The unfinished Winters house looked forlorn as Pete stopped his car in
the dirt driveway. Clark wondered idly if it would ever be finished now.
"You don't think we should have brought flowers or anything, do you?" Pete asked apprehensively as they got out.
"I'm not sure what the etiquette is, Pete," Clark shook his head. "No one in my family's ever died."
They knocked on the door, and after a moment Clark's mother answered it.
"Pete, Clark, how nice of you to drop by." Clark noticed his mother kept her voice low. "Come on in."
They stepped it to the living room. The drapes were drawn even though it was the middle of the day, but Clark could see Brody and his maternal grandfather sitting at the kitchen table. An untouched cake sat between them. Other dishes lined the counters, no doubt gifts of food from friends and neighbors. It happened every time there was a disaster or death in the community--the Smallville casserole brigade came out in force to supply upside down cake and tuna noodle casserole to those in need.
"Hey, Brody, man." Pete approached the young man and clapped him gently on the shoulder.
The older boy didn't respond. Instead it was Mr. Jasper, Mrs. Winters father, who answered.
"We appreciate you two boys stopping by."
"We kinda just wanted to say hello, see if there's anything we can do," Pete offered sheepishly.
"How's Mrs. Winters?" Clark asked.
"She's resting. Mrs. MacIntyre is sitting with her," Martha Kent explained. "The doctors are worried about the shock making her condition worse, so she needs to stay in bed for a few days."
"I'm sorry to hear it," Clark said sincerely. Molly Winters had always been a nice lady. When he was little she had always kept a supply of cookies on hand for the neighborhood boys, even though, as a diabetic, she herself couldn't eat them. Her husband had always done everything he could for his wife. How would the family get along without him?
Mr. Winters could only have been Jonathan Kent's age. Clark vowed to start working a harder around the farm. He'd been slacking off a little on his chores to devote more time to the Torch. Jonathan hardly ever got sick, but Clark wasn't about to take any chances. He just couldn't imagine a world without his dad in it.
"Any news from the hospital about what happened?" he asked.
"Nothing yet." Mr. Jasper shook his head.
"It was LuthorCorp."
For the first time Brody Winters lifted his head and stared directly at the Kents.
"LuthorCorp killed my father."
Mr. Jasper covered one of his grandson's hands with his own.
"Son, we don't know that."
"Of course we know that! You heard how he died!" Brody stood abruptly, shoving back his chair. "He died in agony and it's all their fault!"
Martha Kent spoke again in her soft voice.
"Brody, what's happened is a terrible tragedy, but until we know for certain what happened we can't just go around accusing people."
The younger man's glare was glacial.
"Of course you'd say that, wouldn't you?"
Martha was visibly taken aback by Brody's venom, and Clark laid a protective hand on his mother's arm.
Arthur Japer rubbed his eyes.
"That's enough, Brody. Don't you take this out on Mrs. Kent. It's not her fault."
"Maybe there's a rational explanation," Pete offered to no one in particular.
"C'mon, Pete, you know better than anyone what the Luthors are capable of!" Brody shook his head. "Well, they're not going to get away with it this time."
"You can't be sure of anything yet," Clark said softly. Brody has always been a polite, soft-spoken young man; Clark had to admit he found this new side of him a little frightening. "Jumping to conclusions is just going to make thing's worse."
Brody didn't even look at him. He stared out the kitchen window at the muddy yard instead.
"How would you feel if it was your dad lying on that slab in the morgue, Clark?" The older boy said bitterly. "Wouldn't you want someone to pay?"
Clark took an involuntary step forward.
"Only if I knew for sure who was responsible."
"Oh, I know who's responsible all right," Brody hissed.
Martha shook her head.
"Clark, Pete, I think maybe the three of us should go. Brody and his grandfather clearly have a lot on their minds."
Mr. Jasper rose.
"I'm sorry," he offered apologetically as he followed them back into the living room. "The boy's just so angry I don't know what to do."
"It's understandable under the circumstances, Arthur," Martha soothed. "We're not offended. Tell Molly Jonathan and I will stop by tomorrow morning."
"I will, and thank you, Martha." The old man turned to face the two boys. "Clark, Pete, it looks like we'll be having the funeral on Sunday. It may not seem like it now, but I know Brody would like to have his friends there."
"Of course," Clark nodded.
"We'll spread the word," Pete promised.
As they stepped out on to the incomplete front porch Pete shook his head.
"Well, that was heavy."
"He shouldn't have said that to you, Mom," Clark said to his mother. "That was way out of line."
"When people are hurting they say some terrible things," Martha explained. "He didn't mean it."
"He seemed pretty convinced to me. Mrs. Kent, you've been working there for a while-do you think there's any chance Brody's right and LuthorCorp did have something to do with Mr. Winters death?" Pete regarded his friend's mother with a frank expression.
"I don't know, Pete. In any event, the plant belongs to LexCorp now." Martha frowned. "I wish Lionel Luthor was still here; Lex could be in a lot of trouble."
"I doubt his father would cut his trip short just to help Lex, anyway," Clark scoffed. "Lex can handle this."
"Don't put too much faith in the guy, Clark," Pete corrected. "He might know what killed Brody's dad, and why, and that makes him partially responsible."
