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).

IX: Nothing More

Grace knew she had to do something.

As much as she hated to admit it, she knew Lex was right—her father was capable of doing much worse than what she'd already seen, and there was no way she could live with herself knowing that. It was with this resolve that Grace finally made her way to the warehouse in the middle of the night.

The snow had finally stopped but lay thick on the sidewalks of Metropolis. The fear of somebody spotting her crept in with the cold as her small footsteps crunched over the packed snow and ice. When she finally reached the building, she quietly entered through a side door and made her way to the central room. Opening the door slowly, she peered inside and saw Lex still sitting on the floor, slumped against the pole he'd been attached to for as long as they'd known each other. Even from across the room, she could tell that the situation was bad; only when she began to move closer did this become so brutally apparent.

His tie having been looped through his teeth, it was obvious that Lex had been beaten substantially since she saw him last—various new bruises swelled out from his face, and that was only what was visible. Just as this grim thought crossed her mind, Grace noticed a pool of drying blood under one of his legs (which, if memory served her correctly, had already been injured the first day she saw him). Glancing behind the pole, however, she saw an even more affecting sight: raw and bloody wrists under the coarse rope that bound them painted an all-too-vivid picture of how Lex must have vainly squirmed under torture. The thought of beating somebody who couldn't defend himself was too despicable for Grace to even comprehend. Staring at Lex's closed eyes, she could suddenly see with an ominous clarity that he was not going to last much longer.

In front of him now, Grace peered at him tentatively. "Lex?"

Lex made no movement to indicate he had heard anything at all, and Grace was suddenly terrified that perhaps he looked so deathly still for a reason. Anxiously, she looked back to the door and turned around to face Lex once again.

"Lex? Can you hear me?"

Lex's eyes finally opened, slowly and reluctantly. Grace saw dim recognition in the bleary gaze, but that was all. There was no trace of the twinkle of humor that had been present the last time he had spoken to her, and her heart sank at the sight of this.

Grace leaned closer towards him. "Lex, I—I'm going to help you."

Continuing to eye her tiredly, Lex finally gave a slight nod.

"My daddy and Buddy are always gone the same time every night, but not for long. Do you think you can leave tonight?"

'Leave.' Not 'escape,' but 'leave,' as if there had been a choice in the matter all along. Lex stared at Grace and then glanced down for a moment. Lifting liquid gray eyes back to her searching gaze, he shook his head.

Grace pretended not to notice the visible despondence and nodded quickly. "It's OK," she said. "We can wait until tomorrow then?"

Lex tried to produce some semblance of the poker face he had meticulously crafted over the years. Another day here? There's no way... But Lex nodded briefly and gave a weak smile through the gag.

"OK, I should go for now then," said Grace. "I'll be back tomorrow night, though."

Watching her go, Lex forced himself not to count the minutes.

»»««

He had been sitting in silence when Sherman and Clayton were suddenly approaching him, seemingly out of nowhere. Sherman was holding a crowbar, which he tapped steadily into the palm of his other hand.

Lex's head swam. You've got to be kidding me...

"Hey there, Mr. Luthor," Sherman greeted.

Aghast, Lex looked at Clayton but didn't see any apparent instrument of torture on him. Just his freakishly large hands, Lex concluded dismally.

"Don't look so scared, we're just here to say hi," Sherman told him, trying to sound casual and sounding anything but. The two men stopped just short of Lex and Sherman raised a hand to Clayton. "Get the gag," he instructed, keeping his eyes trained on Lex.

Lex watched Clayton come towards him and felt his heart begin to race at a sickening speed.

"He thinks we can't break him," Sherman said, still looking at Lex as his tie was once again fastened around his head and through his teeth. "I intend to show him that we can."

Sherman then lifted the crowbar directly over Lex's injured leg. Lex felt himself go white. Sherman gave a cool smile at this visibly petrified reaction and did not move one way or the other. Staring at the hovering weapon, Lex finally understood that the purest form of torture is indeed the anticipation of injury as opposed to the actual injury itself. Returning Sherman's gaze bleakly, he slowly shook his head from side to side in a silent plea for mercy.

Clayton had returned to his partner's side and was now looking at Lex himself. Glancing at Sherman sideways, Clayton said, "Hey—are you sure about this? We can't afford to lose him yet."

Unperturbed, Sherman turned to him. "It's OK," he assured his partner. "He told me himself." Sherman suddenly turned back to Lex. "He doesn't give two—" TWHACK went the crowbar onto Lex's waiting leg, "flying—" TWHACK "fucks—" TWHACK "what we do to him."

»»««

A very long twenty-four hours later, Grace was as good as her word. Carrying what appeared to be Lex's jacket, she approached him once again.

"I think there's a truck outside that should be leaving the city soon," she said as she cut the rope from his hands and untied his gag. "I don't know if it's headed for your home or anything, but maybe it's worth a try."

Feeling the restraints give, Lex gingerly brought his arms around to his lap as he hunched forward with new, aching freedom. Knowing he didn't have much time, he concentrated on getting himself together enough to stand.

"You don't know how much I appreciate this, Grace," Lex said quietly as he made ready to inspect his damaged leg.

"It's OK," she said, biting her lip as she watched him.

Grimacing heavily, Lex loosened the tourniquet slightly and bent closer. Bracing for the worst, he found himself somehow looking at a miracle. The wound was ugly, no doubt (dry blood as well as not-so-dry blood was still everywhere), but there was no real sign of infection. If he didn't know any better, the injury might as well have happened just an hour ago, as opposed to having reopened after... well, after who knows how long ago.

