Clark had to admit there were several advantages to having Lex Luthor as
a friend.
Take his connections, for example. In the car on the way to Metropolis it had only taken Lex two phone calls to find out Jenna Iverson's home address. Clark hadn't been surprised to find it was within walking distance of the coffee shop where the two of them had first met. No wonder she had known the neighborhood so well.
He remembered that first meeting vividly, but it now seemed like it had taken place eons ago.
Her apartment building had clearly seen better days, but the hallways were clean. Still, given the neighborhood Clark wasn't surprised that Dr. Iverson left the security chain on the door when he answered it. He could see the concern in the older man's eyes when he saw him, and the flare of suspicion when Iverson caught site of Lex.
"Clark? What are you doing here? I thought I told you to go home."
"I had to come," Clark told him. "I have to help if I can."
He could hear the safety chain being removed and a second later the door swung open.
The doctor looked bleary-eyed and disheveled, and squinted past Clark.
"Mr. Luthor?"
With a skill born of long practice Lex brushed past the man.
"Dr. Iverson-Clark told me what happened." Lex spared only a glance for the small apartment. It reminded Clark of his room at home: comfy, well- worn furniture, and books stacked on every horizontal surface.
"I don't want to intrude," Lex continued, "but Clark has told me about the situation with Dr. Garner. I felt I should offer my assistance in person."
The older man sat back down on a denim-covered sofa.
"That's very kind of you, Mr. Luthor, but I don't know that there's anything you can do. And I'd feel better if Clark had stayed at home."
"Dr. Iverson, when did you last see Jenna? What did the police say?" Clark tried not to let his own anxiety seep into his voice.
"The police just left. They told me that since there's no sign of foul play Jenna has to be missing for forty eight hours before I can file a missing persons report." The older man rubbed his hands over his mouth.
Clark gingerly sat next to him. "Dr. Iverson, please, start at the beginning."
"After Jenna and I drove back here on Saturday morning she dropped me at my hotel. She said she had some things to do before classes started again Monday. We had breakfast yesterday morning, and made arrangements for her to drive me to the airport. Everything was fine-she was fine. Then this morning I got a call from the university saying she didn't show up to teach her morning class."
"Could she have forgotten, or made other plans?'' Lex asked.
"No, she'd never go off without finding a substitute, without letting me know. This isn't like her at all."
Clark nodded. "So what did you do?"
"I called everyone I could think of-her friends, her colleagues, her neighbors. No one had seen her since Sunday morning. When I still hadn't heard from her by this afternoon I called the police."
Clark couldn't shake the feeling that this was all a nightmare, and that any moment he'd wake up and Jenna would be safe.
"Did you tell the police about the restraining order? About Garner?"
"I did, but they didn't seem to think it could be related.." The doctor still didn't lift his head, and Clark laid a hand on his back.
"Everything's going to be OK, doctor, really."
He glanced at Lex, who was looking distinctly uncomfortable at the sight of the older man's grief.
"Lex, there's a coffee shop about few blocks from here: would you go get Dr. Iverson something to drink?"
Iverson protested feebly, but Lex seized on the request.
"Of course. I'll be right back."
When the door closed behind Lex Clark shot the doctor a steady look.
"I want you to know I didn't tell Lex any more than I had to. He knows about Jack, but nothing more."
"No, of course not-you're a good boy, Clark," Iverson told him. "I trust you with Jenna's secret, but you still shouldn't have come. Right now you're the only one involved in this mess who hasn't gone missing. We have to assume Jenna's disappearance is connected to Jack's."
"But how? And why? I've seen how strong Jenna is."
"I don't know, Clark." Iverson rubbed his eyes. "I just don't know anything anymore."
Clark glanced around him at the small living room.
"Did the police look around?"
"Just very quickly. No signs of a struggle, no.blood." Iverson nearly choked on the last word.
Clark nodded. "Still, I'd like to take a look. Maybe I can see something they missed."
Iverson nodded, and Clark stood, carefully examining every corner of the room. He checked behind the bookcases, under the sofa, behind the small television perched precariously on a stack of textbooks. He couldn't remember a time when he'd so badly wanted his powers to reveal something, and been so disappointed when they didn't.
He moved on to the short hallway that led to a small bathroom. Even taking his time to examine every surface he saw nothing out of the ordinary there, and moved on the last room.
