him.

He raised his face towards the light, and it was clear that he had been crying earlier.

Martha placed her bags on the steps and took a seat next to her son to his left. "What happened, Clark? What has made you so upset?"

Clark had great remorse in his eyes when he looked at her. "You will think I am crazy if I tell you."

"Son," Jonathan placed his bags down and sat at his right. "You may be a lot of things, including something out of a Gene Rodenberry television show," he attempted a little humor. "But we have never thought you were crazy."

Clark turned his head and faced his father with a determine silence.

"Please, Clark, let us help you," his mother rested her right hand on his shoulder.

Clark lowered his head and stared at the object in his hands.

"Lex," he let the word slip pass his lips.

"What about Lex?" Jonathan coaxed.

Clark looked up at his father again and held the cordless phone up into the light. "Lex called me a few minutes ago."

"Oh, my God," Martha gasped. "Honey, Lex is gone. We all saw him die and get buried."

"Don't you think I know that?" Clark gave her a hurt look. "He died in my arms, Ma. I felt the life drift out of my best friends body."

"Then how could he be calling you from the grave?" Jonathan questioned.

"I don't know, but it was his voice, Dad," Clark insisted. "He said he was happy to get through to me, and that he needed my help." Clark's head lowered again. "Then he was cut off."

"It had to be someone playing a sick joke," Jonathan insisted.

"Are you sure you weren't dreaming, Clark?" Martha asked. "I know you were asleep on your sofa up in the loft when I went to ask you if you wanted to come shopping with us."

Clark turned to her with a startled look.

"What is it, Clark?" Jonathan asked.

"I had a dream about Lex when I was sleeping up there," Clark admitted.

Jonathan shot his wife a knowing look.

Clark twisted in his seated position as if he wanted to get up and run away, but instead, he stayed still and continued. "I've been feeling really bad about him dying and how he died. I guess I was ripping myself up inside because I wasn't able to save him."

He took a deep breath and nervously toyed with the phone antenna. "So I dreamed that he was up in the loft with me, and we talked some stuff over. He made me see that it wasn't my fault, and that I couldn't be with him every hour of every day to protect him. He said he came because I needed him and wanted to see him."

"Then what happened?" Jonathan tried to lead him on.

"Then I saw him return to my sub-consciences and I woke up yelling his name," Clark finished his story.

"Was that when you heard the phone?" Jonathan inquired.

Clark looked at his father's face as if seeking the answer. "Yeah, I think so. I ran down when I heard the ringing and when I picked it up, it was Lex's voice."

"Oh, Clark," Martha ran her hand through his hair. "That's what happened. You were still half asleep when you ran down her for the phone, and you thought you heard Lex's voice."

"But I did hear Lex, Ma," Clark defended himself.

"You heard him because you wanted and needed to, Clark," Jonathan explained. "Just like the dream in the loft."

"No," Clark's voice almost cried. "I know that the dream was a dream, but the voice I heard was real. Lex called me on this phone." He held it up.

Martha took the phone from his hand and pressed the caller identification button. "There was a call made to us a short while ago," she said. "But it says 'Not available'."

A glimmer of hope came to Clark's eyes. "You see."

"I'm sorry, son," Jonathan took the phone. "This proves that the phone did ring, but 'Unavailable is far from a confirmation of Lex being back from the grave."

Clark stood up and took a few steps forward off the porch. "Then you do think I am crazy."

Martha slid over closer to Jonathan. "Is there any call back number?"

"No," he replied. "But I think we might be able to star sixty nine it."

Clark turned back towards his parents with a start. "That's it."

Jonathan gave his son a cautious glance and dialed the numbers. He placed the phone to his ear and listened.

A look of annoyance came to his face after a few seconds, and then he spoke. "Hello, yes. My name is Jonathan Kent, and I was wondering if you made a phone call to this number earlier tonight."

Martha and Clark watched attentively as he nodded his head a few times. He then spoke again. "No, thank you for the offer, but my wife and I are very happy with our current long distance provider. Thank you."

He removed the phone from his ear and pushed the button.

"It was Lex, Dad." Clark spoke in a pleading voice. "I swear to God that Lex called me for my help tonight."

