Arkin's expression and stance usually gave nothing away. But as Lex made the brief introductions, "Dr. Arkin, Pete Ross, Lana Lang," he looked so dour that Lex immediately tried to think of a backup plan if he were to deny any knowledge of Clark or point-blank refuse to lead them back.
Pete nodded briefly, then looked Lex in the eye. "Clark's alive but you look like the sky just fell. What's wrong?"
The question and the man asking it commanded the truth. But there were no words, or he couldn't find them, for this. He looked away. "It'll make more sense when you see him."
The younger man planted his feet firmly. "That's not enough, Lex. Tell us what's wrong."
Reluctantly, he met their eyes again. Lana's searched his earnestly, but Pete's unmoving gaze demanded, unyielding. Then the words wouldn't stop coming. "He's been abused until he's catatonic, he doesn't say a thing, his eyes don't even *focus* and it was happening to him *all* *this* *time.* People were buying and selling him and I didn't do anything. All this time."
"Where is he? Is he in the hospital? Who did it?" Pete shot out the questions like any reporter.
From a shout, Lex's voice modulated to a whisper. "He's here in the Smithsonian because he is an alien. And that, it would seem, gave anybody who had the cash to buy him the right to treat him like that."
"An alien?" Lana was staring at them both but Pete had lowered his head, sadly, with no signs of surprise. "Clark is an alien?" she repeated.
"Yeah. Long story, Lan'. Where is he?" So Pete knew. He and Pete were going to have a very thorough discussion of this, Lex grimly promised himself.
"I'll take you to him." Arkin's eyes were still guarded, even hooded.
"And how are you involved?" Pete rounded on the astronomer. "What have you been doing with him?"
"He was given into my care two years ago."
Lex had never thought to ask when. "Two years? You've had him for two years? And you just kept him locked up in a museum basement?"
Arkin looked at him balefully, almost contemptuously. "Would you have had me assume that being President, having power, conferred on you exemption from ambition, willingness to exploit a situation, even fear of the unknown? History suggests that would be an unwise assumption. To say nothing of your own history. If his situation wasn't improving, at least it wasn't getting worse."
The man's monumental calm fueled Lex's anger but Pete had seemed to get a grip on himself. "Guys? This isn't getting us anywhere. Can you stop pawing the ground for a minute and take us to Clark?"
***
When they got back to the apartment, the outer room was empty but an alarm was buzzing in a corner of the room. Lex thought for a moment his heart had stopped beating.
"Who's there?" Carola's voice, from the bedroom.
"The President has brought more people to see him," Arkin called back.
The persistent alarm numbed his thoughts. Arkin didn't seem concerned by it but it distracted Lex to the point that he hadn't even thought of a response to the chilly answer. Lana, on the other hand, darted in front of the astronomer, a hummingbird facing down a monolith. "We're not tourists who want to see a curiousity, we're people who knew and loved him. He was the best friend anybody could have and now--" She drew a breath. "And now we're going to help him however we can." She turned to Arkin. "He's in there, right?" Without waiting for the answer, she strode towards the door, Pete behind her.
Lex turned to follow them, but telling himself it was to let them absorb what they would see, stopped. "What's the alarm?" he asked, dully.
Arkin hadn't moved an inch but his face softened with pity, an emotion Lex had never learned to tolerate towards himself. "We try to do everything that involves any kind of physical contact all at once, just once a day." He nodded towards a corner. "That monitors his heart and pulse and sounds an alarm if they become significantly faster or slower or become erratic. The changes for no visible reason have become less frequent, but it still happens any time either of us touches him and sometimes it continues quite a while afterwards." For the first time, he seemed to look for understanding from Lex. "Do you see *now* why I waited two years?" He sighed heavily and shook his head. "I had to be careful. How could I have known?"
He couldn't have. The thought formed slowly in Lex's mind but it formed with the substantiality of certainty, certainty but with a doubt following behind. The years of his presidency had brought with them triumphs but also bitterly regretted decisions, sleepless nights, every question of heart and mind and conscience. He always would have protected Clark, that much he knew. But without those years, would he have done it without relishing the power and mastery it gave him? Would he have protected an alien who wasn't already love, friend, brother, or would he have turned a blind eye if allowing exploitation promised immortality for his own name? Would he have bought eternal fame, previously unopened books of knowledge, at the price of one mere alien creature's suffering? He wasn't sure he had an answer certain enough to convince himself.