In Jenna's bedroom the clothes she'd been wearing the last time Clark's had seen her were still crumpled on the floor, as if she'd changed in a hurry. The bed was made, but Clark detected a faint imprint in the covers, as if someone had been sleeping on top of them. Jenna? Someone else?
The Metropolis P.D. had been right about one thing: there were no signs of a struggle having taken place anywhere in the apartment. No broken glass or upset furniture, nothing to indicate Jenna Iverson hadn't just walked away.
Nothing except the gnawing worry in Clark's stomach.
He reluctantly walked back into the living room to find Lex had reappeared with three take-out cups of hot coffee. Lex was trying to coax Iverson into drinking one.
"I checked every place I could think of, but I didn't find anything," Clark said sadly. "Sorry."
"Clark, if the Metropolis police didn't find anything it's unlikely you would have," Lex told him with a wry smile. He nodded at one of cardboard cups. "You might want some milk in that, Clark: that stuff could melt your teeth. I brought some scones, too. Dr. Iverson looks like he could use something to eat."
"Good thinking, Lex." Clark rounded the corner into the small kitchen, separated from the living room by only a counter. He looked in the fridge but didn't find anything to drink. He did, however, find some plates in the cupboard over the empty dish drainer.
"Clark, does something about this picture strike you as odd?"
He looked up to see Lex leaning against the edge of the counter on the kitchen side.
"What, besides a woman who'd never go missing going missing?" Clark retorted.
But Lex shook his head.
"That's not what I mean, Clark. Look at this place." He nodded at the tiny, galley-style kitchen.
Clark glanced around him. It looked like any other apartment kitchen: plain white tile, plain white counters, plain white appliances. In fact, everything was so white it gleamed. He looked back into the living room, where the doctor was slowly sipping his coffee. There there were papers on the coffee table, an open magazine on the couch's armrest. But in the kitchen there wasn't even a dish in the sink.
"It's too clean."
"Exactly. Why is the kitchen spotless, when the rest of the apartment isn't?"
Clark frowned. "Do you think it means something?"
"I don't know." Lex gestured to the empty trashcan by the refrigerator. "Metropolis' trash pick up isn't until Friday. It's only Monday."
When Clark raised his eyebrows at this bit of information Lex shrugged. "Subsidiary of LuthorCorp," he explained.
"Ah." Clark looked carefully around him again. There were a dozen more plausible explanations for a too-clean kitchen. But Lex's instincts seldom steered him wrong.
As Clark watched his friend pulled out his cell phone and punched in a few numbers.
"I don't like this, Clark. I've got someone I can call."
"Someone who?" Iverson spoke up from the living room.
Both younger men jumped-they had almost forgotten about his presence.
Lex went into the living room and sat down in the armchair, his cell still in one hand.
"With your permission I'd like to call an acquaintance of mine. He's handled several situations for me in the past, and he's very good at this kind of thing."
Clark leaned his elbows on the countertop serving area.
"A private detective?"
"Something like that."
Iverson shook his head. "Mr. Luthor, I appreciate your concern, and Clark's, but I really."
"Dr. Iverson, if something has happened to your daughter time is of the essence. Please let me help you."
Iverson regarded the young billionaire steadily for a long moment, and Lex met his gaze with a level one of this own. Clark could sense the older man's inner struggle, and was more than relieved when he finally nodded.
"All right. But then I want you to take Clark straight home to his parents, where he belongs."
Clark opened his mouth to protest, but Lex shot him a quick glance.
"Of course, doctor. Of course."
*******************************
"So what do you think, Hale? Think you would have time to work on this?" Lex rested his feet on his desk and opened a bottle of water.
There was a pause on the other end of the line, but only for a second.
"I think I would, Mr. Luthor. The usual fees would apply.."
"Certainly. Call me as soon as you have anything we can take to the police." Lex hung up the phone and took a deep drink from the blue glass bottle. He'd fulfilled his promise to Dr. Iverson and taken Clark home as soon as they'd left Jenna's apartment. But Lex also intended to fulfill the other half of his promise.
He wasn't exactly sure why, though. Maybe it was the naked distress on the older man's face. Lex respected the man, admired his work, but had never really thought about how much he must love his only child. Of course, most parents loved their children, but Lex often forgot how intense that love could be. Iverson had seemed on the verge of collapse, and that worried Lex.
