Pictures of You - Lex

I haven't touched a camera in years.

The last time, I was ten years old and my parents and I were on vacation together - the last family vacation before my mom died. She was two months pregnant with my brother, Julian, and I'd never seen her or my father happier. We were on the Champs-Elysées in Paris, and my father had just taken a picture of mom and I together when he handed me the camera and told me to take one of them. He patted the cap I wore to cover my baldness, then walked over to my mother and pulled her against him, whispering something in her ear that made her giggle and blush. I stared at them for a moment until my father asked if I planned on taking a picture or painting one, then I held the camera up and snapped the shot. Those pictures are still somewhere in a box. I've tried very hard not to find it.

But now I'm standing here with this digital camera that I own, but have never used, and Hudson is looking particularly beautiful today, hair all curled up and brushed and shiny, not her usual haphazard state which usually includes a multitude of tangles and a piece or two of hay hidden in the strands. When I arrived to pick her up at the farm earlier, I teased her as to why she was all dressed up for a simple picnic. That's when she pointed out that today was our anniversary. Four months. I think that's the longest I've been with anyone.

Of course, it hadn't really slipped my mind. Not with Hudson's constant hints on an almost daily basis. It's cute, really, that this means so much to her. As silly as I might have found it to be a year ago, I like it. I enjoy knowing that her relationship with me means so much to her that she feels the need to count each and every day.

So here I am with this camera, wanting to take a picture, not because it's my normal habit to do so but because I would like it to be. For once, I want to pretend that I was raised in a normal family with the normal sentimentality that so many others share.

Like the Kents.

Last Sunday, while waiting for Hudson to finish her chores, I sat in the kitchen with Martha, talking about nothing really. A few weeks after we began dating, Hudson invited me over for dinner with the family on Sunday, and I've been attending every week since. It's helped me get to know the family better, and eased the situation between myself and Mr. Kent. We actually talk now, real conversations about agriculture and politics and sports. He still watches me, like he's waiting for me to make a mistake, take a misstep, hurt his daughter. I wish I could tell him how much Hudson means to me, how precious she is to me, but I don't think it would help. I doubt he would believe me. There's too much past there still that we somehow need to bury.

So while I was talking to Martha - who refuses to allow me to call her Mrs. Kent - she wanders out of the kitchen and into the family room. I remained where I sat until I heard her call out to me to join her. Picking up the glass of iced tea she'd prepared when I first arrived, I walked in to find her sitting on the couch, placing a stack of photo albums on the coffee table in front of her. She patted the space beside her.

"Sit down, Lex."

Martha Kent has this way of making me feel like a little boy. I find I practically snap to attention with any order she gives, and immediately respond to it. Even if sitting beside someone I'm not very close to makes me uncomfortable, I take my place on the couch and glance in curiosity at the first album as she opens it.

"I thought you might want to see some of these - pictures we've taken of Hudson growing up."

She had no idea how much I wanted to. I feigned polite interest, nodding a little and making a noise here and there as she explained some of the moments captured in the pictures. Hudson's first day of school, and subsequent Picture Days thereafter, her first Christmas shopping trip to Metropolis, years of showing various farm animals at the County and State fairs. Truthfully, while pretending I was only mildly interested, I was drinking in every picture of Hudson's childhood, memorizing each moment captured forever on film, her brilliant smile and coltish figure that she is only now slowly beginning to grow into. I found myself wishing that I had been there for those moments, to share a part of a life I've only really had the smallest glimpse of.

I can admit, the photos made me jealous. I've always envied Hudson's family life, and seeing proof of her happiness through the years only made me envy it more. But I wouldn't want it any other way. If I could shelter her from the harsh realities of life forever, I would do so. Sometimes, I stare at her, and I just want to lock her away in a glass box, put her high on a shelf in my castle, and never let anyone or anything ever touch her again. I'd do it, if I didn't think it would break her spirit.

"Have you figured that thing out yet?"

I glance up, breaking from my musings to see Hudson wiggling onto an old swing hanging from the oak tree beside which we set up our picnic. She's entirely too tall for the thing, her feet dragging along the ground, but she still attempts it, even as she casts a deadly glare at the ground. I swear she thinks if she stares at it like that long enough, the earth will simply move out of the way for her.

And I wouldn't be surprised if it did.

"I want you to come push me," she calls out.

"Is that all I'm here for?" I ask, looking back down at the camera and finally locating the 'on' button. A little green light appears when I push it and the lens slowly winds it's way out. Well, that's progress.

"Well, it's not all you're here for." Her reply is filled with innuendo as she flashes me a wicked grin and I wonder at what point I turned her into such a sexual little creature. Not that I'm complaining.

Lifting the camera, I glance through the view piece and click the button on top, hearing a slow whirring sound, indicating that it worked.

"Did you just take my picture?"

I nod. "Yeah. Problem?"

"You're supposed to say 'smile' or 'say cheese' or something like that."

"Never in my lifetime will the words 'say cheese' issue from my mouth, Hudson."