Clark knew Pete and Lex didn't get along, and normally he would dismiss this kind of language, but this time he couldn't. He thought of Molly Winters, now a widow after more than twenty years of marriage, and Brody, now without a dad. He shivered.
There was no doubt in his own mind Lex hadn't been involved in what had happened. But there was a good chance his father was. Either way, the community would hold them both responsible.
Clark didn't like to be pessimistic, but he couldn't help but think Lex's empire was crumbling before it had even been built. ***********************************************
Lana stepped through the back door of the Talon, only to find her staff waiting anxiously for her just inside.
"Uh, hey, guys. Why aren't you waiting tables?"
"Because we have no customers," Brian offered.
Lana kept her smile in place, but inwardly she sighed. Things had been so much easier when her Aunt Nell had been manager. Nell's shop had been right next door, and when minor crises arose someone could just pop over there and get her. Now, however, Nell was settling into an apartment in Metropolis, and planning a wedding. Lana was on her own.
I can handle this, she told herself. Really, I can.
"Things are usually slow this time of day," Lana advised. "School's only been out a hour. It'll pick up."
"Actually, I don't think people can get in the front door," Nancy explained.
"Excuse me?"
"You didn't see them?" Nancy grabbed her manager's wrist and towed her across the empty lobby of the converted movie house. She pointed to the glass double doors.
"See?"
"What the.?"
Lana could see a dozen or so young men and women marching back and forth in front of the Talon. They were carrying signs.
"Looks like picketers to me," Brian supplied.
"Yes, I can see that, Brian, thank you," Lana said a trifle more sharply than she intended. "But what are they protesting, and why are they in front of our shop?"
Still in her coat, Lana pushed her way through the doors. A young woman with a nose ring immediately shoved a bright yellow flyer into her hand.
"Boycott the Luthor industrial complex," the young woman said loudly.
Lana stared at the paper in her hand. It read, in part, "The Luthor industrial complex had poisoned its last Smallville resident. Take a stand and fight for your family's health. Boycott the Luthors." Under this startling pronouncement was a list of LuthorCorp subsidiaries. To her consternation, she also saw a separate, shorter list. Only two names were on this one, "LexCorp" and "The Talon."
"Wait a minute," Lana said aloud. Now that she could read the signs, she saw they held slogans like, "Save Smallville" and "A Voice for the Voiceless."
"Who's in charge here?" She asked a young man in a Metropolis U sweatshirt. He pointed to a tall, thin young man handing out flyers to pedestrians.
"That's Rich. He's our organizer. Talk to him."
Lana approached him. "Excuse me. You're Rich?"
"Yes?" The man didn't even look her in the eye, focusing instead on his handouts.
"I'm Lana Lang, and I'm the manager here." She held up the flyer. "I want to know what all this is about."
"What 'all this' is about is stopping LuthorCorp and LexCorp from poisoning any more innocent people," he said frostily. "We're just educating the public, and this is a public sidewalk. Call the cops if you want; they'll tell you the same thing."
Lana shook her head in disbelief. "Look, I believe in freedom of speech, but people can't get into my business."
"Of course they can. If they've chosen not to out of solidarity with the Winters family that's not my problem."
"The Winters family? Is that what this about? Are you the EPA?"
Rich laughed out loud. "Those bureaucratic wimps? No way. We're the Environmental Defense Action League. We believe in direct action, not waiting around for the government to rescue us. And we've got a few surprises up our sleeve for the Luthors, wait and see."
"You don't even know the Winters, do you?" Lana frowned.
"I don't have to know a victim to sympathize with him," the young man said sharply. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got work to do if we're going to get this town organized. Go back to peddling your lattes, although I don't think you'll have many customers today."
"Why, you." Lana couldn't remember the last time she was so angry. The guy was completely unreasonable.
She went back inside and made a hasty phone call to Lex, only to get a busy signal. As her two waiters looked on anxiously she hung up and dialed Henry Small's number.
She explained the situation as best she could, and Henry whistled.
"Yeah, I've heard to the Environmental Defense Action League. Rich Erickson is their leader, at least of the Metropolis branch. But they're not like the Sierra Club or even Greenpeace. These guys are radicals, and they've been known to employ some pretty underhanded tactics. The kind of tactics that send people to prison."
"Well, Rich is a real piece of work, I can tell you that. I didn't even bother trying to explain Lex is only a silent partner," Lana fumed.
"It wouldn't matter if you had-people like Erickson won't see the difference. Luthor money is Luthor money."
"Yeah, but you said the same thing when we first met," Lana reminded him.
"But I would never have tried to shut you down, Lana," he reminded her. "I believe people need to make their own choices about right and wrong, not have them rammed down their throats."
"So what do I do?"
Henry sighed. "I'm afraid there's nothing you can do, Lana. He's right- it's a public sidewalk. And believe me, the less you deal with him the better. You should probably stay closed until the EPA files its report."
"We can't do that-we'll hemorrhage money," Lana fretted.
"I know that, but what he said about "surprises" sounds pretty ominous to me. I don't want you to get hurt."
Lana was genuinely touched. She hadn't known her biological father very long, but it was nice to know he cared.