Or maybe it was because his best friend was so upset. Lex still wasn't sure if he believed that Clark's relationship with Jenna was completely innocent, still wasn't sure what tied to two of them together. He'd figure it out sooner or later, though, and in the meantime if there was anything connections or money could do to find the young woman any faster he might as well use them.
LexCorp kept a veritable roster of men willing and able to take on these kinds of situations. They ranged from his father's go-to guys in the Metropolis P.D. to ex-Marines who were willing, for a not inconsiderable fee, to get their hands dirty. But Lex had chosen Hale for his skilled investigating and ability to operate under the radar. Plus Lex knew the man had children of his own, and thus would probably take Jenna Iverson's disappearance more seriously than others would.
Satisfied with his evening's work, Lex was trying to decide what to do with the rest of his night when his father opened the door to the study.
Lex could tell from Lionel's posture that he was still on a tear about something. When he was little Lex had wished his father would be like the dads on television, and just yell at him. Then they could get everything out in the open and move on.
But by the time he had became a teenager Lex had learned that wasn't how his father operated. Lionel's way of handling anger was to become more silent, more cold, than before. He'd tolerated crying and scenes from Lex's mother, but from no one else.
"I thought for sure you'd be back in Metropolis by now, Dad."
"I find I have more business to keep me here than I'd originally thought."
"Business. Of course." Lex stood. "Not that you'd be staying to keep tabs on me," Lex said disingenuously.
"Of course not." But Lex could tell from the slight tick under his father's eye that he'd hit on the truth.
"Dad, I told you before I have nothing but intellectual curiosity about Dr. Iverson, and he has no intentions of allying himself with me or with LexCorp."
"A man of Dr. Iverson's caliber would have his pick of corporations, if he chose to return to the private sector."
Lex smiled. "Like LuthorCorp, you mean? Somehow I don't think that's going to happen either, Dad. You might not be aware of this, but your dislike of the man is palpable. Although, strangely, he had absolutely nothing to say to me about you."
Lionel seemed to relax slightly at this news, and Lex was more intrigued than ever about the relationship between the two. But he was careful to keep his expression unchanged.
His father chucked. "Lex, I'm surprised at you--you know I don't waste time holding personal grudges."
Lex rolled his eyes. "Of course not, Dad. Shall I pour us some scotch?"
***********************************
Lying in bed, watching the moonlight trace patterns on his bedroom ceiling, Clark wondered what he should do. He'd never felt so helpless, so utterly useless in his whole life, not even when he'd been so sick he hadn't been able to get out of bed.
His parents had been justifiably horrified at the news of Jenna's disappearance, and it had taken all of Clark's powers of persuasion to keep them from pulling him out of school again. Not that being in school did him much good-he couldn't concentrate on anything.
By Wednesday, when Jenna Iverson still hadn't reappeared, the Metropolis police had dutifully filed an official missing persons report. But Clark had the distinct impression they were looking for her about as hard as they were for Jack Williams-that is to say, they weren't. Dr. Iverson confided to Clark that, in spite of all of his insistences to the contrary, the police suspected Jenna had had a hand in Jack's disappearance, and that the two of them had left town together.
Clark's parents convinced Iverson to come back to Smallville and stay with them, arguing that if there was any news he could be reached there just as easily as in a Metropolis hotel. When he'd seen how haggard the doctor looked Clark had been relieved his parents had made the gesture. If it wasn't for Martha Kent's cajoling the doctor probably would have quite eating and sleeping. As it was he spent his days on the phone, or staring off into space. Clark could tell worry was eating the poor man alive.
He couldn't do anything about that, either.
The worst of it all was knowing that Jenna might be in danger somewhere, might need his help, and that he couldn't help her.
Clark started having nightmares about that. He had a recurring dream that Jenna was strapped to a gurney somewhere, the way Ryan had been when Clark had rescued him. She was pleading with Clark to help her, but in the dream his feet wouldn't move, and he couldn't reach her.
That was what had woken him up tonight, and he finally gave up trying to sleep and padded downstairs in his t-shirt and pajama bottoms. He was surprised to see the porch light still on, and he stepped outside into the cool night air to find the doctor sitting in the porch swing rocking back and forth contemplatively.
"You couldn't sleep either, huh?"
Iverson smiled tiredly.
"No."
Clark sat down on the porch railing. The moon was full and heavy in the sky, and the air was so still he could hear the corn rustling in the fields.
