Monday, Feb. 3rd
As he came out of his languor, Lex reached over and turned up the water temperature of his shower. After the biting cold, the warmth was more than welcome. Of course it was nothing like having Isis in his arms. Or being in her arms.
They had fallen into a kind of pattern. Isis' work, both for him and Kwan, was increasingly keeping her home at the mansion, although they were rarely able to do simple things like eat together unless it was already penciled into their schedules.
But at night…
If Isis wasn't already in bed waiting for him when he came up from the office, then she was waking him with soft kisses and her teasing, sylphan hands.
After their first night Lex realized that Isis' "born-again virgin" had not been an act. But that didn't mean sex still didn't look really good on her, or that she didn't take to it well.
Oh so well.
Lex felt the stirrings of an erection.
She always fell asleep curled into his body -- her face in the juncture of his neck and shoulder as if she could hide in him. Yet she was never there in the morning. Somehow Isis managed to slip from his arms during the night, and no matter how early Lex woke he never caught her sneaking off.
So Lex got up. He showered, trying, often in vain, to wash away the smell of Isis on his skin and the languor of sex from his body. Then, after attending to his morning toiletries, Lex returned to his room to dress…and to find Isis curled up in his spot on the bed.
Lex leaned over and brushed an errant braid from Isis' face.
Gasping she caught his wrist in her hand, her eyes popping open. "Lex!"
"Jeez! Isis you nearly gave me a heart attack," he said, sitting on the edge of the bed.
She snorted. "Ditto, Bald Dude."
Frowning, Lex used his right hand to extricate his left. "You mind letting me go?"
"I'm sorry, Lex," Isis said, relaxing into the bed. She released him, covering her eyes with her arm.
"Bad dreams?"
She hesitated a moment, then nodded.
He ran a nimble finger down her arm. "I thought those had stopped."
"Not, uh, completely," she said, lowering her arm.
"The kidnapping was months ago. I thought Mrs. Cauldhaume got you an appointment with a psychiatrist," he asked, concern coloring his voice.
A smile lit her face. "You know the bad one never really go away."
Lex recognized her evasion for what it was. "No, they don't," he agreed softly, leaning over to kiss her.
Chuckling Isis put her hands up to stop him.
Lex pouted.
"Hey, not only do you have to go to work--"
"It's my company. I can go in whenever I want."
"--but I also have a serious case of morning breath."
Lex shied away. "Oh no! Done in by bad bacteria."
Isis smiled sleepily. "Get dressed, lo-- Lex. I left you something," she said turning to face his impressive closet.
Knowing that she was watching, Lex let his towel slip from around his waist. "There's nothing orange like yesterday's choice, is there?"
"Yesterday's was not orange," she protested. "It was burnt…orange."
A sharp bark oflaughter escaped Lex. Laid out on one of the chairs by the dead fireplace was a gray pinstripe suit, a plum shirt set inside. "You want me to look like an eggplant?"
"It's not eggplant," she said sleepily. Her eyes were half-lidded when he turned to look at her. "Is plum. It'll bring out…your pallor…and your…" her voice was fading, "blue eyes."
Lex watched her go back to sleep. Suddenly she looked very fragile in his beg bed, as if she had been made of blown glass. And were those dark circles under her eyes? A devilish smile curled Lex's lips: just further evidence of their long sleepless nights.
Isis' turning in her sleep revealed four long scratches that began at her neck and ended midway across her left cheek. Had Lex done that? It was possible, but he knew they hadn't been there last night. Picking up the plum shirt, he vowed to ask her about the marks later.
Wednesday, Feb 5th
Pete slid into an empty booth at The Talon. In moments, Lana was there to take his order. "So, still on your white mocha mocha fix, Pete?"
He rubbed his hands together. "Something about that milk chocolate, man."
Lana laughed. "Comin' right up, Pete."
"Thanks Lana."
"Pete!"
At the sound of his name, Pete turned. Waved to Chloe as she breezed in. she slid into the booth across from him. "Hey, I missed Trig. You mind if I borrow your notes Pete?"
"Missed Trig?" It was one of the many classes they didn't share.
"Yeah. Following a lead on the Anna Constantine thing."
Pete's voice dropped to a whisper as he said, "Something new come up on who might've killed her?" He reached into his bag for his notes.
"Not much," she admitted with a sound of exasperation. "But you know the more research I do on her the more it's like I know her."
Pete opened his binder and handed Chloe his notes. "Sure. You're learning all about her."
Lana came to the table with Pete's coffee-drink. "Here's your white mocha-mocha, Pete. Hey Chloe, do you want your regular."
"Yeah, thanks Lana." She waited for Lana to go before continuing. "It's more than just immersing myself in Anna, Pete. It's like…like I know her. Like she coulda been one of us. She could've been my fashionably loud sister, Pete."
"Here's your coffee, Clo," Lana said.
Chloe handed her the money for her coffee. "Thanks Lana. And thanks for listening, Pete. Gotta go," she said sliding out the booth. "Thanks again for the notes, Pete," she called over her shoulder, nearly sprinting out the coffee-shop.
"Does she ever slow down?" Pete wondered aloud.
"She sure doesn't at home," Lana said, shaking her head.
"Hey do you have a minute, Lana?"
She shrugged. "Why not. I am part owner," she said with a wry smile. Setting her tray down, she slid into the booth across from Pete. "So what's up?"
"Chloe's totally oblivious, isn't she?"
Lana's look was sympathetic when she said, "I'm sorry, Pete."
Shaking his head slowly, Pete wondered what more he could do.
"Well you know there's always being up front with her," Lana suggested.
"I can't do that. Lana, I can't put our friendship on the line like that."
"Look Pete, either you're going to lust after Chloe for the rest of your life or you're going to have to risk something and go after her," she said with a shrug. "Because, y'know as smart as Chloe is, sometime she can't see what's right in front of her face. She's not a psychic"
Pete stared at her blankly.
"Then again you could move on," she said with a smile. "I mean, honestly, it won't affect anyone but you. Gotta go, Pete," she said sliding out the booth. She pulled the tray along after her.
"Yeah, uh, thanks Lana," he said, dazed and confused.
Lana patted his hand. "Just watch…that Ross charm will hit that perfect someone so hard you'll be the one feeling the aftershocks."
Staring after her as she made her rounds Pete muttered an "I hope you're right" to himself.
Friday, February 7
"Good afternoon, Mr. Kent."
Clark smiled. "Hey Matthews. Is Lex here?" he asked as he crossed the threshold.
"Yes sir…"
Clark fidgeted, still finding being addressed as "sir" more than a little weird.
"…I believe he is in the study."
"Thanks Matthews."
The butler inclined his head.
"I'll, uh, find my own way."
"As you wish, Mr. Kent."
"Right," he said softly, ambling in the direction of Lex's office.
Very quickly he was pushing open the study door with one arm and shrugging out of his fleece-lined jacket with the other. "Hey Lex, don't freak out it's just me," he said. "Of course somehow you always seem to know that already…"
Clark looked up from the sleeves of his jacket. The back of Lex's chair was to him. Strange. "Lex?" It was possible that Matthews was wrong about the specifics of Lex's whereabouts. It was highly unlikely…
"Lex," Clark called again, approaching the wide desk cautiously. Slowly. Besides, Clark continued in his head, Lex is only human right? He had to go to the bathroom eventually, right? Of course this was Smallville, which meant that just because the creature in front of you had four long legs, an equally long tail and mane, didn't mean it wasn't a meteor mutant horse out to kill you. (They didn't really get zebras in Kansas.)
So on that thought of boundless optimism, Clark scanned through the back of Lex's chair.
Someone was there, but the frame was too delicate around the shoulders and skull to be Lex. So then who…?
Clark grinned to himself. Isis thought she was going to get him. Boy was she in for a surprise.
Clark brought his pace back to his usual amble. Almost to the chair now, he reached out, Lex on his lips as he turned the chair around.
There was a split second when Isis was still asleep, when Clark realized that he'd made a mistake, nauseous, before Isis' eyes popped open. Flashed green.
Then she screamed.
The sense of nausea intensified. It was all Clark could do to keep from doubling over.
And just as suddenly it was over.
"Clark, are you all right?" Isis demanded.
Clark shook his head, trying to clear it. "Yeah, I think so. That was--"
Their heads shot up to the door. Lex and Matthews were both standing in the threshold, looking as if they meant to save Clark and Isis from a burning house. It was Lex who recovered first. "What's going on here?" he asked calmly enough, considering the circumstances. "We heard screaming."
Still seated, Isis blushed under her milk-chocolate skin. "That was me. I'm sorry Lex, Matthews. I was daydreaming and Clark surprised me."
Having heard enough, Matthews asked if anyone wanted any refreshment -- "Coffee please," from Isis -- before retreating.
Lex, his usual saunter back, stalked across the room and perched on the edge of his impressive desk. "Let's see, Clark, the last time I found you alone in here with my gi-- guest you were kissing her. I see you've moved up to terrorization."
Clark didn't seem to have noticed his friend's near slip when he began to protest, "Lex, I--"
Chuckling, Isis interrupted him. "Jeez you're easy Clark."
"He's easy too?" Lex's tone was indignant, but his eyes were dancing. He slapped his friend on the arm. "C'mon Clark, you're the most honest person I know." He nodded to the dark-haired maid who brought in Isis' coffee on a silver tray. "For the most part," he added mischievously.
Isis rose from Lex's chair. Likewise, he slid off the edge of the desk. Opening his mini-fridge, Lex offered Clark a bottle of his imported water.
"Sure." Clark caught the tossed bottle easily. "Hey you really should try this stuff called Clearly Canadian."
"That clear fruit soda Lana has been going on about?"
Clark nodded.
"I like it," Isis said in an offhand manner. Rejoining their little group, she took the supplicant's seat. "So are you still coming tonight, Clark?"
He nodded.
"Bien. Although I didn't know you liked opera."
Clark's face was chagrined when he said, "Not exactly."
Circling to his chair, Lex said, "It's a favor."
"Whatever did you do, Clark?"
Clark began to grin. "Actually I promised Lex I'd go with you guys to the opera if he promised to come bowling with us on Valentine's Day."
Isis' jaw dropped. "No way! Go Clark. Pete's gonna have bowling ball jokes forever."
"I know," Lex replied dourly.
They sat around in semi-awkward silence. Then Isis set her coffee on the edge of Lex's desk and rubbed her forehead with her hand. "I think I'm gonna go," she said, standing.
Lex rose from his chair and Clark pushed himself off the edge of the desk.