"I'll keep trying to reach Lex, and see what he thinks."
"Whatever you do, be careful. I don't like knowing the EDAL is in town. Things could get very ugly very fast."
"I'll be careful, I promise," Lana vowed. "But the Talon is my responsibility; I talked Lex into funding it. I'm not going to surrender without a fight."
"Good girl. Just keep reminding yourself of that."
"I will. And, um, Dad?" She said shyly.
There was a long pause on the other end. "Yes?"
"Thank you." ************************************************
Dale Ross watched as his youngest son idly dragged his fork through his mashed potatoes for the sixth time.
"I know I'm not as good a cook as your mother, but you usually eat more than three bites of my cooking," he laughed.
Pete glanced down at his still full plate.
"Sorry, Dad. I've got a lot on my mind."
The spacious Ross dining room seemed empty with only Pete and his father in it; with his mom working late and his older brothers and sisters out of the house the whole place often seemed a little cavernous.
Dale smiled encouragingly.
"Want to talk about it?"
"It's just.I told you and Mom about seeing Brody the day before yesterday, right?"
"You did."
"Well, I can't get over how angry he is. He and Sam were so tight, and he's always been a good guy."
"He has. It's a terrible things to lose a parent, son, especially the way Brody did."
"I know. But the thing is, part of me wants the Luthors to be responsible, like he says. And then part of me feels bad for thinking that way. I mean, that's not going to bring Mr. Winters back."
Dale sighed and set aside his napkin.
"No it isn't, son. And I know how you feel."
Pete studied his father for a long moment. "You do?"
The older man nodded.
"Lord knows I don't think kindly of the Luthors, not after all that's happened. I still think the day they came here was the darkest day in the town's history. But," he held up his fork, "I'm also a trained lawyer. I believe in the due process of law. Brody can't just jump over that and say the Luthors are guilty based on his hunch."
Pete leaned forward in his chair. "Yeah, but Dad, you gotta admit you'd like to see the Luthors run out of town on a rail."
Dale sighed. "Maybe, for a few seconds. And then I remember that believing in right and wrong is what makes me different from people like the Luthors." He fixed his youngest son with a stern glance. "And that's what I've tried to teach you kids, as well."
Pete grinned. "I know you have, Dad." He glanced over his shoulder at the sound of a key in the backdoor. "There's Mom."
Dale stood up. "Put the meatloaf back in the microwave, would you? The least we can do is give you mother a hot meal," he winked.
But before Pete made it to the kitchen his mother walked in and held up a hand.
"If that's for me, Petey, leave it here. I couldn't eat a thing." Mrs. Ross collapsed onto one of the dining room chairs with a sigh.
"Tough day, honey?" Her husband asked conciliatorily.
"You have no idea." When her son produced a cup of tea she smiled tiredly. "Thank you, baby."
"What kept you at work so long?" Pete asked.
"Some environmental group has petitioned the court for an injunction against LexCorp."
Dale whistled, and Pete frowned.
"What exactly would an injunction do, Mom?"
Kate drank her tea. "It would shut them down, sweetheart, at least for a while. As a danger to human health."
"The EPA?" Her husband asked.
"No, some fringe group out of Metropolis. I can't think of the name right off hand. But Mayor Tate and most of the city council signed off on it as well." The judge rolled her eyes. "And guess who gets to make the call?"
"You're a great judge, Mom," Pete reassured her.
"I'm afraid this isn't about you mom's abilities, son," Dale told him. "It sounds to me like the town's already taking sides. And if that's the case."
"If that's the case," his wife continued, "no decision I make will be the right one. Either way I'll anger someone."
Dale went to his wife's side and threw an arm around her.
"Don't worry, Katie. You just do what you believe is right, and damn what anyone else thinks." He glanced back at his son. "As I was just telling Pete, here, sometimes that's the best we can do."
**************************************
Clark sat on his front porch, idly rereading the coverage of Mr. Winters' death in the local paper. It wasn't anything he hadn't already heard from Chloe: the autopsy had ruled the cause of Mr. Winters' death to be "unknown."
Great. Like people weren't freaked out enough before.
At least the hospital had finally released the body, and the family could hold the funeral Sunday, as they had planned. People always talked about funerals bringing closure, but Clark had to admit he didn't think this one would make anyone feel better. But, still, his parents had dutifully gone off to help make the final arrangements.
He leaned back against the top step. Maybe Chloe was right, he though, and this was related to the meteors. But in the past the green rocks had always produced mutations; they'd never killed anyone outright. At least he didn't think they had. And where had Mr. Winters been exposed to them?
The whole town had already decided that whatever fatal substance Winters' had encountered must have been at Plant 3. And, as much as Clark hated to admit it, they were probably right. He could still remember how sick just the residue on Level 3 had made him as he'd tried to save Lex from Earl Jenkins. Of course those experiments, whatever they were, had occurred long before Lex's buyout. But no one-not the protestors, not the papers-was making that distinction. Once again, all Luthors were being painted with the same brush.
As he sat there musing on the perfidy of Lionel and the trouble he seemed to almost deliberately make for Lex, Clark was surprised to see A.J. turn in to the driveway.
