vii. By His Own Design
The clatter of metal against the stone floor was thinly muted by thin carpeting. The man sprawled heavily on the floor, facedown, hissed at the pain that throbbed through his entire body. He grasped at a wooden chair nearby and started to pull himself up, only to send the chair toppling back and going down with it. He pushed himself up by his lower arms and tried to catch his breath. He glared at the chair and violently pushed it even further.
Hurried footsteps growing louder signaled another person's approach. Only one person was both concerned and unconcerned enough to barge into his sanctuary.
"I don't need help," he informed the new arrival.
He was ignored, the way his frustration had been ignored the past year. Strong hands helped him up and led him to the abominable chair where he had been confined to for months of his life.
"Did they find her?"
Clark looked down at his friend. Lex was pale and sweaty, but he could see the determination clear in his eyes. "No. The last lead led us to a dead end. She was seen there eight months ago but never since then."
"And my father?"
"As far as we know, Lionel has not even found the dead end we've encountered, Lex. We're far more advanced than he is in the search." Clark searched Lex's countenance for any reaction to the news, perhaps some happiness at the thought. "You designed the perfect escape for her, Lex. We followed every detail."
"So intricate even you can't find her, Clark."
The younger man took the seat in front of his friend. "She wasn't in Europe," he confided in Lex.
"She wouldn't have left the country," Lex told him.
"You sound sure of that. I gave her the passport you provided."
Lex raised his eyes to meet his. "I know Chloe, Clark. She would have stayed in the country." He ran a frustrated hand over his face. And then he unexpectedly hit his chair with his fist. "I know her better than any of you. I know I can find her!"
"We're not going to stop looking, Lex," Clark assured his friend.
Lex shook his head. "I have to get out of this damn contraption. I know I'll find her if I can move the fuck around!" Again, he gripped the metal sides and pulled himself up, his arms trembling from the tense effort.
"The doctor told you not to force it," Clark said sharply.
"I know better my body's capability, Clark," Lex bit out. Carefully, he laid one foot on the floor and laid his weight on it. Lex grimaced with the effort. Droplets of sweat pooled on his neck, and the rivulets soaked the front and back of his shirt. Damn his father for making sure his hitmen would aim for his vitals. Just a millimeter to the left and they would have shattered his spine, instead of merely jarring his nerves enough to paralyze his lower body for all these months.
He had been sure that that afternoon was the day he died. Oddly enough, for all his illusions of grandeur, it was not the loss of his chance to achieve greatness that bothered him at that precise moment when he hovered between the darkness and the light. It had been that tear staining her cheek. It was with regret that he realized that he no longer had command of his limbs, and he could not wipe it away.
It was her eyes that were his light, which guided him back from the agonizing purgatory that he was in. Lex fought through a haze that felt like the most turbulent waters, and kicked at the force that dragged him under.
He had woken to an even more painful hell that consisted only of a white room and Clark Kent passing by every so often.
He called for her, at night, voicelessly for the tubes that choked him. The first night that he was fully conscious, and the doctor slid the plastic out from his throat, Lex threw up on himself and knew that he had brought so low by the man who spawned him. Clark stood beside him, holding his eyeglasses in his hands, an unspeaking vanguard until the doctor left them.
He fought to form her name, but raspy, dry and unused as his vocals were, Lex was only about to cough out several "Ch's", which Clark understood well. The dark-haired man closed his eyes and shook his head, and Lex knew right then that the moment he closed his eyes, he would will them never to open again. What for was the struggle to the surface if Lionel had-
"When Toby told me that you were not going to survive, I sent her away, just like we talked about."
Lex released a shuddering breath then. Tomorrow, tomorrow he would take his car and find her. She could not have gone too far.
"Lex, you should know. You've been in and out of consciousness for two months."
He would have to drive farther then. It was not a big deal. Lex would follow her to the ends of earth and take her home.
"Lex, you've most likely lost the use of your limbs."
He grabbed Clark's shirt and pulled him down, shock clear on his features.
"Apparently not," the younger man murmured.
And it was then that he realized that Clark had dropped his glasses on his lap. And he never felt the movement.
Now almost a year of pushing himself to the limits. Lex placed his other foot in front of the other and swallowed thickly. The shooting pain from every inch of his foot hit his hips and spine. He closed his eyes tightly and knew only pain. He took calming breaths and struggled to find a semblance of peace. At the back of his lids, he conjured an image of Chloe, his fiancé now, he thought fondly, waiting at the other end of the room. Before he knew it, Clark's voice interrupted the melody he replayed in his brain.
"That's enough, Lex," Clark said sharply.
He opened his eyes and saw himself facing the wall. He looked back at Clark, leaning forward in his chair, astounded by his accomplishment. Lex faced the wall again, only a foot away from him. And it was then that he looked down at his legs, knees knocking against each other from the exertion. He swayed on his feet, but before Clark rose to rescue him from another spill, Lex reached out and laid his palm on the wall. Carefully, he leaned his back on it, feeling the cold against his spine.
He would find her now. He will roam the continent and find her, to live the life that Lionel Luthor had shattered the way he did the glass windows of their new house.
And together they will bring the devil to his knees.