She smiled. "What gentlemen. I'll see you later, Clark," she said stepping close to him. She reached up and kissed him fraternally on the cheek.
"What? None for me?"
Isis laughed and left.
Still blushing, Clark turned to his friend and asked, "Are you two…together?"
Coming around his desk to the pool table, Lex asked, "What makes you think that?" He handed Clark a pool cue.
"I don't know. Just…something."
"Hmm."
Clark decided to move on to a safer topic: "So how's your Dad taking the separation. It's been like three months since you left LuthorCorp?"
"Not quite." Lex looked up and flashed his friend a smile. "On the surface he's taking it quite well." Lex took the rack that had been on the pool balls off and lined up a shot. "In other words he's still pissed as Hell."
"You don't seem too upset about it," Clark said watching Lex sink a solid.
"Pissing my father off has been one of my greatest aspirations. I'm always pleased when I succeed." He missed his shot.
"Well I think you're doing a pretty good job."
Isis plucked her linen dinner napkin from her lap and placed it on the table.
Lex and Clark blinked owlishly at her.
"Oh, no need to stop talking. I'm just going to the Ladies' Room," she said rising. "Excuse me."
Clark pulled out his chair to let her pass. "Wow that was really weird."
"What was, Clark?" Lex sipped his wine, wondering if Clark would voice his thought for him.
"I had actually forgotten Isis was here for a minute."
"Hmm," he said in both acknowledgment and agreement. Isis had been very quiet at dinner and subdued during the opera. Even Clark had found it funny.
Clark shrugged. "Guess she had a long day what with working at school and for you."
"You're probably right." But I don't think so, Lex thought.
Neither did Clark, actually, but he wasn't ready to share his meteor-rock based theories with anyone yet. Not until he had one at least.
Early Tuesday, February 11
Chloe stared out at the snow as it fell past her window. She wondered if she was the first person to see it. Of course after the white Christmas in Gotham and their flight home nearly being grounded as the entire Eastern Seaboard was hit with near-blizzard conditions, Chloe wasn't exactly amused by the lacy flakes.
But after the horrible nightmare she had just woken up from, watching the snow dance merrily outside her wind was relaxing and refreshing. Cleansing.
The strangest part about it, though, was that it had felt like she had come in on the middle of the nightmare. She imagined it was how an understudy in a Broadway show felt when the lead got sick during Act 3 and suddenly she had to go on. But worse. So much worse.
Watching the snow fall, trying to forget the feeling of hands clawing at her clothes, her body, her soul. Chloe couldn't know that Isis had been up far longer and had watched the first few flakes begin to fall.
Just as Isis couldn't know that wrenching herself from Dylan's metaphysical arms, when he was so close to having what he wanted, would send him in search of his second favorite victim.
Lex thought he heard a dull thump against the window. Then another. Quickly he looked up from his work toward the bright, bright sunlight coming through the stained glass. The shadow of a falling sheet of snow rushed past as he watched.
Thump -- thump -- thump!
A quick eyebrow shrug and he was back to work. His Highland ancestors had indulged in pointed roofs for weather such as this. There was no point paying it any mind considering the house was just doing its job.
"Like I should," he muttered to himself.
He didn't look up again, despite the continued muffled sounds of falling snow sheet. He even ignored the door being opened.
"Hey Lex."
He looked up. Smiled warmly. "You're ruddy, Isis."
"It's great outside!" she proclaimed a touch breathlessly. She kept turning her hands over in her gloves. "Whatcha working on?" she asked as she came toward him.
"The usual. Aren't you hot in that coat?"
She shrugged. "Still cold from outside." Coming up behind him, she read the monitors over his shoulder. "Hmm…interesting."
Lex shot out of his chair. The snowball Isis had been holding went sliding down his back.
Isis shot out of the office, laughing.
Lex bellowed her name.
"Catch me if you can, LL."
It was telling that Matthews had his coat ready for him as he came dashing down the hall. Lex only slowed for a moment. "Did she plan this?"
"Miss Ross only said that I should have your driving coat ready for you, sir."
"Thanks!" And he was out the door.
Lex dove for cover behind the first snow bank he saw.
"Get out of there, silly! I was just trying to get you to come outside. Didn't you hear me throwing snowballs at your window?" Isis asked as she settled herself on top of the embankment.
"I thought that was snow falling from the roof."
She snorted. "Yeah, like one huge sheeee--!" The rest of her sentence was engulfed in a shriek as the embankment collapsed from beneath her. She landed on Lex, still lying behind it and now dusted with snow.
"What the--!"
Grinning, Lex answered her unfinished question: "I was digging underneath."
She gasped at him. "You weakened the snow bank on purpose!"
"Uh huh. Call us even."
Lex figured her gaping mouth was the perfect invitation for a kiss -- so he took her up on the offer. He pushed them over, bringing his lips down on hers. Isis ripped off her gloves, the better to clutch at the back of Lex's neck. She pressed up into the kiss, a moan bubbling up from her throat.
Despite his raging hard-on urging him to do otherwise, Lex pulled away. Isis still held his head in her hands. She reached up and nipped at his lower lip. "That was fun," she said breathlessly, "but you're a touch heavy and the snow is just plain cold."
Grinning, Lex rolled off Isis then extended his hand to help her up.
He got a face full of snow.
Laughing she tried to stand but only managed to kneel in her long coat. "you're such a sucker!"
"Why you…" They tumbled end over end as Lex launched himself at Isis. Breathless, she pushed herself off him, running away. Lex was quickly on his feet following her, throwing loose snow at will. He felt himself grow hot with exertion and loved it. Laughing too, Lex thought of all the things he would do with Isis when he caught her. Kissing was the least of them.
"Oh come on, Lex," Isis cried, running backward, "is that all you've got!"
"I don't see you doing much better," he said as he caught up with her, grabbing her upper arms. He pulled her into another kiss -- shorter because they could hardly catch their breath, but no less intense.
Isis dropped to the ground. "Let's make snow angels."
Quirking an eyebrow, Lex looked down at Isis with incredulity. "Snow angels?"
"Snow angels." Lying back, she began swinging her arms and legs. "Excuse me," she said, leaning up, "you're in the way of my right angel-wing."
"You're serious."
"Tres." Isis flopped back down and continued working on her snow angel.
Lex stared at Isis happily swinging her arms and legs. Flopping down himself, Lex shook his head. "How do you get me to do stuff like this?"
"Oh I bet Clark coulda done as good a job."
"Well…"
"But I bet the sex wouldn't be as good."
Lex nearly choked, he was laughing so hard. "God I'd hope so." After a moment: "I have to go back, Ice."
Isis reached across the space of untouched snow between them. "It was fun, wasn't it?" she asked, smiling.
He took her hand. "Thanks for the break Ice. I needed it." He got up and helped her out of her angel, tucking her hand into his elbow once she was up.
"Actually I think I'm gonna stay out here for a while," she said, disengaging herself.
"Okay." He raised her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles.
Isis watched him walk to the house, wondering if she should go inside herself. Lying down for that snow angel had been a mistake: whatever energy she'd mustered to play with Lex had been swept away with every swing of her arms. But she was only going to walk around to the back of the house -- a feat all its own -- and see how pretty the snow had made the grounds. Then off to the kitchen for--
"Hey Isis!" Lex called.
She turned, swaying slightly on her feet.
Lex threw his snowball, swearing lightly when it seemed to miss.
She collapsed.
"Isis!" Lex ran across the yard toward her. "Matthews! Help!"
"I'm right here, Mr. Luthor." Matthews came puffing and sliding in his dress shoes behind Lex.
"I would have sworn I missed her, Matthews," he said dropping to his knees beside the unconscious Isis.
"So would I sir."
Lex ripped off his gloves and felt for her pulse. It was steady beneath his fingers. "Come on Ice, wake up," he muttered.
"Shall I call an ambulance, sir?"
"In this snow? The Mansion's driveway isn't shoveled" Lex didn't look up from Isis' closed eyes. "They'll never make it. Tell Enrique to get the Aston Martin ready."
"Sir, that will never get through this snow."
Lex whipped around to face Matthews, a hard look on his face. "Get something."
Matthews began backing away. "Yes, sir."
"C'mon Isis…c'mon. You've had acid trips that were worse than the snowball I threw at you." he lifted her into his arms. Only the memory of her pulse steady under his finger tips made her dead weight bearable. He touched his forehead to her cold one. "Please open your eyes, Isis."
A truck horn honked behind them. Lex didn't realize how quiet it had been in the snow, Isis in his arms, until he turned in shock at the sound of it.
Enrique hopped out of a gleaming red pickup. "Good thing you kept this around, huh Mr. Luthor?" the mechanic-slash-driver said as Lex lifted Isis in his arms.
Forgot I had this thing. Help me get Isis in here."
"Yes, sir." They propped Isis against the door. "Do you want to drive?"
Lex was torn by a moment of indecision. He pulled open the door. "I'll drive."
Enrique put his hand on the door to stop his employer. The look in Lex's eye was wild and the roads were still mostly thigh-deep in snow. "Sir, I really think--"
Yanking the door from Enrique, Lex slammed it shut. "I said I'd drive."
"Yes, sir."
He gunned the engine.
They slid once, over a patch of black ice, when he thought he heard Isis mumble his name. Lex kept up his stream of useless pleading all the way to the hospital. Where he fishtailed to a stop in front of the Emergency wing. Ignoring yells and horns of protest, Lex jumped out of the red pickup, ran around the front and pulled open the passenger's side door. Isis slid into his waiting arms, a frightening dead weight.
Cradling her in his arms, he ran into the Emergency Room. "I need help! I need help!"
A nurse came out from behind her station. "What's the problem, sir?" She rested both hands on his arms, forcing him to stop swinging Isis wildly around and focus.
"She collapsed. We were having a snowball fight and she collapsed."
The woman pulled a pen light from her breast pocket. Shining it in Isis' eyes, she asked Lex, "Was she hit in the head?"
"I…I don't think so. I would have sworn that I only grazed her cheek, but…I don't know. I can't remember."
The nurse nodded. "Okay. Let's put her on this gurney, and then I need you to come over here and fill out some forms about--"
"You're not going to treat her?"
"Sir, she--"
Voice dropping to a steely calm, Lex said, "My girlfriend needs a doctor. Now."
But the nurse matched him tone for tone: "Don't think you're going to bully me, Mr. Luthor. I don't care who this woman is to you. Her condition is not as pressing as some others here, and if I say she waits then she waits."
"My--"
"I don't care how much money your family has given to this hospital. It's still a hospital, and here the most needy get first dibs, not the rich. Now…" she took a deep breath, "either you put the young woman down and do as I requested or you get back in your fancy car and start the long drive to Metropolis."