"Hey, I didn't expect to see you around here," Clark offered as he met him halfway.
The other boy shrugged.
"I just was out for a walk and thought I'd drop by. Lex said you lived out here." He glanced around him at the yellow farmhouse and the barn. "Nice place."
"You walked all the way from the mansion? That's a couple of miles."
"Yeah, well, I had some thinking to do." A.J. looked at him knowingly. "Look, Lex told me you knew about me. I wanted to thank you for not blowing my cover at the Talon that first day. I didn't mean to put you in a position of having to lie to your friends."
"Not a problem." Clark smiled ruefully. "I'm pretty good at keeping secrets. Hey, since you're here, you want to shoot some hoops? I mean, if you're not too tired?"
"Sure."
Clark showed A.J. the side of the barn where his father had hung a basketball net. He grabbed a ball from the converted granary bin that held his sports equipment and tossed it to his guest.
"You know, I'm sure Lex would loan you a car if you asked."
A.J. shook his head. "I didn't want to bother him. He's got a lot on his mind. One of his employees died earlier this week."
"Yeah, I've heard."
Bouncing the ball in the hard-packed dirt, A.J. glanced up at him. "Judging from this morning's paper so has everyone else. Did you know him?"
"I did. My parents are over there now." He watched while A.J. lined up his shot. "Does Lex know what happened?"
A.J. made a basket. "The EPA and the hospital are telling him the same thing they're telling everyone else. The autopsy was 'inconclusive.' But it sounds like it definitely wasn't a natural death."
Clark accepted the ball back for his shot. "That's been known to happen around here."
"So I hear."
When Clark shot him a puzzled look, A.J. grinned bashfully.
"Your friend Chloe kinda filled me in on Smallville when her dad brought her by the other night. Or at least she filled me in on the version you aren't going to get from the Chamber of Commerce."
"Yeah, Chloe is our resident expert on weird stuff." Clark shot, careful not to use any extra strength that might propel the ball too far or too high. As a result it only bounced off the rim.
"That's what Lex said."
"So, um, how's that whole thing going?"
A.J. just shrugged.
"Look, it isn't really any of my business, but I know Lex is really happy he found you." Clark made the basket this time. "I think Lex regrets not having more family around. His dad doesn't really count."
"So I hear. Your mom works for Lionel, right?"
"Yeah. I guess you'd say she's his personal assistant. But she doesn't travel with him, so she's home now."
A.J. tossed the ball in the air idly.
"What do you think of Lionel?"
"I don't really think about him much one way or another." Clark chewed his lip for a moment. "A lot of people around here don't like him. But my mom really likes her job, so there must be something there, you know? He and Lex are.well, I don't even know how to explain that." He studied the other boy for a minute. "You haven't met him yet?"
A.J. took a shot and missed.
"No, and I don't plan to."
"He is your father."
A.J. looked at him seriously.
"No, Clark. I had a father, and he died."
Clark nodded in understanding. As much as he'd love to find his birth parents, he couldn't imagine calling anyone else "Mom" and "Dad."
"When I first met Lex," A.J. mused, "I thought I'd be able to get answers to all my questions. But the more I learn the more confused I get." He shook his head. "If I thought Lionel would give me some straight answers, believe me, I'd meet with him in a second. But if he hasn't been honest with Lex I don't see why he'd be honest with me."
"You're probably right there," Clark commiserated. "With Lionel, not being honest with people comes with the territory."
As much as he sympathized with A.J., he couldn't help but grin at the irony of having to conceal someone else's secret for a change. And seeing how tentative the other boy still felt about the situation, Clark could certainly understand Lex's reluctance to drag A.J. into his complicated relationship with his father.
"Clark, you and my brother are pretty good friends, right? I mean, he told me how you saved his life."
Clark rolled his eyes. "Man, I wish he'd quit bringing that up. But, yeah, I guess we are."
A.J. took another shot, making a basket this time.
"My sister's coming to pick me up tomorrow. I'm not sure how to explain this, but I have a really bad feeling about things, about this guy."
"Mr. Winters."
"Yeah, this Mr. Winters dying. Lex won't admit it, but I know he feels terrible about it. He's going to the funeral tomorrow." The young man bit his lip. "If it really was a suspicious death." A.J. trailed off.
Tucking the ball under his arm, Clark regarded him seriously. "A.J., believe me, Lex won't ever say anything to you about what he feels. He likes to take care of things his own way. But he's a pretty capable guy."
"I realize that. But I just, I don't know, want to know that if there's trouble someone out there is watching his back."
"I'm sure there'll be a logical explanation for what happened." Clark shook his head. "But Lex is my friend. Of course I'll watch out for him."
A.J. grinned.
"Good. And don't tell him I asked you, ok? He's very into being the older brother who takes care of things. I don't think he'd appreciate me trying to subvert our birth order."
"You got it." Clark had to admit he really liked A.J., would have liked him even if he wasn't Lex's brother. A.J. seemed to genuinely care about what happened to his brother. Clark just hoped nothing would happen to ruin things between the two.
"C'mon inside and we'll grab a soda. Then I'll give you a tour of the farm. It's not much compared to the mansion, but we like it."