The clatter of metal against the stone floor was thinly muted by thin carpeting. The man sprawled heavily on the floor, facedown, hissed at the pain that throbbed through his entire body. He grasped at a wooden chair nearby and started to pull himself up, only to send the chair toppling back and going down with it. He pushed himself up by his lower arms and tried to catch his breath. He glared at the chair and violently pushed it even further.
Hurried footsteps growing louder signaled another person's approach. Only one person was both concerned and unconcerned enough to barge into his sanctuary.
"I don't need help," he informed the new arrival.
He was ignored, the way his frustration had been ignored the past year. Strong hands helped him up and led him to the abominable chair where he had been confined to for months of his life.
"Did they find her?"
Clark looked down at his friend. Lex was pale and sweaty, but he could see the determination clear in his eyes. "No. The last lead led us to a dead end. She was seen there eight months ago but never since then."
"And my father?"
"As far as we know, Lionel has not even found the dead end we've encountered, Lex. We're far more advanced than he is in the search." Clark searched Lex's countenance for any reaction to the news, perhaps some happiness at the thought. "You designed the perfect escape for her, Lex. We followed every detail."
"So intricate even you can't find her, Clark."
The younger man took the seat in front of his friend. "She wasn't in Europe," he confided in Lex.
"She wouldn't have left the country," Lex told him.
"You sound sure of that. I gave her the passport you provided."
Lex raised his eyes to meet his. "I know Chloe, Clark. She would have stayed in the country." He ran a frustrated hand over his face. And then he unexpectedly hit his chair with his fist. "I know her better than any of you. I know I can find her!"
"We're not going to stop looking, Lex," Clark assured his friend.
Lex shook his head. "I have to get out of this damn contraption. I know I'll find her if I can move the fuck around!" Again, he gripped the metal sides and pulled himself up, his arms trembling from the tense effort.
"The doctor told you not to force it," Clark said sharply.
"I know better my body's capability, Clark," Lex bit out. Carefully, he laid one foot on the floor and laid his weight on it. Lex grimaced with the effort. Droplets of sweat pooled on his neck, and the rivulets soaked the front and back of his shirt. Damn his father for making sure his hitmen would aim for his vitals. Just a millimeter to the left and they would have shattered his spine, instead of merely jarring his nerves enough to paralyze his lower body for all these months.
He had been sure that that afternoon was the day he died. Oddly enough, for all his illusions of grandeur, it was not the loss of his chance to achieve greatness that bothered him at that precise moment when he hovered between the darkness and the light. It had been that tear staining her cheek. It was with regret that he realized that he no longer had command of his limbs, and he could not wipe it away.
It was her eyes that were his light, which guided him back from the agonizing purgatory that he was in. Lex fought through a haze that felt like the most turbulent waters, and kicked at the force that dragged him under.
He had woken to an even more painful hell that consisted only of a white room and Clark Kent passing by every so often.
He called for her, at night, voicelessly for the tubes that choked him. The first night that he was fully conscious, and the doctor slid the plastic out from his throat, Lex threw up on himself and knew that he had brought so low by the man who spawned him. Clark stood beside him, holding his eyeglasses in his hands, an unspeaking vanguard until the doctor left them.
He fought to form her name, but raspy, dry and unused as his vocals were, Lex was only about to cough out several "Ch's", which Clark understood well. The dark-haired man closed his eyes and shook his head, and Lex knew right then that the moment he closed his eyes, he would will them never to open again. What for was the struggle to the surface if Lionel had-
"When Toby told me that you were not going to survive, I sent her away, just like we talked about."
Lex released a shuddering breath then. Tomorrow, tomorrow he would take his car and find her. She could not have gone too far.
"Lex, you should know. You've been in and out of consciousness for two months."
He would have to drive farther then. It was not a big deal. Lex would follow her to the ends of earth and take her home.
"Lex, you've most likely lost the use of your limbs."
He grabbed Clark's shirt and pulled him down, shock clear on his features.
"Apparently not," the younger man murmured.
And it was then that he realized that Clark had dropped his glasses on his lap. And he never felt the movement.
Now almost a year of pushing himself to the limits. Lex placed his other foot in front of the other and swallowed thickly. The shooting pain from every inch of his foot hit his hips and spine. He closed his eyes tightly and knew only pain. He took calming breaths and struggled to find a semblance of peace. At the back of his lids, he conjured an image of Chloe, his fiancé now, he thought fondly, waiting at the other end of the room. Before he knew it, Clark's voice interrupted the melody he replayed in his brain.
"That's enough, Lex," Clark said sharply.
He opened his eyes and saw himself facing the wall. He looked back at Clark, leaning forward in his chair, astounded by his accomplishment. Lex faced the wall again, only a foot away from him. And it was then that he looked down at his legs, knees knocking against each other from the exertion. He swayed on his feet, but before Clark rose to rescue him from another spill, Lex reached out and laid his palm on the wall. Carefully, he leaned his back on it, feeling the cold against his spine.
He would find her now. He will roam the continent and find her, to live the life that Lionel Luthor had shattered the way he did the glass windows of their new house.
And together they will bring the devil to his knees.