The crackling sizzles springing from the cast iron skillet is a welcomed sound in the Kent kitchen. The aromatic celebration dancing through the air tickles the noses of everyone in the house, announcing in the best way that breakfast this morning is being made by the master.
Martha's new relationship with Audrey had divided her attention from her family and work around the house. For the last several days she felt it necessary to comfort Audrey, and try to get to the bottom of the mystery surrounding her. However, the time they spent together revealed a piece of herself she didn't realize was missing. It was refreshing to be able to discuss her feelings about Clark and Jonathan with another woman freely. She felt like a dormant part of her was finally blossoming, and it felt good. It felt good to be needed by Audrey, but this morning it feels wonderful to be needed by the men in her life.
As she buzzes around the kitchen, buttering the toast, topping off the stack of pancakes with warm maple syrup, setting the table for breakfast, she wears one of the largest smiles to ever grace her pretty face.
"Clark! Jonathan!" she shouts, dusting the flour from the pancakes onto her apron. "Breakfast is ready!"
Audrey comes into the kitchen carrying a jar of preserves, looking as sunny as the morning. She can't help but feel a little better, having faced her fear, allowing herself to see Lex again, and miraculously was able to do it without shedding a tear, well none he could see. Maybe, just maybe, her heart would be able to be able to find a way to beat without him.
She would always carry with her the memories of what she had in Metropolis; what she had with Lex, but she knows looking back is no way to move forward. She would have to begin picking up the pieces of her shattered dreams, and build a new life; it's what she would have to do to keep herself from going insane.
"Everything smells so wonderful," Audrey says, carrying the plate of biscuits over to the table.
Jonathan comes into the kitchen, following the plate with his eyes, able to snatch a biscuit and steal a bite without Audrey noticing.
"Good morning ladies," he says, chewing quickly as he takes his seat at the head of the table.
Martha passes him a sly smile, noticing the crumbs falling down the front of his flannel.
Audrey brings him over a cup of coffee, relishing the simplicity of a laid back family breakfast, as it reflects wonderfully on her.
"You look nice this morning," Jonathan says, noticing the color in Audrey's cheeks.
"Thank you," she says, blushing, happy to notice this is the first time Jonathan has really let his guard down around her. How nice it feels to finally feel welcomed by the man of the house.
Clark barely clears the doorway, as he enters the kitchen holding an enormous bouquet of perfect white roses, one so large it obscures his face.
"Oh, Clark! Where did those come from?" Martha asks, setting down the plate so she can admire the arrangement.
"Someone just brought them to the door," he says, placing them down, taking up all the space on the counter.
Fearful her nervous shaking will let the coffee cup slip out of her hand, Audrey quickly sets it down, not wanting to announce her fear with the loud crash of glass shattering against the wooden floor. She instantly knows the flowers are for her, and she knows exactly who they are from. White roses are her favorite, and Lex always had a way of finding her the most beautiful ones to ever bloom.
Martha's curiosity leads her to the card nestled down within the blooms. With sparkling eyes she announces "Audrey honey, they're for you."
Martha hands Audrey the tiny envelope, motioning with her eyes for Clark and Jonathan to give her some privacy.
Audrey takes the card and slowly moves towards the doorway to read it in the warm sunbeam that is streaming through the window.
Sliding her pink polished nail under the fold, she carefully opens the envelope, sliding out the parchment paper embossed with interlocking double L's. Her eyes quickly scan the text, taking in the Chinese proverb written inside:
'Tell me and I'll forget. Show me and I may remember. Involve me and I'll understand.'
She closes the card, the color in her face draining away.
x X x X x
As much as Jonathan tries to live by the example set down by God, this Sunday there was far too much work to be done to rest. Unfortunately he had already lost almost an hour of precious daylight searching for the tractor keys that had somehow slipped out of his pocket while he was working in the barn.
Thank goodness for Clark, especially on days like today. His X-Ray vision seemed tailor made to help find such needles in a barn full of haystacks.
"Clark, son, do you mind looking around for my keys" Jonathan asks, already exhausted, the strain of a seven day work week evident on his face.