Wincing, he tied it up again as best as he could and then prepared himself to stand. Reading his face, Grace stepped forward and offered her small hands. "Do you need help?"

Lex knew he'd pull the kid smack down into the cement if he grabbed onto her for real, but he smiled inwardly at her generosity and lightly took one hand while he steadied himself against the pole with his other. Grace bent down to get the jacket she had placed on the floor and offered it to him.

Lex looked at her and suddenly thought of something. "Grace, I want you to do one more thing for me," he said slowly as he took the jacket from her. "Do you think your father will know you helped me escape?"

"I'm not sure."

"Well, I want you to pretend like you have no idea how I got away. And if for some reason your father doesn't believe you, just tell him that you did help me, but that I threatened to hurt you unless you did. Can you remember that?"

Grace looked at him solemnly and nodded.

"All right," Lex said, looking above her head to the door. "Let's try this walking thing."

»»««

Shivering in the back of the rig that he had finally managed to stow himself away in, Lex wondered where the turning wheels were in fact taking him. It didn't matter too much, as long as it was away from that terrible room. He looked at the watch that was still resting on his bloodied wrist.

Dumbasses didn't even try to hawk my watch while they had the chance...

The face read 4:16, but he had no idea what day it was. Lex decided to concentrate all of his energy on staying awake, for he felt like if he fell asleep it might just be for good.

When the truck rolled to a stop some time later, Lex heard the driver exit the cab and walk toward the back. Having taken cover behind a series of boxes, Lex felt a rush of cold air as the door was finally lifted. The driver seemed to be looking for something and then climbed out, leaving the back wide open. Peeking out, Lex could see that it was very dark outside. Not really trusting the driver to be delighted to see him, Lex crawled to the edge and slowly got out, staying low to the ground. Looking around the truck's side, he could see the man was now up by the cab. He crawled to the other side of the truck where he would not be seen and waited silently, trying to ignore the snow that was stinging the palms of his hands. The man finally came and closed the back up again, then went back to the driver's seat and started the engine up, pulling away.

Lex slowly stood and surveyed his surroundings.

Basically, he was in the middle of fucking nowhere.

Genius, Lex. Genius.

Still content that he was at least free, Lex decided to start walking in a direction—any direction. He looked up at the stars and saw the Big Dipper. Paranoid that his captors were driving the roads searching for him at that very moment, Lex turned and began heading west across the snow-covered landscape.

The moon was so bright it illumined the countryside a frosty blue. Lex would have thought it beautiful if he didn't happen to be in the worst pain of his life at the moment. Pressing on, he wondered how fast a person usually dies after going into shock. Of course, he pretty much felt like he'd been in shock ever since he'd been abducted, so that probably wasn't a good measure of anything. At the moment, Lex's heart was pumping blood through his body (not to mention what must have been a shitload of adrenaline) and he was able to put one foot in front of the other—that was good enough for now.

Time passed slowly as more flashbacks to his harrowing ordeal tormented him. Though he was almost afraid to, Lex kept looking behind him to make sure there were no bloodthirsty dogs about to lunge on him. It wasn't long before he looked back and noticed something even more terrifying: a trail.

"No..." he whispered desperately, the word hanging in his frozen breath.

Before him stretched a path of crimson that randomly spattered the diamond landscape like macabre drips of paint.

Perfect. Way to make it easier for them to find you and rip you fucking apart.

His panic morphing into unexpected rage, Lex tore off the jacket Grace had given him and set about roughly tying it over the blood-soaked tourniquet.

"Take that, you fucker," he hissed as he stanched the flow. "I will cut you off and hop the rest of the fucking way if I have to."

Rubbing his arms furiously, Lex kept moving. The temperature actually could have been much colder, but this didn't make much difference; Lex wasn't exactly dressed for the occasion.

He looked up after a while and saw a massive tree at the top of a slight incline. Austere and gnarled, the tree was full of ancient brambles and should have been cut down ages ago. Nobody had ever bothered, though, and so the tree continued to stretch its ugly, distorted limbs defiantly into the sky. Making his way towards it, Lex finally reached the formidable giant and leaned against it, breathless. The trunk turned out to be encased in ice, however, and Lex quickly withdrew his palms from the smooth, glazed surface.

He limped on, feeling his steps growing increasingly sluggish. Making it to the crest of a glittering hill, Lex put his hands on his knees and panted for air, the pain shooting through his ribs threatening to overtake him. Wanting nothing more than to collapse into the snow and let the numbness overcome him, he knew he had to force himself to remain standing.

It was then that Lex thought he heard a noise from somewhere behind him: almost like a twig snap, but it was too far away to make out. Had they finally caught up with him? Common sense would have told him that, having been deprived from normal stimuli for so long, his heightened senses were in overdrive—but then common sense was not something Lex had a whole lot of at the moment.

Convinced that they had found him at last, Lex remained perfectly still. A strange sort of peace settled over him as he realized he could get to work on that dying-in-the-snow thing after all. Personally, he would rather not be able to feel anything when those attack dogs started tearing the flesh from his bones...

It was all over. And, frankly, that was fine by him.

Glancing up, Lex's breath suddenly caught in his throat as he made out a familiar shape in the distance.

The Kent Farm.

END 9/11

It's bittersweet for me to know
The fever's taking over
The status of my fear soars

I'm waging a war
A war in me
The war in me is wailing

To channel this
Is short of bliss
To kill the cycle that I've fed
The labyrinth in me
Is every sin, every gain
And all the blame

In a war
A war for me is blaring
I can see
Heaven's tears for me

~ kenna, "war in me"