Chapter 3
A short, stout man wearing small wire rimmed spectacles held out a single gray folder, "Here is this week's events from the Kent project, sir."
Lionel took the folder and began to leaf through its contents. He stopped at several pictures taken from the surveillance cameras he placed on the Kent Farm. The first picture was of Clark lying on the couch in his loft, his anguish and pain written on his features. The second was of Jonathan and Martha huddled in the corner of the den, flushed with anger. The last picture was of Lex handing a small black pager to Clark. Lionel shut the folder, "Good work, David," he turned and walked to his desk and dropped the folder onto it. "Why haven't I received any videos this week?"
"I'm sorry sir, there was a disruption and we lost the feed. I have my top tech's working on it and should have it back up within a few days."
"I want it fixed by tomorrow morning," he said impatiently. "I find Mr. Kent's dreams entertaining. I certainly don't want to miss anymore." Lionel knew that personal fears often came out during dreams. He loved to watch Clark's nightmares. He'd thrash about in his bed and call out against his attackers, but most of all Lionel loved when Clark cried. It showed him he had done enough damage to keep Clark fragile. If his plan was going to work, he needed to be sure Clark was in the right mental state. He needed to know Clark's every move so he could pounce when the time was right.
"Yes sir."
"Good," he paused, "And what about Morgan? Has he been located?"
"Yes sir. Mr. Edge has been taken care of and all loose ends have been tied, as you requested."
Lionel nodded his approval, "Good." He sat down in his chair and looked back at the man standing, "That will be all, David."
David nodded and left the office. Lionel took the pictures from the folder and examined them again. The pictures of the Kent's arguing and an anguished Clark made his lips curl into a sly smile. His plan was working. He was successfully breaking the once content Kent family piece by piece. He put the pictures down and picked up the picture of Lex handing Clark a pager. He stared closely at the small black pager, "What are you up, Lex?" he wondered aloud. He reached for the phone and buzzed his secretary.
"Yes, Mr. Luthor?"
"Susan, stop Mr. Williams before he leaves the building. I wish to speak with him again."
"Yes sir," she replied.
Lionel hung up and waited. Minutes later there was a knock on door and David walked back into the office, "Was there something else you needed, sir?"
Lionel tossed the picture of the Lex and Clark on the edge of his desk. David stepped forward and took the picture, "I want you to make certain my son does not interfere with my plans. Keep him under constant surveillance and I want to be informed of any further contact he has with Mr. Kent."
"Will do sir," with that he left the office again.
Lionel leaned back in his chair and took the picture of Clark on his couch in his hands. "Very soon Mr. Kent. And this time you won't be leaving."
Martha stood near Clark who was sitting at the breakfast bar eating his eggs. She noticed how consciencious he was as he ate. He was sitting straight up, elbows off the table, eating carefully as to not drop a bit of food onto the table. A knock on the door took her attention away from him and she went to answer it and found Pete standing on the porch, "Hi Pete. Please come in."
"Hi Mrs. Kent," Pete greeted as he walked into the kitchen, "Hey Clark."
He swallowed, "Hey," and continued eating.
"You're still eating! No wonder you're always late for school." Pete teased.
Clark only smiled in response. He still wasn't comfortable with his old 'teasing with Pete' self, but he tried not to let it show. He always did his best to act like the 'normal Clark' around his friends but the truth was he was far from it.
"Pete, would you like some breakfast?" Martha asked, "There's plenty left."
Watching Clark, "No thanks Mrs. Kent, I already ate this morning." He noticed how perfectly Clark was eating. It was completely different than the way he ate at school. At school, Clark would scarf down his meals faster than everyone else. He was never cautious about spilling. In fact, Clark was usually so hungry that he never gave a thought to being a neat eater. But now, at home, he was almost disturbingly careful. Pete looked to Martha with concern and she silently acknowledged his worry and shook her head negatively. Pete walked closer and sat next to Clark who kept his focus on his plate. "Chloe and I are going to be getting the Torch ready for print this afternoon. We were hoping you'd want stay after and help or just hang out. We miss having you around the Torch."
"Thanks Pete but I'm too busy with chores to fit in any school activities right now."
Martha instantly chimed in, "Clark, you're father and I won't mind if you want to stay after today. You should spend time with your friends."