"We'll find her. I know we will. Jenna's smart, and strong-she rescued me." Clark wasn't sure what he was trying to say, but he continued anyway. "She'll come home."
Iverson shook his head.
"I keep telling myself that. But every day that passes I find it harder and harder to believe it. I've never had to worry for her physical safety, not the way other fathers worry about their daughters. I think now I placed too much faith in her abilities to always keep her safe."
Clark was silent for a long moment, still unsure of what to say. He wasn't like his mother-he wasn't very good at consoling people.
"When was the first time you knew for sure Jenna was different from other kids?" He asked instead. "When you knew for sure she wasn't normal?"
The doctor sighed. "Oh, I suppose I had suspected it for a while, especially after the accident. Of course no parent wants to believe there's anything wrong with his child. But then one day when she was two she was playing in our attic-we lived in a big old house in D.C. then, and the attic was on the third floor. Anyway, one of the window screens was loose, and I just hadn't gotten around to fixing it yet, because I was too busy at work. She was playing on the window seat, and got to close, and she fell out. Three stories."
Clark couldn't help it-he sucked in his breath. "What did you do?"
"What do you think I did? I got hysterical and ran downstairs-I thought she'd be dead, or paralyzed from the fall. Instead I found her sitting on the grass pulling up dandelions, as if she had barely noticed what had happened. That's when I knew."
"My dad says he knew for sure about me when I picked up an antique bed my grandfather had made. It was solid oak, and I was only about three."
Clark could swear Iverson smiled slightly. "Yes, I can imagine that would be alarming. Not every parent is cut out to deal with that kind of thing. I've met many who are not."
Clark was thoughtful for a moment. "I know Jenna didn't inherit her abilities from you or your wife, but can that happen? Can they run in families?"
"Sometimes. Not often. I did meet a family once where they passed from father to daughter along the second X chromosome. But that's very unusual. It takes so many variations happening at the same time, in exactly the right order, to create a metahuman, that it's almost impossible to find the trigger."
"But there are mutagens that can do it," Clark said without thinking. "I've seen it happen."
"You mean your meteor rocks?" The doctor smiled at Clark's expression. "I know all about what those have caused, Clark-we geneticists have heard the stories about Smallville, too."
"And what do you think?"
"What do I think? I don't think those meteor rocks are anything to tamper with. If even half the reported effects of them are true, I'd say they're best left buried as far down in the ground as possible. But I also wouldn't say anything I've heard about their effects leads me to conclude that they always produce metahumans. Quite the opposite."
"Meteor freaks, Chloe calls them."
"That may be a bit harsh, but not completely inaccurate. The mutations are severe, but usually confined to only one ability, strength, say, or psychic ability. They appear abruptly, almost randomly, after exposure, and they aren't always permanent."
"But someone like Jenna, or the other ones you've met."
"Quite permanent, I'm afraid. Like having two different colored eyes or the sickle cell trait. It's just there, and all they can do is live with it."
"Living with it can really suck," Clark said shortly.
"And they'd be the first to admit that. That's why they hide it from other people. Why you hide your abilities from other people."
Clark took a deep breath.
"Only I'm not a metahuman."
"Oh, I figured that out long ago, Clark," the doctor said simply. "But I daresay the feelings are the same."
Clark was so startled by Iverson's quick answer that he couldn't respond for a moment.
"You mean, you knew? All this time?"
"There's nothing to be alarmed about. Jenna figured it out first, because her mental abilities don't work on you. That can only be because your mind-indeed, your whole body--operates differently than hers. And there's no record of the meteor rocks ever being effectively used as a poison on anyone. Except you, Clark."
"Wow."
"Are you upset? I assure you, it doesn't change my opinion of you any more than it changed Jenna's."
"No, not upset, I guess I just.I thought I was covering it really well."
This time Iverson did smile. "Oh, you were, you were. I'm just more attuned to these things than other people, I suppose. Call it an occupational hazard."
Clark shook his head. No one had ever guessed his secret so quickly, and with so little fuss. He hadn't been caught surviving an explosion, or leaping off a building. He'd just been himself, and it had still given him away. This was definitely going to take some getting used to.
"Dr. Iverson?"
"Yes, Clark?"
"Do me a favor and don't tell my parents you know. I don't think they could handle that. Not yet."
Iverson smiled.
