Clark had at least been able to recognize his previous sensations as pain. He wasn't afraid to identify that. But these sensations troubled him and he was afraid to name them. He definitely shouldn't have felt the way he did when one of the girl's hands brushed against him as she unlocked the handcuffs, that he wanted more of that touch. He knew he wasn't supposed to think about women. But her hand felt so cool and smooth and alive and if she had sat down in front of him, he could have looked at her for hours. He was supposed to be indifferent. It was his duty to kill her since she had seen him. Those were his direct orders.
He followed her with his eyes as she want back to stand next to the target. He didn't understand why she had removed the handcuffs. He didn't understand why it was disturbing him so much that she had. It felt as though there was a huge wave flowing through his body, mixing everything up inside him, not letting anything rest for a moment, whether it was lapping or rushing. He felt desperately confused, and as they left, let his head rest again on his knees.
"I want..." he whispered to himself, and didn't know how to finish the sentence.
***
"You saw how he reacted, Lex! He's got to be the boy the Kents adopted! Even if he didn't recognize them as his parents, he did recognize them."
"I'm not denying that, Lana. But it doesn't change the situation."
"So what can we do?"
He sat down, heavily, and Lana realized then just how perturbed he was, that he'd lost his studied, habitual ease of motion. "There aren't that many options." He avoided looking at her.
"Lex..."
He still wouldn't meet her eyes. "I don't think that returning him to his handlers is one of them."
"Of course not."
"They know where to look for him, so we can hardly keep him here. There's nobody I'd trust with him. With that kind of potential power. Nobody."
"We could let him go." There. She'd said it.
"Is that something you're willing to risk both our lives for? And who knows how many other lives, if he voluntarily goes back to his handlers? Sooner or later, he would. If they took him when he was that young, he's known nothing but what they've taught him." This time, he did look her in the face. "Lana, you've lived in farm country all your life. There's only one thing to do with an animal that's turned vicious. It probably wasn't his choice any more than it was a rabid dog's choice." He looked away for a moment. "I rather wish that you hadn't named him."
"Lex, his *parents* named him!"
"But it has to be done. And his handlers will have to know that he's dead."
Her mind was whirling. Everything he said made sense, but the conclusion was unbearable. She clutched at the weakness. "That probably won't even save your life. If they want you dead, and have the kinds of resources to-"
"You're probably right. But it doesn't change what we have to do."
"Say it, Lex. Say that you're going to kill a boy named Clark Kent."
For a moment, his composure shook. "What kind of a person do you think I am, do you think that I want to?"
"No." She hadn't realized how much hung on the answer until she saw the faint easing of the tension in the lines of his clenched throat. "No, I don't think that, Lex. But there's got to be some other solution." He shook his head, wearily.
"There's not much time, Lana, before more people come after him."
"I guess you're right. Can't fight facts." It was so easy to pretend, so automatic, that sometimes it alarmed her. She even managed a brave little smile. "But listen, Lex, I'm going to go down and talk to him for a bit."
"I'm not sure that's a good idea."
"No, not tell him he has twenty minutes and then you're going to come kill him, just...talk." Time to pull out the emotional card. "Everybody deserves somebody to remember them. Like my parents. Or your mother." She decided to use that as her exit line.
Whitney had made Lana feel safe because he was standing between her and the world. With Lex, she'd felt an entirely different kind of safety, that she was definitely in the world but not alone, there was somebody at her side. Or sometimes, pushing her out to find her own strength.
It felt strangely lonely.
***
Lex tried to think of it as a problem that needed to be solved. He was probably wearing some kind of body armor. A direct shot to the head, then. If possible, while the boy was looking in some other direction.
He tried to convince himself that he was giving Lana time by waiting again and thinking things through again. The brandy decanter caught his eye. No, later. Afterwards.
He didn't have a choice.
He'd have to show the latest intruder the body and then find a way to dispose of it. Of him. That would be the easy part.
"Life isn't fair, Lex," he heard his father's voice. "Do what's expedient."
"Do what's right, Lex." That was his mother's voice. She almost never had to work to convince him to do something. Merely the look that said that she knew he'd do the right thing and be proud of him when he did.
He got up slowly. Waiting wasn't doing anyone any favors.
Walking down the stairs to the dungeon, he listened carefully, then shook his head ruefully. Yes, it was the sound of somebody sobbing. He nearly turned around to go back upstairs and let whatever happened happen. Let the tide of events carry out whatever it would. Instead, he continued down the stairs, resolving yet again that he would find out who created this situation and somebody would pay for it.