***
"Clark? Clark, buddy, it's Pete." What did you expect, he chided himself, that Clark would do a Dorothy, wake up, blink a bit, and remember everything? He turned to look at the woman who watched them. "Is it physical or - " He shook his head helplessly. "Isn't there anything we can *do*?"
"You knew him before, so there's a better chance now of getting him to respond. It's been difficult to guess and we've erred on the side of caution. All we've really done is keep him in a controlled environment with steady and unthreatening sensory input. The *human* body and brain have remarkable powers of recouperation but with his, we've just had to guess and hope."
"What have you been doing?"
"What you see. Music that would have a mix of change and pattern but wouldn't be harsh or jarring. Videos that would do the same thing. Even tactile stimuli, different textures on sheets, blankets, pillows when we change them." She laughed shortly and without the least amusement. "To answer your next question, we can't tell if it's done a bit of good. Two thousand years of medicine and all we've offered him is keeping him warm and fed and comfortable. We're even just guessing at what's comfortable. At least there were notes about feeding him, that they tracked. And experimented with."
Lana hadn't made a sound but when he looked at her, staring down at Clark's blank face, he wasn't sure and didn't care whether he was trying to comfort Lana or himself as he caught her hand between his.
***
*home I want to go home please I want to go home please somebody say that it's been enough say I can go home*
*all the people who died I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry if I thought this would fix it but it won't I know I can't give their lives back no matter how many times they pull mine out*
*where where I'm not in my body not out of it I'm just what hurts in between all the spaces can't move not again no don't open the door don't come in forget I'm here forget forget forget*
*please I'm scared I'm scared I don't want*
*so cold and dark so cold the doors are locked heavy locked doors heavy so heavy how can they be so heavy don't they weigh so much they'd weigh the world gone*
*it kept happening two three four five six isn't it enough I couldn't keep from trying to get out I wanted not to it was funnier to him two funnier three funnier four funnier five funnier six funnier he couldn't believe that I kept trying I couldn't stop I wanted if I could*
*what are those spots so tiny but lights are they lights tiny like Christmas tree lights I want to say they're stars*
Pete nodded briefly, then looked Lex in the eye. "Clark's alive but you look like the sky just fell. What's wrong?"
The question and the man asking it commanded the truth. But there were no words, or he couldn't find them, for this. He looked away. "It'll make more sense when you see him."
The younger man planted his feet firmly. "That's not enough, Lex. Tell us what's wrong."
Reluctantly, he met their eyes again. Lana's searched his earnestly, but Pete's unmoving gaze demanded, unyielding. Then the words wouldn't stop coming. "He's been abused until he's catatonic, he doesn't say a thing, his eyes don't even *focus* and it was happening to him *all* *this* *time.* People were buying and selling him and I didn't do anything. All this time."
"Where is he? Is he in the hospital? Who did it?" Pete shot out the questions like any reporter.
From a shout, Lex's voice modulated to a whisper. "He's here in the Smithsonian because he is an alien. And that, it would seem, gave anybody who had the cash to buy him the right to treat him like that."
"An alien?" Lana was staring at them both but Pete had lowered his head, sadly, with no signs of surprise. "Clark is an alien?" she repeated.
"Yeah. Long story, Lan'. Where is he?" So Pete knew. He and Pete were going to have a very thorough discussion of this, Lex grimly promised himself.
"I'll take you to him." Arkin's eyes were still guarded, even hooded.
"And how are you involved?" Pete rounded on the astronomer. "What have you been doing with him?"
"He was given into my care two years ago."
Lex had never thought to ask when. "Two years? You've had him for two years? And you just kept him locked up in a museum basement?"
Arkin looked at him balefully, almost contemptuously. "Would you have had me assume that being President, having power, conferred on you exemption from ambition, willingness to exploit a situation, even fear of the unknown? History suggests that would be an unwise assumption. To say nothing of your own history. If his situation wasn't improving, at least it wasn't getting worse."
The man's monumental calm fueled Lex's anger but Pete had seemed to get a grip on himself. "Guys? This isn't getting us anywhere. Can you stop pawing the ground for a minute and take us to Clark?"