"Hey, if your house doesn't have a draft and creaky floors it's already ahead in my book," A.J. laughed as he followed Clark into the house.
"You don't think we should have brought flowers or anything, do you?" Pete asked apprehensively as they got out.
"I'm not sure what the etiquette is, Pete," Clark shook his head. "No one in my family's ever died."
They knocked on the door, and after a moment Clark's mother answered it.
"Pete, Clark, how nice of you to drop by." Clark noticed his mother kept her voice low. "Come on in."
They stepped it to the living room. The drapes were drawn even though it was the middle of the day, but Clark could see Brody and his maternal grandfather sitting at the kitchen table. An untouched cake sat between them. Other dishes lined the counters, no doubt gifts of food from friends and neighbors. It happened every time there was a disaster or death in the community--the Smallville casserole brigade came out in force to supply upside down cake and tuna noodle casserole to those in need.
"Hey, Brody, man." Pete approached the young man and clapped him gently on the shoulder.
The older boy didn't respond. Instead it was Mr. Jasper, Mrs. Winters father, who answered.
"We appreciate you two boys stopping by."
"We kinda just wanted to say hello, see if there's anything we can do," Pete offered sheepishly.
"How's Mrs. Winters?" Clark asked.
"She's resting. Mrs. MacIntyre is sitting with her," Martha Kent explained. "The doctors are worried about the shock making her condition worse, so she needs to stay in bed for a few days."
"I'm sorry to hear it," Clark said sincerely. Molly Winters had always been a nice lady. When he was little she had always kept a supply of cookies on hand for the neighborhood boys, even though, as a diabetic, she herself couldn't eat them. Her husband had always done everything he could for his wife. How would the family get along without him?
Mr. Winters could only have been Jonathan Kent's age. Clark vowed to start working a harder around the farm. He'd been slacking off a little on his chores to devote more time to the Torch. Jonathan hardly ever got sick, but Clark wasn't about to take any chances. He just couldn't imagine a world without his dad in it.
"Any news from the hospital about what happened?" he asked.
"Nothing yet." Mr. Jasper shook his head.
"It was LuthorCorp."
For the first time Brody Winters lifted his head and stared directly at the Kents.
"LuthorCorp killed my father."
Mr. Jasper covered one of his grandson's hands with his own.
"Son, we don't know that."
"Of course we know that! You heard how he died!" Brody stood abruptly, shoving back his chair. "He died in agony and it's all their fault!"
Martha Kent spoke again in her soft voice.
"Brody, what's happened is a terrible tragedy, but until we know for certain what happened we can't just go around accusing people."
The younger man's glare was glacial.
"Of course you'd say that, wouldn't you?"
Martha was visibly taken aback by Brody's venom, and Clark laid a protective hand on his mother's arm.
Arthur Japer rubbed his eyes.
"That's enough, Brody. Don't you take this out on Mrs. Kent. It's not her fault."
"Maybe there's a rational explanation," Pete offered to no one in particular.
"C'mon, Pete, you know better than anyone what the Luthors are capable of!" Brody shook his head. "Well, they're not going to get away with it this time."
"You can't be sure of anything yet," Clark said softly. Brody has always been a polite, soft-spoken young man; Clark had to admit he found this new side of him a little frightening. "Jumping to conclusions is just going to make thing's worse."
Brody didn't even look at him. He stared out the kitchen window at the muddy yard instead.
"How would you feel if it was your dad lying on that slab in the morgue, Clark?" The older boy said bitterly. "Wouldn't you want someone to pay?"
Clark took an involuntary step forward.
"Only if I knew for sure who was responsible."
"Oh, I know who's responsible all right," Brody hissed.
Martha shook her head.
"Clark, Pete, I think maybe the three of us should go. Brody and his grandfather clearly have a lot on their minds."
Mr. Jasper rose.
"I'm sorry," he offered apologetically as he followed them back into the living room. "The boy's just so angry I don't know what to do."
"It's understandable under the circumstances, Arthur," Martha soothed. "We're not offended. Tell Molly Jonathan and I will stop by tomorrow morning."
"I will, and thank you, Martha." The old man turned to face the two boys. "Clark, Pete, it looks like we'll be having the funeral on Sunday. It may not seem like it now, but I know Brody would like to have his friends there."
"Of course," Clark nodded.
"We'll spread the word," Pete promised.
As they stepped out on to the incomplete front porch Pete shook his head.
"Well, that was heavy."
"He shouldn't have said that to you, Mom," Clark said to his mother. "That was way out of line."
"When people are hurting they say some terrible things," Martha explained. "He didn't mean it."
"He seemed pretty convinced to me. Mrs. Kent, you've been working there for a while-do you think there's any chance Brody's right and LuthorCorp did have something to do with Mr. Winters death?" Pete regarded his friend's mother with a frank expression.
"I don't know, Pete. In any event, the plant belongs to LexCorp now." Martha frowned. "I wish Lionel Luthor was still here; Lex could be in a lot of trouble."
"I doubt his father would cut his trip short just to help Lex, anyway," Clark scoffed. "Lex can handle this."
"Don't put too much faith in the guy, Clark," Pete corrected. "He might know what killed Brody's dad, and why, and that makes him partially responsible."
