A ROCK AND A HARD PLACE

By Allegra

See Part One for disclaimers etc.

CHAPTER 11 : QUESTIONS

School had been out for two days now and Chloe had packed every item of smart clothing she could find buried in her wardrobe. There hadn't been many opportunities for dressing up in Smallville - jeans and cowboy boots were the order of the day most of the time. She was going to have to seriously revamp her attire once she reached the bustle of Metropolis. For tonight though, all her anxieties had to be put aside. This was her last evening before heading to the bright lights for the next few months.

She had spent the day with her father and, despite her concerns that her dad would spend the day warning her about the city dangers and possibly even cry, Chloe had actually enjoyed every minute of their quality time. As a city girl at heart, she was thrilled to be leaving Smallville for a while and she could remember how to take care of herself in a city which actually needed pedestrian crossings to establish a safe path for people through the traffic.

Tonight, however, she had reserved for dinner at Clark's farm with his parents. Strangely, Chloe was feeling more nervous about that meeting than she was about leaving town the next day. Analysing her thoughts, she was surprised to realise that this was the first time she'd been in Clark's company more or less alone in weeks, maybe even months. Her fickle, romantic ideas swung between the suave sophistication of Lex Luthor and the muscular healthy farm boy of Clark Kent. But, deep beneath it all, Chloe knew her affections would always lie firmly with the dark haired, blue-eyed teenager sitting opposite her. It was just a shame he could never see past the friendship they had welded together.

Finally, the hour had rolled around and her father dropped her off outside the Kent's front door. She had chatted happily to Clark about all the sights she was going to see in Metropolis and the kind of stories she was hoping to cover until Martha called dinner. Either Clark's interest in journalism had exceeded her expectations or he was doing an admirable job of covering his boredom. Chloe didn't think to ask; besides, it wasn't like he'd have to listen to it for long.

Seated round the large table, Chloe watched wide-eyed as Martha spread out the most perfect meal the girl could remember seeing. "This looks amazing, Mrs. Kent. Wow, if the general populace of America could taste farm-cooking on a regular basis, the food processing plants would go out of business in no time."

Martha smiled, gratefully. "Well, it was the least I could do to celebrate such an opportunity. I have to admit to being a little jealous."

Jonathan feigned offence. "Hey!"

Martha laughed and handed the potatoes round. "Oh, you're such a farmer, Jonathan! Don't forget that I'm a city girl at heart, too. There's nothing like the hubbub of a big town to make you feel truly alive. Isn't that right, Chloe?"

Chloe nodded furiously. "Oh, yeah. I just love it. I feel like the world is my oyster when I'm in the city, like I could do or be anything I want."

Clark spooned a pitiful helping of greenery onto his plate. "Don't you feel that here in Smallville?"

Chloe stared at him, confounded. "Are you kidding? This place is stifling, Clark."

Jonathan was careful not to respond to that particular comment. After all, he had chosen a life here, but then Chloe was young and tact had never been her strong suit. He shared an amused glance with Martha between passing bowls of food and reached for her hand briefly under the table. He couldn't have asked for a better life or better people to share it with. He would never regret his decision to stay in Smallville.

Although, now that he looked at his wife through Chloe's excited eyes, Jonathan wondered if she felt the same. Perhaps on a daily basis she liked her life and he knew their relationship was as solid as ever, but in the long run? Would Martha look back on her life and have regrets? It was clear from the light in her eyes and the way she revelled in talking to the young journalist about her aspirations and the secrets Metropolis held that she missed it. It was a part of her and Jonathan had pretty much blocked it from her forever. The farmstead was a two-person full time occupation and their constant financial deficit merely added to the tethers holding them here. True, she had made a decision to marry him based on the knowledge that this was the life he would lead. But things had been different then. The couple were in a honeymoon period, besotted with one another. Times had changed. Their love was strong but it was not infallible; it had shown its cracks from time to time and Jonathan had to ask himself if he had always been completely fair on Martha. There had never been a compromise concerning what would have been a lucrative law career for her.