For three long heartbeats Lex stared at this woman, almost as tiny as diminutive Chloe, and considered her words. He was at her mercy.
Wordlessly he set Isis down and followed the nurse back to her station. Back to business as usual, she slid the requisite forms across the high counter to Lex. Looking up briefly he saw that her name was Norma.
"You can sit while filling those out, sir."
With a deft twist of his fingers, he turned the forms around on their clipboard and pushed them back at her, pen on top. "Done." At her surprised look he said, "I have a lot of experience with hospital forms."
"I see. Please take a seat."
As he turned to go her heard her say to a passing intern: "Marco, check on the girl in bed four. I'm pretty sure she's just asleep, but you never know." Lex sat down heavily next to a woman with a crying two-year old girl and another woman nervously flipping through dog-eared magazines. For a man who had, at one time, had little use for woman outside the sensual, Lex suddenly found himself surrounded by them.
He forced himself not to look over at Isis. Intern Marco was going to check on her. Nurse Norma had said she was sleeping. Not a concussion. She wasn't critical enough to see right away.
Lex smacked his open palm with his fist. He stopped resisting and turned then. Somehow every relationship in which he found himself -- whether platonic or erotic, open or discreet -- seemed to fall apart in his hands. So far his friendship with Clark was the most stable--
Isis began to stir on her gurney. Lex shot out of his seat, disturbing the reader on his right. Ignoring her annoyed "Hey!" he went to Isis' side.
"Isis…Isis can you hear me?"
"Mr. Luthor, please have--"
But he tuned her out completely as he tried to hear Isis's mumbled words over the constant noise of the Emergency Room. Her voice began to rise. Her head snapped violently to the left as if she had been slapped.
Lex felt hands on his arms, trying to pull him away.
"NO!" The hands stopped. Everything stopped. For in that moment Isis began convulsing. Her right hand shot out. He caught her wrist, but not before she raised three angry red welts along the left side of his face.
The hands, it turned out, had belonged to Nurse Norma who leant them to the task of holding down Isis. "Get me a sedative, now!"
There was a flurry of activity behind them, but both were busy keeping Isis from hurting herself. A nurse, an intern, someone, materialized at the head of the gurney holding a syringe and bottle of sedative. "Five cc's?"
"Yeah."
A quick measurement, checking for air bubbles, then the syringe was jabbed into Isis' neck as Nurse Norma held her head down and to one side. Her frantic limbs stilled almost immediately.
There was a smart remark floating around in the back of Lex's brain, but he let it stay there. He could see in Nurse Norma's eyes that Isis had just moved up in priority, but that didn't make him feel better. Guilty, yes. Better, no. He kept that to himself too.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Luthor, I--"
He waved his hand. "Nothing to apologize for," he said wearily. "Your first estimation was right and--"
"Norma!"
They both turned to see Isis arched off the gurney, back bent sharp as a bow. Their hands were instantly on her, but despite the drugs in her system it was twice as hard to keep her down.
"Is anyone awake in here," Norma shouted. "I said restraints now! Carol, get over here and stabilize here head."
An imposing honey-blond with large hands gently cupped Isis' face, keeping her from hurting herself more. The woman suddenly jumped back.
"Carol, what do you think you're-- Oh my God," Nurse Norma murmured, seeing what her nurse had seen.
"What!" Lex demanded. But then he saw it too. On Isis' left cheek were four long bloody gashes. Gashes that, moments ago, had been four thin, nearly healed scabs.
The nurse turned to Norma. "I didn't do anything--"
"Not now, Carol. Gotta hold her down until-- Marco here! Get her legs. Mr. Luthor, her right side please."
Together the four of them had Isis secured to the bed in under thirty seconds. And yet she struggled. Nurse Norma turned sharp eyes on Lex. "What was she taking?"
"Peppermints."
"Now's not the time to play cute, Mr. Luthor. The only patients I get in Emergency needing restraints are psychopaths, trauma victims and addicts so, unless you'd there's something in your friend's medical history you'd like to share, tell me what she's been taking." She took a deep breath. "It's the only way we'll be able to treat her."
It was only Nurse Norma's concern that kept Lex's anger from crashing in a wave of fury. I assure you that, unless Isis has been using without my knowledge, she is as clean as you and I."
Nurse Norma looked over her shoulder as Marco and Carol wheeled Isis into the observation wing of the Emergency Room. "Is it possible she's having an allergic reaction?"
"She isn't allergic to anything as far as I know." Then he remembered…
Nurse Norma understood the change that come over his face instantly. "What?"
He sighed. "About four months ago Isis was kidnapped. Her abductors slapped a Captain Tripps patch on her."
"Where?"
"Back of her neck."
Nurse Norma bit back an oath. "You said three-- no, four months ago? Even the trace elements will be gone from her system."
Lex paused. Then: "It was nearly pure."
Nurse Norma did swear then. "Insidious little designer bastard." Their heads turned as EMTs wheeled in another emergency -- a bleeder. "Check in with the nurses' station, Mr. Luthor. Someone will update you." Nurse Norma touched his arm briefly before joining the battle to save life.
Suddenly very tired, Lex went back to the little waiting area. The mother and daughter were still there, but the nervous magazine flipper had disappeared. Almost as an afterthought, Lex pulled out his wireless phone and dialed the Kents. He didn't know the Rosses number offhand, but he was sure one of them would.
Lex felt a hand on his left shoulder. He looked up into Martha Kent's face. "You should go home, Lex."
"I have Matthews bringing my work to the hospital. I'll be fine."
"You don't need to work Lex. You need to rest," Martha retorted. "You've been sitting in this hospital for almost twelve hours. It's late you're exhausted." She smoothed her hand over his head in a motherly fashion. It took a supreme act of will to keep from kissing his forehead. "Besides, soon you'll begin to smell."
Lex managed a smile. "Not if the janitorial staff disinfects me first."
A tender smile gracing her own face, Martha sat on Lex's left, enfolding his hand in both hers. Their knees touched. "You care very much for Isis, don't you Lex?"
"She's become a good friend, yes."
The frown that creased the line between her eyes never made it to her mouth when she called him a liar. "My son may be too inexperienced to understand the subtle byplay between a man and woman, but I have some experience in trying to conceal a roman or two. You can't tell me what you feel for Isis is simply friendship. Or that that's all she feels for you."
When Lex didn't reply, Martha continued softly: "No matter what Lionel may have taught you, love is a strength not a weakness. It's what Jon and I have always tried to teach Clark."
Thank you for your concern, Mrs. Ke--"
Martha squeezed his hand. "Don't push me away Lex. I'll just drag you along after me."
He managed a chuckle.
Her gaze flickered past his head and, although her expression never changed, she seemed to glow suddenly
Lex turned and looked over his shoulder. Clark and Jonathan were at the far end of the hall. Well that explains the glow, he thought.
"Look, Lex, you don't have to admit your feelings to me or anyone else. At least…at least be honest with yourself, Lex. And Isis. I think you both deserve that, don't you?"
"Yes, ma'am," he replied very seriously, eyes too-honest wide as he watched her stand.
Martha didn't resist kissing his forehead then. She caressed the right side of his head, and Lex thought that if he'd had hair she would have just ran her head through it.
"Ready to go, hon?"
She turned to Jonathan. Nodded. Turned back to Lex. "We'll drop you off, Lex."
There wasn't even a moment's hesitation to Jonathan's. "Sure. You need some rest, son." Jonathan had always been partial to love-struck fools. Especially the suffering kind.
Lex stood slowly, ignoring Clark's hopeful, open smile. "Your wife is a very tenacious woman, Mr. Kent."
"Don't I know it. So…the truck can hold three easy, but someone's going to have to ride in out in the cab. Clark, what do you say? Up for a wind--"
"That's all right. My driver was already on his way for an entirely different errand, but I appreciate the offer. Goodnight." Then, as an afterthought: "Thank you for coming. I'll call tomorrow, Clark."
Martha hugged Lex quickly. "If you see Janice or Mark before you go, give them our best and let them know we're praying for them."
"Will do. Goodnight." Lex waited until they were out of sight before pulling out his wireless phone.
Some time later when he saw the panted legs on the other side of his open laptop, Lex already had his argument for why he should be allowed to stay past visiting hours ready. He closed the laptop and looked up.
Nurse Norma -- Doctor Norma, he amended -- was looking down at him, holding standard white bedding in her arms. "Judge Ross had an early morning trial. Mr. Ross is staying in a room reserved for family. You can have the other bed if you'd like."
"Thank you, Doctor, but I'll be fine here for now."
She perched on the chair next to Lex's. "You'll be no good to Isis if you make yourself sick worrying about her."
"I assure you, Doctor, that I have more than a little experience with hospital sleepovers. I know my limits."
"And I have exceeded mine. Luckily my shift is over," she said, rising. She set the bedding in her now vacant seat. "Goodnight, Mr. Luthor. Try to get some rest."
He gave her his professional smile, not because he didn't appreciate her concern, but because he was too weary for anything else. Doctor Norma seemed to understand.
Clark had always liked staying over at the Rosses. By the time his parents had finally deemed him Sleepover Save, the two eldest Ross kids were both in college, so Clark always had a bed if he wanted one. Needless to say he was happy Same and Kathy were so close in age. Just because Kathy was the only Ross girl didn't mean she wasn't a girly-girl and there was no way Clark was sleeping surrounded by pink froth.
Usually, though, the sleepovers were less tense experiences than this. "You sure you want to stay over, son?" Jonathan asked.
"Yeah, Dad. I'm sure." He shrugged. "I gotta do something, you know? I'd feel pretty useless just sitting around the farm."
"Speaking of useless: make sure you stop by to do your chores in the morning."
Clark groaned. "Yes, sir." He got out the truck, kissing his mom goodbye, and waved until they were out of sight.
Chloe opened the door before he could knock. "What took you so long?"
"Wha-- What are you doing here?"
"Keeping Pete company, obviously. Now are you going to come inside or just let all the heat out of the house?"
Clark hastily stepped in and aside, allowing Chloe to close the door behind him. She shivered audibly.
"Hey," Clark said as she came around to face him, "sorry about that. Here, let me help you out." Almost roughly, Clark ran his hands up and down Chloe's arms, using the motion to cover the use of his heat vision. "How's that?"
"Great," Chloe answered faintly. She hoped Clark mistook her blush for sudden warmth. "Pete's, uh, in here."
Pete stood as they entered. "Hey, man." They clapped hands in the way that passed for a male hug. Chloe shook her head as she plopped down in the middle of the couch.
