(The Talon, Smallville)
Renovations at the Talon continued the day after Lauren's funeral. Lana couldn't bring herself to return to the café until then. "Miss Lang?" the lead contractor inquired. "We just need to you sign off on these invoices."
"Oh, right," Lana replied. Lana quickly signed the contractor's papers. It felt eerie to return to the site of the horrific shootings. The other victim was one of the locals, but he survived. The Commerce Square incident was still the hottest topic on Main Street.
Now, the townsfolk had to move on with their lives. It was better than looking back.
Louie, Lex's friend in the Zucco mob, noticed that Lana still seemed uneasy. He took a bite of his brownie. "Don't you worry, Miss Lang," he reassured her between snacks, "these contractors will do a bang-up job. Best in the biz: you got my guarantee on that. The Talon will be like new. Just you wait 'n see!"
At a table near the espresso bar, Lex tucked an envelope into his breast pocket. Louie was grateful that Lex paid him a visit in the ER that night. (The visit was unnecessary: Louie only had a bruised rib.) Lex inquired about the Bertinellis slayings, and Louie felt obligated to tell him more about it. Most of it was common knowledge, Louie convinced himself, and Lex was a friend. Lex wanted to know the name of the man who shot Franco and Maria Bertinelli. There were wild rumours in the underworld that the hitman was Franco's consiglieri: the don's most trusted advisor, one who spoke with the authority of Franco himself. His identity remained a mystery to the general public.
Now that knowledge passed to Lex Luthor. One day, the information could be useful to him.
"I'll reserve your usual table at the A-Train this Friday," Louie remarked in between his last brownie bites. "There's a real doll of a singer coming by from Montreal."
"Send Tony my regards," Lex quipped. Chloe entered the newly framed door, as Louie stepped outside.
"Hey, kiddo, what's shakin'?" Louie greeted her. Chloe smiled politely, but she quickly scurried into the Talon. The presence of a Zucco mob associate and Labourers' Brotherhood contractors had become too familiar. The sooner the Talon is repaired, the better, she shuddered.
"I see you and the 'boys' are getting cosy," Chloe observed. Lex appeared to ignore her; his focus was on the photo in his hand.
"The contractors will be done within a week," Lex replied, sensing that Chloe was uncomfortable around anything mob-related. The latest Torch headline announced: 'School coach dismissed from Smallville H.S.; Parents in uproar over federal clemency deal'.
"That's a rather mild headline," Lex noted, "when you consider that Bruce Wayne got everything he wanted – at our expense."
"As interesting as your corporate ambitions vis-à-vis Wayne Manor might be," Chloe countered, "it's not a local angle. Helena was the true story here." She noticed that Lex was studying an old photo from his boarding school days: he and Bruce were clowning around in front of the camera. She guessed from their rugby jerseys that it was during their early high school years. "Have you talked to him?"
Lex sipped his cup of coffee. "He's not taking my calls, and Alfred nearly chewed my ear off after the press conference! And if you're fishing for a quotable quote to round out your follow-up article, I'm afraid I'll have to draw the line here." Absent-mindedly, he watched as the contractors cursed loudly and bickered about carpentry techniques. "My relationship with Bruce is more complicated than a thirty-second sound bite."
Chloe sat across the table from him, while Lana poured a cup of coffee for her. She packed her reporter's notebook in her tote bag. "Okay, this is completely off-the-record. Bruce drew his line in the sand, Lex … right here! Would it be safe to say that your friendly rivalry is now less-than-amicable?"
"Maybe Lex doesn't want to talk about it," Lana mentioned, somewhat defensively. "They've known each other since they were school kids. We shouldn't pry."
"Thank you for your concern, Lana," Lex replied. "But it's a fair question. We were rivals, always have been. That wouldn't have changed, even if Helena had never arrived in Smallville."
"Then what has changed?" Chloe wondered.