"Whatever you say, Clark."
Take his connections, for example. In the car on the way to Metropolis it had only taken Lex two phone calls to find out Jenna Iverson's home address. Clark hadn't been surprised to find it was within walking distance of the coffee shop where the two of them had first met. No wonder she had known the neighborhood so well.
He remembered that first meeting vividly, but it now seemed like it had taken place eons ago.
Her apartment building had clearly seen better days, but the hallways were clean. Still, given the neighborhood Clark wasn't surprised that Dr. Iverson left the security chain on the door when he answered it. He could see the concern in the older man's eyes when he saw him, and the flare of suspicion when Iverson caught site of Lex.
"Clark? What are you doing here? I thought I told you to go home."
"I had to come," Clark told him. "I have to help if I can."
He could hear the safety chain being removed and a second later the door swung open.
The doctor looked bleary-eyed and disheveled, and squinted past Clark.
"Mr. Luthor?"
With a skill born of long practice Lex brushed past the man.
"Dr. Iverson-Clark told me what happened." Lex spared only a glance for the small apartment. It reminded Clark of his room at home: comfy, well- worn furniture, and books stacked on every horizontal surface.
"I don't want to intrude," Lex continued, "but Clark has told me about the situation with Dr. Garner. I felt I should offer my assistance in person."
The older man sat back down on a denim-covered sofa.
"That's very kind of you, Mr. Luthor, but I don't know that there's anything you can do. And I'd feel better if Clark had stayed at home."
"Dr. Iverson, when did you last see Jenna? What did the police say?" Clark tried not to let his own anxiety seep into his voice.
"The police just left. They told me that since there's no sign of foul play Jenna has to be missing for forty eight hours before I can file a missing persons report." The older man rubbed his hands over his mouth.
Clark gingerly sat next to him. "Dr. Iverson, please, start at the beginning."
"After Jenna and I drove back here on Saturday morning she dropped me at my hotel. She said she had some things to do before classes started again Monday. We had breakfast yesterday morning, and made arrangements for her to drive me to the airport. Everything was fine-she was fine. Then this morning I got a call from the university saying she didn't show up to teach her morning class."
"Could she have forgotten, or made other plans?'' Lex asked.
"No, she'd never go off without finding a substitute, without letting me know. This isn't like her at all."
Clark nodded. "So what did you do?"
"I called everyone I could think of-her friends, her colleagues, her neighbors. No one had seen her since Sunday morning. When I still hadn't heard from her by this afternoon I called the police."
Clark couldn't shake the feeling that this was all a nightmare, and that any moment he'd wake up and Jenna would be safe.
"Did you tell the police about the restraining order? About Garner?"
"I did, but they didn't seem to think it could be related.." The doctor still didn't lift his head, and Clark laid a hand on his back.
"Everything's going to be OK, doctor, really."
He glanced at Lex, who was looking distinctly uncomfortable at the sight of the older man's grief.
"Lex, there's a coffee shop about few blocks from here: would you go get Dr. Iverson something to drink?"
Iverson protested feebly, but Lex seized on the request.
"Of course. I'll be right back."
When the door closed behind Lex Clark shot the doctor a steady look.
"I want you to know I didn't tell Lex any more than I had to. He knows about Jack, but nothing more."
"No, of course not-you're a good boy, Clark," Iverson told him. "I trust you with Jenna's secret, but you still shouldn't have come. Right now you're the only one involved in this mess who hasn't gone missing. We have to assume Jenna's disappearance is connected to Jack's."
"But how? And why? I've seen how strong Jenna is."
"I don't know, Clark." Iverson rubbed his eyes. "I just don't know anything anymore."
Clark glanced around him at the small living room.
"Did the police look around?"
"Just very quickly. No signs of a struggle, no.blood." Iverson nearly choked on the last word.
Clark nodded. "Still, I'd like to take a look. Maybe I can see something they missed."
Iverson nodded, and Clark stood, carefully examining every corner of the room. He checked behind the bookcases, under the sofa, behind the small television perched precariously on a stack of textbooks. He couldn't remember a time when he'd so badly wanted his powers to reveal something, and been so disappointed when they didn't.
He moved on to the short hallway that led to a small bathroom. Even taking his time to examine every surface he saw nothing out of the ordinary there, and moved on the last room.
