Flight to Neverland: The Continuing Saga Chapter 8: Epilogue: Pete, a smallville fanfic

TITLE: Flight to Neverland - The Continuing Saga {Sequel to Poetry in Motion}
AUTHOR: Nymph Du Pave
FANDOM: Smallville
PAIRING: Lex Luthor/Clark Kent, hints of a few others
RATING: PG-13
AUTHOR'S EMAIL: nymph_du_pave@hotmail.com
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This was posted with absolutely NO BETA. Not even by myself because I wanted so badly to post it. There. It's all done. At least this story.
FEEDBACK: Please tell me what you're thinking, I enjoy lurking in other minds.

Epilogue
Pete

Clark and Chloe were there, along with their parents. None of them were allowed into the hospital room, but they had been called by Pete's mom because the boy had been moving, had been stirring and talking in his sleep.

"It's a very good sign," said the young doctor, new to his post and looking very tired. "Any activities that he takes right now, the moving of limbs, the talking, the waking up slightly before going directly back to sleep… They are all good signs showing that he is not in a coma and not paralyzed. Just under heavy medication that he cannot force himself to stay awake on."

"What about his back?" Chloe asked. Her demeanor was calm, but her hands were wringing the hell out of the strap of her purse. "His mother said something about him breaking his back or something?"

"At the time, we warned Mrs. Ross that he may have sustained a break in one or more vertebrae. However only two were fractured, none were broken and the two are not consecutively placed on the spinal column, so they will not have to be fused. That is very, very good."

Clark grabbed Chloe's hand, knowing that she tended to cry more when relieved than worried.

"When will he be waking up?" Jonathon's voice startled Clark, who had forgotten for a second that his parents had been back there.

"He's under the influence of an awful lot of pain killers. We're lessening the doses right now, bringing the amount down and his awareness up. With what we're giving him now he may wake within the hour. Maybe a little more."

A nurse walked up to the doctor handing him a folder and whispering something. Clark didn't bother to listen. Instead he turned to Chloe. "Do you want to go for a walk?"

She nodded and wiped her eyes on a handkerchief that Jonathan had given her. Clark looked at his parents. "We're going to take a small walk."

"That's a good idea," Martha said smiling at him. "We were going to talk to his mother anyway. I'm sure she could use some company right about now."

Chloe and Clark made their way down the gaily colored halls, doors left and right filled with sick people, broken people, dying people. The corridors were filled with doctors, nurses, people watching their loved ones from outside windows peering into the rooms. Watching them so close and yet, so very horribly far away.

He hated hospitals and had been in too many in too little time.

They got outside into the courtyard and was depressed to see the sky was gray. He felt the first few sprinkles of rain and turned, ready to go back inside but Chloe's hand caught him.

"Not so fast." The look on her face was desperate, not at all matching the take charge tone in her voice. "I don't want to be in there, okay? Please?" Now the tone matched her eyes. "I hate- hate thinking that Pete is in there, with those other people and if we can't see Pete I don't want to sit there seeing everyone else and thinking-"

Clark moved his hand to cover her mouth. He could certainly understand where she was coming from and getting a little wet wasn't going to hurt them.

He held her, one head cupping her head, the other rubbing her back.

"I'm all cried out." Her voice sounded tired and far away. "I can't imagine Pete with a cane. He's so active. Loves basketball and track. Loves ice skating. Plays football."

"He didn't break both legs like the doctors originally thought." He pulled her back, forcing her to look at him. "They thought he was in a whole lot worse a shape then he really was in. And if they could be wrong about something as simple as a broken leg, then how can they foresee his future use of a cane?"

She smiled at him and he felt relieved just to see that simple curve. "Yeah, I guess. And Pete's always been strong."

He nodded. "Pete'll be throwing that cane to the wind in no time. He might no be able to play football ever again-"

"Coach Trampitt will be crushed," Chloe intoned sarcastically and they both smiled. Pete had always enjoyed the game but had been in it mostly for his father's happiness. Basketball was another issue. The boy loved basketball.