Jonathan didn't know what to say to the teenager. A small part of him had hoped that Clark was right. Even with their differences and how often he had hoped to have Lex out of Clark's life, he would have never wished any ill health on the young man.

Jonathan stood up and placed his hands on his son's shoulders. "I believe that you believe that you heard Lex's voice tonight, Clark. However, it was either a remnant from your earlier dream, or somehow, someone has played a really cruel hoax on you."

Clark's lips began to quiver. "He's alive, Pa," he let out in a moan. "I want him to be alive."

Martha watched as Jonathan pulled his grown son into an embrace. She cried along with them and then rose to join the hug.

Jonathan pulled himself together enough and placed his hand on the back of Clark's head. "I know what you are feeling, son," he cried into his ear. "When my father died, I would have given my own soul just to have five more minutes with him, but it could never happen. People we care about will always be coming in and out of our lives, and some of them will die. We have to learn to go on with out them."

Clark pulled them in almost to the point of where it hurt. "I don't want to go on, Pa."

Martha and Jonathan had gone into the house after Clark assured them he would be all right, and needed to walk off the night's events to clear his head. He walked along the long country roads into town. He did a super speed run bye when he approached the area that still held some of the broken glass from the crash that had claimed Lex's life. The rain had long since washed away the streaks of fuel and grease left behind. Even with the bushes and surrounding trees returning to their normal state. Clark could not bear to come to this spot any longer.

After the quick sprint pass the sight, he slowed to a normal walking speed, and within the half-hour, he found himself standing at the gates to the Luthor mansion. The large castle like building looked cold and deserted now that its prime occupant was gone and most of the servants had either left or returned to the Metropolis home of Lionel Luthor. He watched as the gentle summer breeze tussled the leaves of the trees on the property. Lex had never come to appreciate the true beauty of the land surrounding the Scottish building.

Lex had not come to appreciate a lot of things about life, and now he would never have the time to learn. Clark had tried his best to open his friend's eyes to the simpler things in life while Lex had attempted to lure Clark to the decadence of the finery of wealth.

Clark ran his hand down the cool steel bars to the close gate. How many times had he slid his slender body through these barriers to visit Lex? Now he no longer had anyone within the fortress with which he could enjoy a quiet summer conversation.

"Why can't I let go, Lex?" The words slipped softly from his lips. "Why can't I accept that you are dead and leave it at that?"

Clark leaned in, resting his forehead on one of the bars. "You were my best friend Lex, and we never even had time to enjoy that."

A soft sigh was released from his defeated tone. "You were more than a friend, Lex." He raised his head and looked at the castle. "You were the brother I never had."

Clark barely formed another thought before he heard a voice from within the compound a few feet to his left. "He thought very highly of you also, young master Kent."

The sound of another voice startled Clark and he jumped slightly squinting his eyes to see into the darkness.

"I am sorry, sir," the owner of the voice stepped into the light. "I was not eaves- dropping. I was merely making my rounds of the grounds before I retired for the night."

"Reginald," Clark recognized the fateful manservant. "I didn't hear you coming."

"Again, my apologies," the middle aged man with the balding, dark hair spoke.

"It's all right." Clark assured the older man who stood about a full foot shorter than he. "I guess I'm just a little easy to startle these days."

"These have been very unnerving times, sir," Reginald agreed. "You look distraught this evening. Could I be of some service to you?"

Clark hung his head low. "I don't think so. I was just missing Lex, and I thought a walk would clear my head."

"And your walk brought you here?"

Clark looked up at him with a questionable smirk. "Old habit."

Reginald was silent for a moment and then broke in. "I could not help over hearing what you were saying, sir, and I believe if you were the one who had passed, then young master Luthor would have been at a great lost as you are."

A slight curl came to the edge of Clark's lips as he thought that Lex would have missed him too. "Really?"

Reginald could not help but smile himself. "I had known the young sir since shortly after his unfortunate accident that took his hair, and I do not recall him ever referring to anyone as 'friend,' before you."

A melancholy peace came over Clark as he shifted his weight listing to the butler.

"If I were to be honest," Reginald continued. "I have never known the master to ever desire a friend before he met you. He thought you a very exceptional young man."

This time Clark let his smile grow at the pleasant news. "Yeah," he added. "I thought he was pretty special in that dark, mysteriously secretive way of his."