***
When they got back to the apartment, the outer room was empty but an alarm was buzzing in a corner of the room. Lex thought for a moment his heart had stopped beating.
"Who's there?" Carola's voice, from the bedroom.
"The President has brought more people to see him," Arkin called back.
The persistent alarm numbed his thoughts. Arkin didn't seem concerned by it but it distracted Lex to the point that he hadn't even thought of a response to the chilly answer. Lana, on the other hand, darted in front of the astronomer, a hummingbird facing down a monolith. "We're not tourists who want to see a curiousity, we're people who knew and loved him. He was the best friend anybody could have and now--" She drew a breath. "And now we're going to help him however we can." She turned to Arkin. "He's in there, right?" Without waiting for the answer, she strode towards the door, Pete behind her.
Lex turned to follow them, but telling himself it was to let them absorb what they would see, stopped. "What's the alarm?" he asked, dully.
Arkin hadn't moved an inch but his face softened with pity, an emotion Lex had never learned to tolerate towards himself. "We try to do everything that involves any kind of physical contact all at once, just once a day." He nodded towards a corner. "That monitors his heart and pulse and sounds an alarm if they become significantly faster or slower or become erratic. The changes for no visible reason have become less frequent, but it still happens any time either of us touches him and sometimes it continues quite a while afterwards." For the first time, he seemed to look for understanding from Lex. "Do you see *now* why I waited two years?" He sighed heavily and shook his head. "I had to be careful. How could I have known?"
He couldn't have. The thought formed slowly in Lex's mind but it formed with the substantiality of certainty, certainty but with a doubt following behind. The years of his presidency had brought with them triumphs but also bitterly regretted decisions, sleepless nights, every question of heart and mind and conscience. He always would have protected Clark, that much he knew. But without those years, would he have done it without relishing the power and mastery it gave him? Would he have protected an alien who wasn't already love, friend, brother, or would he have turned a blind eye if allowing exploitation promised immortality for his own name? Would he have bought eternal fame, previously unopened books of knowledge, at the price of one mere alien creature's suffering? He wasn't sure he had an answer certain enough to convince himself.
***
"Clark? Clark, buddy, it's Pete." What did you expect, he chided himself, that Clark would do a Dorothy, wake up, blink a bit, and remember everything? He turned to look at the woman who watched them. "Is it physical or - " He shook his head helplessly. "Isn't there anything we can *do*?"
"You knew him before, so there's a better chance now of getting him to respond. It's been difficult to guess and we've erred on the side of caution. All we've really done is keep him in a controlled environment with steady and unthreatening sensory input. The *human* body and brain have remarkable powers of recouperation but with his, we've just had to guess and hope."
"What have you been doing?"
"What you see. Music that would have a mix of change and pattern but wouldn't be harsh or jarring. Videos that would do the same thing. Even tactile stimuli, different textures on sheets, blankets, pillows when we change them." She laughed shortly and without the least amusement. "To answer your next question, we can't tell if it's done a bit of good. Two thousand years of medicine and all we've offered him is keeping him warm and fed and comfortable. We're even just guessing at what's comfortable. At least there were notes about feeding him, that they tracked. And experimented with."
Lana hadn't made a sound but when he looked at her, staring down at Clark's blank face, he wasn't sure and didn't care whether he was trying to comfort Lana or himself as he caught her hand between his.
***
*home I want to go home please I want to go home please somebody say that it's been enough say I can go home*
*all the people who died I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry if I thought this would fix it but it won't I know I can't give their lives back no matter how many times they pull mine out*
*where where I'm not in my body not out of it I'm just what hurts in between all the spaces can't move not again no don't open the door don't come in forget I'm here forget forget forget*
*please I'm scared I'm scared I don't want*
*so cold and dark so cold the doors are locked heavy locked doors heavy so heavy how can they be so heavy don't they weigh so much they'd weigh the world gone*
*it kept happening two three four five six isn't it enough I couldn't keep from trying to get out I wanted not to it was funnier to him two funnier three funnier four funnier five funnier six funnier he couldn't believe that I kept trying I couldn't stop I wanted if I could*
*what are those spots so tiny but lights are they lights tiny like Christmas tree lights I want to say they're stars*