SUMMARY: Chapter Two The night before Lex's discovery, Clark takes a walk in the woods to reflect on several things, including, most prominently, one Lex Luthor.

WARNINGS: Rated Teen for language and sexuality. Veers into the realm of AU after the episode "Red" from Season 2. Because I just – LOVE red kryptonite!

DISCLAIMER: So many people own Superman and Smallville that I don't even know where to begin. We'll just sweepingly say Siegel and Shuster, DC Comics, and the show's creators. It's this twisted copyright situation, anyway. But I'm not making any money of them, rest assured. Just – playing with them. In my mind. It's not my fault they picked Tom Welling and Michael Rosenbaum, eh!

AUTHOR NOTE: My version of red kryptonite varies from the show's use. In comic canon, red kryptonite causes a different reaction each time Superman/Clark is exposed to it, and the results typically last 24 to 48 hours.

Slant

Chapter Two

Clark had known right from the beginning that something weird was going to happen. He often took walks by himself, when he needed to clear his head or just be alone for a while. But he'd never felt so compelled to do it, the way he had yesterday. As if something – or someone – was drawing him there. Given the wide variety of powers stemming from Smallville's many mutant citizens (and occasionally animals and plants), this could potentially be yet another catastrophe-in-the-making that Clark would somehow have to divert to prevent gruesome death or grievous destruction, all while giving the "aw, shucks" should someone question his seeming inability to stay away from crime scenes. Fun.

Regardless, he had needed to get away. Ever since the deal with the red meteor rocks, making a mess of things with Lana, and trying to reconcile a Pete who knew (and could use) his only weakness against him, a walk in the woods, no matter how odd, was a perfect way to leave everything all behind.

Okay, so leaving right before an obvious thunderstorm was not the brightest thing to do. But it wasn't as if rain was going to injure him. Hell, if the forest caught on fire the worst that could possibly happen was mom having to buy a new set of clothes. Admittedly, she did that more often that she should've, but if anyone asked it was just a shrug and the explanation of the "growing boy" syndrome. Of course, if Clark grew any more he wouldn't be able to fit in through the front door (it was a fairly tight squeeze now). Still, it kept the neighbors from being too suspicious.

Lex, on the other hand…

Clark had been thinking about his best friend way too much in the past few… days? Weeks? Months? Who knew anymore? But he figured that if one's best friend was a bald, badass billionaire with a brilliant mind (lot of 'B's there), thinking about said best friend was a perfectly normal thing to do. Not that Clark had any real conception of normal, mind you, but still. Clark knew that the secret he'd been guarding since he was old enough to understand that it was a secret was in definite danger of being discovered by the wickedly perceptive older man.

Clark was tired of thinking it was a bad thing. Pete had reacted a little badly at first, sure, but he'd gotten over it soon enough. But he knew how his dad felt about Lex, and if Clark came home one day and told his dad that Lex knew his secret, his dad would find a way to kill him. And Lex. Whom he'd probably run over with a tractor while cackling like a maniac.

But lately, his dad had seemed quieter, more speculative around Clark. Clark knew the red meteor rock and how he'd reacted to it were partially to blame. All those things he'd said and done - telling off that teacher – that kiss with Lana – talking about moving to a penthouse in Metropolis with Lex! God, all of those things…

He'd wanted to do them. That was the trouble. If he'd just been totally insane because of the ring and saying all sorts of crazy stuff to anyone and everyone, well, yeah, then it'd be okay. But what he'd done - Clark knew that sometimes, yes, he'd wanted to look through peoples' clothes and take their money and buy whatever he wanted. But he'd hurt so many people trying to do it…

Every time Clark thought he'd gotten to terms with his powers, something new came around the corner to scare him into thinking about everything bad that could happen the moment he lost control. He could set trees on fire or destroy walls just by punching them. He could see what people tried to hide, and for God's sake, he could float. What if he floated right out of his room one day, and everyone saw him? What then?