Clark's face grew solemn again as if in deep thought.

"Are you sure I could not help you with something?" Reginald asked again.

"Well," Clark hesitated.

"Please, sir," the butler said with a mournful tone. "Master Lex would not want you sulking over him. He would also want me to help if at all possible."

Clark shifted himself again. He knew what he wanted, but he was not sure that it was a good idea. Then he took a deep breath and threw caution to the wind.

"Could I," his words stumbled in his apprehension. "Could I come in and take one last look around?"

Reginald smiled again. "Of course." He reached to unlock the gate when Clark stopped him.

"Wait," Clark called out. "Let's do this the right way." He turned sideways and slid his slim form through the widely space bars.

Reginald could not help but chuckle at the sight.

Clark's face turned slightly red from the embarrassment of the moment. He shrugged his shoulders. "For old time's sake."

Reginald who was the only remaining staff member at the mansion allowed Clark the time to himself to roam the building until he found him in the study looking over the war table he has just uncovered from the large drop cloths and sheets that covered everything in the room.

The war table was a large size reproduction of the war of Troy, which Lionel had presented to Lex at a very young age as a tool to plot strategies and hone his leadership abilities. Clark had stopped here several times to enjoy the toys on his visit to his friend, and even had given Lex a gift centered on this object of his former grief toward his father, but as he looked over the setting, he could see something was missing.

Reginald could see something was bothering the young man and he approached.

"Is there a problem, sir?"

Clark jerked as if waking from a slight trance. "I'm not sure..."

"Perhaps I may be of some assistance," Reginald told him with a concern look.

"Well," Clark started sorting out his thoughts in his head. "I came in here to see if the gift I gave Lex for Christmas was still here, and I was going to ask if I could take it as a remembrance, but it's gone."

"Gone?" the butler repeated.

"Yeah," Clark turned to him to explain. "You might remember that the original Trojan Horse with this set was destroyed last Thanksgiving, and I made him a new one for Christmas. I know Lex liked it even though it was not nearly as good as the last one. He had it on this table ever since."

Reginald gave him a puzzled look. "Perhaps it was packed away."

"Why the horse and not the rest of the setting?" Clark took another look at the table to find that nothing else was missing.

"There is one other possibility," the older man was hesitant to speak.

Clark gave him a wide-eyed face as if to ask him to continue.

"The elder Mr. Luthor was here about a week ago and sorted through several of his son's personal effects," he told Clark. "I am afraid that he destroyed several of the items he thought were of no further use by burning them in the fireplace."

Clark heart sank yet again. He walked over to the fireplace and looked into the pile of ashes that had not been cleaned out from the harp. He kneeled down before the unlit logs and ran his hand through the cool, dry ashes.

Reginald walked up behind him. "Those would be the very same ashes, sir. I have not been able to bring myself to enter this room to clean them away since the young master's death. This was one of his favorite rooms, and he enjoyed that you would always come in here when you were required to wait for him."

Clark remained silent, running his fingers in the pile of soot.

"I watched several times as he waited outside the door a few minutes extra just to allow you more time with the play set, sir." The butler told him. "Alexander enjoyed watching you muse with his belongings. He would never admit how much he missed his young brother who did not survive infancy, but I believe he saw the chance missed with the child in you."

Clark picked up a handful of the ashes and let them slip through his fingers. "And he has gone to join his little brother and I am the one who is alone, again," he took a long pained breath. "Everything is gone now."

Lana was cleaning away the last of the dirty cups left on the counter at the Talon when she heard a soft knocking on the glass door. The coffeehouse was closed over an hour ago, and she was the soul remaining occupant. She approached the door slowly and peered pass the drawn window blinds.

"Clark?" She said out loud.

When she opened the locked door, a very sad looking, tall, handsome, young man stood there with his hands in his jean pockets.

"Hi Lana," he spoke sheepishly. "I was just out for a walk, and I saw the lights still on."

"Well, come in," she pulled on his arm. "You live far enough from town for this to be more than an average walk. Since when is Clark Kent into marathon sprints?"

"I know," he replied allowing himself to be lead in. "I had a lot on my mind, and I guess I just lost track of time and when I realized where I was, I was here in town."