He didn't believe his eyes when he opened the door. Clark was outside the cell, but sitting on the floor. His face was buried in one stranger's chest, that of a blond man, while another, a woman, was stroking his hair and shoulders. Lana stood to one side, and was the first to notice Lex's quiet entrance.
"There *is* somebody who can be trusted with him, Lex," she said, intently scrutinizing his face. "His parents."
He followed her with his eyes as she want back to stand next to the target. He didn't understand why she had removed the handcuffs. He didn't understand why it was disturbing him so much that she had. It felt as though there was a huge wave flowing through his body, mixing everything up inside him, not letting anything rest for a moment, whether it was lapping or rushing. He felt desperately confused, and as they left, let his head rest again on his knees.
"I want..." he whispered to himself, and didn't know how to finish the sentence.
***
"You saw how he reacted, Lex! He's got to be the boy the Kents adopted! Even if he didn't recognize them as his parents, he did recognize them."
"I'm not denying that, Lana. But it doesn't change the situation."
"So what can we do?"
He sat down, heavily, and Lana realized then just how perturbed he was, that he'd lost his studied, habitual ease of motion. "There aren't that many options." He avoided looking at her.
"Lex..."
He still wouldn't meet her eyes. "I don't think that returning him to his handlers is one of them."
"Of course not."
"They know where to look for him, so we can hardly keep him here. There's nobody I'd trust with him. With that kind of potential power. Nobody."
"We could let him go." There. She'd said it.
"Is that something you're willing to risk both our lives for? And who knows how many other lives, if he voluntarily goes back to his handlers? Sooner or later, he would. If they took him when he was that young, he's known nothing but what they've taught him." This time, he did look her in the face. "Lana, you've lived in farm country all your life. There's only one thing to do with an animal that's turned vicious. It probably wasn't his choice any more than it was a rabid dog's choice." He looked away for a moment. "I rather wish that you hadn't named him."
"Lex, his *parents* named him!"
"But it has to be done. And his handlers will have to know that he's dead."
Her mind was whirling. Everything he said made sense, but the conclusion was unbearable. She clutched at the weakness. "That probably won't even save your life. If they want you dead, and have the kinds of resources to-"
"You're probably right. But it doesn't change what we have to do."
"Say it, Lex. Say that you're going to kill a boy named Clark Kent."
For a moment, his composure shook. "What kind of a person do you think I am, do you think that I want to?"
"No." She hadn't realized how much hung on the answer until she saw the faint easing of the tension in the lines of his clenched throat. "No, I don't think that, Lex. But there's got to be some other solution." He shook his head, wearily.
"There's not much time, Lana, before more people come after him."
"I guess you're right. Can't fight facts." It was so easy to pretend, so automatic, that sometimes it alarmed her. She even managed a brave little smile. "But listen, Lex, I'm going to go down and talk to him for a bit."
"I'm not sure that's a good idea."
"No, not tell him he has twenty minutes and then you're going to come kill him, just...talk." Time to pull out the emotional card. "Everybody deserves somebody to remember them. Like my parents. Or your mother." She decided to use that as her exit line.
Whitney had made Lana feel safe because he was standing between her and the world. With Lex, she'd felt an entirely different kind of safety, that she was definitely in the world but not alone, there was somebody at her side. Or sometimes, pushing her out to find her own strength.
It felt strangely lonely.
***
Lex tried to think of it as a problem that needed to be solved. He was probably wearing some kind of body armor. A direct shot to the head, then. If possible, while the boy was looking in some other direction.
He tried to convince himself that he was giving Lana time by waiting again and thinking things through again. The brandy decanter caught his eye. No, later. Afterwards.
He didn't have a choice.
He'd have to show the latest intruder the body and then find a way to dispose of it. Of him. That would be the easy part.
"Life isn't fair, Lex," he heard his father's voice. "Do what's expedient."
"Do what's right, Lex." That was his mother's voice. She almost never had to work to convince him to do something. Merely the look that said that she knew he'd do the right thing and be proud of him when he did.
He got up slowly. Waiting wasn't doing anyone any favors.
Walking down the stairs to the dungeon, he listened carefully, then shook his head ruefully. Yes, it was the sound of somebody sobbing. He nearly turned around to go back upstairs and let whatever happened happen. Let the tide of events carry out whatever it would. Instead, he continued down the stairs, resolving yet again that he would find out who created this situation and somebody would pay for it.
He didn't believe his eyes when he opened the door. Clark was outside the cell, but sitting on the floor. His face was buried in one stranger's chest, that of a blond man, while another, a woman, was stroking his hair and shoulders. Lana stood to one side, and was the first to notice Lex's quiet entrance.
"There *is* somebody who can be trusted with him, Lex," she said, intently scrutinizing his face. "His parents."