Clark knew Pete and Lex didn't get along, and normally he would dismiss this kind of language, but this time he couldn't. He thought of Molly Winters, now a widow after more than twenty years of marriage, and Brody, now without a dad. He shivered.
There was no doubt in his own mind Lex hadn't been involved in what had happened. But there was a good chance his father was. Either way, the community would hold them both responsible.
Clark didn't like to be pessimistic, but he couldn't help but think Lex's empire was crumbling before it had even been built. ***********************************************
Lana stepped through the back door of the Talon, only to find her staff waiting anxiously for her just inside.
"Uh, hey, guys. Why aren't you waiting tables?"
"Because we have no customers," Brian offered.
Lana kept her smile in place, but inwardly she sighed. Things had been so much easier when her Aunt Nell had been manager. Nell's shop had been right next door, and when minor crises arose someone could just pop over there and get her. Now, however, Nell was settling into an apartment in Metropolis, and planning a wedding. Lana was on her own.
I can handle this, she told herself. Really, I can.
"Things are usually slow this time of day," Lana advised. "School's only been out a hour. It'll pick up."
"Actually, I don't think people can get in the front door," Nancy explained.
"Excuse me?"
"You didn't see them?" Nancy grabbed her manager's wrist and towed her across the empty lobby of the converted movie house. She pointed to the glass double doors.
"See?"
"What the.?"
Lana could see a dozen or so young men and women marching back and forth in front of the Talon. They were carrying signs.
"Looks like picketers to me," Brian supplied.
"Yes, I can see that, Brian, thank you," Lana said a trifle more sharply than she intended. "But what are they protesting, and why are they in front of our shop?"
Still in her coat, Lana pushed her way through the doors. A young woman with a nose ring immediately shoved a bright yellow flyer into her hand.
"Boycott the Luthor industrial complex," the young woman said loudly.
Lana stared at the paper in her hand. It read, in part, "The Luthor industrial complex had poisoned its last Smallville resident. Take a stand and fight for your family's health. Boycott the Luthors." Under this startling pronouncement was a list of LuthorCorp subsidiaries. To her consternation, she also saw a separate, shorter list. Only two names were on this one, "LexCorp" and "The Talon."
"Wait a minute," Lana said aloud. Now that she could read the signs, she saw they held slogans like, "Save Smallville" and "A Voice for the Voiceless."
"Who's in charge here?" She asked a young man in a Metropolis U sweatshirt. He pointed to a tall, thin young man handing out flyers to pedestrians.
"That's Rich. He's our organizer. Talk to him."
Lana approached him. "Excuse me. You're Rich?"
"Yes?" The man didn't even look her in the eye, focusing instead on his handouts.
"I'm Lana Lang, and I'm the manager here." She held up the flyer. "I want to know what all this is about."
"What 'all this' is about is stopping LuthorCorp and LexCorp from poisoning any more innocent people," he said frostily. "We're just educating the public, and this is a public sidewalk. Call the cops if you want; they'll tell you the same thing."
Lana shook her head in disbelief. "Look, I believe in freedom of speech, but people can't get into my business."
"Of course they can. If they've chosen not to out of solidarity with the Winters family that's not my problem."
"The Winters family? Is that what this about? Are you the EPA?"
Rich laughed out loud. "Those bureaucratic wimps? No way. We're the Environmental Defense Action League. We believe in direct action, not waiting around for the government to rescue us. And we've got a few surprises up our sleeve for the Luthors, wait and see."
"You don't even know the Winters, do you?" Lana frowned.
"I don't have to know a victim to sympathize with him," the young man said sharply. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got work to do if we're going to get this town organized. Go back to peddling your lattes, although I don't think you'll have many customers today."
"Why, you." Lana couldn't remember the last time she was so angry. The guy was completely unreasonable.
She went back inside and made a hasty phone call to Lex, only to get a busy signal. As her two waiters looked on anxiously she hung up and dialed Henry Small's number.
She explained the situation as best she could, and Henry whistled.
"Yeah, I've heard to the Environmental Defense Action League. Rich Erickson is their leader, at least of the Metropolis branch. But they're not like the Sierra Club or even Greenpeace. These guys are radicals, and they've been known to employ some pretty underhanded tactics. The kind of tactics that send people to prison."
"Well, Rich is a real piece of work, I can tell you that. I didn't even bother trying to explain Lex is only a silent partner," Lana fumed.
"It wouldn't matter if you had-people like Erickson won't see the difference. Luthor money is Luthor money."
"Yeah, but you said the same thing when we first met," Lana reminded him.
"But I would never have tried to shut you down, Lana," he reminded her. "I believe people need to make their own choices about right and wrong, not have them rammed down their throats."
"So what do I do?"
Henry sighed. "I'm afraid there's nothing you can do, Lana. He's right- it's a public sidewalk. And believe me, the less you deal with him the better. You should probably stay closed until the EPA files its report."
"We can't do that-we'll hemorrhage money," Lana fretted.
"I know that, but what he said about "surprises" sounds pretty ominous to me. I don't want you to get hurt."
Lana was genuinely touched. She hadn't known her biological father very long, but it was nice to know he cared.
"I'll keep trying to reach Lex, and see what he thinks."