"Hey. So what's going on?" Clark sat on Chloe's left.
Still standing, Pete said, "Me and Clo were trying to figure out a movie--"
"My vote's for Heathers. I mean cliques, love, 'suicide', teen angst and two pretty people who's lives have since become a shambles. Tell me that not only isn't this movie based on Smallville High, but that it's also complete wish fulfillment." She turned from Pete to Clark. "Did I mention all the cool kids die?" She was met with silence. "Including Christian Slater?"
"Forgot that part," Pete said, turning around to find the DVD.
Clark turned his head toward the kitchen.
"Whatcha looking at, Clark?" Chloe asked. "Staring's not gonna make the food get up and walk to y--"
Janice Ross popped here head out the kitchen doorway. "Hey are you guys hungry?"
"Or maybe in your case it will," Chloe muttered.
Twisting on his heels, Pete shook his head. "I think we're okay, Mom."
"All right. I pulled down the popcorn box if you guys change your mind. Chloe, did you get yourself settled in Kathy's old room."
Chloe nodded.
"Good. I have to make an early start tomorrow so I'm headed off to bed. Don't stay up too late you three. You still have school tomorrow. Goodnight."
" 'Night Mrs. Ross." "Night Mom." Pete plopped himself back on the couch next to Chloe. "So how long until we get see Winona Ryder kick Christian Slater's butt?"
When Janice Ross came downstairs the next morning, bleary-eyed and caffeine-deprived, she found them asleep on the couch, the DVD menu screen asking which scene they would like to start from.
Wednesday, February 12th
"How is she, Lex?"
"She's peaceful Mr. Ross." Lex failed to qualify that, although Isis was not physically restless, her mind was still working overtime. He thought he should spare her father that.
"I wish…"
"I understand, sir. I'll keep you updated."
Sigh. "Thank you, Lex."
Closing his phone, Lex looked up and through the observation window. Clark and Pete were in there with her.
"How long until Luthor chauffeurs us back to school in that fancy car of his?"
"Pete…I thought you had buried your Lex-hatchet."
"Did," he said, rubbing his thumb across the back of Isis limp hand. Had it not been for the rapid flickering of her eyes beneath their lids, he could have imagined that she was at peace. "But sometimes its comforting to hold on to old hatreds, Clark."
Before could work his mind around the massive block that had suddenly formed there, Pete said, "Anyway, Lex is just handy you know? He didn't do this…Dylan Strauss did."
"Wha-- Huh? How do you figure that?"
Pete looked up at Clark, Isis' limp hand still in his. "I just know, man. They've been at each other's throats from day one, and Dylan looked way too smug today."
"He's hardly been around at all, Pete," Clark reminded him.
"Yeah, but when he--"
Isis' hand spasmed around Pete's.
There was a knock on the door. The boys looked up at Lex standing in the doorway. "Time to go, guys. Gotta get you back to school."
Isis' hand was once more slack. Pete leaned over and brushed a kiss across her forehead. "We'll find a way to stop him," he promised in a hushed whisper.
Setting the oversized mug in front of Chloe, Lana told her, "This one's on the house. Clo, are you okay? I mean, not that I begrudge the patronage or anything, but I think you just paid the light bill for the next month."
"Ha ha, Lana," Chloe grumped. "So sue me, I didn't sleep very well last night."
"Guess that explains why you were nodding off in Spanish."
"And English and Trig and just about every other class I had today." Chloe took a long sip of her coffee. "Lana hang up your tiara and straight for the glowing aura: you are a Coffee Goddess."
"It's not that good, Chloe." But, privately, Lana was pleased. "Hey, so on a totally random note: What do you think of Pete?" Lana asked, resting her elbows on the counter. At least she'd be able to alleviate one of Pete's concerns.
Chloe's eyebrows jumped to her bangs. "I think he's a great guy. Of course he's one of my best friends so admittedly I'm a little biased."
"So no thoughts that involve you, Pete and candlelight, huh?"
"Me, Pete and candle-- What? No! Pete's my best friend, Lana. Why would you… Oooh."
"Oh? What 'oh?'"
"I get it now."
A flush began to quickly stain Lana's cheeks. "Chloe, please, it's not what you think--"
"You like Pete, don't you?"
Lana's shocked silence was an unwitting confirmation as far as Chloe was concerned. The blond shrugged. "Personally I think you two'd make a cute couple. Now that I think about it that is."
"Oookay, uh, not what I was going for," Lana said, blush still hot on her face. She pushed a tendril of hair behind her ear.
"Don't worry. I know how to keep a secret."
"Oh God," Lana muttered as she went back to the kitchen.
"Hey, Chloe."
The blond jumped as if she had been burned. "H-Hi, Dylan."
His smile, Chloe thought, held a little too much malicious glee to be welcoming or sincere. "Can I get a frapaccino?" he asked the girl behind the bar, as he slid onto the stool next to Chloe's "So…how's it going?"
"F-Fine. Fine. Thanks Dylan." Her throat closing in on itself, Chloe slowly began to slide off her stool. "I, uh, have to go, Dylan. Gotta get the paper ready to print you know." She was completely off the stool now.
"I thought the paper didn't go to print till Friday night when the printers came to pick up the hardcopy."
Chloe stopped short. The only people who knew the print schedule for The Torch were its staff and the school administration, and not even Principal Kwan knew all the technicalities.
"Chloe?"
"Aah!" She turned and hit Pete hard, then stormed out The Talon.
Pete and Clark watched her go. "Wonder what that was all about," Clark mused aloud.
"Oh you know girls."
They turned to Dylan, who had spoken. Pete began walking toward him. "What about'em?"
Dylan smirked. "Wouldn't you like to know, Ross. By the way, how's your cuz, Isis?" Frapaccino in hand, he hopped off the stool ready to find another seat.
Before anyone could move, or even know what he was going to do, Pete had Dylan in a headlock, the frothy frapaccino crashing to the floor.
"Pete! Pete, man, let him go."
Dylan seemed amused.
"Look, Clark, I know he's the one behind this--"
"Oh do you? Ow!" But then Dylan began to giggle, completely undermining whatever sympathy he may have gained.
Hands raised and open, Clark approached the two of them, doing his best to ignore Dylan. "Pete…we don't have any proof."
"Yeah, listen to your friend Clark, Pete. You don't have any proof."
"Yet!" Pete said as he released the person he was sure had put Isis in a coma.
"Ever."
Thursday, Feb 13th
"Now's not a good time, Dad." Lex lifted his laptop from his lap and set it in the hard hospital chair, holding his clamshell wireless phone to his ear with his shoulder.
"Why not son. I thought you'd be delighted to see me."
Making a face as he left Isis' room, Lex replied, "Under normal circumstances, I'm sure I would."
"Are things not going well with the fledgling LexCorp?"
Another face: a grimace. "Business is fine, Dad." Lex wondered if his good cheer sounded as forced as it felt. He doubted it. He'd been lying to his father for almost as long as he had been alive.
"Then now is the perfect."
Speaking of false cheer…
"One of my employees is in the hospital."
"Can this illness be traced back to you?"
"As far as I know I didn't cause it." Although the thought had crossed my mind.
"Then there is no need for concern. Whoever this person is, their family will take care of it."
"This person is a very important part of my administrative staff." Before his father could butt in with more sage advice, or probing questions, Lex continued: "Who is also very dear to the workers in my factory. Since that constitutes a large portion of the town, I would rather not antagonize anyone by seeming callous to her situation."
"This person you're paying such special attention to is a woman?"
Lex hadn't meant to let the pronoun slip. Maybe it was time to take everyone's advice and go home and get some real rest. "She is indeed, Dad. Women are just as prone to sickness as men. Or had you forgotten." A low blow, but at the soft intake of breath on the other end of the line Lex knew it had been effective.
"What an ill-mannered thing for you to say, Lex."
"You were the one who told me that there are no manners in business, Dad, except for the cutting kind." Lex switched ears as his wireless phone grew hot.
"I believe what I told you, Lex, was to leave your heart outside the negotiating room."
"Same difference."
Indignantly: "Indeed. So…we shall simply have to wait until this indispensable employee of yours is on her feet."
"So it would seem."
"Until then, Lex."
"Good-bye, Dad." Lex wasn't sure who hung up first.
Chloe kicked the hospital coffee dispenser in futile anger.
"Which is the exact reason why I brought this."
Chloe turned, a smile already splitting her face. "Lana, you are an angel sent from Heaven itself."
"So I've been told," she answered with a smile. "I'm surprised you bothered with one of those things at all." She handed Chloe a cup.
The blond took a moment to savor the delicious scent before taking a sip. "I take back any mean thing I've ever yelled at you through the bathroom door in the mornings."
Lana smirked. "See how long that lasts."
"Anyway…the cafeteria is closed and I was starting to get desperate."
"Huh. So…has Lex really been just about non-stop since Isis collapsed?"
"Far as I can tell."
"So do you think…"
Chloe's eyebrows rose in speculation. "It's anyone's guess. I mean they were friends back in Metropolis."
"Chloe you know Lex is the first one to admit he didn't have any real friends before Clark saved him from drowning."
"Hey, who's the investigative reporter here?"
"Guess you're starting to rub off on me, Clo."
"You can be 'Friday.'"
"Friday?"
"Yeah, you know from all those old gumshoe movies? The secretary. She always has some cute, albeit strange, name."
It was Lana's turn for her eyebrows to climb. "Friday."
"Well someone has to make the coffee."
Hospital staff rushed past them, nearly causing Chloe and Lana, who still had a tray of tall cups in her hand, to spill their coffee. "Wonder where the fire is," Chloe mused.
Lana shrugged.
Slowly they strolled down the hall back in the direction of Isis' room.
Pete and Clark turned as Lex's phone buzzed audibly. Clark was surprised that his friend heard it over the hums and beeps of all the machinery in the room, but he figured that after a while you began to tune it out. Lex certainly seemed to have no trouble.
"Hold on one moment-- If you will excuse me," Lex said perfunctorily as he left the room.
"Jeez, I thought he'd never leave."
Clark glanced out the observation window. "Well you know Chloe said her dad said that Lex has hardly been in the office since this happened, and he definitely hasn't been home the last two times I went to make deliveries." Looking down sadly at Isis, Clark took her limp hand. "I think he blames himself."
"And much as I'd like to help him pack for that guilt-trip, I know it's not really Lex's fault." Pete sighed. He turned and sat in one of the hard orange-plastic chairs at the foot of the bed. "I just don't know how to prove it, man."