By the time he had returned from his reverie, the topic of conversation had changed once more, back to the tramp they had brought in three nights ago. Jonathan was still a bit grumpy about the whole situation. The police had kept him away from farm business for nigh on half a day which had set his precise timetable out quite drastically. They had questioned him as if he were a common criminal who had duffed up a stranger without just cause. Clearly, they didn't perceive his attacking a teenaged girl, straddled over her, as a good enough reason. This angered Jonathan just as much as the incessant questions about the hour, minute and second at which each event took place and an apparently complete lack of comprehension as to why he and his teenaged son had chosen to go searching the woods for strange men instead of calling the police. Jonathan had to concede that they had a point there but only on the grounds that they had no knowledge of Clark Kent's hidden powers.

Chloe chattered between mouthfuls, "Anyway, you guys are now officially town heroes. I mean, Clark, you've been up on a pedestal in a lot of people's eyes for some time, but Mr. Kent, you're going to have to get used to newspaper interviews, the whole shebang."

Clark dismissed her words with a shrug, "I haven't helped that many people, Chloe."

She chided him, "Oh, come on, Clark. Lex Luthor on several occasions, Whitney, Victoria Hardwick, Earl Jenkins, Lana, Pete, not to mention yours truly! For a teenager with a curfew and chores, you sure manage to get around, Clark."

Martha rubbed her son's shoulder, "And we're very proud of him." The family shared a moment of mutual benevolence in the few moments Chloe took to eat another few mouthfuls of chicken before starting up again.

"Anyway, did you hear the verdict on your mystery man? That officer I know gave me the heads-up when the police identified this madman. It turns out he was actually a respectable citizen, not a Vietnam veteran whose life had gone down the plug hole as we imagined."

Clark leaned forward with interest. "No? Who is he then? How did he get like that?"

Chloe shrugged and swallowed some orange juice. "Apparently, his name is Frank Steadman. He worked with Bludhaven Savings and Loan. He was a punctual guy who only took about two sick days a year until he suddenly just fell off the map one day. He was a divorced man and the only people with an invested interest in his whereabouts were his colleagues and electricity board. They searched for a while, put out feelers but came up cold. Eventually, they gave up on him...until his name turned up in the paper after the incident at Nell Potter's house." Chloe chewed another mouthful, suddenly aware that she had a rapt audience.

"How strange," Martha mused.

"You're telling me," Chloe continued. "I guess he just lost it."

"But with no stimulus? I mean, one day he's fine, the next he's a crazy man roaming the countryside? It all sounds rather far-fetched to me." Jonathan wasn't exactly buying this story. Chloe was meticulous with her facts but it was possible this officer in traffic she had chosen as her source might be enjoying playing with the spirited young journalist.

"Well, that's all we've got on him right now, but I'm guessing there's more information on it's way," Chloe supplied. "Since I'm leaving tomorrow, I've left Pete to gather the remaining facts for the Torch. I'm sure he'll keep you posted or at least the Ledger will."

All in all the meal went well although Chloe was secretly wounded that Clark hadn't seemed more distraught about her departure. After all, she was going to be gone for a significant amount of time and he didn't seem the least bit perturbed. Clearly, his attention was firmly fixed with a certain raven haired beauty with the initials L.L. The pair had hugged goodbye and undergone the usual routine of promises to e-mail and phone but secretly Chloe knew it would never happen.

Martha gave her a list of excellent places to visit - both sight-seeing and notable eateries. Her mood was buoyant and the teenager almost wished she could take her on the trip. It would have been nice to share the experience with someone, even if it was Clark's mother. Wishing everyone a fond farewell, Chloe stepped into her dad's waiting car.

Lex was sitting behind his desk, laptop open and sheaves of paper in various piles around him. He had never been a particularly untidy man but today he just couldn't get himself organised. As had been the case for the past ten days, the young man was unable to focus on any task for longer than five minutes before starting to feel an urge to stop. His usually comfortable leather chair seemed hard and painful on his spine and Lex wanted nothing more than to stretch his legs or go for a run.

He drew out the map of Smallville from his central desk drawer and perused the plots of land under offer for Luthor development. The whole plan was a patchwork of different colours - some denoting parts already in LuthorCorp's grasp, others nearly in their shadow, a few with stubborn farmers who had made it their job to thwart the monstrous company at every turn. Lex's eye wandered indiscriminately over the map, tracing a path with his finger.

He had never taken the time to fully appreciate the countryside of this sleepy town, barring his unfortunate trip in the woods a few weeks back and, of course, his close encounter with the bottom of the river soon after his arrival in Smallville. Now, though, it irked him that he knew so little about his local natural environment. Bizarrely, it actually kept him awake at night - the paths he hadn't explored, the few hills Kansas possessed that he hadn't climbed. It was as if he were a puppet on a string, being tugged and drawn away from the town and into the wilderness.