"I guess that can happen," she eyed him suspiciously. "I was just about to lock up, but if you want to wait a few minutes, I can give you a ride home."

"Thanks," Clark said, spinning around to see her walking back to the counter. She was wearing a pink halter-top and fashionably ripped jeans with white sneakers and her hair pulled back in a ponytail, but Clark thought she had never been more beautiful.

"So," she called from behind the counter placing the dishes into a basin. "You haven't been around here in a while. How are you doing, Clark?"

He tried to shake his head from its foggy state and smiled at her. "Okay, I guess. I've been trying to kill the days with farm work."

"I know what you mean," she smiled back. "I'm burying myself in a ton of projects, it helps to keep my mind off my troubles when I'm upset about something."

Clark sat on a stool at the counter. "So, have you heard from Whitney?" Clark hit his own head mentally as the words escaped his lips. What was he thinking?

Lana gave him an odd glance. "Yeah," she spoke hesitantly. "I got a letter from him the other day. He says boot camp is ten-times harder then football training, but he's making the best of it. He's proud to be following in his dad's footsteps."

"Mr. Fordman was a good guy," Clark was staring at his hands. "I miss seeing him at the store when I go there."

"We all do," Lana returned leaning on the counter. "Clark, is everything alright? This mood is even more sulking than normal for you."

He looked up from his hands.

"Clark," she placed her hands over his. "We've been friends for a long time now. You can tell me if you are upset about something."

She ran her left palm along his cheek. "You miss Lex a lot, don't you? I know you guys had some trouble with trusting each other, but even Chloe and Pete would have to admit that he was your new best friend."

Clark closed and eyes and allowed his thoughts to be buried in her touch.

"Clark," her voice again woke him from his trance.

"I'm sorry," he opened his eyes.

"What happened, Clark?" she asked. "This is more than the third week in the grief process. Something has freaked you out."

Clark pulled his hands away from her not wanting to lose his train of thought again. "I got a phone call tonight."

"Oh," she coaxed him on with her eyes.

"From Lex," he spoke the words in a slight hast hoping that she would not think him crazy.

Lana just looked into his eyes for a few seconds.

Clark allowed his eyes to drift down to the counter. "You think I am one crayon short of a rainbow pack too, don't you?"

"No, of course not," she replied hesitantly. "I'm just not sure by what you mean when you say you got a phone call. Is this some type of metaphor, Clark?"

Clark stood up and walked to the center of the room. "No, Lana. The phone rang at the house, I picked it up, and it was Lex's voice on the other end."

Lana stood still for a moment thinking over what he just said.

Clark took a few steps closer, but still kept his distance. "My parents think I was having a dream because there was no record of anyone but a telemarketer calling the house."

"A dream," she repeated out loud.

Clark looked back at her with his puppy dog eyes and scrunched his eyebrows. "I kinda fell asleep in the loft and dreamed that I was talking to Lex. The phone ringing is what woke me up, I think."

"So your folks thinks you were imagining a 'Sixth-Sense' moment while you were listening to a computerized sales pitch," Lana reasoned out.

"I guess," he agreed with a shrug.

Lana walked out from behind the counter and stood next to him. "So, what do you think it was, Clark?"

He returned her gaze. "I think it was Lex."

Lana turned away deep in thought.

"I'm not going crazy here, Lana," he insisted.

She glanced back at him as she returned behind the counter. "This may sound like a Pete Ross line, but what long distance provider do you think handles the 'hereafter'?"

"I'm not Jack Nicholson here, Lana," he leaned across the divider. "I think I really got a phone call from Lex. I don't need to be locked up in some crazy house."

"Come on, Clark," she raised her hands in disbelief. "Even Sprint won't cover these roaming charges."

Clark sat himself back down on the stool hard and his stare was at his hands on his lap.

"I'm sorry, Clark," she gave him her best pouting face. "I'm just trying to make a little levity here."

"I know," he nodded his head.

The two remained silent until, "Clark," she reached across and touched his shoulder. "We were all there, remember? We watched from the door at Lex died in your arms. You said yourself that you felt the life drain from his body. We saw the box get placed into the crypt with his body inside."

Clark sniffed away an invisible tear.

Lana took his chin in her hand. "Hey," she turned his face to hers. "I miss Lex too, but all the hoping and dreaming will not bring him back."