"Prove that this is Dylan Strauss' fault?"
"Yeah."
"Sorry, Pete. Neither do--" Clark gaped in sudden pain.
Pete jumped up. "Clark! What's wrong!"
"Isis!"
Pete glanced to the head of the bed, his mouth dropping open in a soundless O. Isis' eyes were open, but they were glowing a green both darker and brighter than his mother's emerald earrings. "Isis," he breathed.
"Pete!"
Pete's attention whipped around to Clark. Who was sweating, green veins popping out all over his skin, concentrated where his hand was clenched tightly in Isis'. "Oh man!" He glanced from Isis' still open, still glowing green eyes, to Clark's obvious pain. "Oh man! What should I do?"
"Get her off me."
As if the On switch had been turned, Pete immediately sprang into action, leaping to where Clark stood and helping him try to pry Isis's hand from his friend's. "Come on Ice. You don't wanna do this," he said as he tried to work his fingers between their hands without causing any damage. "Please Isis…just let'im go."
"She can't…can't hear…" Clark collapsed.
"What the--" Lex stood in the doorway, aghast.
"Clark just collapsed outta nowhere! Help me!"
Lex dashed into the room, but instead of reaching for Clark he hit the emergency button over Isis' head, then he came to Pete's side. Isis' hand went slack. Lex glanced up at her face. Her eyes were closed.
"So you saw it too?"
Lex turned to Pete. "Saw what?"
"Her eyes."
"They were green.
"So you saw it then," Pete repeated.
"I guess so."
The hospital staff burst in. "He collapsed," Lex said, repeating the lie Pete had told him although it was obvious, to Pete at least, that he knew something more had happened. Unfortunately neither was sure what that was quite yet.
Early Friday, Feb. 14th, Valentine's Day
"Tell us again what happened."
Sparing Pete another round of interrogations, Lex pushed himself off the wall in the hospital staff breakroom-cum-interrogation room. "Look, Dr. Norma, Pete and I have already explained what happened."
"So one moment young Mr. Kent is holding Miss Ross' hand and the next he's collapsed beside the bed."
"Precisely."
"Just the way your girlfriend collapsed," she said, lips pressed thin.
"It seems so. Perhaps its something you should look into, Doctor," he replied casually.
"We already are." Sighing she turned to Jonathan and Martha who had their arms around each other. "There's nothing else to find here. I suggest you two go home and get some rest."
Jonathan nodded. "Thank you, Doctor. You'll--"
"Yes, I'll have someone call you if there's any change in your son's condition." And with that she turned on her heel and left the little breakroom kitchenette.
"Mr. Kent…Mrs. Kent--"
Pete didn't get any further as Jonathan held up a hand. "We understand. It's not your fault and there's nothing that you could have done to stop…this. C'mon, we already told your parents that we'd bring you home."
Martha wrapped her arms around Pete's shoulders as he passed them to leave, leaning her red-brown head against his.
"I also want to thank you, Lex."
Lex raised faint eyebrows. "I didn't do anything worth thanking."
Walking slowly, Jon led the way out the small room. "If you hadn't reacted so quickly… Because of you the hospital staff were able to get Clark stabilized and sedated." They both knew he was lying. Like Isis, Clark had fought, thrashing so hard that it took a number of orderlies, Lex and Pete to keep him down. Until he'd suddenly stopped.
§§§
Chloe glanced up from the email she'd been trying over and over to read. It was just a short note from Chad the Goth, but that was about all she knew. Pete and Lana stood in the doorway talking intently. They really did make a cute couple, Chloe thought. She tried again to read the email.
"Hey, Chloe." Lana was unusually demure with her hands pressed into her pants pockets. "So, uh, I guess you heard."
Nodding, Chloe said, "Yeah, Pete told me. Guess that means we're making two stops at Smallville General."
Lana sighed. "Looks like it."
"You know what the crazy thing is? I had a dream about Clark and Isis last night. He looked kinda green."
"Didn't you say you'd been dreaming about Isis since before?"
"Mmhmm."
"That is strange, Clo." The morning bell rang. "I'll talk to you later, Chloe. I gotta go to homeroom."
"Okay. See you around, Lana." Sighing Chloe tried reading the email from Chad yet again.
He was asking her out on a date.
Lex's left hand shot into the pockets of his slacks to stop the incessant buzzing of his cell phone. He glanced at the caller ID glowing a sickly green in the dim light of Isis' hospital room.
Meeting, it read.
Frowning at it, Lex reached blindly for his PDA on the nightstand by Isis' head. When his hand closed around it, it too was buzzing. He opened the appointment blinking at him. A meeting in Edge City. If he was going to be there on time he had to leave that moment.
Swearing softly Lex stood, leant over the bed and kissed Isis' forehad.
He was surprised Mrs-- Lex's phone buzzed in his hand. He glanced at the caller ID then flipped the wireless phone open, taking the call. "I know Mrs. Cauldhaumme. I'm on my way to the parking lot as we speak."
"Very good, Mr. Luthor."
"I'll be stopping by the office before I go to Edge City. Have Matthews--"
"Your butler already brought a change of clothing."
"You think of everything, Mrs. Cauldhaumme."
"It's what you pay me for, sir."
"Indeed."
"I already know this trick, Dylan," Isis said wearily. "Your imagination is beginning to wane."
Eyebrows climbing into his bangs, Clark protested: "I don't know what you're talking about, but I'm not Dylan."
"Listen to Kent."
Clark's head shot up, looking for the source of Dylan's voice.
"Somehow you managed to pull the farmboy into your dreams. How's it feel to know that you're now responsible for two deaths, Izzy."
"Stop calling me that!" She clutched her hands to her ears. Her screams ripped the air.
Clark turned. Isis' hair had become snakes. And they were biting her hands.
Late Afternoon
Pete wiped his mouth with his shirt sleeve.
"Now I see why you and Clark are best friends," Martha said as she took his now-empty milk glass to his sink.
"Sorry, Mrs. Kent."
"No need to apologize, Pete." She took a seat next to Jonathan, across from Pete. "So tell us what really happened last night."
"Mrs. Kent, Mr. Kent, I wish I knew."
"Pete," Jonathan began, "our son's in a coma. Clark's in a coma," he said as if that was question enough.
It was. "All I know is that one minute me and Clark were talking about Dylan Strauss--"
"Why Dylan?" Jon wanted to know.
"I think he did this to Isis somehow."
Jon: "Why do you say that." Martha: "You think he's responsible for Clark, too?"
Pete looked more skeptical than ever. "I-I don't know actually. It's just a feeling really. Dylan's never liked Isis, not since that first day she subbed for a class of ours. And lately he's just been really smug."
Jon and Martha shared a look. "That's not enough to convict someone on."
"I know. I know. But lately he's been slipping. He mentions stuff only people who have been going to the hospital everyday."
"Is it possible this Dylan person's been visiting Isis without your knowing?" Jon asked.
Pete shook his head vehemently. "Lex would have said something. I mean, Isis and Clark aside, Dylan's a creepy guy. If he'd been there, Lex would have mentioned it."
"Did this Dylan boy have something against Clark?" Martha asked.
"Don't think so."
"Then how, why would he do something to Clark?"
Frowning Pete admitted he wasn't sure. Dylan was responsible for Clark's coma. "At least not directly. Remember back when Isis was kidnapped and the drugs those goons slapped on her turned out to be laced with meteor rocks?"
"Of course." Martha glanced at her husband. "Clark couldn't go near Isis until it was all out of her system. Just getting near her made him nauseous."
"Well I just remembered that Isis' eyes were open just before Clark collapsed."
Jonathan: "What does that--"
"They were green. And they were green before too. Me and Clark were the only ones who saw it that first time because everyone else had either left or were somewhere else in the house." Pete's words began to tumble over each other as he developed his theory on the spot. "What if, somehow, Isis didn't get all the meteor rock out of her system."
"Clark's been fine all this time, Pete."
"But what if what's left in her body is just trace elements. Or what if it mutated her somehow. That would explain why Clark collapsed."
"Not if she's only carrying trace elements like you said," Jon pointed out.
Pete spread his hands. "I don't know. What if…what if something…something happened to trigger them or intensify the trace elements." Pete's eyes narrowed, his voice taking on a note of wonder: "Isis hasn't been right since the kidnapping. What if Dylan's been attacking her mentally somehow because of the meteor rocks in her system and its something he's doing in her head that's activated the meteor rocks."
"As if they were dormant when not…activated," Jon said skeptically, "by some outside force?"
"Yeah."
Martha: "That would mean Dylan's a meteor mutant, Pete."
"You know his mom took him to this research center for sleeping disorders in England last year." Pete had latched onto the idea. "Yeah…I bet because of her new body chemistry Isis has something Dylan needs or wants, and I bet every time he takes it from her it causes one of these flare-ups. And no one would notice if its happening in her sleep--"
"Especially since Clark is the only one would be effected."
Clark didn't hesitate. He grabbed the snakes attacking Isis and yanked them from her hands.
"No! Clark!"
Instead of snakes, in his hands were Isis' green-gold braids. "Ice, I'm-- Sssss!" Clark jerked his hand away from her head. A metallic green snake hissed at him from the nest of her hair. It dropped from her head and slithered away.
"One of Dylan's," Isis said by way of explanation.
"But weren't…weren't…" Clark stumbled.
"Clark!"
Early Evening
"You know I think this is the first time I've been able to catch you without that phone of yours stuck to your ear."
Lex looked up from his laptop, plugged in beside Isis' bed, at Dr. Norma. "That's not true. Sometimes I use an earpiece."
"Very funny, Mr. Luthor. I think you already know what I think of your brand of humor.
"Oddly enough it seems to be a quite common reaction." Lex closed his laptop. He set it on the floor beside his feet. "Can I help you, Doctor, or is this a social call?"
"Not social, although I would like to have a word with you about your girlfriend."
Lex's lips tightened slightly, but he didn't correct her about his relationship to Isis. "What would you like to know, Dr. Norma?"
"Well to start, why didn't you bring Isis in earlier. If not to the Emergency Room then at least to a doctor to have her checked out."
"I'm sorry… As far as I know Isis was in perfect health until she collapsed in the snow."
"Then you haven't been paying attention," Dr. Norma said, taking a seat across from Lex. "Her blood sugar's so high I'm surprised she hasn't collapsed on you already-"
"So this all happened because Isis has had too much candy?"
"No, Mr. Luthor, which is strange enough considering she could give a vampire a toothache. Which…her teeth are also beginning to show the first signs of rot if something isn't done soon. Her caffeine levels are inordinately high. Everything else, on the other hand…far below what they should be. Lucky for us Miss Ross was scheduled for a check-up just after relocating to Smallville and we have her medical records."