"Well have to make sure we fit a few games of HORSE into his physical therapy, though."

"Oh, of course," Chloe nodded fiercely, heading towards the gate leading outside the courtyard. "Pete can't live without basketball."

"We should get him a portable television."

She laughed, putting her arms on top of the gate and looking over. "I can just see the doctor trying to talk to him about his wrist and he's like 'Shh, shh-"

Clark laughed and walked to stand beside her.

"'Just wait until this pass, until the ad's are on- NO! NO! How could you miss that shot?'"

"I wouldn't be surprised if the doctor takes his TV away. Uses it as a reward system."

Chloe laughed lightly, but Clark could tell something else had entered her mind. "What is it Chlo?"

She breathed in and now looked even more sad than he'd seen her since- Since her puppy died three years ago. It had escaped, the leash had not been clipped properly and it ran out into the road.

Chloe had taken forever to get over it. He was sure, in fact, that it was something that she would never get over. Fred, her beautiful basset hound, her baby, her most precious pet in the world… Chloe had not looked at another dog since, had not wanted another pet. Said she would never get another one.

He put his arm around her. "What is it, Chloe?"

"You're so wonderful, Clark. You forgave me when you shouldn't have-"

"I was hiding things too, Chloe. There can't be that kind of double standard in our-"

"What about Pete?"

The only answer to her question was a flash of lightning far away to their right and the ensuing thunder, crashing hard and loud all around. "Will he forgive me?"

"Will he forgive us, Chloster. Us. He's mad at me, too."

"But was it your fault that he was drunk up there in that tree house? Was it both of us?"

He sighed. He hadn't thought of that. "Yeah, probably. I mean, you've got to not blame yourself completely. He's the one who decided to get drunk and hideaway."

"But it was our fault that he felt that way."

"Yes, but it was his choice."

She smiled a little. "You sound like a therapist. Soon you'll be telling me that we're not responsible for other peoples choices."

Clark grinned. "We're not responsible for other peoples choices."

A loud motor gunned somewhere to their left, close. Probably in the hospital parking lot.

It reminded him of Lex.

"And that you can't force people to make the right decisions."

"You can't," he said turning around and leaning with his back against the fence. "But you can try."

"You can try." Chloe said, her eyes locked on something. "Try to help them. Suggest what they should do. But when they're too stupid to do what you suggest? To scared to do that single right thing?"

He had a sinking suspicion that they weren't talking about Pete anymore. "Then I guess you have to leave it all up to them," he muttered carefully. "Let them make their own mistakes."

Chloe looked up at him. "And when they've made that same mistake over and over?"

Clark shrugged. Was she referring to him? "Then let them make it again and just hope that they'll finally get a clue."

She nodded. "Alright. That sounds fair." She turned and opened the gate. For a moment, Clark thought they were going to be continuing their walk, but Chloe stepped back. "Hi, Lex."

Clark bolted up from the gate and saw Lex walk through.

The car. The motor gunning. That had been Lex.

"Hi, Chloe." Lex turned to her, a sheepish look on his face. "I meant to talk with you about last night, but you left before I got out of the bathroom."

Chloe grinned, mischievous and knowing. Her eyes glanced meaningfully at Clark for a moment, then slid back to Lex. "Don't remember any of it?"

The sheepish look just grew as Lex blushed.

Lex blushing?!

Clark grew angry for a second, wondering just what his friends had been up to, but he calmed himself. Chloe would never, ever… Lex wouldn't even come close to…

Just a few weeks ago the only thing he had to worry about was how to get into Lex's lap. Now, God. There was everything. But not that. Never, ever that.

"It's no problem. I just tried to put your mind at ease about something important. Be patient."

Lex looked confused for a moment, then the frown melted away with a slowly dawning look of understanding.

"Bye boys." Chloe closed the gate with her on the other side. She was continuing their walk. Just without him.

"Don't be stupid, Clark," she called out. He blushed, remembering words from their conversation.

you can't force people to make the right decisions, but you can try

when they're too stupid to do what you suggest? to scared to do that single right thing?