Lex stared intently at the photo. Despite their differences, they were loyal to one another. Bruce's recent actions strained that loyalty. Alfred had admonished him for lacking faith in Bruce's ability to help him, but Lex wanted to prove that he didn't need Wayne influence and money to solve his own problems. Commerce Square was supposed to herald Lex's independence, but Bruce's interference prevented him from enjoying that success. Lex believed that he deserved the adulation that would come with its completion.
He would see the project to the end, without Wayne Manor's approval (which he neither sought, nor needed).
"Nothing's changed, Chloe," Lex argued. "You've seen the documentaries, and read the in-depth magazine profiles. Lex and Bruce: bound by privilege, cursed by tragedy. How could two friends maintain a relationship amidst the ruthless Wall Street bloodletting? When Julius Caesar invaded Italy and plunged the Roman Empire into civil war, his rival Pompey the Great fled to Greece. In his haste, he and his allies in the Senate forgot to take the treasury of Rome with them. Caesar used the treasure to rebuild his armies, defeat his friend at Pharsalus and pursue him to Egypt. Even in death, Pompey was raised to the pantheon of Roman gods. Both men believed that they were preserving the Republic. Who was right? Who was wrong?"
"But how many lives were spent in their name, Lex?" Chloe debated. "How many people had to be sacrificed for the glory of an empire?" Lex abruptly tucked the photo in his pocket. The friendship was beyond Chloe's comprehension, he thought. How could she understand any of it?
"Make no mistake, Chloe," he insisted. "What transpired here is not the final word on the matter. It's an opening skirmish. I honestly can't say where my friendship now stands with Bruce Wayne. Any way you cut it, he is a formidable rival for any captain of industry. He is the son of one of America's great industrialists. A Wayne was there during the first shots of the Revolution, a Wayne held the line at Gettysburg, and a Wayne threw back the Wehrmacht in Berlin. Who wouldn't love to claim that legacy as his own? My father was raised in Suicide Slum; he had to claw and scratch his way to the top. Unlike Pompey, Bruce's treasury is secure, and the envy of kings and sultans. His estimated net worth is $10 billion, with corporate assets totalling three times that amount. Old money and royal jelly have defined Bruce's life; ambition and innovation will drive mine. The true test of our friendship is yet to come."
Chloe's face frowned, with the realization that Lex could remain so self-absorbed. "So, it's come to that?"
Lex seemed puzzled. "Excuse me?"
Chloe packed her things and prepared to leave. "I thought Bruce had tunnel-vision when he aggressively defended Helena's reputation, but his motive was some tragedy-driven belief in her goodness. You've reduced this supposedly 'legendary' Wayne-Luthor friendship to a dollar figure! The fact that someone died here doesn't seem to register to you! Don't pretend that this Monopoly game you're playing with Wayne has nothing to do with envy. This 'friendship' has more in common with Cain and Abel, than Caesar and Pompey!"
As much as she wanted to believe that Lex had the town's interests at heart, she knew that Lex's ambition knew few limits. Alfred had repeatedly warned her to be wary of Luthor intentions; his warnings had come to fruition.
"A girl died here … and you don't seem to care," Chloe lamented. Lex wasn't capable of looking beyond his childhood jealousies. "But it's off the record: your public image is safe." She walked out of the Talon in disgust.
"Chloe, I don't think you understand," Lex pleaded, but it was too late.
"Lauren was my friend," Lana added. "Her life should mean something. With all that's happened, everyone seems to have forgotten about her." She cleaned up the dishes from another table. Clark hadn't spoken to her since the funeral, and time had given her much to consider. Were we too harsh with Helena, or was she a bad apple from the start? "I still think Mr. Wayne was wrong to impose his wishes on Smallville, but he was standing up for a friend. That's how Clark described it. It's not his fault Zucco and the Jazzman set their sights on the Midwest."
"Are you implying that my actions invited the mob to come here?" Lex protested. "My hand was forced! This way, I have leverage on him. Zucco is on a much shorter leash here than in Gotham."
"No one cares about leverage," Lana explained. "All we wanted was to keep our homes safe. I'm not so sure we were able to do that."
