Summary: Lex contemplates his unhappy past and uncertain future when he is taken hostage in an act of revenge against the Luthors.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the lovely characters featured in Smallville—unfortunately!
I also do not own/have not written any of the lyrics or quotes which may appear as credited within this story; intended usage is merely to complement narrative and thematic elements of my original work.
A/N: This takes place somewhere in Season 1 (not very important to the story, just some minor details).
VI: The Answer
"Mr. Kent? Do you have the answer?"
Clark glanced up distractedly. "No... no, I'm sorry, I don't."
"I suggest you start paying attention, Mr. Kent," his teacher replied shortly, gesturing for another student to respond.
Clark waited a veritable eternity for the class to end, then made his way over to the Torch. Chloe had told him earlier that the media were supposed to be releasing new photos in connection with Lex's case—nobody had heard from him for two days now.
"Hey," Clark knocked on the open door.
Chloe looked up. "Oh hey, Clark."
"Have you found anything yet?"
"Actually, I think I have. My computer's just about to download what all of the papers have been getting in today."
Clark went and stood behind Chloe as they both waited for the file to download. Neither was prepared for the large, unsightly picture that emptied itself out onto the screen.
"Oh, my God," Chloe murmured, while Clark just stared at it in disbelief. The photo was a close-up of Lex; his head was turned slightly to the side, but his eyes remained locked on the viewer. In any other context, the wrinkle in the middle of Lex's brow would have belonged to one of his many humorously confused expressions; in this context, of course, it just added to the air of desperate uncertainty. Lex's tie, pulled between his teeth and around his head, was being used as a gag, and there was drying blood pretty much all over his chin. The side of his face also appeared swollen and scraped. The sight of the blood and injuries, however, was not what Clark found most disturbing—it was the look in his eyes. The picture, obviously taken by Lex's abductor, had successfully captured the terror and hatred that filled them. Beholding this image of him, then, was through the eyes of his tormentor, and Lex's dark blue eyes glared back at Clark accordingly.
Clark turned from the screen and ran a hand over the lower half of his face.
"It's still so hard to believe," Chloe said, shaking her head. "Even seeing something like this—it doesn't seem real."
"Yeah, too bad it is," Clark replied heatedly.
Chloe turned around to face him. "The police came to your farm the night he disappeared, right?"
"Yeah. As far as evidence goes, though, they haven't said anything yet."
Chloe paused, returning to the screen and Lex's disconcerting stare. "If anything, Clark, maybe this will help us find him."
"I don't know about that, but we've gotta think of something. Who knows how much time he has."
»»««
Lex opened his eyes. He must have passed out again, but he couldn't really remember. Surveying his immediate surroundings, a large presence leapt into view.
Clayton noticed Lex's flinch with relish. "Not so feisty today, Mr. Luthor, are we?"
Lex stared at him blankly. Actually, all is well now that you're back, asshole...
"He's awake again," Clayton called out to Sherman, who was across the room, apparently fiddling with a radio. Clayton turned back to Lex. "We're waiting on your father's official statement to the press. It's really the first statement anyone's given—nobody has seemed all that interested in coming after your rich ass so far."
Lex's eyebrows arched faintly. "Told you," he muttered.
Clayton reached out and grabbed either side of Lex's face with one hand, shaking it back and forth. "Hey, if I want your opinion on something, I'll let you know, OK?"
"Wait, here we go," Sherman said. "The press is introducing Luthor now."
Clayton reluctantly turned from Lex and stood. Lex stretched his jaw and waited momentarily as his father's voice began echoing blandly against the room's walls:
"Thank you. As you all know, my son Lex was abducted two days ago by unknown assailants. The police have been working extremely hard to locate him, and I thank them for their efforts. As of yet, I have received no formal demands, but my message today to Lex's kidnappers is simple: I will do everything in my power to find him. Be warned that we have highly capable people on the case, and you will be prosecuted to the fullest extent if found. I won't be taking any questions at this time; thank you and good day."
Lex deliberated silently for a moment. The only thing of importance he had heard was the "two days" part.
"Hey man, looks like your plan's gonna work after all," he shot dryly in Sherman's direction.