Lex was just considering the idea of another jog when the doors to his study burst open with brutish vehemence and the intimidating figure of Lionel Luthor whirled into the room, long coat tails flying out behind him. The young man couldn't help the way his body jumped in surprise. His father always had to get the upper hand, no matter how melodramatic his arrival.

"Dad! I didn't know I was on your publicity tour." Lionel swept across the room, his jaw tight with obvious annoyance. "To what do I owe the honour?"

"Your apparent desire to bankrupt Luthorcorp. I don't know what kind of game you think you're playing, Lex, but I can tell you now that you'll lose." He slammed a sheaf of papers down onto his son's desk, tapping it with a tense finger. "What the hell are these figures supposed to be? Your lunch receipts?"

Lex swallowed hard. Rarely had his father caught him off guard but even the young businessman had to admit that he could not recall looking over the figures this week. He had made a few changes to the budget and reallocated some money from one area of his empire to another. In the past, Lionel's shrewd financial teachings had been adopted wisely, but lately other matters had seemed more pressing. Lex tried to recover in true Luthor style, affecting cold indifference. "So I made a few changes. Can't I learn from my own mistakes?"

Lionel tore off the dark sunglasses he had been wearing and threw his son a threatening gaze. "Not when those mistakes are as expensive as this." Noting the aloof expression on his son's face, Lionel took a different tack. "What can I say, Lex? You disappoint me. I thought I was through bailing you out of trouble a long time ago. This..." he flicked at the monthly report as if it carried the plague, "...this is abhorrent. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

Lex remained silent. What could he say? There was no defence beyond mismanagement. Faced with a wall of silence, Lionel ranted on. "I've looked at it from every conceivable angle, Lex, and either you're playing a game beyond even my astute skills or you have completely lost your mind. There is nothing to be gained by trying to cross me..."

"So I made a mistake! It's just a mistake. I'll make the money back, Dad. Just...give it a rest." Lex shocked himself by the sheer volume of his reaction but he couldn't take it back. All he could do was stand by it and hope his father didn't disinherit him.

Lionel seemed a little taken aback by the outburst and his mouth gaped loosely open until the power of speech returned. "A mistake like this makes we wonder if I shouldn't hand this great responsibility over to someone else...someone more capable." The words sliced through Lex but he maintained his poker face. He merely sat back, nonchalantly, in his leather chair and shrugged, "I was thinking of taking a vacation anyway."

Lionel could barely believe his ears. This was out of character for his son. Lex had never made a mistake which had not been a deliberate attempt to get his father's attention but idly squandering his inheritance with a mere shrug of the shoulders was irksome to the older man. Despite the sparring they relished, Lionel did indeed love his son and this behaviour was markedly worrying.

Moving round to crouch beside Lex, he patted the young man's knee, ignoring the way Lex flinched. "Lex, listen to me. This is your empire, too. You can't just up and leave Smallville on a whim."

Lex sighed and a soft smile curved his lips. "You must be really desperate, Dad, to play the loving paternal card so soon. I'll make your damned money back, sorry, 'our' damned money, but in the meantime, consider me unavailable."

Lionel drew himself up from his humbled position on the floor. "Unavailable?"

"Yes. You haven't given me so much as a day off from this crap factory since I got to Smallville. I've got to hand it to you, Dad, you could never be accused of preferential treatment."

Lionel fumbled for the words. He wasn't going to beg but then he had never felt the need before. Lex might have tried to defy him at every opportunity but their goals had been common - to make Luthorcorp the greatest company in the world. Now it was as if Lex didn't care about any of it. "Lex, what's going on? What's the matter with you? Have you been spending too much time with that moral young farm boy friend of yours?"

Lex chuckled, mirthlessly. "I just need a change of scenery. I wouldn't have thought the owner of a Caribbean island would find that so hard to understand."

Lionel finally admitted defeat. "Fine, Lex, fine. If that's what you want, take a vacation...but I expect these figures to be back in order with a gain by the end of next month." Without waiting for an answer, he stalked from the room. He might not have won the battle but he was damned if he'd let Lex know how much he'd ruffled his feathers.