Dr. Norma leaned forward. "Mr. Luthor, your girlfriend was in perfect health not four months ago. There are workaholics who take better care of themselves. Frankly if I didn't know better I'd think your friend was a junky--"
"That's a bit harsh--"
"Blood tests don't lie. They may present us with uninterpretable information, but then its our job to figure out its meaning. Miss Ross' blood shows elevated amounts of sugar, caffeine and other over-the-counter stimulants. Tell me, have you noticed erratic behavior, lack of appetite and/or strange sleeping patterns?"
Lex's silence was answer enough.
"I'm telling you right now that the only reason the woman in that bed isn't an emaciated mess is because she takes better care of herself than any junky could -- exercising and probably popping multi-vitamins like candy. Along with the caffeine pills and whatever else she's been taking to stay awake."
Lex thought about the pill box in Isis' messenger bag, the candy wrappers he always found littering his desk if she had been working there; the sweet smell she had; the taste of candy and coffee on her lips. He passed a hand over his face. "I've been bus--"
"Too busy to notice what was going on with your girlfriend?"
"Apparently, Doctor."
Exhaling heavily through her nose, Dr. Norma pushed herself out of the deep and uncomfortable chair. "I didn't tell you this to convict you, Mr. Luthor--"
Lex's smile was gentle. Almost teasing. "Come, Dr. Norma, no need to pull punches now."
"No matter what you may think, Mr. Luthor, I genuinely care about my patients. Which includes the people who care about them. I've seen too many husbands, too many wives and parents wracked with guilt when I've had the unfortunate job of telling them that if they'd only been paying attention to their loved ones, he or she would be alive and with them right now."
Dr. Norma glanced at Isis. "Like I said, the abuse isn't what got her here…this time. But if you don't do something or put her in the care of someone who will, I promise you Miss Ross will be right back here and not doing half as well."
Isis rushed to Clark's side, sidestepping the boulders of the bleak landscape. "Are you all right?" she asked, falling to her knees beside him. She watched in horror as green veins began to appear, traveling from the bite wound between his thumb and forefinger outward.
His hand clenched convulsively. "I thought…I thought you said the snakes were just your hair."
"They were. Except that last one. That last one was something of Dylan's."
"Listen to the woman. She knows of whence she speaks," came Dylan's ubiquitous voice. It was followed by an unflattering laugh.
Isis ignored him. "Are you allergic to something?" she asked as she pushed the sleeve of his jacket up to track the progress of the snake's venom. It was moving fast. And he wasn't answering her. "Clark!"
He blinked up at her as his weight settled back on his legs. "One thing."
"Is it bad?" The venom was crawling past the bend of his elbow. "The reaction, Clark, is it bad?"
It was past his elbow now. Moving fast. Isis couldn't push the shirt up any further, not with his windbreaker on. "Clark!"
"It's fatal."
Isis yanked his shirt open -- the jacket already was. Ignoring the buttons flying at her face and bouncing off her glasses, she pushed the red, blue and white plaid shirt along with his navy windbreaker off his shoulders. But the venom had beat her there. It had split into two branches, one traveling up toward Clark's brain, the other toward his heart. "Oh God…"
Acting on worried instinct, Isis slid around him, pulling Clark's shirt down further as she went. He almost followed his clothing down. The sight that greeted her was all her worst fears. Really, why shouldn't Clark barely be able to stand if the venom was only in his right arm? Maybe because it was also riddled across his back.
"Is it bad?"
When she came around to face Clark there was a line of green curling around his jaw.
"Clark, if you don't do exactly what I say, you're going to die."
It was late. The hospital staff had long-since stopped trying to persuade Lex to leave at night. "Only family allowed," they'd said.
"I'm the only family she has available," he'd replied.
"Our records show--"
"That Janet Ross is a busy judiciary. Mark Ross is an attorney and they have three children to take care of. As the person Miss Ross was staying with at the time of her accident, as well as being independently wealthy, I am the only 'family-member' who is available."
Had they kept pushing he would have reminded them that the Luthors were Smallville General's biggest contributors and had been for some years. But they hadn't. So he hadn't. Someone brought him extra pillows. Someone else offered to make up a guest bed for him.
Lex declined everything but the pillows. Even before his little discussion with Dr. Norma he'd felt guilty. Now he knew he was.
Swearing softly he stood and went to the window. Isis' prone body was reflected back at him. He swore again.
Turning back, he crossed the room to the bed. In the strangely dim lighting of the hospital room Isis' face was a strange mottling of dark splotches as if she were recovering from a beating. Lex remembered the frowns of the nurse who had come to check her pressure. He knew that she was deteriorating at a fairly steady rate, something he and the Rosses had decided, in unspoken agreement, to keep from her father for the time being. "Has something changed?" he'd asked the nurse anxiously, thinking her condition had worsened markedly without his noticing.
"Do you remember if these marks were here around her collarbone earlier?"
Dutifully Lex had gotten up to look at the area the nurse had pointed out to him. Blotchy, vaguely finger-shaped marks marred her otherwise smooth complexion. "No I don't. Except the scratch marks, Isis was untouched when I brought her in."
The nurse had pursed her lips but continued taking the vital signs as usual. Lex, however, had become much more observant. Just before his talk with Dr. Norma, he'd discovered a small cut seeping blood on her upper arm, but before he could call a nurse it was scabbed over. When he checked it later, it had healed with only a faint scar to mark its place. Not an hour ago bit wounds, as if from a snake or some other fanged creature, had appeared on the backs of her hands. Now they too were fading.
Lex smoothed the fine hairs curling at the edges of Isis' face. Her skin felt cool and thin under his fingertips even as her eyes continued to dance under their lids. Remember something his mother used to do when he was feverish, Lex pressed his lips to Isis' forehead. Beneath the sensitive skin she was markedly cooler than she should have been. The touch had become a kiss.
"I love you, Isis."
As sure as she was of her own name, Isis was sure that if the green veins of poison reached either Clark's head or heart he would die. And not just in her, in this nightmare-scape they were trapped in, but wherever his physical body now resided.
Isis tentatively put her hands on Clark's back. He radiated fire. Slowly, by degrees, she felt him resting more and more of his weight on her hands.
"Clark…Clark, you have to listen to me."
"It hurts."
"I know. I know it does, Clark-bar, but you have to stay conscious or you're gonna die." Her hands were almost level with her body, he was leaning so much on her. She slipped them away and the transfer of his weight to her upper body was almost seamless.
"Clark, I know it doesn't seem like it, but this is all happening in your mind. My mind," she amended. "The things that are happening to your body aren't really happening. Dylan can manipulate your dreams, the things you see and feel while you're here, but he can't hurt you directly. Not unless you let him." It was hard to see down the lines of his body, but Isis thought she could see the veins coming around his stomach and ribcage to attack his heart from all sides. If she just skimmed the surface of his skin she could feel them like smooth braille under her fingertips. Over and over she read Death.
A shrill emergency alarm snapped Lex out of sleep. The bite marks on Isis' now noticeably cold hands had returned. Lex frowned at them momentarily before going to the door to see what the commotion was about.
The usually quiet hall was alive with activity. Lex grabbed the arm of a passing male resident. "What's going on?"
The resident doctor shook Lex's arm off and continued his sprint down the hall.
Leaning out the doorway, Lex watched him, tracking his progress until he disappeared inside a room. Brow furrowed as a suspicious thought curled like ivy around his mind, Lex pushed himself out the door and began walking toward the beehive of activity.
"He's going to anaphylactic shock!"
Lex was sprinting down the hall.
"What's he allergic to?"
"There's nothing on his chart."
"Then how--!"
There was a painful silence.
"Five cc's of adrenaline!"
In his fine shoes, Lex almost lost his footing as skid to a stop. He caught the edge of the door just in time to watch the male resident doctor he'd stopped moments ago plunge a long syringe into Clark's chest.
Isis manipulated Clark's body so she could see his face. The green veins, curling over and around like vines of ivy, made a perfect frame for his now sallow features. "Clark, you are stronger than this!"
"Isis?"
His sweat-soaked, vein-riddled torso was no half-on and half-off her lap. She swept his damp curling hair from his forehead.
"It hurts."
"I know, Clark."
"I don't want to die, Isis."
"Then fight him. Fight this. It's your body. You're mind. Dylan's just the poison in it."
"Tch, tch…" Dylan's voice came in a breeze around them.
As if they had always been there, Isis noticed the long grass, bending in the wind of Dylan's presence, around them. Leaves went dancing onto the still-calm surface of a lake beside them as Clark gasped for air to breathe. Isis looked down. The scrolling green vines surrounded his throat.
"No change, Doctor."
"Another 5 cc's and ready the paddles."
Isis' hands flew over Clark's heart as if her flesh and blood could stop what was happening.
"Telling all my secrets, Izzy?"
"Stop calling me that," she growled. "You have no right."
"I'll call you whatever I--"
All sound suddenly stopped. Clark craned his neck, eyes rolling wildly, trying to figure out what had just happened. Glimmering over them he saw something that looked vaguely like a dome over his and Isis' heads. "What…" Leaves were skittering down its edges.
"Soundproofing. See what I can do, Clark? As long as I'm strong enough to maintain it, Dylan can talk he wants but it won't matter. You have to take control if you want it Clark." Isis could feel the green vein-vines creeping closer, trying to nuzzle under her hands to Clark's heart.
"You can make this stop, Clark--"
"No effect, Doctor. We're losing him!"
"Ready the paddles!"
"--but your will has to be stronger than his!" The vine-veins began to creep along her skin, trying to infect Isis to no affect. Whatever Clark was deathly allergic to, it was obvious Isis wasn't.
"Don't you dare--"
Isis felt as if someone were drawing all the energy of her body out through her hands. She looked down. Where Clark's heart should have been, Isis' hands had sunk into his flesh in a swirl of chocolate and sun-burnt gold. And the green veins were retreating.
"Yes Clark. Yes, just like that."
"Clear!"
"Doctor, no!"
Every eye in the room shot around to the nurse standing beside the equipment monitoring Clark's condition.
"Nurse, we're los--"
"We're not! His vitals are picking up."
"What?" The resident doctor gave the cardio paddles back to the technician and burned to Clark's side, checking his vitals himself. Even as the young doctor lifted his stethoscope to his ears, it became obvious that it wasn't necessary. Lex watched as the feverish flush began to disappear from Clarks face and the sweat dried on his skin with all the mesmerizing alacrity of a time-elapsed film.