The two men turned to face him. Their expressions—partly hostile, partly incredulous—made Lex aware of the need to swallow again.
Oh yeah, I haven't drank anything in a while; should probably be conserving this saliva.
"What I don't get about this kid," Clayton said, as the two started over to Lex's position on the floor, "is that he honestly doesn't know when to keep his goddamn mouth shut."
Lex licked his lips agitatedly. "Look, I really have no idea who you guys are," he said, trying his best not to sound desperate. "If you let me go, I swear—I won't tell anyone about this."
Sherman smiled. "Number one, yes you would. And number two, where would the fun be in that?"
A tentative voice of the female persuasion didn't give Lex time to reply.
"Daddy?"
Lex craned his head past the two advancing men to get a glimpse of this impossible intruder, his savior: a girl of maybe eight or nine stood near the doorway, her dark brown hair resting just above the shoulders.
Now this could get interesting.
While Sherman and Clayton remained temporarily frozen, Lex found himself, of all things, smiling inanely in the child's direction. He supposed it was a natural reflex for wanting to calm her somehow—though, on second thought, he wasn't sure which was actually more frightening: seeing a guy your father had kicked the shit out of, or seeing a guy your father had kicked the shit out of with a lunatic grin on his face.
"Grace, what are you doing here?"
Lex could see the poorly disguised panic in Sherman's eyes, and it was suddenly clear how the man could have convinced himself that this harebrained scheme of kidnapping would actually work.
"Daddy..." the girl looked at Lex uncomprehendingly. "What's going on?"
"Grace, I told you—we can't see each other today. You have to leave right now." Sherman motioned for Clayton to keep an eye on Lex as he briskly made his way over to his daughter.
"But Daddy—"
"I'll see you later tonight, Grace," he stated curtly, wrapping an arm around her small shoulders and escorting her outside. The girl walked willingly under his guidance, but she maintained her gaze on Lex as she left.
»»««
The next day dawned cold, both in Smallville and Metropolis. Lana went over to Clark's early in the morning, her breath hanging in the air like exhaust. The steel gray sky loomed unseen, meanwhile, for Lex, but at least he had been offered a brief respite from his spot on the floor in the middle of the night—Clayton and Sherman had dragged him into another room to pour some cold water into his parched mouth, as well as to let him awkwardly relieve himself just so he wouldn't have to sit in his own filth. Come to think of it, he had probably pissed himself at some point during the first day, but who knew... Lex's brain was far too sluggish and addled right now to care just how degraded he had actually become.
It was morning now, and Sherman suddenly crossed in front of him. Lex thought it was probably better he could hardly hear them coming anymore. "Hey there," Sherman greeted, which received no response. "You know what? I've been thinking about what you've been saying, about your father not coming to save you and everything. And I just started to think, you know—what if it turns out you're right?"
Lex met his eyes but still said nothing.
"Even if you are right, though," Sherman went on, "I really want to give Lionel the benefit of the doubt. I mean, if he doesn't do it for you, maybe he still will for the sake of his public image. So here's what I was thinking: I try to find the one soul in Smallville who might actually give a fuck about what happens to you. I let them in on what I exactly plan to do to you if Lionel doesn't pay up, and then they can relay the message to Lionel to see if he won't reconsider his—lack of initiative, I guess you could say."
He looked at Lex and cocked an eyebrow, gauging for any reaction. Lex had none to give. Sherman reached down and tugged on the tourniquet around Lex's leg, making Lex's mouth open slightly as even more color drained from his face, if that was in fact possible.
"Now you're awake, good. As I was saying: do you know how we actually found you in the first place? I had your phones tapped and just happened to find out where you were going that night you decided to pay the Kents a visit. So my guess is, this Clark Kent guy is the only person who holds any sort of regard for you in Smallville. And if that's where I have to go, that's where I'll go."
Lex watched Sherman retreat to a nearby table and take out his cell phone.
At the Kents' house, Clark was pouring Lana a cup of coffee.
"Here you go," he said, placing it before her.
"Thanks," said Lana, wrapping her hands around it.