After he finished his coffee, Lex hopped into his Porsche and raced towards the estate. It was regrettable that Lauren Morris died, but it was beyond his control. Gotham is Bruce's city (and his problem), he mused. Metropolis is my seat of power … 'my' Rome.
If Bruce didn't recognize that by now, Lex would make him understand it one day.
(The Kent farm, Smallville)
Clark continued to repair the perimeter fences along the edge of the road. He had half a dozen emails from Chloe, but he chose not to respond to them. Lana emailed him once, but he merely repeated his belief that Helena did nothing wrong. His father had already left for Metropolis this afternoon to meet his mother. He seemed agitated after she called the house, but he told his son it was nothing to fret about.
In the distance, he saw half a dozen vehicles rumble towards the farm. A Kansas state trooper's cruiser led the way. When the convoy stopped abruptly, Alfred and Special Agent Dinah Lance stepped out of a Ford Explorer and exchanged a few words. Ms. Lance seemed to be frantic, nervously checking her watch.
"Clark," Alfred called out to him. He was in a sharp, navy-blue blazer and khaki slacks, and an Uzi machine gun was strapped – nonchalantly -- around his shoulder. (Only Alfred could make a semi-automatic weapon look like a 'casual' accessory.) "Zucco's New York bosses have learned about what happened in Metropolis, and they've put a contract out on Miss Bertinelli's life. We can't stay for long."
Clark shook the butler's hand. "I thought you and Helena had gone to Topeka to meet the Attorney-General?"
Alfred carefully scanned the horizon; his many years of military training had taught him to remain vigilant. "I'm sorry about the ruse. We had to throw the mob off her trail. Helena is entering the federal witness protection program. She'll have a new identity. I cannot divulge more than that. You won't be able to contact her, not for a long time."
"But I didn't get a chance to say goodbye," Clark muttered. Suddenly, Helena stepped out of the Explorer. She had exchanged her mauve business suit for a pair of low-rise jeans, a black halter-top and a cowgirl hat.
"Make this quick, Clark," Dinah ordered. "It's not safe to stay too long. The Metropolis dons want blood, and they're already sniffing around the county." She quickly hopped into the driver's seat of the Explorer, while Alfred gave Clark a comforting pat on the shoulder and stood guard near the convoy.
"Umm – you look … great," Clark blurted. "The hat is a nice touch."
"Thanks," Helena replied. "I figured it would make me look less like a mob heiress. Well, it looks like I'm on the run … again!" She sighed. "It wasn't your problem, and I should never have allowed you to get mixed up in all of this. I really made a mess of things."
"You were wronged," Clark declared. "By Lex, by this town, and by the school board. They wanted to tarnish your name … I wasn't about to stand by and let that happen."
"Wow, you really are stubborn," Helena snickered. "I can see now what Alfred and Bruce see in you. The world turned its back on me – yet, there you are … by my side. You had absolutely nothing to gain from this."
"Well, I gained a new friend," Clark stated. "That won't change." A horn honked impatiently, interrupting the tranquil moment.
"In a minute, Agent Lance," Helena exclaimed. "Geez Louise, she's one feisty bird!" Clark looked over to Alfred, who seemed to agree with Dinah. They had to leave soon.
"Don't let Agent Lance's tough exterior fool you," Clark explained. "Her heart's in the right place. Oh, I have something for you." He rummaged through his pockets and pulled out Helena's family rosary. "I think you'd want this back. I hear it was blessed in Rome."
Helena gently clutched the rosary. A flood of memories enveloped her: birthday parties, strolls on the boardwalk of Gotham Harbour, playing with her mom in the park and Thanksgiving dinners. They were happier times, before that dreadful night when her life changed forever. She buried her face in her hands and wept. "My mother would be ashamed of me!"
"Don't say that, Miss Bertinelli," Clark said, and he consoled her with a hug. "You could have taken Zucco's life that night. You didn't. Someday he'll have to answer for his crimes."
