A/N: Some graphic gore at the end of this chapter. You'll know when it's coming, and if you wish, you can skip the remainder of the chapter; it'll still be clear what happened.
Chapter 39 - Heart
Clark knew he should weep.
He stood in the hospital waiting room, holding his sobbing mother in his arms, knowing his father had only a few hours to live and would spend most of them, if not all, asleep. He was not ashamed to shed tears. His father had taught him not to be. But the tears wouldn't come.
Maybe he was still in denial. The doctors had said it wasn't technically impossible for his dad to have another year or two in him. The only way his dad would survive more than a year or two would be for his condition to somehow be cured, which Clark knew couldn't happen—it was, more or less, a Kryptonian illness. Clark would have happily given his life for his father to have another year, but the procedure to buy him that would have cost more than they could scrape up even if they sold the farm.
Lex hadn't been willing to tell him much about what he had dreamed in his coma, but Clark had caught the basics, and the irony wasn't lost on him. The roles were shifted, but the story was the same.
Clark didn't know what had happened in the barn before he had arrived and called 911. He caught that the two sides of Lex had merged, and based on his mom's description, Clark had to assume that the darkness had won more or less instantly. Lex would never give in to Clark's requests for money. There was probably nothing Clark could offer; Lex might even be glad that Clark's dad was dying.
Still, Clark had to try. Lex was the only hope he had.
He was almost surprised that the mansion security let him in.
More than that, he was surprised that Lex managed to get business up and running so quickly after having been away for so long. He knew it shouldn't surprise him, that if anybody could put so many operations on hold and pick them up so fast, it would be Lex, but even so, the fact that, no more than 24 hours after he had returned from his absence, his entire mansion staff was fully operational, at least as far as Clark could tell, when nobody had been living there for months, spoke to his efficiency.
The amount of money Clark was asking for was astronomical in his own mind. He couldn't even conceive of it. But looking around at the size and quality of this living space, he knew that it was nothing to Lex. Clark could request any amount, from one dollar to a billion, and whether Lex accepted the request or turned him down would have nothing to do with the dollar amount. It would only have to do with whether he wanted to help. If he preferred that Clark's dad die, he wouldn't offer a cent.
Clark took a deep breath and followed the servant into the study. Lex stood, apparently having been told Clark was coming. He nodded to the servant, and then he looked to Clark.
There was nothing in his eyes. No emotion of any sort. Clark was used to that from him. He didn't show what he was feeling. It didn't mean he wasn't feeling anything; it just meant that Clark wasn't going to know.
"Have you heard about my dad?" Clark asked.
"You should be with him. He doesn't have long."
"That depends on you."
A brief flash of understanding came over Lex's face before it returned to its emotionless state. "That answers that."
Clark took a step closer. "You knew."
"It's not hard to guess. You need money."
"Yes."
"Find yourself another billionaire to pretend to care about."
"I never pretended anything, Lex. We worked together. Just you and me." Clark already knew the battle was lost. But he didn't have anything to lose.
"You kept an eye on me, spied on me and reported back to my other half. I used you and took advantage of you, albeit with your consent."
"No. That's not all it was."
"Of course it's not, now that you need money."
"Lex, he's going to die. He's the closest thing you have to have a father, he loves you, we all love you—"
"Get out of my house."
Clark took a step closer, and he felt a familiar sharp pain in his skin, a rolling ache in his stomach. Lex had gone back to carrying kryptonite in his pocket.
Clark didn't care. He didn't step closer, but he didn't step back, either. Instead, he knelt where he was.
Lex scoffed. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Begging. On my knees. He doesn't deserve to die."
"For God's sake."
"We were brothers. I think some part of you still believe that, I think he's alive—"
"It's always about the other guy."
"I don't know, OK?" Clark's voice cracked, and tears spelled from his eyes. "I don't know what the split is, what the difference is, but I don't care. I love all of you. I know you'll never believe me, but I had to ask, because…"
"Your father is going to die."
Clark hung his head.
Lex took a step closer, then another. The pain from the kryptonite intensified until it was almost unbearable, and Clark struggled to keep his mind where it was, focused on the issue at hand.
Then Lex said, "Make me an offer."
Clark looked up, not daring to believe what he heard.