Turning, Clark noticed a letter on the kitchen counter waiting to be mailed and looked at the clock. "Oh, crap, I forgot to drop this in the mailbox for my dad and the mail doesn't come tomorrow," he said, hastily grabbing it and making for the kitchen door. Right then, the phone rang, making Clark spin around and stop. "Lana, I'm sorry—could you get that? I'll be right back, I swear."
"Sure, no problem." Lana went to the phone and picked it up. "Hello?"
"Good morning, I'm looking for Clark Kent?"
A few feet from Sherman, Lex closed his eyes.
"Oh, he actually just stepped out, but he'll be right back—could you hold on a minute?"
"Sure." Curious, Sherman asked, "Whom am I speaking to?" Lex, who felt he was on the brink of fading from consciousness again, waited drowsily for the answer as well. "Lana Lang," Sherman repeated slowly, to which Lex subtly but unmistakably lifted his head. Standing with Lex in his periphery, Sherman sensed the movement and looked over at him. Lex pretended to resume his careless survey of the floor, but Sherman continued to stare at him as he spoke.
"Hang on, there, Lana Lang, I think you might be able to help me out after all." Lex tried to remain as neutral as possible, pretending to have forgotten all about the display he just let slip. "Yeah, I uh... I think you might know somebody I have here with me," Sherman said.
Lana's gaze drifted up from the counter to the air in front of her as the words sunk in. Clark, who had just reentered the kitchen, saw her expression and stopped.
"What is it?" he asked.
Lana's eyes were large as she drew the receiver under her chin and whispered, "I think it might be the people who have Lex."
"What?"
Lana shook her head in disbelief and waited for the voice to go on.
"Hello, are you still there?"
"Um, yeah, I'm still here... what is this about, exactly?"
"Just an update on a missing person, really. I was hoping to speak to Clark, but I gather you know Lex as well?"
"Yes, I do," she replied, staring at Clark. "Is he there right now?"
Sherman glanced over at Lex. "Yeah, he's here. Don't know what kind of talking shape he's in, but..."
Lana bit her lip, not knowing what to say. "I'd still like to talk to him," she found herself saying.
Ready to dismiss this request, the potential benefits of such a situation suddenly flashed through Sherman's mind. A firsthand account of Lex Luthor sounding tired and weak? Lionel would be hard-pressed to ignore the bad press that would likely result.
"All right," he said. "Just for a minute, though."
Lex became vaguely aware of a phone against his ear and was soon listening to the first recognizable voice he'd heard since his father's.
"Lex?" Lana tried to maintain an even voice. "Lex, are you OK?"
Lana didn't hear anything at first, but then a familiar voice, molded by the melancholy smile that accompanied it, drifted into her ear: "Hey, when it rains, it pours."
Lana's eyes brimmed with sudden tears as she tried to conjure up a reply. "Lex..."
"Listen to me, Lana," Lex interrupted unexpectedly. "Don't—"
Sherman roughly seized the phone from him.
"Lex? Are you there?"
"I think that's enough of that, Miss Lang," Sherman answered her.
"What do you want?" asked Lana tremulously.
"What do I want? I want the Luthors to pay for what they've done to my family and everyone else's in Smallville. And if I don't get an actual monetary payment from Lionel Luthor, I'll just have to extract that payment some other way."
Lana looked at Clark again, who had been restlessly scrutinizing her reactions throughout this entire exchange.
"Oh and Miss Lang?" Sherman smiled wickedly. "Tell Lionel his son isn't holding up very admirably for a Luthor." Before Lana could fully process this, Sherman vehemently buried his foot into Lex's stomach—precisely the same spot where he had punched him so forcefully before. Lex couldn't help but let out an anguished cry, the sound of which reverberated in Lana's ears. The noise would have been disturbing coming from anybody, but knowing it was from Lex Luthor gave it that much more effect. Lana screwed up her face and brought a shaking hand to her mouth in disgust.
Dial tone.
END 6/11
Whatsoever I've feared has come to life
And whatsoever I've fought off became my life
Just when every day seemed to greet me with a smile
Sunspots have faded
Now I'm doing time
'Cause I fell on black days
I fell on black days
How would I know
That this could be my fate?
~ soundgarden, "fell on black days"