He hated to admit that he was scared, but he was. Being around people was becoming more and more difficult. Sometimes he just wanted to tell the whole town and get it over with. But though he didn't know of anyone quite like Lionel Luthor, there were certainly people who wouldn't react well and would try to exploit that power, the way Roger Nixon had tried to. Of course, people like that had an unhealthy habit of turning up dead or insane. Which Clark also blamed himself for, though his parents said again and again that he shouldn't.

Okay, fine. He'd let loose a little. Taking his hands from his pockets as he walked from beneath the canopy of trees to a clear spot in the forest, he picked up a healthy-sized branch (what most other people might refer to as a log), and threw it upward. Squinting his eyes, he directed his heat vision at it, and smiled with satisfaction as it burst into flames and landed heavily in the clearing scant feet from his – well, feet. Stupid, sure. Reckless, of course. But now rain was starting to fall, as he had predicted it would, and the fire sizzled out before it could do any damage. As it smoldered, he inhaled the woodsy, dark smell and thought about all the people that he was angry at. The people who had tried to hurt him, his family, or his friends cut a wide swathe through his thoughts. Then came Lana. She could accept her beloved former boyfriend stringing up Clark like a scarecrow and leaving him to die with a green meteor rock around his neck, but the moment Clark made a mistake, "she didn't know him anymore," he was "lying to her," and a whole lot of other crap. Well, you know what, Lana? Clark thought angrily. It's not my fault! After he was done being angry with the girl, he turned to the guy.

Lex. Geez. His thoughts always seemed to come back to the guy. But he was, in a way, angry at Lex. He was angry that Lex lied to him, and even angrier still that Lex thought he was doing it for Clark's protection. But mostly he was angry that Lex just couldn't be the most trustworthy guy in the world so Clark could tell him his secret.

The storm was getting worse. Wind was beginning to whip around Clark's head, twisting his hair into tangled knots and making the tree limbs dance. Icy cold rain pelted at his face, soaking his clothes and seeping toward his skin. Of course, it didn't feel all that bad. Invulnerable skin was a pretty good thing sometimes. Of course, when he was fourteen, Pete had elucidated to him what exactly a "hickey" was and how good it was supposed to feel, and Clark, after being a little grossed out, had spent an entire afternoon mourning the fact that he could never have one. He'd seen Lex with them, though – during that brief but memorable affair with Desiree. Loads of them. Other people wouldn't have seen, but then again, other people couldn't see through the famed turtleneck sweater. He wondered if Lex had enjoyed getting them.

Distracted in his thoughts, he failed to notice the mudslide forming near the edge of the little copse of trees, where a mutant had managed to create an erosion problem by uprooting several plants (Clark had found that to be more than a little lame). With a yelp as his feet found slick mud and water, he slid down the miniature hill and landed with a splash at the bottom, covering his jeans and red wool sweater with mud. He blinked dizzily, looking around to try and find his bearings. It was darker here – he looked up, and realized that he could see very little of the trees overhead. There were, instead, roots? Pale, white, scraggly roots and dirt and stones.

Hello, Kent! He chided himself. Obviously he'd slid right into the ground. Maybe a weak part of the forest floor caused by the extreme erosion and the massive amount of trees struggling for one space. Switching to x-ray vision, Clark surveyed the situation. Okay. He'd only fallen down a couple of feet, and slid partway under a humungous tree that had died and was slowly being pulled out of the ground by the weight of its own gravity. That was manageable. He struggled to his feet.

This was what he got by ruminating on the mystery of his best friend. Sometimes Lex just seemed like more trouble than he was worth. Clark didn't understand the guy half the time, really. If Lex thought Clark was a mystery, he should take a good, long look at himself. He didn't understand Clark, what it was like to be Clark, and Clark didn't understand him. Once again lost in his thoughts, Clark failed to notice the twinkling red stone dangling on the mud at the edge of his sweater, which he casually tucked into his jeans. The sharp pinprick of the stone hitting flesh would only be felt by an ordinary human being.

And Clark certainly wasn't an ordinary human being.

Superspeeding home, he tossed all of his dirty clothes into a pile on the floor, decided against the shower (he'd run straight through a rainstorm, how much cleaner could you get?), and jumped into bed. He was asleep in mere minutes. The stone, which had rolled free of him and fallen beneath the bed, glowed briefly in the dark night.