Pray, he thought. Pray that I do this right.

After all, he had told his mother. Shouldn't that be harder to do than telling Lex himself?

He thought of Neverland, his hopeful journal. And he got an idea.

+_+_+_+_+

"Be patient."

For some reason, that had put him at rest. That had calmed his worried stomach. He had talked with Clark who had refused to let him apologize about the fight. The boy said that it should not even be mentioned. That, if anything, it was mostly his fault for lying to Lex for so long about so many things.

That had caught Lex's attention as surely as seeing the boy smile at him had caught his heart.

So Clark and Lex had walked back up to Pete's room and waited. And waited.

Soon enough Chloe had rejoined them and the three of them together waited even longer. Then, as Lex had hoped, Pete's mother came out. And saw him.

The scene that had erupted outside of her son's room had made both Clark and Chloe uncomfortable enough to leave. And as they escaped to another area in the hospital, Lex had been forced to calm down Janet Ross quickly and quietly. The hatred for the Luthors rarely ran stronger than in the Ross family. He had had to use ever ounce of charm, sincerity and 'I'm not my father' propaganda that he'd had in him. And, now, he was exhausted for it.

He now had put a chip in the Ross family's wall and he would eventually break that damn thing down, just as he was working on with the Kents. Of course that was for completely different reasons-

My angel.

-but there were reasons for everything, and even if they differed completely, even if the motivations were ethically questionable, at least he had them in the first place. Goals were important and fixing his relationship with the Ross family over something that his father could take the blame for… It was an important goal, a big step in distancing himself from his father. If he could do it with them, he could do it with the world.

He tossed his keys in the bowl by the door, then shrugged off his jacket, not caring when the nine-hundred dollar garment hit the muddied floor behind him. It had been raining since before he had reached the hospital. And it had not stopped. He wasn't sure that it was ever going to stop.

He pulled out the lavender piece of paper, the paper that had somehow gotten to Clark and then the boy felt obligated to return it.

Did he even know that it was about him?

Lex had told himself that he was going to think about it later, but he didn't feel like it, didn't want to know the meaning of Clark returning the damned thing.

As he climbed the stairs to his room, he skimmed through the poem, to his favorite parts. The parts that had felt like his heart had been dripping onto the paper as he wrote.

You, my angel, stand silently
keeping vigil over us
head bowed in light prayer
on and on you protect what we cherish most

His protector. What had Clark thought of when he read these words? Had he picked up on the clues?

In my life the lightning flashes
and the horrible thunder screams
I can't see you there
but I feel your saintly presence

Lex could feel him now, even as his weary body climbed too many stairs in the dead of the early morning. Clark had promised towards something with the witting mention of his lies. He had subtly insured that Lex would not have to wonder any longer about just what it was that Clark was hiding from him.

You're the sun when it pours
and sane when it's rough
I've lost all faith in ideals
But you bring back such hope

Suddenly Clark was bringing even more hope than usual, more than just an amazing friendship, more than hope for Lex's future. Lex could actually see something in their friendship shift, but he wasn't sure what. It was a shape he could feel with his heart, a shape that lingered far off in the future. It was something that he hoped would become more defined and very soon.

He got to his room, his head and heart pounding, his eyes weary and tired. He didn't even want to undress. He just put the poem on the night table and flopped onto the bed in the dark, yelping at the pain in his back. There was something on the bed. Something big and hard and jabbing.

He stood up and turned on the lamp next to his bed, then blinked, not sure he was seeing what he was seeing.

The journal he'd given Clark months and months ago was lying there, facing him, and a note lay atop.

"Clark," he whispered not at all sure why the book was there, but feeling a warm surge of love for the kid. He'd felt so awkward today, seeing Clark and Chloe together at the hospital. He hadn't been sure just how much Chloe had shared with Clark, and the fact that Clark was surely still mad at him… Lex was sure that he couldn't take another fight with Clark, not so soon after the first one. He'd been so angry with the boy, felt so hurt. He climbed into his car and raced away but soon after he'd left he felt Clark with him.