It was a good thing she was already sitting, Isis thought as she continued to stare at the spot where her hands disappeared into Clark's chest, because the vague faint feeling was growing stronger. But she kept feeding her will into him. The green veins that had been crawling under Clark's skin -- Dylan infecting him from the inside -- were receding backward faster than had been crawling forward. She wasn't going to be responsible for another death. Clark wasn't going to be another Anna Constantine.
Sound came flooding back as if someone had turned off the mute button, but Isis didn't hear it.
A klaxon began to sound down the hall. Lex's heart clenched in his chest. No…
"Another one?" the doctor called, slipping the stethoscope from his ears. By the time he made his way out of Clark's room and to the nurses' station to find out that the alarm had come from the other "coma patient," Lex was already by Isis' side, silently panicking. Though her eyes were open, the irises were green -- a glowing green that was fading rapidly as her lips turned blue.
Clark didn't know if it was the sudden return of sound that brought him fully to consciousness, or Isis slumping forward and to one side of his body.
"Isis?" She had fainted or blacked out.
"Aw, look who sacrificed herself for the good of others."
Clark's head shot up. Standing no more than ten feet away from him was Dylan. "What did you do to her?"
Dylan gave him a Who me? look. "It's not what I did, Kent. You were the one that sucked all the life energy out of her." He took a step forward. "I mean, sure I was draining her too but at least I was taking it slow. You know toying with her. Making it fun."
Clark rushed him.
Dylan laughed.
Lex was forced away from the bed and out the room with all the speed and efficiency of dirt under the paws of a burrowing mammal. He knew he should call the Rosses, let them know what was going on, but his phone was in the room. The room where Isis was dying.
Clenching his jaw, Lex shied away from that thought. He was going to start throwing dirt on her coffin until she was in the grave. Lex turned from the observation window and took a left turn to the waiting room. A few seconds of routing around blindly in his pants pockets produced some miscellaneous coins. He dialed the Ross number from memory.
Clark had the still laughing Dylan pinned to the ground. "What did you do to Isis?"
"That? That wasn't even me, Clark. I started it, but boy did you finish it."
Clark slammed Dylan's head into the ground.
Dylan laughed…the sound coming from behind Clark. "You know, she's pretty when she's unconscious. Don't get me wrong, there's nothing like watching her undress if front of the mirror--"
"There's no way you made it past Lex's security!"
"Who said anything about climbing over the gates," Dylan sneered. "I'm in…here!" He kicked Isis' head.
Clark flew at Dylan.
He was gone before Clark even got close. Disappeared.
"Don't you get it, Kent? This isn't like before. This isn't a lucid dream. I am aware, and that makes me a god!"
Early Saturday, Feb. 15
Pete could hardly sit still. If he wasn't tapping his foot then he was twisting around on his stool at The Talon, and if he wasn't doing that then he was pulling his phone out of his pocket and inspecting the screen.
Lana set a glass of orange juice in front of Pete. "You're not gonna do anything but make yourself crazy with worry with the way you're going."
"It's not your cousin, Lana!" Pete was immediately contrite. "Look…I'm sorry, Lana. I didn't mean--"
"No, it's okay, Pete. I totally understand. If something ever happened to Aunt Ness and I couldn't see her I'd be a dragon too."
Pete hung his head. "I've been a dragon, huh?"
"Let's just say I won't be shaving anytime soon." Lana laughed at the flush that began to climb up Pete's cheeks. Laying a hand over his, she said, "Isis is gonna be okay, Pete. You'll see."
Their eyes met.
"Hey guys."
Lana jumped backward, grabbing a dishrag.
Pete turned. "Hey, Chloe." A "Hi Chloe" came faintly from Lana as she disappeared in the back.
"Hey. Any word on Isis?"
Pete shook his head.
"That sucks," she said as she took the stool next to him. "I'm sure she's okay. They'd call you if there was any change right?"
"Yeah…I guess so…"
"You'll see, Pete," Chloe said, laying her hand over his much the same as Lana had, "everything will be fine."
A frown crossed Pete's face. Where was the sudden skin-tingling rush of goosebumps he always got whenever Chloe touched him? He had gone numb had he? Or become completely desensitized or something? Pete pinched himself. "Ow!"
"Pete! What are you doing?"
No, not numb.
"Pete, are you alright?"
"Yeah, Ross--"
Chloe and Pete swiveled in their stools. They weren't the only people up early on a Saturday.
"--you alright? Your cousin certainly isn't," Dylan Strauss said.
Chloe barely caught the edge of Pete's heavy sweater in time. "You're just playing into him," she hissed.
"Oh I haven't forgotten about you either, Sullivan. Don't think I've forgotten about the Harvest Ball."
"What happened at the Harvest Ball?" she asked.
At that Dylan turned tomato red. He clenched his fists until none of them would have been surprised if blood had begun to drip from his palms -- Dylan looked like he was going to blow at any moment. Pete moved to stand in front of Chloe.
"All I asked you for, Sullivan, was one dance. You'd already turned me down to be my date, despite all my helpful prodding," Dylan said calmly. Far too calmly for Pete and Chloe's peace of mind.
"What's going on?" Lana asked as she returned from the kitchen with a tray of fruit danishes.
Everyone ignored her as Dylan continued: "But you ignored me. You sent your sister to deflect me," he snarled.
Chloe glanced back at Lana, frowning. She hadn't even been living with them yet… "I don't know what you're talking about. I don't have a sister."
"Not you. Ross."
"But Kathy doesn't even live--"
Pete shook his head. "He doesn't mean Kathy. He's talking about Isis. Aren't you Strauss."
"All I wanted was a dance and the two of you go brainwashing Chloe against me."
"Brainwashing!" Chloe sputtered, trying to push her way around Pete.
"Then she sics her pet-billionaire on me--"
"So you did this to Isis?" Pete demanded, eyes narrowed. "Out of some kind of twisted revenge?"
"Hell yeah! And when I'm done with Ms. Ross, you're next Sull--" He never finished his sentence.
Pete punched Dylan once in the gut, then again across his left cheek when Dylan doubled over. Dylan's knees buckled beneath him and he collapsed face forward with a meaty thud.
There was a loud clattering as Lana dropped something behind them. "Pete!" Chloe pulled him back from Dylan's body. "Pete what did you just do?" Lana was kneeling over Dylan. "Is he okay?"
"Who cares if he's okay?" Pete snarled.
"It looks like you knocked him out." Lana flipped her hair over her shoulder and looked up at them. "Nothing's broken if that's what you mean, but he's gonna have a pretty awesome black and blue." Then she noticed the way Pete was shaking his right hand. "Let me get you some ice," she said, as she rose from the floor and rushed toward the kitchen.
"Pete," Chloe began, "you're lucky you didn't do more than knock him out." She pulled him toward the far end of the bar and made him sit. "You could get in major trouble."
"Chloe, didn't you hear him? He admitted to putting Ice in the coma and he threatened to do something to you next."
Lana came out with a makeshift ice-pack of industrial freezer in the cleanest dishrag she could find. "Chloe's right. Fine Dylan admitted to doing something, but we don't have any proof."
"Anyone who listens to him for five minutes will know he's crazy." Pete's breath hissed between his teeth as Lana dropped the ice pack across his hand.
"If people think he's crazy then they're way less likely to believe he was even capable of doing something to Isis."
"Lana took the words out of my mouth, Pete. Which, hey," Chloe said, turning, "that's pretty freaky."
Shrugging, Lana said, "You're starting to rub off on me."
Pete rolled his eyes. "If you two are done with your female bonding--"
"You know you're a real jerk when you get upset, Pete," Chloe griped.
"Look, I'm sorry if I'm a little testy, but Isis is dying while we pay each other compliments!"
Silence.
"Like I was saying…I think Dylan's a meteor mutant."
"Then we'll never be able to prove anything," Chloe said.
"At this point my only concern is saving Isis."
Frowning, Lana said, "I guess we'll just have to wait for him to wake up.
Clark was kneeling over Isis' unconscious body when Dylan came screaming back. Scrambling to his feet, Clark stood in front of Isis.
"What am I doing here?"
"Thought you said you were a god, Dylan. Don't you know."
"Don't start with me, Kent. This isn't about you, its about her and Chloe and Pete." He clenched his jaw tightly. "I'll deal with you later," he said, screwing his eyes shut.
Nothing happened.
Clark watched as confusion, then anger, passed over Dylan's face. He concentrated again. Still nothing. Dylan's face grew red with frustration.
Clark didn't know what had changed, but he was pretty sure they had changed in his favor.
"I hate to admit it," Pete said as he nudged Dylan's still unconscious body with his toe, "but I think you're right, Lana. He's not waking up. He looked at her and Chloe, both looking anxious by the bar. "What time do you open on Saturdays?"
"Nine-thirty."
"Think an ambulance can get him out of here in under a half-an-hour?"
"Something wrong, Dylan?"
"Nothing you need concern yourself with, Kent."
Clark slowly got off his knees, taking a stance in front of Isis' body. "You can't do it anymore, can you? Somehow you lost whatever…whatever power you had," he all but accused. "What happened, Dylan, someone stole your godhood?"
Instead of the angry tirade Clark was expecting and bracing for, Dylan's body language screamed confusion. "I don't get it. I was in control. I was finally in complete control. She was the player in my reality. And then…and then…"
"And then you weren't."
Angered, Dylan flung out his right arm as if to strike at Clark from across the distance.
Clark didn't even flinch. "I think you're broken."
"I may not be able to manipulate the dreamscape anymore but I'm still an independent player." Then Dylan was gone.
"What--! I thought--"
"Behind you, Clark.: Dylan was standing at Isis' head. Looking down at her he said, "The only time I couldn't see through her eyes was when she was asleep, so I came here. It was fun robbing her of her sleep, making her wander through the billionaire's house in the middle of the night. Sometimes I'd plant a suggestion of where I'd want to go." Dylan smiled wistfully. "Ah, well, time to kill her!"
The emergency room doctor plucked the stethoscope from her ears. Turning a stern eye to Pete she said, "You'll be happy to know your little love-tap didn't put your friend under."
"He's not my friend," Pete replied through clenched teeth.
Ignoring the comment, she went on: "I'm going to have an orderly take him upstairs. We have two other cases just like this."
"Yeah, my cousin and my best friend."
The doctor quirked a curious brow, then began writing instructions on Dylan's chart. "You wouldn't have this guy's personal information, would you? You know, to contact his parents?"