"Time's a wasting."
"Y-you have my blood. You said you were able to stabilize production from the marrow."
"That's true. I don't need blood or marrow from you."
"CSF?"
"Not as promising as I was expecting."
"What do you want?" It was getting hard not to back up, but Clark forced himself to hold eye contact and stay put.
Lex looked away for a moment, as if considering. "A fair trade," he said.
"What does that mean?"
"It's your father's heart that gave out. I think a heart for a heart is fair."
Clark felt like all of the air was being pressed out of his lungs, and it had nothing to do with the kryptonite. Sure, he would give his life for his father's, but... "Do you want to kill me?"
"No, no. I just want a sample of the cells."
"How are you going to do that? Needle in the chest?"
"It'll take something more like a drill."
Clark blinked back a new set of tears, and, mustering all of his strength, he pulled himself to his feet. "Yes," he said softly.
Lex raised his eyebrows. "You're giving me permission?"
"You'll pay for his treatment?"
"I keep my deals."
"Then yes."
For the first time in the conversation, Lex showed emotion on his face. He smiled. But Clark doubted it showed much of what he was really feeling.
"Well then," he said. "No time to waste."
Clark already knew where Lex preferred to do his medical procedures. He headed to the same room where he had given his marrow, and he took off his shirt and laid down on his back on the table.
Lex followed him out of the study. He grabbed a few things from the next room before joining Clark, wearing a surgical mask, goggles, gloves, and a white coat.
"Ready?"
Clark was only vaguely aware that he should be shocked by how fast Lex had grabbed his things. He wasn't sure whether let's just always had the equipment on hand, or if he had expected Clark to come. Or if he had been wanting heart cells for a lot longer than Clark knew. He wasn't sure which was more terrifying.
"I'm ready," Clark said, and he closed his eyes.
The first thing he felt was the cold antiseptic wipe running over his skin. He didn't know why Lex bothered with that. Germs wouldn't hurt Clark; maybe they would ruin the sample.
Next, Lex grabbed a few straps and tied down Clark's arms and legs. Clark almost asked what the point was, given that he could easily break through them, but he realized he wouldn't be able to, not with the kryptonite weakening him.
Lex stepped away from the table for a moment, and when he came back, Clark's sickness redoubled. Clark pried his eyes open, and he saw a stack of glowing green rocks in Lex's hands. One by one, he began to tape them around the edges of Clark's torso.
Clark squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to think about his father, about how much he loved him, how much he wanted to keep his family together…
Sharp pain pierced his chest. Clark groaned, but it really wasn't anywhere near as bad as he was expecting. It felt more like when Lex had drawn blood, which he was almost used to at this point.
"Local anesthetic," Lex explained. "I'm not expecting it to work, but it'll make my job easier if it does. Less... thrashing on your part. So I can focus and get what I need." He clapped Clark on the shoulder. "Wouldn't wanna do this twice, would you?"
Clark pulled in a ragged breath.
"Try to relax. This will be over in just a minute."
"Lex… Please. You don't have to do this."
"You don't have to do this. Is the deal off?"
Clark set his jaw. "Do it," he said.
A moment later, he heard the high-pitched buzzing of the drill.
He clenched his teeth, until his screams pried his mouth open.
Skin peeled back, flesh ripping, muscles torn and shredded. Warm liquid running down the sides of his chest, in all directions, so much of it. He could hear his bones crack, the snapping resonating through his body, then the coldness of the drill, the freezing metal pressing into his heart as it beat frantically against it, seizing. Something sharp pierced it, the impossible cold penetrating deeper and deeper.
Suddenly he couldn't pull in a breath. His veins flooded with ice and fire; his head was going to explode; his fingertips tingled, going numb. His eyes rolled back, eyelids opening a slit, and the corners off his vision were fuzzy and dark.
And then the tape was being torn from his skin, and his blood wasn't boiling anymore, and his chest was seeming itself back together, and he could breathe.
"I call that a success," Lex said to himself, releasing the bindings. "And you're no worse for the wear."
Clark ran a hand over his chest. He was soaked with blood, but there was no wound. "You'll send the money for my dad?"
"Already did."
Clark leaned back in the chair, letting his breath out. "Thank you," he whispered.
Lex didn't respond.