In Jenna's bedroom the clothes she'd been wearing the last time Clark's had seen her were still crumpled on the floor, as if she'd changed in a hurry. The bed was made, but Clark detected a faint imprint in the covers, as if someone had been sleeping on top of them. Jenna? Someone else?
The Metropolis P.D. had been right about one thing: there were no signs of a struggle having taken place anywhere in the apartment. No broken glass or upset furniture, nothing to indicate Jenna Iverson hadn't just walked away.
Nothing except the gnawing worry in Clark's stomach.
He reluctantly walked back into the living room to find Lex had reappeared with three take-out cups of hot coffee. Lex was trying to coax Iverson into drinking one.
"I checked every place I could think of, but I didn't find anything," Clark said sadly. "Sorry."
"Clark, if the Metropolis police didn't find anything it's unlikely you would have," Lex told him with a wry smile. He nodded at one of cardboard cups. "You might want some milk in that, Clark: that stuff could melt your teeth. I brought some scones, too. Dr. Iverson looks like he could use something to eat."
"Good thinking, Lex." Clark rounded the corner into the small kitchen, separated from the living room by only a counter. He looked in the fridge but didn't find anything to drink. He did, however, find some plates in the cupboard over the empty dish drainer.
"Clark, does something about this picture strike you as odd?"
He looked up to see Lex leaning against the edge of the counter on the kitchen side.
"What, besides a woman who'd never go missing going missing?" Clark retorted.
But Lex shook his head.
"That's not what I mean, Clark. Look at this place." He nodded at the tiny, galley-style kitchen.
Clark glanced around him. It looked like any other apartment kitchen: plain white tile, plain white counters, plain white appliances. In fact, everything was so white it gleamed. He looked back into the living room, where the doctor was slowly sipping his coffee. There there were papers on the coffee table, an open magazine on the couch's armrest. But in the kitchen there wasn't even a dish in the sink.
"It's too clean."
"Exactly. Why is the kitchen spotless, when the rest of the apartment isn't?"
Clark frowned. "Do you think it means something?"
"I don't know." Lex gestured to the empty trashcan by the refrigerator. "Metropolis' trash pick up isn't until Friday. It's only Monday."
When Clark raised his eyebrows at this bit of information Lex shrugged. "Subsidiary of LuthorCorp," he explained.
"Ah." Clark looked carefully around him again. There were a dozen more plausible explanations for a too-clean kitchen. But Lex's instincts seldom steered him wrong.
As Clark watched his friend pulled out his cell phone and punched in a few numbers.
"I don't like this, Clark. I've got someone I can call."
"Someone who?" Iverson spoke up from the living room.
Both younger men jumped-they had almost forgotten about his presence.
Lex went into the living room and sat down in the armchair, his cell still in one hand.
"With your permission I'd like to call an acquaintance of mine. He's handled several situations for me in the past, and he's very good at this kind of thing."
Clark leaned his elbows on the countertop serving area.
"A private detective?"
"Something like that."
Iverson shook his head. "Mr. Luthor, I appreciate your concern, and Clark's, but I really."
"Dr. Iverson, if something has happened to your daughter time is of the essence. Please let me help you."
Iverson regarded the young billionaire steadily for a long moment, and Lex met his gaze with a level one of this own. Clark could sense the older man's inner struggle, and was more than relieved when he finally nodded.
"All right. But then I want you to take Clark straight home to his parents, where he belongs."
Clark opened his mouth to protest, but Lex shot him a quick glance.
"Of course, doctor. Of course."
*******************************
"So what do you think, Hale? Think you would have time to work on this?" Lex rested his feet on his desk and opened a bottle of water.
There was a pause on the other end of the line, but only for a second.
"I think I would, Mr. Luthor. The usual fees would apply.."
"Certainly. Call me as soon as you have anything we can take to the police." Lex hung up the phone and took a deep drink from the blue glass bottle. He'd fulfilled his promise to Dr. Iverson and taken Clark home as soon as they'd left Jenna's apartment. But Lex also intended to fulfill the other half of his promise.
He wasn't exactly sure why, though. Maybe it was the naked distress on the older man's face. Lex respected the man, admired his work, but had never really thought about how much he must love his only child. Of course, most parents loved their children, but Lex often forgot how intense that love could be. Iverson had seemed on the verge of collapse, and that worried Lex.