Little did he know how far Lex's mind was from jousting with his father for supremacy. Barely had the oak doors slammed behind Lionel's retreating figure than his eyes had wandered back towards the iron gates of the mansion and the road stretching away beyond it. Barely giving the papers on his desk another thought, Lex climbed the steps to the gallery above his office and searched for the ordnance survey maps that were gathering dust. The roads and tracks around the mansion were no longer satisfying to him. His runs were growing dull and Lex wanted to inject some interest. Inexplicably, he felt the need to move further afield, see the countryside he had never explored before.

Last night in bed, his mind had wandered restlessly along the farm routes he had frequented lately. He had started from the mansion every time but had set out in different directions every time. Still, it did not seem to matter where his chosen destination was, Lex inevitably found himself diverted along paths he had never intended to use. Just then, it had occurred to him that perhaps there was some kind of pattern to his rambles. It might seem ludicrous to anyone else, but Lex was starting to realise that Smallville held more than its fair share of strange happenings. Since the meteor shower, what could only be described as paranormal activity had increased dramatically. It would not surprise the billionaire to discover that he was being affected by magnetic meteor fragments or some such anomaly.

Shifting the miscellany from his desk top, Lex laid the large map of Smallville and its outlying areas on the table. Taking a red marker, he found the mansion and began tracing his steps on each trip and circled the point at which he had stopped and retraced his path to the mansion. Soon, a pattern began to emerge with frightening clarity. No matter whether he set out from the north, south, east or west of his own estate, his run wound its way round to the north. Lex took a ruler and drew lines following the dots to a converging point in the distance. The red star's centre was in the densely wooded area of Gloaming National Park. There was a canyon a few miles further on from the spot Lex had located and Lex vaguely recalled seeing it from the Luthor helicopter once on a business trip.

The area was fairly forbidding for the inexperienced hiker. Its name was well deserved due to the eternal night which the thick foliage afforded, plunging any visitor into permanent night as soon as he or she left the security of the beaten track. For that reason alone, the deep canyon was not the tourist attraction it might otherwise have been. Lex smiled grimly. It wouldn't have been a national park for long if Lionel Luthor had seen a profit to be turned there.

This geographical revelation shocked Lex a little. He had entertained the idea of some kind of paranormal experience with a heavy spoonful of salt but the pattern which had emerged was more than a little irksome. It meant that there was something afoot, something beyond himself which was directing him. Lex gritted his teeth; he was not going to be a puppet for anything or anyone.

Storming from the room, Lex went to get changed into a tracksuit. He was going to beat this, show who was boss of him and his actions.

The sky was a bruise of colour as the sun said farewell to the day and night spread her fingers through the clouds. Clark pulled his jacket closer round him as a light breeze caught in the air. He had nearly reached Nell's house but his feet felt heavy as lead. He had been putting off visiting Lana since she was assaulted by Frank Steadman two nights ago. He still felt guilty for being so helpless in such an extreme situation. It had been hard to come to terms with the knowledge that there were some people he just couldn't help. What made it so awful was that it had to be Lana who had needed him.

She could have been killed right in front of him and Clark would have been forced to watch the girl he loved be eviscerated. The image of her lying beneath that monster's grimy body, pinned to the bed, would scar the teenager's mind forever. It was for that reason alone that Clark balked at the prospect of seeing Lana again. He was afraid of what seeing her would bring to the surface so soon after the event. Finally, his father had figured out what was stalling him and had encouraged Clark to make the visit. After all, ignoring Lana's plight would only put more distance between the pair.

Scaling the porch steps, his arms laden with a bunch of flowers, Clark tapped lightly on the door. Part of him almost hoped she wouldn't be there. A moment later, her face appeared behind the screen, anxiety quickly melting into happiness. "Clark! Are those for me?"

"Yes, I wanted to apologise for not coming sooner. I was just...scared, I guess."

Lana received the flowers gratefully and leaned down to smell the pink and white blossoms. Clark couldn't help noticing how beautifully the blooms matched her skin and dark hair. She glanced up and caught his wistful expression. "You were scared? I guess that makes two of us."

Clark returned a forced smile. "I was so worried I'd be too late. When I heard you scream..." He paused, inwardly shivering at the memory. He jumped when he felt Lana's hand brush his.

Her eyes searched his and, for a moment, that awful night was replaced with a recollection of her lips pressed to his and his arms around her. He looked deep into her hazel eyes, wondering if she was thinking the same thing. "I'm okay, Clark. You don't have to worry about me. Well, maybe not all the time. You'll always be my hero."