"Whatever you do, be careful. I don't like knowing the EDAL is in town. Things could get very ugly very fast."
"I'll be careful, I promise," Lana vowed. "But the Talon is my responsibility; I talked Lex into funding it. I'm not going to surrender without a fight."
"Good girl. Just keep reminding yourself of that."
"I will. And, um, Dad?" She said shyly.
There was a long pause on the other end. "Yes?"
"Thank you." ************************************************
Dale Ross watched as his youngest son idly dragged his fork through his mashed potatoes for the sixth time.
"I know I'm not as good a cook as your mother, but you usually eat more than three bites of my cooking," he laughed.
Pete glanced down at his still full plate.
"Sorry, Dad. I've got a lot on my mind."
The spacious Ross dining room seemed empty with only Pete and his father in it; with his mom working late and his older brothers and sisters out of the house the whole place often seemed a little cavernous.
Dale smiled encouragingly.
"Want to talk about it?"
"It's just.I told you and Mom about seeing Brody the day before yesterday, right?"
"You did."
"Well, I can't get over how angry he is. He and Sam were so tight, and he's always been a good guy."
"He has. It's a terrible things to lose a parent, son, especially the way Brody did."
"I know. But the thing is, part of me wants the Luthors to be responsible, like he says. And then part of me feels bad for thinking that way. I mean, that's not going to bring Mr. Winters back."
Dale sighed and set aside his napkin.
"No it isn't, son. And I know how you feel."
Pete studied his father for a long moment. "You do?"
The older man nodded.
"Lord knows I don't think kindly of the Luthors, not after all that's happened. I still think the day they came here was the darkest day in the town's history. But," he held up his fork, "I'm also a trained lawyer. I believe in the due process of law. Brody can't just jump over that and say the Luthors are guilty based on his hunch."
Pete leaned forward in his chair. "Yeah, but Dad, you gotta admit you'd like to see the Luthors run out of town on a rail."
Dale sighed. "Maybe, for a few seconds. And then I remember that believing in right and wrong is what makes me different from people like the Luthors." He fixed his youngest son with a stern glance. "And that's what I've tried to teach you kids, as well."
Pete grinned. "I know you have, Dad." He glanced over his shoulder at the sound of a key in the backdoor. "There's Mom."
Dale stood up. "Put the meatloaf back in the microwave, would you? The least we can do is give you mother a hot meal," he winked.
But before Pete made it to the kitchen his mother walked in and held up a hand.
"If that's for me, Petey, leave it here. I couldn't eat a thing." Mrs. Ross collapsed onto one of the dining room chairs with a sigh.
"Tough day, honey?" Her husband asked conciliatorily.
"You have no idea." When her son produced a cup of tea she smiled tiredly. "Thank you, baby."
"What kept you at work so long?" Pete asked.
"Some environmental group has petitioned the court for an injunction against LexCorp."
Dale whistled, and Pete frowned.
"What exactly would an injunction do, Mom?"
Kate drank her tea. "It would shut them down, sweetheart, at least for a while. As a danger to human health."
"The EPA?" Her husband asked.
"No, some fringe group out of Metropolis. I can't think of the name right off hand. But Mayor Tate and most of the city council signed off on it as well." The judge rolled her eyes. "And guess who gets to make the call?"
"You're a great judge, Mom," Pete reassured her.
"I'm afraid this isn't about you mom's abilities, son," Dale told him. "It sounds to me like the town's already taking sides. And if that's the case."
"If that's the case," his wife continued, "no decision I make will be the right one. Either way I'll anger someone."
Dale went to his wife's side and threw an arm around her.
"Don't worry, Katie. You just do what you believe is right, and damn what anyone else thinks." He glanced back at his son. "As I was just telling Pete, here, sometimes that's the best we can do."
**************************************
Clark sat on his front porch, idly rereading the coverage of Mr. Winters' death in the local paper. It wasn't anything he hadn't already heard from Chloe: the autopsy had ruled the cause of Mr. Winters' death to be "unknown."
Great. Like people weren't freaked out enough before.
At least the hospital had finally released the body, and the family could hold the funeral Sunday, as they had planned. People always talked about funerals bringing closure, but Clark had to admit he didn't think this one would make anyone feel better. But, still, his parents had dutifully gone off to help make the final arrangements.
He leaned back against the top step. Maybe Chloe was right, he though, and this was related to the meteors. But in the past the green rocks had always produced mutations; they'd never killed anyone outright. At least he didn't think they had. And where had Mr. Winters been exposed to them?
The whole town had already decided that whatever fatal substance Winters' had encountered must have been at Plant 3. And, as much as Clark hated to admit it, they were probably right. He could still remember how sick just the residue on Level 3 had made him as he'd tried to save Lex from Earl Jenkins. Of course those experiments, whatever they were, had occurred long before Lex's buyout. But no one-not the protestors, not the papers-was making that distinction. Once again, all Luthors were being painted with the same brush.
As he sat there musing on the perfidy of Lionel and the trouble he seemed to almost deliberately make for Lex, Clark was surprised to see A.J. turn in to the driveway.
"Hey, I didn't expect to see you around here," Clark offered as he met him halfway.
The other boy shrugged.