"I know that, Lana," Clark gritted his teeth. "I have been trying to convince myself of the same thing for the past few hours, but I know what I heard. I heard Lex's voice just as sure as I am hearing my own right now."

Lana became worried for her friend. She placed her hands flat on the table and looked deep into his eyes.

"What did he say?" she asked finally giving in to the chance that the call was real.

Clark reviewed his memory. "He said he was happy that he finally got through, and he asked for my help because he said he was in trouble. Then he started talking to someone telling 'them' to stop whatever it was they were doing. Then the phone just went dead."

Lana reviewed what she had just heard. "And there was no trace of the call?"

"The caller ID was unknown and my Dad even star-sixty-nine it only to get some salesmen."

"This is only seeming all the more fantastic, Clark," she gave him a questionable look. "You have nothing to hold up your belief."

"I know, Lana," he stood up. "But think about it. If someone was able to kidnap Lex and then fake his death, wiping out a phone call from a public phone system would not be so hard."

"Kidnap?" Lana gushed. "Clark, Lex has been gone for over three weeks. If there were going to be demands, they would have been made by now."

"To Lionel Luthor," Clark cocked his head. "Do you really think he would have made something like that public?"

"Have you talked to him?" She asked.

"No, but I'm not Lionel's favorite person these days," Clark explained. "He still holds us responsible for the accident."

"From getting drunk on alcohol he never got at your house," Lana looked away studying her thoughts.

"Then a bunch of booze bottles showed up in our trash," Clark continued.

"Because of Lionel, right?" Lana turned back.

"Or so we thought," Clark raised a finger.

"There was also the car," Lana added.

Clark gave her a questioning stare.

"Jake, the auto mechanic who towed the car from the crash scene, said that we was given strict orders to bring the car right to the Luthor Corps motor pole in Metropolis and not to the police impound like normal," she told him. "He was in here the other day talking about it. He said he had never seen someone able to wave off a police investigation as easily as Lionel Luthor did."

Clark thought again. "I think Lionel is hiding something."

Lana walked back to Clark's side of the counter. "Do you think Lionel could be hiding a kidnapping?"

Clark looked deep into her eyes. "I think that with the Luthors, just about anything is possible."

Lana touched his right hand that he was resting on the counter. "You're going to Metropolis, aren't you?"

A serous look came across his face again. "Dead or alive, Lana. I owe it to Lex to get to the bottom of this."

Lana turned and walked a few feet. "What if it's true, Clark?" She turned back. "What if Lex really is still alive?"

A dark shadow came across Clark's face. "Then, if he is still on the Earth, I will find him." His teeth were clenched as he spoke. Then and there, he made a vow to himself, to Lex, and God to solve this puzzle. The mystery surrounding Lex's death would be discovered, regardless of what the outcome would be.

TO BE CONTINUED...

***Notes***

I want to thank all of you who are following my little story and keep writing the good reviews. I can't tell you how happy it makes me feel to know that my work is being enjoyed, so please keep them coming, and I promise that the mystery of Lex's death is far from over and we have not seen the last surprise or plot twist. I am enjoying this story as I write it, and it has taken on a life of its own, so I too learn about some of the mystery as I go along.

To Marrie: Like I said, the plot twist and surprises are far from over. Thanks

To MitchPell: Interesting take on the death seen, and might I add, you have a good eye for details. As for the question of if you were right or not? Well you might just want to keep reading.

To Robyn: Thank you for your kind comments. It's not often I get called a demon in a nice way. As for the fat lady, a casting call has not been put out for the roll yet, so stick around and enjoy. I know I'm enjoying that you are enjoying.

To Anna: If you think it was hard to read Lex's death, then please know how hard it was to write. I had to put the first few chapters away a few times during the process, because it was often too difficult to write and allot was based on some of my own memories, so it was a trial. But I hope I have done that part of the story justice. As for the 'hurry up and write a some more', my poor Bata Chritan is working her little heart out to keep up, so please bare with us, and maybe soon I will be able to post more than once a week until this baby is done.

Thank you all again for reading, and please keep writing. I love the input and it only fuels the fire. I hope that you enjoy my stories as much as I like writing them.

Phaze