He smiled, suddenly uncomfortable. 'Hero' was a four letter word he liked to bat around in his own head but it troubled him when others used it. Both Lex and Lana had shown suspicion towards Clark's amazing rescues and unexplained abilities. He had seen that disbelieving look in their eyes when they asked questions and, under their scrutiny, Clark was almost made to feel guilty for saving their lives. He quickly changed the subject. "Did you talk to the police?"

Lana nodded, "Yes. They didn't seem to care what I said. I guess they reckon motive doesn't matter now they've got their man and he was pronounced insane. There's no logic to a madman's actions, after all. I'm just glad the interview didn't last long. Reliving it...it was harder than I'd imagined."

"Even though you've been in life and death situations before?" Clark queried.

Lana laughed at the idea that she had been so unlucky yet equally lucky in escaping death each time. "I guess." Her face fell once more into severe lines. "This was different though. This wasn't some shape shifting meteor mutant or a bug man. This was real life, nothing supernatural about it. When I think about what he might have done to me, I just...well, it just doesn't bear thinking about."

It was Clark's turn to reach out a reassuring hand. "It must have been awful." He knew how affected Lana had been by the whole incident but she was wrong to believe there wasn't a more sinister and extraterrestrial reason behind the attack. If he could just get some facts out of her...

Lana's hand trailed absently to her collarbone, fingers searching for the chain which usually rested on her neck. It was the most precious object Lana owned because the silver chain carried a fragment of the meteor which had killed her parents in the shower of 1989. It was just unfortunate for Clark that the rock was kryptonite, his one fatal weakness. Just being around Lana when she was wearing it was unbearable for him and, even when he had been given the chance to destroy it, Clark had returned it. He loved Lana that much, that he would trade such agony just to see her happy. "Where's your necklace?"

Lana quickly removed her hand from her neck. "Oh, the police took it, said it was evidence of assault or something."

"Evidence?" Clark frowned.

"That man tore it off me just before your father came to the rescue. I didn't want to part with it but I could hardly say no."

Clark mumbled acquiescence but his mind was already miles away. His physical symptoms were proof that kryptonite was in Frank Steadman's body but if Frank had tried to take Lana's necklace, there must be something drawing him out. Kryptonite was leading him somehow. Clark's mind raced with the possibilities. He had to get to the hospital and see Steadman.

"Clark, are you okay?"

Clark looked up to meet Lana's concerned gaze. "I'm fine. I just...I've got to go. I'm sorry. I'll catch up with you later at The Talon?"

"Sure." Lana appeared somewhat bemused but she was polite enough not to enquire further and Clark headed for the town centre.

Clark had always hated hospitals. It was strange, considering he had never been a patient in one. His reasons were twofold - he felt bad that he was pretty much invincible apart from contact with kryptonite and at the same time he feared hospitals for what they might uncover about his secret. One needle jab in the arm and he'd be a specimen for the United States government to dissect in no time. As if his feelings towards hospitals could get any worse, Clark was supposed to be sneaking in, unseen. He had to get closer to the madman, Frank Steadman and there was no way anyone was going to let him just walk into his room.

Walking down the main street had been enough to convince him that the hospital would be packed with journalists and anchormen. Every local newspaper had devoted the front cover to the latest freak in the neighbourhood. The headline blared, "Meteor Man or Monster?" Glancing at the latest piece of information, Clark was rewarded with the realisation that he was indeed right about Frank Steadman. The hospital had released information that an unidentified substance had been found in his bloodstream and is a possible instigator of the man's erratic activity. So he was right; the meteor rocks were to blame.

Peering round the corner of the ICU corridor, Clark prepared to make a dash for it. He might not have been able to save the day where Lana was concerned but he could certainly play detective and get results. As far as he could tell from newspaper reports, Steadman was being kept under lock and key and no direct contact was permitted with the patient until they were sure of his disease. Clark knew only too well that the meteor rocks were playing hockey in the guy's mind and, even though the teenager was hardly in the best position to talk to Steadman, he had to pick some clues up somewhere.