"They just did, loser."

I glare over at her. "Skank."

"Jerk."

"Tease."

"Hey!"

Hudson takes great offense whenever I call her that. She swears she isn't a tease. But she is. She's learned the effects she has on me and she uses each of them fully to her advantage. Surprisingly, I don't mind. I know that I can control her just as easily.

Holding the camera back up to my eye, I watch her through the lens for a moment before calling out, "Smile, Hudson."

Hudson flashes me a soft smile, suddenly blushing, and I think I might upload that one to my desktop, just so I can stare at it all through work. She stares at me in silence while I glance over the settings on the camera. It's peaceful like this, a slight breeze moving through the trees around us, bees buzzing around the wildflowers, Hudson's feet kicking at the ground occasionally as she slowly swings back and forth. Somewhere in the distance, a crop duster is hard at work, the sound of his plane the only indication that there's anything other than nature around us for miles.

Slipping the camera into the empty picnic basket, I lie down on my back, hands folded behind my head, staring up at the clear blue sky.

Hudson sighs. "You're not going to push me, are you?"

"I'm relaxing."

I wait for some form of argument in reply. Instead, I hear the creak of the wooden seat on the swing and then her bare feet moving through the grass. She drops to her knees on the blanket and crawls over to me, sitting with her legs curled beneath her beside me, leaning on her hand.

Turning to look at her, I see that the sun has formed a bright halo around her hair and I'm reminded of the day we first met. My angel.

"You've been really busy with getting LexCorp ready," she comments, reaching out to touch my stomach. She plays idly with a button on my shirt.

I nod. "Yes." I grab her hand, bringing it to my lips where I kiss her fingers gently. "But I've still made time for you."

"I know." Hudson sighs a little and leans over me, resting her head against my chest. "I just worry about you. You've worked so hard to get the Plant running again and then you spend time with me. You have no time to yourself, to rest."

"I'm resting right now," I tell her, running my fingers through her hair. "Spending time with you is restful, Angel. I wouldn't do it otherwise."

She snickers. "That's not what you said the other night."

I grin and playfully pinch her arm. "Hey, that's only because I'd spent twelve hours at the Plant and then you appeared, apparently bitten by some horny bug - "

"Lex!" Hudson squeals and buries her face against my shirt.

I laugh, knowing she's got to be bright red at this moment. For as adventurous as she is learning to be when the lights are out, she's still equally shy by day, no matter how much I've tried to show her it's okay. Hudson still can't accept that she's beautiful and that what we do together is equally as beautiful because of her. It's one of the many reasons I love her.

That's what I call this feeling, anyway. If it's not love, then I'm not certain what it might be. I've never felt like this with anyone before - like nothing in the world can touch me. It's an illusion -- one that only occurs when Hudson is by my side -- but one that I can allow myself to accept. Sometimes I can't help but believe that together, nothing and no one can stand in our way. That kind of delusional belief has got to be love.

I've never told Hudson. It's possible I may never do so. She's so young and has so much potential and there's this whole world out there, just waiting for her to conquer it. I'm not going to take that away from her. Besides, I'm much too selfish to share this feeling. If I tell her, it might disappear. If she knows, Hudson might anticipate more than I can give and I don't want to end up hating her simply because I can't live up to her expectations. It's much better this way - to know I love her and to cherish that feeling deep down inside and never allow the chance for disappointment. It might be unfair that she tells me constantly how she feels, and I just take it and hide it away, but that's who I am. So far, she's accepted that much. I know it won't last.

"You're getting maudlin again."

I raise my head a little to find her watching me, her chin lying on my chest. "Am I?" I brush my thumb against her cheek. "Sorry. I hadn't noticed."

She watches me a moment, her eyes drifting over my face and I wonder what she sees there. Sometimes her gaze seems so intent, like she can see through me, right down to all of my fears and hatreds, past the walls to the insecurities, where I know there's a gigantic neon sign blazing the truth - that I'll never be good enough.

My hand settles on her shoulder, fingers barely grazing the bare skin of her neck.

Hudson reaches up to touch my face. "Occasionally this dark cloud appears over your face," she tells me softly, her fingers trailing down my cheek. "Your eyes turn a stormy grey and. it's like the sun disappears. I don't like it. It. it makes me hurt inside."

"I don't like causing you pain," I tell her, capturing a stray curl with my finger and playing with it. "I'm sorry that I hurt you."

"It's okay."

She leans up, pressing her soft, soft lips against mine. Her kisses are sweet, addictive. There's something special in the fact that they're only for me. When she pulls back, her green eyes are shining, bright with something I've come to recognize as her feelings for me. When I look at them, I sometimes feel I just might be worthy. She thinks I am.

"Do you want to stay here longer? Or go back?" Her voice is barely a whisper. I feel her fingers move along the side of my head, a gentle soothing touch.

"Stay." I close my eyes and her lips move over mine again.

Someday, I'll look back at the picture I took of her and remember that, just for a little while, I was loved in the purest sense of the word.