Clark placed his utensils on top of his plate, collected his napkin and glass and began to stand up, "I think it will be a better use of my time to work here. The cows won't feed themselves." He gave her a shy smile and went to the sink and began to wash his dishes.
"Why don't you let me do those?" Martha said motioning to the dishes, "You need to go to school."
"It's okay Mom, they are my dishes, I'll wash them."
Pete concealed his disappointment that Clark didn't want to spend the afternoon with he and Chloe, "Well, I'm driving to school today. You want a ride?"
Clark kept his attention on his dishes as he washed them over and over, "Okay, thanks Pete." He continued carefully scrubbing his plate, making certain it was perfectly clean.
Martha looked despondent at Pete and he took her cue, "We need to get going. We don't want Principal Reynolds on our case for being late."
Clark sighed and scrubbed the dish one last time, "Okay," he grabbed the towel and began drying them.
Martha took the cloth from him and gave him a reassuring smile, "You better get to school." Clark's eyes flickered to his wet dishes. Martha put the towel down, took his hands in hers and leaned up to kiss his cheek, "Its okay sweetheart. I'll finish up here."
Clark smiled and gave her a hug, "I'll help you with the laundry this afternoon," he said to make up for not finishing his dishes. He walked behind Pete to the door, took his backpack off the hook and slung it over his shoulder. "Bye mom."
Aside from the work out equipment, the gym in the Luthor mansion looked nothing like a gym. It had mahogany paneled walls, stained glass windows, leather furniture, and bookcases filled expensive artifacts. It resembled Lex's study but a weight machine, elliptical machine, and a space for yoga replaced the desk and pool table. Lex, clad in his sweats and headphones, was working up a heavy sweat on his elliptical machine.
His head of security knocked on the door and then entered. Lex nodded to him and he waited patiently while Lex turned off the machine and stepped down. Lex grabbed a white towel and wiped the sweat from his neck and face while he walked to the mini refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of Tynant. He took a few swigs of the blue bottled water as the man spoke, "Excuse me for interrupting Mr. Luthor, but I wanted to inform you that Clark Kent has arrived at Smallville High safely. He's currently in second period, European History."
Lex placed his water on a table as walked back to his elliptical machine, "Thank you. Inform me when he arrives home." The man nodded and left quietly. Lex stepped up and resumed his daily work out. He was pleased that his men were doing their job well and more importantly, discretely. The last thing he wanted was for Clark to find out he had men watching him. He wasn't doing it for information or to discover anything about Clark. He didn't intrude on his privacy when Clark was in his barn or house. He ordered his men to merely watch him when he left home, so he could be sure that he was safe. Lex didn't have proof but he knew in his gut that Clark was the 'special kid' that Logan had told him about. It made him sick to think of his father doing whatever it was he did to Clark and he wasn't about to sit back and let his father get away with it again. If Lionel tried anything, Lex was going to be there to stop him.
The Smallville County School bus lumbered to a stop in front of the Kent's house. Clark sat alone on the vinyl bench seat. Both Chloe and Pete had driven to school today because they needed to stay after to work at the Torch. Clark was feeling a degree of contentment these days, but still he wasn't ready to take on any after-school projects. He always felt the intense responsibility to go immediately home to help with the upkeep of the farm. He usually worked way past dark or until his mother would drag him back inside for dinner and homework. He promised himself that he would never be a burden to his parents, no matter what. He needed this life and he vowed to do everything in his power to ensure he was a perfect son.
He stared out the window, deep in thought when Mrs. Willows, the school bus driver turned around and shouted, "Clark hon, this is your stop."
Clark looked up, blinked and gathered his coat and backpack, "Thanks Mrs. Willows" he shot her his famous Kent grin.
"You're welcome, hon. Don't be late again tomorrow, I can't wait for you like I've done before. I'm gonna get into trouble!"
"Yes ma'am" he yelled back as he headed through the gate towards his house. He noticed his dad's coat hanging over the side of the fence when he was halfway to the house and turned his direction to the barn. He kept his head lowered as he walked but quickly reprimanded himself for outwardly appearing withdrawn. He got closer to the barn and consciously decided to raise his head, look straight ahead and put on a smile. "Hi dad!" he said, cheerfully.