The coast was clear and Clark could see the closet where the oxygenated suits were stored. Donning one of those with a mask would not only hide his identity but hopefully defend him from some of the kryptonite effects. It might not be lead but it would have to do. Clark braced himself and then blurred across the corridor where he paused once more to check that no one had seen him. The nurses seemed oblivious to the intruder. In fact, the nurses' station looked more like the reception area of a salon. Magazines were strewn across the table in the room behind the counter and two robust nurses were chatting over cups of coffee. Clark gave a sigh of relief; it was unlikely they'd notice anything at this rate and it didn't sound like Steadman was likely to get any visitors.

Pulling the bright yellow suit on and attaching an oxygen supply, Clark moved stealthily towards Steadman's door. It wasn't difficult to find, being the only one with a clear 'no admittance' sign on the door and several notices reminding staff about the necessary precautions to be taken. Expecting the door to be locked, Clark was pleasantly surprised to find it open when he pushed.

Swallowing hard as he prepared for the onslaught of agony the meteor rock would inevitably produce. It was with mild relief that Clark barely felt anything; perhaps the man's blood had been filtered by transfusions or some such. Whatever the cause, its effects, or lack of them, were welcome.

Now that he was in the room, Clark started to lose the confidence he had set out with. It was all very well having a theory about what the kryptonite was doing to its victims but another completely to extract confirmation from a mad man.

Approaching the bed cautiously, Clark drew back the curtain and looked down at Frank Steadman. The teenager remembered him differently and, if it were not for the restraints and bramble scratches on his face, the man would have been almost unrecognisable to him. The monitors registered natural sinus rhythms which reassured Clark that the man wasn't likely to break out into a psychopathic fit any time soon. Maybe this little interview wouldn't go so badly after all.

"Mr. Steadman?"

In the silence of the room, Clark's voice sounded louder than he had imagined and the man's eyelids fluttered open instantly. Frank's brow furrowed in confusion. He clearly hadn't been expecting any visitors and the dark-haired teenager didn't exactly pass for medical staff. "Mr. Steadman, you don't know me. My name's Clark Kent...I'm the kid you attacked last week." Clark bit his lip; maybe hauling out that little chapter of the man's life wasn't the most tactful way to go. Trying to patch up the damage, he added, "I'm sorry. I know this must be a difficult time for you..."

The man's eyes wandered to the glass of water beside the bed and Clark brought it gently to his lips. Frank took a few sips and cleared his throat, uncertainly. "Clark? I'm sorry if I hurt you."

Clark put a hand on the man's shoulder. "No, you don't have to apologise. That's not why I'm here. I just...I wanted to ask you a few questions, if that's okay."

Frank frowned again, clearly trying to make sense of this bizarre exchange through the drug-induced fog. "I've already spoken to the police."

"Yeah, I know, but there are some things that the police haven't figured out yet...some of the weird things that happen in this town. I think we might be able to help each other." Clark knew he was riding a fine line between getting Steadman to open up to him and revealing too much, but the circumstances called for more drastic measures. Frank did not speak so Clark began his line of questioning. "What do you remember about that night you attacked Lana Lang?"

Frank looked blank. "Lana...?"

"The girl you attacked."

"I barely remember anything..." His eyes met Clark's and the teenager caught a glimpse of fear and desperation as he tried to reach back into his mind and retrieve information he would sooner forget.

Clark pushed, "Can you at least tell me how it started? How did you end up at Nell Potter's house?"

"I can't remember. There was a smell, a smell of roast beef. Then, I just remember a green light, a glow drawing me upstairs. Then...nothing. Just green."

The man's face fell and Clark patted him lightly on the shoulder. "It's okay, sir. Thank you."

Frank smiled, sadly. "I'm sorry. Tell the girl I'm sorry."

Clark nodded and ducked out of the door, checking the coast was clear before slipping off the protective suit and sneaking out of the ICU. All his questions had been answered. The meteor rock was responsible for this whole case.

"Morning, dad!" Clark wandered into the barn where his father was cleaning the blades on the combine harvester. "You need a hand?"

"Thanks, son. I don't think speed's the key with this one. I think your mother had some grocery boxes to be delivered round town. I'm sure she'd appreciate a hand." Jonathan glanced up just in time to see Clark's crestfallen expression. "What's the matter, Clark?"

"Nothing. I'm fine."

"I know you too well for that, son. Who are you avoiding?"

"No one...Lex, I guess." He fiddled absently with a piece of rotting wood by the door frame, digging a nail into the soft bark.

"Really?" Jonathan could barely hide his surprise.

