PART TWO


Lex slammed the car door shut…and flinched. Eyes closed, he pressed his fingertips to his ear.

Today, for some reason, every sound was like an assault on his sense of hearing. At breakfast this morning, the sound of the cook humming in the kitchen—a sound he usually ignored with ease—was like fingernails on a chalkboard; he'd wanted to march in and yell at the woman to shut up. As he drove into Metropolis, the blare of car horns, the whine of sirens, drove him crazy. Every ring of the telephone grated on his nerves.

"Damned headache," he muttered. At about noon, the dull pain settled at the base of his skull and wouldn't let go.

Slowly, Lex opened his eyes…and winced. A beam of sunlight glittered off of the car parked in front of his. It was like a sharp, high beam pointed directly at his eyes. And the late-afternoon sun suddenly seemed too bright, like a naked bulb glaring down on the street. Squinting, he pulled his sunglasses out of his jacket pocket and put them on. But the darkly tinted lenses didn't help much. And his headache was even worse, if that was possible.

With a tired sigh, Lex walked around the hood of his car. He really didn't want to do this today. He wanted to go home, lock himself away from the noise. But he'd promised to meet Lana to discuss some ideas she had for the Talon. So, here he was.

Lex pushed through the door of the Talon, and froze. The sound hit him like a wave crashing against a rocky beach. The sounds of the busy coffee house—music, talking, laughter, clattering cups—surrounded him, pounded against his aching head. It was so overwhelming, he almost turned and walked right back out the door. But Lana, who was serving customers at nearby table, spotted him. Smiling, she held up her index finger and mouthed, 'Just a minute.' Which meant she was busy right now, and would get to him as soon as she could.

As his business partner hurried towards the counter, Lex clenched his jaw and stepped further into the room, into the noise. As he removed his sunglasses, he pressed his fingertips against his temple.

"Hi, Lex."

Startled, Lex turned. Clark stood behind him, the strap of his backpack slung over one shoulder.

"Clark." Lex straightened his shoulders, wiped every trace of pain from face. "I wasn't expecting to see you, here."

"Well, I was supposed to be meeting Chloe, but she's running late. Probably got busy at The Torch and forgot all about the time." He glanced at his watch. "And I gotta get home."

"That's too bad. We haven't had much chance to see each other since…I got back." Lex paused as memories of the island, tried to push forward. Quickly, he pushed them back down. "It would've been nice to catch up over a cup of coffee."

"I know. Actually, I was thinking of dropping by the mansion this weekend. Maybe we can play a little pool." He frowned, uncertain. "I mean, if that's okay."

"Sure," Lex said, although he was already having second thoughts. The effort it took to listen to what the young man said, to think and respond, made the his headache even worse, and they'd only been talking for a few minutes. He could only imagine the strain of trying to hold a real conversation for several hours. Still, he said, "Drop by any time."

Clark grinned. "Great! See ya then." And he hurried out the door.

Lex crossed the room, and sat down in one of the vacant booths. He took a deep breath and tried to relax into his seat. To push away the noise. And, as he concentrated, it did fade. A little.

He was so tired. After he woke from the dream, he couldn't get back to sleep. It had been so vivid. So real. He'd lain awake for hours, mind racing as he tried to understand what it meant.

The cougar wasn't hard to figure out. The animal represented him. Like Lex, it seemed lost, even though it was in familiar surroundings. Which was exactly how Lex had felt since his rescue from the island. Metropolis, Smallville, the mansion. He was familiar with all of these places. But none of them felt…right. It was like wearing the wrong skin. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't get completely comfortable.

So, he knew what the cougar represented. But what about the fox?

At first, he'd thought the fox was Helen. Fox's were known for their cunning, and she'd certainly been that. But no. The fox in the dream had lacked any sense of deception or guile, malice or greed. Instead, it exuded intelligence, curiosity.

Maybe the fox didn't represent a person at all. Maybe…

A sudden crash made Lex jump in his seat. It was like hearing two cars slam together at high speed. The sound reverberated through his skull, pounded at his temples from the inside. He pressed his hands over his ears, but it didn't stop the sound from clawing at him.

Turning, Lex saw that a customer had dropped her coffee cup on the floor. That was the crash he heard. That was the sound that almost knocked him out of his seat.