I feel your saintly presence.

Like he had been watching over Clark. Like everything had been okay.

And it was. And now the Neverland lay on his plush comforter, looking inviting and tempting and scary in a way. He felt that, by reading the words written by Clark, their relationship would change drastically and he hoped it would be for the better.

He fingered the lettering as though he'd never before seen it. It held something that Clark deemed important enough for him to read, something intimate enough that he could not look Lex in the eye whilst handing it over. If it had just been a simple story, the boy would have just brought it over, embarrassed by sharing his amateur writing talents, but still handing it over.

There was something deep inside, something emotional. And it scared Lex. Was he actually ready for this?

He picked up the note, feeling disappointed as he realized that the penmanship was far too neat and proper to be Clark's.

Master Luthor,
Young Mister Kent arrived before you. He left this, saying that he was done with it for a while. Said you might be interested in reading it. By the time you are in bed I will have retired for the night. My ailments are bothering me worse than usual tonight, but if you wish for anything to be done, please ring.
Love,
Sam

Lex's breath caught. The last time that Sam had written 'love' had been around the time of Lex's mother's death, just days before, and Sam had realized that all he'd hoped, all he'd thought was not true. They were all losing Lily.

Lex sat down, tears behind the lids of his eyes as he felt the wet grass beneath his youthful bare feet. He could smell the orange tree that his mother had planted several years before he was born, the tree she used to sit him under during the springs and summers to read.

"I give you your life," Torre said, "but both of you must go to King Arthur and yield to him as my prisoners."

"Who shall we say defeated us?" Lex whispered.

The tears ran and he could see the night, the foggy night with the stars from heaven mocking him. The fates were taking away his mother, killing her slowly, he was loosing her, but he was loosing Sam too, and he couldn't allow it.

He clutched the note from Sam in his hand, remembering how the paper felt in his hand. It was burning, the fire of a traitor, and he could see the headlights of a car turn on.

"No," Lex whispered, more tears down his face. "No." In his recollection he screamed, catching the attention of an almost AWOL Samuel Loomis. Lex had run up the small hill to the man's live-in quarters, found him standing next to the 1970's Jag that his mother had convinced him to purchase himself years ago, and started to sob. He began to pound Sam as hard as his frail little nine year old arms could, hitting Sam all over, ignoring the occasional wayward elbow or wrist hit the hard metal of the classic car.

Lex's hand moved from the bedspread to his elbow without even thinking. He could feel the dull throbbing, could see the bruise that he kept well hidden from his father's hawk-eyes for the few days it had been there. Even then, he had healed so fast, so completely…

Sam had tried to leave him, tried to disappear without a trace, without a goodbye. Lex still had the note, remembered the pain that he had seen in Sam's eyes. Lex had hit him as hard as he could and Sam eyes had grown watery.

"Please, Young Master."

He hadn't listened. He just kept beating.

"Lex, please."

And that was when Loomis wrapped his warm arms around Lex. And the boy had stopped throwing punches entirely. A moment later he fell to the ground, sobs wreaking havoc on his tiny frame.

The phone rang and Lex jumped, instantly feeling weak for the tears, pathetic for the memory. He glanced down at the paper grasped tightly in his fist.

'Love.'

The phone rang again.

He remembered strong arms carrying him back to the mansion, remembered those arms putting him to bed, covering him as exhaustion flooded his little body.

He remembered Sam leaving, then returning, this time with a large book for Lex. Not to read in, but to write. To create. To make a world in which things were better.

He'd never had the courage.

The phone rang a third time, once again startling him.

The journal, he thought and spun around, sliding his forefinger around the outside of the cover. Just what had Clark written between the leather boundaries? What was it that Clark wanted Lex to read, that the boy wanted to come true?

The phone rang again. Lex picked it up. "Clark?" he asked, his voice no more than a whisper.

"I'm afraid not," came a familiar collected voice. Lex's skin went cold with distance and disgust.

"Dominick."