Clark rolled his eyes. "You don't have to say it like that. We just had a bit of an argument, that's all."

Jonathan knew his opinion in this conversation would be unwelcome at any point so he kept quiet. "You want to talk about it?"

"No," Clark said, determinedly.

"Well, you can't hide from him forever. Besides, Lex is a grown man. I'm sure he's above holding grudges for long when it comes to his friends. You might be surprised." Clark was silent at that comment and Jonathan raised his head from his work again to see that the words had taken effect.

"I guess," he responded and headed back to the house for the supplies.

After two hours of driving round town dropping off boxes and spending at least twenty minutes talking to each shop keeper like they were his best friend, Clark was starting to feel leaden footed. At first, seeing Lex had seemed too far down the list to worry about. Now, however, time had caught up with him and there was only one box left to be delivered.

The teenager had tried to rationalise every possible scenario until his chances of actually meeting the billionaire face to face were as slim as ever. After all, Lex was a busy man and if Clark slipped round the side or even left the box in the foyer, he could escape without seeing him. On the other hand, it would be worse to decide he wasn't going to see Lex only to bump into him while he was creeping round the mansion.

Clark wasn't given long to dwell on the intricacies of avoiding talking to his 'friend' as the mansion burst into view round the curve of the road. Taking a deep breath, the teenager pulled the heavy box of goods from the back of the truck and ambled towards the front door. Much to his surprise, the building was alive with bustle as staff marched in and out laden with papers and boxes.

Clark stood aside as a very flash car pulled up outside the mansion. A businesslike man emerged, tearing off a pair of sunglasses to reveal the shrewd eyes of a Metropolis lawyer. He glanced over at Clark and demanded, "Where is Lex Luthor?"

Clark shrugged, vaguely embarrassed at being caught up in the melee but curious nevertheless. "I don't know."

The man tutted in annoyance and strode towards the front door. A moment later, he emerged with Lex in tow who directed him around the back of the building with a promise of catching up with him soon. He caught sight of Clark as he did so and, for a second, the teenager thought Lex was going to ignore him, but he approached him civilly. "Clark. Are those for me?"

"Your usual delivery, yes. Are you going somewhere?"

Lex paused and looked at the boy's face, as if trying to read exactly how things stood between them since their last conversation. "Everything's been pretty rushed but I'm leaving town on business."

Clark asked, "To Metropolis?"

"No, to the country actually. Wind down and get some work done at the same time. Here, let me take those." He reached forwards to accept the goods and the second his hand touched Clark's, the teenager flinched away as fiery pain shot up and down his arms, coursing through his body with lightning speed.

Lex stopped short, "Clark, are you all right?"

Clark managed to nod as he caught his breath and steadied his frayed nerves. "Yes, I'm fine, just strained a muscle I think." He hoped his concern was hidden well enough but the questions arising in his mind were difficult to veil. It was kryptonite again...and now Lex was going to the country. It sounded a little too close to Frank Steadman's case for comfort. "So, why the country?"

Lex shrugged, "I've never really explore the region and I've been feeling the urge to do so. After all, there are opportunities to be exploited all over this fine land. I want to make sure LexCorp is there to make the best of it."

"I see. I thought you hated flying," Clark added.

Lex smiled, "I do. That's the strangest part, Clark. I haven't been in a helicopter since I was a child and yet I'm not even remotely worried about it now. It's like an unprecedented urge to be with nature, to escape my daily rituals. Extraordinary, I know, but I just can't stop myself."

Clark forced a smile to his lips. "That's great. Did you have to see your doctor before flying?"

Lex seemed a little taken aback by this sudden interest in his health. "What are you now, Clark, my mother? No, he gave me a clean bill of health not more than a week ago. I'm all set to fly. Anyway, you can thank your mother for the vegetables. I'll make sure I get a cheque to her before I leave."

"How long are you going for?"

"As long as I need, Clark." Lex smiled at the ridiculous notion that Clark, a boy five years his junior, should be checking up on him as if he were no more than a toddler.

"What about your business?" Clark tried to stall him at every opportunity but Lex seemed completely unflustered.

"Everything's been put in hand, Clark. You don't have to worry about me. Take care of yourself."

"I should be saying that to you," Clark added as Lex turned away from him. The billionaire only smiled. What more could a teenager do? He had no means of forcing Lex to a doctor or stopping him. All he could do was stand by and be prepared for the worst.