"Hey son...how was school?" Jonathan kept his attention on the tractor he was working on and Clark sighed. Ever since he returned home three months ago, his dad barely spoke to him other than formalities and he hardly ever looked him in the eyes.
Clark cleared his throat, "It was good, really good today. I think I aced the math quiz," he said with his smile still intact. Jonathan nodded his head "Dad, what can I help you with? Do you want me to give the tractor a lift?"
Jonathan briefly hesitated from his task, then continued on working "I'll give you a shout if I need your help, son."
Clark's smile crumbled and he took a deep breath, "Ok then, I'm going to head to the house to see if Mom needs any help" Jonathan nodded and Clark headed to the house, picking up his dad's coat off the fence along the way. He brought it into the house and hung it up on the hook. He never missed a chance to pay attention to the little details that would surely matter to his parents. "Mom! I'm home!"
Martha came down the stairs with a laundry basket full of clothes, "Hi sweetheart! You look happy, did you have a good day?"
Clark rushed over to take the basket from his mother's hands and noticed with a frown that he accidentally left his backpack on the floor. He hesitated, unsure of what to do, but decided to leave it in the hopes that it wouldn't bother his mother for the quick minute it would be on the floor. His breathing hitched ever so slightly at the errant thought that she would be displeased with him. He continued to smile, "Where do you want this?" he asked taking the basket from her hands.
She noticed his quick display of emotions and frowned, "Clark, you don't have to kill yourself over helping us out. This is your home too."
He only smiled, "Umm, where do you want this basket? Do you want me to fold them and put them away for you?"
"No sweetheart, why don't you run outside for me and get the mail. Then come to the kitchen and have some freshly baked chocolate chip cookies and a glass of milk." She smiled.
"Ok mom and umm, thank you for that...I mean thank you for bak..."
She reached up to caress his cheek, "Clark, it's ok baby. Now why don't you go get the mail?"
"Sure mom." He said, giving her a slight smile. He left the laundry basket on the couch in the living room, picked up his backpack from the floor and hung it up on the spare hook then walked outside to get the mail. He made a mental note to try not to be so obvious when offering to help; his mom was definitely on to him. He noticed his dad was still working on the tractor and he stopped himself from going over there to offer more help. He took a deep, cleansing breath and practiced his smile in the hopes it would improve his mood. He walked to the end of the dirt driveway with a smile on his face. When he reached the mailbox he noticed it was stuffed tightly with letters and a small package wedged all the way inside. He gave the package a tug and the letters popped out and landed on the ground. He quickly bent down to retrieve them as he looked around to make sure his parents didn't see him make that mistake. He gathered the bundle of mail up in his hands, putting the letters on top of the small package. He walked back to the house and flipped through all the letters noticing that most of them were bills and a couple of useless ads. He sighed at the stack of bills his parents would have to pay; wishing he could alleviate their financial woes.
When he flipped over the last letter and the package came into view. It was a small brown package, neatly wrapped with twine and addressed to him. 'Clark Kent' was written in calligraphy with no address under his name nor a return address at the top. His curiosity peaked as he came up to the house. He climbed to the top of the porch stairs and sat down to open his package. He untied the twine and ripped the top open. He let the contents fall into his hand, one picture and a brief note. He turned the picture over and his face blanched; it was a picture of two vials of blood and three sections of skin on petri dishes, all labeled with his name. His heart began to pound out of his chest and his breathing hitched. He dropped the picture to the ground and shakily opened the note. His eyes were becoming blurry so he blinked several times to clear his vision and read the note. It read, "Did you really think that I was careless enough to leave all the samples in the building? Don't begin to feel relaxed yet Mr. Kent, it won't be much longer." The note was signed with a simple "L"
The note fell from his shaking hands and fluttered like a butterfly to the ground. His breaths became deep and labored. He wheezed rapidly and knew he was hyperventilating…again. He quickly tucked his head between his legs and in the process knocked the mail down the flight of stairs. He called out as loudly as he could but only managed a whisper between his heaved breaths, "Mom!" His last thought before he tumbled head first down the stairs into oblivion was that he hoped his parents weren't going to be mad that he dropped the mail.