The Talon was quiet for a moment as customers looked to see what had happened. But, as they went back to their business, the noise resumed. And, for Lex, the renewed din was almost unbearable.

Forcing his hands away from his ears, Lex stood. Again, he thought about leaving. He needed to get away from the noise. To find somewhere quiet.

Lex crossed the room, noise assaulting him from all sides. As he walked down the hallway that lead to the bathrooms, which Lana had decorated with as much care as the rest of the Talon, a painting caught his attention. As he turned towards it, splashes of color filled his vision. Red. Blue. Purple. A rainbow of vivid, living color. And the painting seemed to move closer and closer, until he could see every line, every brush stroke. Until the noise that pounded against him faded away.

Lex felt himself falling into the painting, just as he'd fallen into the cougar's eyes in the dream. He could feel that this was wrong, but he couldn't stop it. So he fell deeper and deeper, until there was nothing left but the swirls of color. And he could hear the red. Smell the blue. Taste the purple…

*****


Pausing by the door, Chloe looked for Clark. Her eyes searched the room from one side to the other. And she wasn't all that surprised to find no sign of her best friend.

"Damn," she muttered.

Eyes closed, Chloe sighed. She hadn't meant to stand him up. In fact, she was just about to leave the Torch when Rene Gilbert stopped by. She said she had a story Chloe would be interested in. It seemed Rene, and a dozen or so other students, were convinced there were ghosts haunting the lake.

At first, Chloe thought Rene was pulling her leg. Everyone knew the editor of the Torch was interested in the weird and bizarre. Why not hoax her with some fake ghost story? Wouldn't that be a hoot?

When Rene finally convinced her she was telling the truth, Chloe wanted to hear every detail of what she'd experienced. Then she had to talk to Rene's boyfriend, who was waiting outside. It seemed he didn't want to tell Chloe his story until Rene made sure she wouldn't laugh in his face.

Filled with the excitement of a new story, Chloe hit the Internet, searching for information on ghosts and ghost sightings. And forgot all about her promise to meet Clark at the Talon.

Fingers worrying the strap of her over-sized purse, Chloe walked towards the counter. She'd grab a coffee to go, then head over to the Kent farm to apologize for standing Clark up. He'd be completely understanding about the entire thing, which would make her feel that much more guilty. But it had to be done.

Chloe was halfway across the room when someone crashed into her.

"Hey!" she cried as the contents of the guy's cup spilled onto her coat. Then, "Ow!" as the scalding hot liquid soaked through her sleeve and reached the skin beneath.

"Sorry," the guy muttered. With a careless shrug, he went on his merry way.

Glaring after him, Chloe muttered, "Hey, don't worry about me. I'm fine. You know, except for the second degree burn I got because of you. Jerk."

Actually, the burning had already stopped. Still, it wouldn't hurt to splash some cold water on her arm. And on her sleeve, while she was at it. This was one of her favorite coats, and she kinda didn't want it ruined by a coffee stain.

The young reporter made her way towards the bathrooms. As she entered the hall, she glanced woefully at the brown splotch that now stained her sleeve. Her attention on the stain, she almost walked into the person standing in the middle of the hallway.

"Sorry," she said as she took a quick step back. Then, she realized who she'd almost bumped into. "Oh, hey, Lex."

The man didn't react. He continued to stare forward, all of his attention on the abstract painting that adorned the wall.

"Yeah, I like it, too," Chloe said, turning to study the canvas. "I don't get it, but I like it. Then again, I like finger paintings, too. I guess this is just a more adult, sophisticated version."

Still, no reaction.

Frowning, Chloe turned to stare at him. Lex Luthor had never struck her as the quiet type. He always had something to say. Carefully thought out, sure, but something. A quip. A rye observation. A greeting, at the very least.

"Mr. Luthor?" Chloe asked, just as she realized something was wrong. Lex's body was stiff, frozen. His stare was vacant, empty. And, unless he was doing it faster than her eye could see, wasn't blinking. At all.

A seed of worry taking root in her chest, Chloe stepped closer to him. Taking a deep breath, she waved her hand in front of his face. And, once again, he didn't react.

"Oh, my god," Chloe muttered, worry turning to panic. Something was definitely, seriously wrong. Lex Luthor was catatonic.



(TO BE CONTINUED)