"I just was out for a walk and thought I'd drop by. Lex said you lived out here." He glanced around him at the yellow farmhouse and the barn. "Nice place."
"You walked all the way from the mansion? That's a couple of miles."
"Yeah, well, I had some thinking to do." A.J. looked at him knowingly. "Look, Lex told me you knew about me. I wanted to thank you for not blowing my cover at the Talon that first day. I didn't mean to put you in a position of having to lie to your friends."
"Not a problem." Clark smiled ruefully. "I'm pretty good at keeping secrets. Hey, since you're here, you want to shoot some hoops? I mean, if you're not too tired?"
"Sure."
Clark showed A.J. the side of the barn where his father had hung a basketball net. He grabbed a ball from the converted granary bin that held his sports equipment and tossed it to his guest.
"You know, I'm sure Lex would loan you a car if you asked."
A.J. shook his head. "I didn't want to bother him. He's got a lot on his mind. One of his employees died earlier this week."
"Yeah, I've heard."
Bouncing the ball in the hard-packed dirt, A.J. glanced up at him. "Judging from this morning's paper so has everyone else. Did you know him?"
"I did. My parents are over there now." He watched while A.J. lined up his shot. "Does Lex know what happened?"
A.J. made a basket. "The EPA and the hospital are telling him the same thing they're telling everyone else. The autopsy was 'inconclusive.' But it sounds like it definitely wasn't a natural death."
Clark accepted the ball back for his shot. "That's been known to happen around here."
"So I hear."
When Clark shot him a puzzled look, A.J. grinned bashfully.
"Your friend Chloe kinda filled me in on Smallville when her dad brought her by the other night. Or at least she filled me in on the version you aren't going to get from the Chamber of Commerce."
"Yeah, Chloe is our resident expert on weird stuff." Clark shot, careful not to use any extra strength that might propel the ball too far or too high. As a result it only bounced off the rim.
"That's what Lex said."
"So, um, how's that whole thing going?"
A.J. just shrugged.
"Look, it isn't really any of my business, but I know Lex is really happy he found you." Clark made the basket this time. "I think Lex regrets not having more family around. His dad doesn't really count."
"So I hear. Your mom works for Lionel, right?"
"Yeah. I guess you'd say she's his personal assistant. But she doesn't travel with him, so she's home now."
A.J. tossed the ball in the air idly.
"What do you think of Lionel?"
"I don't really think about him much one way or another." Clark chewed his lip for a moment. "A lot of people around here don't like him. But my mom really likes her job, so there must be something there, you know? He and Lex are.well, I don't even know how to explain that." He studied the other boy for a minute. "You haven't met him yet?"
A.J. took a shot and missed.
"No, and I don't plan to."
"He is your father."
A.J. looked at him seriously.
"No, Clark. I had a father, and he died."
Clark nodded in understanding. As much as he'd love to find his birth parents, he couldn't imagine calling anyone else "Mom" and "Dad."
"When I first met Lex," A.J. mused, "I thought I'd be able to get answers to all my questions. But the more I learn the more confused I get." He shook his head. "If I thought Lionel would give me some straight answers, believe me, I'd meet with him in a second. But if he hasn't been honest with Lex I don't see why he'd be honest with me."
"You're probably right there," Clark commiserated. "With Lionel, not being honest with people comes with the territory."
As much as he sympathized with A.J., he couldn't help but grin at the irony of having to conceal someone else's secret for a change. And seeing how tentative the other boy still felt about the situation, Clark could certainly understand Lex's reluctance to drag A.J. into his complicated relationship with his father.
"Clark, you and my brother are pretty good friends, right? I mean, he told me how you saved his life."
Clark rolled his eyes. "Man, I wish he'd quit bringing that up. But, yeah, I guess we are."
A.J. took another shot, making a basket this time.
"My sister's coming to pick me up tomorrow. I'm not sure how to explain this, but I have a really bad feeling about things, about this guy."
"Mr. Winters."
"Yeah, this Mr. Winters dying. Lex won't admit it, but I know he feels terrible about it. He's going to the funeral tomorrow." The young man bit his lip. "If it really was a suspicious death." A.J. trailed off.
Tucking the ball under his arm, Clark regarded him seriously. "A.J., believe me, Lex won't ever say anything to you about what he feels. He likes to take care of things his own way. But he's a pretty capable guy."
"I realize that. But I just, I don't know, want to know that if there's trouble someone out there is watching his back."
"I'm sure there'll be a logical explanation for what happened." Clark shook his head. "But Lex is my friend. Of course I'll watch out for him."
A.J. grinned.
"Good. And don't tell him I asked you, ok? He's very into being the older brother who takes care of things. I don't think he'd appreciate me trying to subvert our birth order."
"You got it." Clark had to admit he really liked A.J., would have liked him even if he wasn't Lex's brother. A.J. seemed to genuinely care about what happened to his brother. Clark just hoped nothing would happen to ruin things between the two.
"C'mon inside and we'll grab a soda. Then I'll give you a tour of the farm. It's not much compared to the mansion, but we like it."
"Hey, if your house doesn't have a draft and creaky floors it's already ahead in my book," A.J. laughed as he followed Clark into the house.