Or maybe it was because his best friend was so upset. Lex still wasn't sure if he believed that Clark's relationship with Jenna was completely innocent, still wasn't sure what tied to two of them together. He'd figure it out sooner or later, though, and in the meantime if there was anything connections or money could do to find the young woman any faster he might as well use them.
LexCorp kept a veritable roster of men willing and able to take on these kinds of situations. They ranged from his father's go-to guys in the Metropolis P.D. to ex-Marines who were willing, for a not inconsiderable fee, to get their hands dirty. But Lex had chosen Hale for his skilled investigating and ability to operate under the radar. Plus Lex knew the man had children of his own, and thus would probably take Jenna Iverson's disappearance more seriously than others would.
Satisfied with his evening's work, Lex was trying to decide what to do with the rest of his night when his father opened the door to the study.
Lex could tell from Lionel's posture that he was still on a tear about something. When he was little Lex had wished his father would be like the dads on television, and just yell at him. Then they could get everything out in the open and move on.
But by the time he had became a teenager Lex had learned that wasn't how his father operated. Lionel's way of handling anger was to become more silent, more cold, than before. He'd tolerated crying and scenes from Lex's mother, but from no one else.
"I thought for sure you'd be back in Metropolis by now, Dad."
"I find I have more business to keep me here than I'd originally thought."
"Business. Of course." Lex stood. "Not that you'd be staying to keep tabs on me," Lex said disingenuously.
"Of course not." But Lex could tell from the slight tick under his father's eye that he'd hit on the truth.
"Dad, I told you before I have nothing but intellectual curiosity about Dr. Iverson, and he has no intentions of allying himself with me or with LexCorp."
"A man of Dr. Iverson's caliber would have his pick of corporations, if he chose to return to the private sector."
Lex smiled. "Like LuthorCorp, you mean? Somehow I don't think that's going to happen either, Dad. You might not be aware of this, but your dislike of the man is palpable. Although, strangely, he had absolutely nothing to say to me about you."
Lionel seemed to relax slightly at this news, and Lex was more intrigued than ever about the relationship between the two. But he was careful to keep his expression unchanged.
His father chucked. "Lex, I'm surprised at you--you know I don't waste time holding personal grudges."
Lex rolled his eyes. "Of course not, Dad. Shall I pour us some scotch?"
***********************************
Lying in bed, watching the moonlight trace patterns on his bedroom ceiling, Clark wondered what he should do. He'd never felt so helpless, so utterly useless in his whole life, not even when he'd been so sick he hadn't been able to get out of bed.
His parents had been justifiably horrified at the news of Jenna's disappearance, and it had taken all of Clark's powers of persuasion to keep them from pulling him out of school again. Not that being in school did him much good-he couldn't concentrate on anything.
By Wednesday, when Jenna Iverson still hadn't reappeared, the Metropolis police had dutifully filed an official missing persons report. But Clark had the distinct impression they were looking for her about as hard as they were for Jack Williams-that is to say, they weren't. Dr. Iverson confided to Clark that, in spite of all of his insistences to the contrary, the police suspected Jenna had had a hand in Jack's disappearance, and that the two of them had left town together.
Clark's parents convinced Iverson to come back to Smallville and stay with them, arguing that if there was any news he could be reached there just as easily as in a Metropolis hotel. When he'd seen how haggard the doctor looked Clark had been relieved his parents had made the gesture. If it wasn't for Martha Kent's cajoling the doctor probably would have quite eating and sleeping. As it was he spent his days on the phone, or staring off into space. Clark could tell worry was eating the poor man alive.
He couldn't do anything about that, either.
The worst of it all was knowing that Jenna might be in danger somewhere, might need his help, and that he couldn't help her.
Clark started having nightmares about that. He had a recurring dream that Jenna was strapped to a gurney somewhere, the way Ryan had been when Clark had rescued him. She was pleading with Clark to help her, but in the dream his feet wouldn't move, and he couldn't reach her.
That was what had woken him up tonight, and he finally gave up trying to sleep and padded downstairs in his t-shirt and pajama bottoms. He was surprised to see the porch light still on, and he stepped outside into the cool night air to find the doctor sitting in the porch swing rocking back and forth contemplatively.
"You couldn't sleep either, huh?"
Iverson smiled tiredly.
"No."
Clark sat down on the porch railing. The moon was full and heavy in the sky, and the air was so still he could hear the corn rustling in the fields.