"But Dad," Clarks says, hoping his father can read his eyes.
Jonathan had laid down the law. Clark was not to use any of his abilities near Audrey, and she was only a few yards away, pacing in the garden lost in her thoughts.
Jonathan looks around, noting the coast is clear. He nods Clark on, figuring his X-Ray vision isn't something she could really see him use anyway.
Clark focuses his eyes, scanning around the barn, searching for the keys. His father had done a good job misplacing them. This wasn't going to be an easy fix, even for Clark.
Clark locks his eyes, concentrating on taking in every square inch of the barn. He doesn't even break despite the tapping on his shoulder.
"Clark, I found them," his father says, relieved.
Clark whirls around and sees a skeleton waving a pair of keys.
Clark almost allows his eyes to relax, but something beyond Jonathan focuses his attention: Audrey walking across the yard back towards the house. However, that's not what's caught his attention. It's the movement, seemingly from inside of her that causes his eyes to fixate on her. If it wasn't for the experience he had with his mother's sonogram, he might not have realized what it is he's looking at. But Clark knows exactly what he's seeing in Audrey: a tiny beating heart.
x X x X x
Audrey is nestled between the sheets, clinging to one of the white roses from the bouquet, hoping it might somehow bring her solace. She brings it to her nose, allowing it to tickle her nostrils. Closing her eyes she hopes to savor the moment, taking in the aroma with a deep breath, the scent reminding her of the warm long days she spent with Lex. As much as she tries to drift into the pleasant dreams of the past, her head remains clouded with one memory, one she has no desire to revisit, but one she cannot seem to escape.
The smell of ammonia stings her nose as she walks through the clinical institution. The isolation she's feeling is radiated by the echoed clicks of her heels as she walks down the long quiet hallway.
Reaching the window of the visitation room, she stops, losing her breath by what she sees. Lex is crouched over the table, broken and alone. His designer suit has been replaced by sterile blue scrubs, his Italian loafers taken from him leaving his feet bare against the cold tile floor. Sadly he appears to be only a shell of the man she loves.
She enters the room, her heart breaking more with every step she takes towards him. The large orderlies standing guard make her feel as though she's visiting a prisoner, and not someone who is ill. Thankfully she's spared from seeing him in the caged confinement his escape attempt earned him, for what she sees now is tearing her heart apart.
As she stands ready to break into a thousand pieces, the largest man's watchful eyes guide her to a seat across from Lex, not allowing her to rush and embrace him as her heart so longs to do.
His sullen expression lessens as his eyes go to her, but it's agony for her to look into them. The dancing light seems to have gone out, leaving his green eyes cold and distant. Fighting against her pain she looks deep into them, willing out a shred of the real Lex, pleading with her stare for him to reach out to her.
As though pulled out of a thick fog. Lex comes back to her, overpowering the effects of the sedatives to connect with the only person he knows will believe him.
He holds his hands out to her, starving for human contact, especially from her. The hands before her do not resemble the ones who had been raised to always clutch a silver spoon. They're cut to shreds, bruised and covered with dried blood.
Fearful of causing him further pain, she softly places her hands on top of his, gently consoling him with her fingers. He closes his eyes, the warmth of her touch able to penetrate the frigidness of the place that's beginning to consume him.
Longing for more he grasps her hands, disregarding the pain the use of them brings to him, clutching to her soft flesh as though a life line sent from heaven above.
"I'm not crazy," Lex whispers, opening his eyes to reveal a confirmation more concrete than his words could provide.
Always able to read his eyes, she instantly can see that he was put here only because he had gambled with his father and lost an important round.
"I know," she says, relieved to be able to believe it.
She had come there fearing that something had really caused him to slip, that somehow all of the tragedy and sadness in his life had caused his mind to escape to a place he might not be able to come back from. Knowing what she had just learned about their future together, the fear that Lex belonged in the asylum was almost too much to bear.