"Indeed." The mutual sentiment of perfect antagonism was felt through the crisp, icy tone. "Your father, Alexander, has asked me to inform you of a slight problem with one of our businesses in Taiwan."

Lex snorted. Our businesses, indeed. If Lionel overheard that specific terminology, little Saint 'Nick would be ousted immediately.

"Business," Lex began. "What business would that be?"

"A high-end electronics corporation."

"What kind of problem are we talking about here?"

"Well, they think that they're going to sell out to another company."

Lex let his fingers trace the outlines of the pounded leather letters while he stared blankly at the wall in front of him, his mind slowly reacting, converting from personal to business. "And the owner of that company."

"A Chinese man by the name of Hirigatomo Sukavi."

"Tnama Ton-Su Industries."

"Good guess."

Lex resisted an urge to rolled his eyes just as he had whenever Dominick had voiced his pompous opinions all through prep school, when they had been on a somewhat civil basis.

Dominick had always enjoyed an angle in which he felt higher, better, words that could bring him above the rest.

"And what am I to do about this?" Lex said, taking Dominick's tone. Play my father's role until he comes back from taking care of the attempted mutiny."

There was a moment of hesitation over the phone. "Actually he wants the both of us to take care of it."

Lex felt the ice in his stomach.

"Together."

What the fuck was Lionel up to now?

+_+_+_+_+

There hadn't been too much cold. Of that he was certain. But it still felt, well, kind of chilly. Then there was heat. So much heat that his body vibrated, hummed with the inner fire.

Chloe and Clark were on the top of Chloe's roof, ready to jump down in to the pool, but Pete… Pete was scared. They jumped, laughing and screaming, splashing about. But he climbed down the latter and just cannonballed their asses. He just wished he hadn't looked like just a puss in front of Chloe.

Chloe

He was in his bed, it was late, maybe two and he couldn't get to sleep. He kept remembering the day. He had been in the library with her, they had been studying, her beside him and they were giggling. He stroked himself as he remembered the smell of her long hair, the way it tickled his skin when she moved just the right way. He changed the day, altered history, making their friendship more. She kissed him, her hand on his knee moving upwards. She let him cop a feel, let him kiss the side of her neck and, oh, god, what he wouldn't give for her to be his girl.

Girl

Lana was just a girl. Just a hottie with half a brain and, shit, man. He'd do anything to be Clark Kent, the all American farm boy that had unknowingly stolen the heart Pete wished was reserved for him. Instead he doted on cute but not too bright Lana Lang. He had a stupid, stupid, stupid best friend.

Best friend.

Clark was once his best friend. He stood there staring as Clark got into the Lamborghini, the Countach, the honey-pot. Lex had come into his simple little world and fucked things up royally. Now Clark was ditching time with him and Chloe, even Lana and his family, for the rich and spoiled little Luthor boy, the last name that caused his family's financial problems. Stupid fucking Lex.

Lex.

That was all anything was about anymore. And he had kissed her, kissed her wonderful cherry-glossed lips in the light of the stage. Held her hand, wrapped his arm around her little waist. Had been thinking about how good and right it was going to be between the two of them. How perfect it was going to fit, his life now. Finally on track. Then Clark with his stupid poem and Chloe with her openly knowing looks. Did they not care that he was supposed to be a part of their gang? Did they just toss out the fact that he had trusted them with everything since forever? And how could Clark trust Chloe over him. She had lied to Clark, hidden things from him. And Pete was always honest.

Honest.

Love.

Hate.

Anger.

Lex.

Clark.

Chloe.

Pete.

He opened his eyes.

"Pete!"

Chloe was standing there above him.

"Pete, you were talking. You're awake."

He shook his head, saddened at the sight of her, his body still humming with the heat. Heat he didn't understand.

"What?" she asked, her treacherous eyes incredibly genuine. "You're awake!"

He cleared his throat and it was dry, sore with what felt like years of neglect. "I wish I wasn't."

The heat. What did it mean?

The End of Flight to Neverland - The Continuing Saga

To be continued in Safe and Sound - An Ending Fit for a Fairytale?