"We'll find her. I know we will. Jenna's smart, and strong-she rescued me." Clark wasn't sure what he was trying to say, but he continued anyway. "She'll come home."
Iverson shook his head.
"I keep telling myself that. But every day that passes I find it harder and harder to believe it. I've never had to worry for her physical safety, not the way other fathers worry about their daughters. I think now I placed too much faith in her abilities to always keep her safe."
Clark was silent for a long moment, still unsure of what to say. He wasn't like his mother-he wasn't very good at consoling people.
"When was the first time you knew for sure Jenna was different from other kids?" He asked instead. "When you knew for sure she wasn't normal?"
The doctor sighed. "Oh, I suppose I had suspected it for a while, especially after the accident. Of course no parent wants to believe there's anything wrong with his child. But then one day when she was two she was playing in our attic-we lived in a big old house in D.C. then, and the attic was on the third floor. Anyway, one of the window screens was loose, and I just hadn't gotten around to fixing it yet, because I was too busy at work. She was playing on the window seat, and got to close, and she fell out. Three stories."
Clark couldn't help it-he sucked in his breath. "What did you do?"
"What do you think I did? I got hysterical and ran downstairs-I thought she'd be dead, or paralyzed from the fall. Instead I found her sitting on the grass pulling up dandelions, as if she had barely noticed what had happened. That's when I knew."
"My dad says he knew for sure about me when I picked up an antique bed my grandfather had made. It was solid oak, and I was only about three."
Clark could swear Iverson smiled slightly. "Yes, I can imagine that would be alarming. Not every parent is cut out to deal with that kind of thing. I've met many who are not."
Clark was thoughtful for a moment. "I know Jenna didn't inherit her abilities from you or your wife, but can that happen? Can they run in families?"
"Sometimes. Not often. I did meet a family once where they passed from father to daughter along the second X chromosome. But that's very unusual. It takes so many variations happening at the same time, in exactly the right order, to create a metahuman, that it's almost impossible to find the trigger."
"But there are mutagens that can do it," Clark said without thinking. "I've seen it happen."
"You mean your meteor rocks?" The doctor smiled at Clark's expression. "I know all about what those have caused, Clark-we geneticists have heard the stories about Smallville, too."
"And what do you think?"
"What do I think? I don't think those meteor rocks are anything to tamper with. If even half the reported effects of them are true, I'd say they're best left buried as far down in the ground as possible. But I also wouldn't say anything I've heard about their effects leads me to conclude that they always produce metahumans. Quite the opposite."
"Meteor freaks, Chloe calls them."
"That may be a bit harsh, but not completely inaccurate. The mutations are severe, but usually confined to only one ability, strength, say, or psychic ability. They appear abruptly, almost randomly, after exposure, and they aren't always permanent."
"But someone like Jenna, or the other ones you've met."
"Quite permanent, I'm afraid. Like having two different colored eyes or the sickle cell trait. It's just there, and all they can do is live with it."
"Living with it can really suck," Clark said shortly.
"And they'd be the first to admit that. That's why they hide it from other people. Why you hide your abilities from other people."
Clark took a deep breath.
"Only I'm not a metahuman."
"Oh, I figured that out long ago, Clark," the doctor said simply. "But I daresay the feelings are the same."
Clark was so startled by Iverson's quick answer that he couldn't respond for a moment.
"You mean, you knew? All this time?"
"There's nothing to be alarmed about. Jenna figured it out first, because her mental abilities don't work on you. That can only be because your mind-indeed, your whole body--operates differently than hers. And there's no record of the meteor rocks ever being effectively used as a poison on anyone. Except you, Clark."
"Wow."
"Are you upset? I assure you, it doesn't change my opinion of you any more than it changed Jenna's."
"No, not upset, I guess I just.I thought I was covering it really well."
This time Iverson did smile. "Oh, you were, you were. I'm just more attuned to these things than other people, I suppose. Call it an occupational hazard."
Clark shook his head. No one had ever guessed his secret so quickly, and with so little fuss. He hadn't been caught surviving an explosion, or leaping off a building. He'd just been himself, and it had still given him away. This was definitely going to take some getting used to.
"Dr. Iverson?"
"Yes, Clark?"
"Do me a favor and don't tell my parents you know. I don't think they could handle that. Not yet."
Iverson smiled.
"Whatever you say, Clark."