"Someday," Helena mumbled. She wanted to put the tragedy behind her, but her family demanded justice. But it wasn't the time for regrets; it was time to get on with her life. "You can drop the whole 'Miss Bertinelli' thing, Clark. I'm not your teacher now. My friends call me Helena. You know, Sheriff Adams was right."
Clark was stunned at the admission. "Pardon me? Did you just say what I think you said?"
Helena admired the quiet fields and big, blue sky. If she had been given a chance, she would have called this place home. "Meteor showers and Luthor antics aside, this place is 'God's country'. If only I had the chance …" She still had her teaching license, but would she ever get her life back? The road ahead was uncharted and unpredictable.
"You can always count on someone in Smallville," Clark reassured her. She gave him a peck on the cheek and hugged him one last time.
"I won't say goodbye," Helena declared. "Until we meet again, then?" She hurried to the Explorer. Alfred closed the door behind her.
"Until then, Helena," Clark said. He waved to Alfred, and in moments the motorcade raced away. There were no guarantees that he would see his former teacher again. With Zucco's mob entrenched in Metropolis, the city could no longer claim to be immune from urban decay and corruption. He feared that The Jazzman Syndicate could strike again – but that wasn't his biggest concern.
Bruce had opposed Lex's 'authority' in Lowell County, and he prevailed. Lex wouldn't easily forget that public humiliation. Clark hoped that they could look past it, but Bruce was a man of conviction. He would not be swayed about Helena's mistreatment; Lex knew that and he was determined to challenge him. It saddened him to watch the disintegration of Lex and Bruce's relationship.
Another car puttered down the road. For a moment, he feared that it might be one of Zucco's henchmen. He breathed a sigh of relief when he recognized the bright red VW Beetle.
Chloe parked her car on the roadside and stepped out. She seemed to be distraught.
"If you're here to lecture me about Helena or Zucco," Clark began, "I don't need a recap. You think I was wrong. I believe I was right … end of story." He continued to repair the fences, uncertain of Chloe's reason for coming out here.
"Clark, I didn't come here to argue with you," Chloe offered. She pursed her lips together, disappointed that the mob's activities might affect Clark's relationship with his closest friends. "Lex was at his pontifical best at the Talon today, oblivious to the lives affected by his duel with Wayne Manor. Now, I'm not saying Bruce was right in opposing the parents' wishes … but I'm trying to understand 'why' he felt he had to do it."
"Helena's had a rough life," Clark grumbled. "She wanted a fresh start, and only Bruce was willing to give her a break. No one else was prepared to make that leap of faith. It's not one of Smallville's finer moments." In his eyes, everyone in town was responsible for driving Helena into despair. Yet, no one was willing to admit that was the case.
"Alright," Chloe nodded. "I think the town might deserve that. Anyhow, I'm not claiming to be an expert on all things Wayne, and Lex's considerable baggage with Bruce is more than I can carry. Your loyalty to Bruce Wayne is important to you, and that's all I need to know. When you're ready to talk about it …"
"Bruce is a private person," Clark said. He playfully kicked a pebble across the road. Bruce was a solitary man, but Clark was not. If it weren't for Alfred, he would know even less about Bruce. "I don't entirely understand everything about him, and I've known him for three years. There's only so much I can say about him ... I value his trust."
"Okay," Chloe agreed. "Fair enough." She leaned against the fence. "Bruce is your friend, but so am I. I know this spat is bothering you, and it's not healthy to bottle it up inside."
"What exactly are you asking of me, Chloe?" Clark asked.
Chloe paused. "I'm asking you to keep your doors open, Clark." She was afraid that she might be prying, but she wanted to let Clark know that he could count on her.
Clark grinned. "Well, it's a start." He wasn't going to tell her about the witness protection program, or Helena's brief visit -- but it would be nice to sort out his complicated relationship with Bruce and discuss these concerns with someone other than Alfred. They sat together on the fence to chat, as the sun began its slow, springtime descent. The next few days might reveal more tensions between Zucco and the Jazzman, or more underworld ties to LuthorCorp.
He wanted to stop worrying about those problems for now. Today, he wanted to talk to a friend.
THE END