It was a relief to see that although stripped of the things she recognized as Lex, the powerful confident demeanor, the charming smile, and elegant clothes, he still remained intact under the surface. He was broken and down, but not insane. She was confident feeling that whatever happened from here on out they could handle it, for they had each other and that was enough.
If only her thinking so could will it to be.
"I have something for you," he says, reaching towards the seat beside him. He presents a rolled piece of paper which he handles like something sacred. She carefully takes it, beginning to unroll it only to be quickly stopped by the urgency in his eyes. "You can't open it here," he says, watching the guards like a hawk. The level of secrecy unnerves her, fearing this paper contains something about his father's crime, something she does not want to be responsible for.
She sees the unpredictable flicker in his eyes, the only thing in him that she does not love. The change eerily makes him appear like his father, and it scares her that a look from Lex can give her chills. Hidden deep with in his pupils she can see a darkness more black and turbulent than the roughest seas in the ocean, making her wonder if one day that look, that untrustworthy gaze would drown the safe shore on which she stands, the safe harbor of their love.
She has seen this look before, not long ago when he learned about his grandparent's murder. It wasn't a look of sadness or grief, or even one someone might possess who is seeking justice. It was an evil sort of glow signaling clearly his incessant need to win at all costs. Even when locked behind walls of an asylum he could not give up on his irrational pursuits, and Audrey couldn't help but fear how far his doggedness would take him.
Holding on tightly to his hand, she whispers "I love you," a thousand times over saying the same with her eyes, trying to make the blackness disappear. If only the desire in her heart could overpower the part of him that is driven by darkness.
x X x X x
The walk out of Belle Reve was a long one. The dizzying nausea she felt was making it nearly impossible to stomach the clinical stench any longer. Driven by the need to reach the clean air outside, she tries to move more quickly, but every step stabs at her heart with the realization that she's leaving Lex behind in a place he does not belong.
Finally reaching outside she can no longer contain that which has been rising up within her. She runs to the receptacle near the door and vomits. The sickness of her condition combined with the stress of seeing Lex behind those walls proving too much to endure, and the release only seems to trigger more. She crumbles to the ground bawling uncontrollably like a lost child, fearing what tomorrow may bring for her to face alone.
Still sick to her stomach for more reasons than one, she forces herself off the ground, not feeling she can remain near the place that has revealed so much. Climbing into her car, she decides this is the moment to look at the paper Lex entrusted her with. Slowly unrolling it, the page reveals a painting he created as part of his treatment: A surreal self portrait placing him in the midst of flames with the earth shattered to pieces at his side. The image startles her, oddly materializing her greatest fears for Lex's future.
Not emotionally stable enough to think about the repercussions the painting might be insinuating, she rolls it up, hoping to put it out of her mind until she feels well enough to deal with all of her concerns. As she's putting it in her glove compartment she notices some handwriting on the back. Curious, she opens it back up and begins reading.
'My entire life the spectre of a man greater than me, one who would conquer the world, cast a shadow of doubt over any and all of my accomplishments. It was with no sense of irony that my father both pictured himself as that man, and named his son after that man. This spectral shadow beleaguered my life, making it impossible for me to find a sense of purpose which I could call my own. In one day, one act, by a boy, wiped the sense of purpose my father intended for me away. He made it possible for me to forge my own destiny. I could not understand how Clark Kent freed me, until I discovered how he freed me that day. The reality of his talents, the scope of his power, cannot be surpassed by a mere mortal such as myself. Clark's herculean strength coupled with the speed of Hermes are attributes reserved for Gods. I've witnessed these powers, and the truth that is clear to me now, is that to aspire to conquer men like Alexander the Great, is a paltry task in the face of a true God. To be great, one must conquer a God."
Relieved from the darkness of her memory, Audrey gets out of bed, placing the rose into the vase with the others. For a moment she stands before them, caressing the pure petals with her fingertips. Turning her back to them, she goes to her suitcase, reaching beneath the clothes, retrieving the rolled print she risked her life to protect. It is now neatly tied with a lavender ribbon, and she cradles the scroll in her gifted hands; the reason and purpose to which she has come to Smallville.