Pete studied Dylan's slack face. The only movement was his eyes back and forth under their lids. Isis was barely doing even that now. Pete shook his head. "I know where he lives, but that's about it."
Dylan's fingers were merging. Changing color. As Clark watched, his hands became two knives.
"No! Isis!"
Dylan looked up.
But Clark had the feeling it had more to do with the ground rippling under their feet than anything he had said. Dylan fell backwards. Wheat, golden and ripe for harvesting, sprang up between them. In moments it was brushing Clark's chest. Isis and Dylan were nowhere to be seen, and the lake and forests were gone.
"This crap won't stop me, Kent!"
Clark switched to X-ray vision and swept the field. Isis was still unconscious, hidden by the wheat, while Dylan had been thrown several feet by the shifting earth. But Clark could already see that he was struggling to rise. Hoping that this wasn't going to backfire on him, Clark sped to Isis' side. He picked her up in his arms and sped her to a tree halfway across the field, then rushed back to Dylan -- still struggling to rise with the added weight and immobility of his hands-cum-blades.
Clark reached down and grabbed Dylan's shirt collar. "Trying to do this?"
An angry roar ripping from his mouth, Dylan punched his blade-hands into Clark's chest. The blows bounced off harmlessly.
"You might as well give it up, Dylan. You've lost."
Dylan swiped at Clark's face. He jerked back reflexively, loosening his grip. Dylan dropped to the ground. "May have lost the battle, Kent, but Isis is still mine," he said with a knowing grin. "And you know what? Chloe Sullivan's next."
"Chloe?"
"Yeah. Didn't you know? Chloe's been my, uh, substitute when Miss Ross has been unavailable. But I think I'd like to have her full time."
"No!"
"Oh yeah, Kent. And you can't do anything to stop me. I guess my next logical victim would be Pete. They were in this together--"
Clark shrugged.
Dylan slashed at him with hands-turned-scythes. Clark didn't hesitate. Catching both scythes in one hand, Clark yanked Dylan close enough to growl an "I don't think so." The air was suddenly filled with the singing screech of metal being forced out of shape. And with Dylan's screams. "What are you doing? What are you doing! Those are my hands!"
"Not anymore." Clark drew back and punched Dylan squarely in the face. He'd never used the full extent of his strength and found both the crunch of Dylan's nose under his fist and the way he traveled nearly the complete distance to where Clark had left Isis very satisfying.
The nurse in charge rushed toward the alarm. A nurse was pressing bandages to the patient's face. "What's going on here?"
"I'm checking his pressure when suddenly his nose becomes a faucet."
Feeling more than a little righteous indignation, Clark strode across the fields following the path of crushed wheat. Dylan was attempting to both rise and stop his bleeding nose when Clark knelt on one knee beside him. "You aren't giving anyone any bad dreams anymore."
"Real arti--" Dylan's mouth was a soundless O of surprise as he felt his life energy being pulled from him. He looked down. The gleaming metal that had been his lower arms now swirled with the tans and pinks of flesh. Clark's flesh.
"You don't wanna do this Kent."
Clark smiled sunnily at him. "Sure I do." He shrugged, attention returning to what he was doing. "I mean, I figure I'm only taking back what you stole from Isis. It's not like I'm doing…this."
Suddenly Dylan screamed. Every vein, every pore was on fire as Clark ripped the life energy from him. It stopped just as quickly, but the damage was done. Every breath hurt. Dylan was in too much pain to move.
"Gee, did that hurt? That's what you've been doing to Isis, isn't it?" But Clark slowed the drain further. Hadn't he been the one telling Pete not to go flying off the handle? He could just see his father's disapproving frown hovering over his head. Of course in this crazy place Jonathan Kent probably was floating above them.
Clark didn't your mother and I try to teach you better than this?
"Dad, I'm sorry, I--"
We failed. We thought we had done better by you, said his father, quickly going from being disappointed to regretful. We're just so disappointed Clark…
Clark felt himself weakening in the face of his father's feelings. "No, Dad--"
Why did we ever adopt you in the first place?
"Dad, please don't--"
Jonathan laughed. We should have gotten a little girl like Martha wanted. But, no, I--
Something about what his father had said didn't sit right with Clark. It was hard to focus, however, with the nausea clouding his mind. "Mom wanted to adopt a girl?"
But I insisted on a son. And look what we got instead, a--
"She wanted a girl from the adoption agency?"
Jon's face was becoming red with anger. Obviously you don't listen well, either.
Clark shook his head slowly. "My parents didn't get me from an adoption agency."
"What? I thought--"
Clark looked down at Dylan and noticed, for the first time, the gleaming silver creeping up his arm.
"Doesn't matter, I've already won!"
"I don't think so," Clark growled. He pulled. The silver receding from his arm burned as it raced down his skin. He felt blood follow in its wake, before the wounds could heal themselves. Beside him, Dylan screamed. His back arched sharply, but Clark held on.
Soon even Dylan's screams died. A soft staccato began to fill the air. His concentration focused solely on Dylan, it took Clark a moment to realize it was the sound of his heartbeat -- and in that instant Clark knew that Dylan's life was his.
Clark detached himself from Dylan, falling backward in his haste. He wasn't sure if it was fear or empowerment that was making his heart race. Brushing back his bangs, Clark squinted up at the sun. Though high it seemed dim. Clark realized he could look up at it full-on without searing his corneas. He looked around. The wheat surrounding him was no longer thick and lush, but rather sickly and sparse. The soil was thin. Rocky.
"Oh crap."
Scrambling to his feet, Clark spared Dylan a last look. He was pale and his skin was drawn at the lips, but Clark could see the shallow stirrings of his chest and hear his heartbeat., faint but steady. Clark turned toward the tree he had lain Isis under. He could see her clearly through the thinning wheat, still unconscious. The tree above her was shedding its leaves like rain although no wind stirred them. Cracks began to appear in the bark -- at first small fissures, but soon Clark could hear the entire tree splitting through its center. Sap immediately began to well up, only to quickly harden a then split again. The tree, like everything else in this nightmare-scape was dying.
"Crap, crap, crap!"
Clark sped to Isis. He picked her up and brought her near Dylan. Although he wanted nothing else to do with Dylan, the location was far enough away that they were unlikely to be hit by anything. "God, I hope this works," he half-prayed. Clark placed both hands over Isis' heart and tried to reverse what he had done to Dylan. He was so full up of energy, of life and potential, that once the thought entered Clark's mind he felt the excess begin running out of him like water overflowing a too-full cup. Even that feeling was exhilarating, not draining as it had been with Dylan.
If this is what getting high's like, Clark thought, then I completely understand.
As he had with Dylan, Clark could fee that he had Isis' life in his hands -- but it was the power to build, not destroy. The only thing that stopped him from giggling was the sudden flash of lightening in the sky above. Clark looked up. Storm clouds obscured the sun and the smell of wood-smoke was stirring on the breeze. Clark felt himself reaching that narrow line between giving up excess energy and giving of himself. He began to withdraw his hands from Isis' body.
The earth began to shake. A fissure opened and the tree he had hidden Isis under fell into it. Clark finally that noticed all the wheat had died, and all that all they were left with was dark, pebbly soil. Lightening flashed. Clark counted the seconds.
Three seconds later, thunder boomed.
"It's close." He turned his attention to Isis. "C'mon Ice, you gotta wake up. I don't know what's going on but we have to get out of here." He picked her up and tried setting her on her feet. Isis' head lolled on her shoulders like a rag doll as she slumped in Clark's arms, a dead weight.
The ground shook. Lightening flashed. More earth fell away along the line of the original fissure extending into the distance as thunder rolled in. The sky was completely black and the temperature had dropped.
"Isis!"
Clark could hear waves crashing against the new-found cliffs. The heaves opened. Fat heavy drops began to fall, quickly matting Clark's hair to his head.
Isis whimpered softly, slowly moving her head from side to side in an attempt to get out of the rain. Clark's first instinct was to pull her in closer so he could better shield her with his body. Then the proverbial light bulb went off. Holding Isis firmly under her arms, he turned her into the now-steady rain. Her hands instantly came up to protect her face. This time when Clark tried to stand her up she did, albeit shakily.
"Mm…Aunt Sukie, stop playing with the shower water…"
"Ice."
"Hmm?"
"Isis."
She put her hands to her eyes and took a gingerly step away from Clark. Blinking she looked up at the sky, turned and looked at him. First "Clark" as if she were orienting herself. Then: "Clark, where's Dylan?"
Wordlessly he pointed to Dylan's body lying three feet to her left. A frown further marred her haggard face. "Good." Lightening flashed overhead. "What's that?"
"What's what."
"That building in the distance. That…that house."
A small smile quirking his lips Clark said, "Might as well find out." He closed the distance between them. "Do you trust me?"
"I'm pretty sure you just saved my life, Clark. If I can't trust you now, who can I trust?"
"Okay," he said, picking her up in his arms. "Don't…don't freak out."
Isis wrapped her arms around his neck. "Why would--"
Clark sped them to the house.
"--I freak out. Wow." Isis eyed the distance they had crossed. "Go Super-Dream Clark."
He blushed. Turning away he spotted a plaque set into a stone in the hard ground. " 'The House of Sleep,'" he read.
"House is a serious understatement in this case. I think they should have gone with 'Manor of Sleep,'" Isis said, craning her neck up and up. "You've been here before?"
Clark shook his head.
"Neither have I. But one of our minds has to be generating this. If its not yours and its not mine--"
"Has to be Dylan's. He's…he's still alive. I guess he's dreaming that he's dreaming."
There was a rumbling, but something about the sound made Clark think it wasn't thunder. "No lightening."
Wiping rain-water from her face, Isis turned to Clark. "What about light--"
"Isis! Look out!" Clark threw his body over Isis' as the House of Sleep began to fall around them.
Sunday, Feb. 16
Clark's eyes felt leaden as he tried to open them. He tried working his mouth next. His jaw felt stiff.
"Honey, don't try to talk."
Clark quickly found that when he stopped working so hard, his eyelids kind of drifted open on their own like the dolls he and Pete used to steal from Pete's sister's room.
Isis.
"Jon, bring me the cup of water with the straw in it."
"Mmmom." It came out thick and slurred. Somewhere in the back of his mind Clark wondered if this was what he would sound like if he ever got a soar throat. "Is…"
"Sh, honey." The bed dipped under Martha Kent's weight. "Drink some water."
"You've been out for two days, son." Clark turned toward the sound of his father's voice, only to shy away from the strongest light source in the room. Jonathan immediately closed the blinds of the observation window. "Sorry, son. Better?"
Clark nodded slowly. He opened his mouth to ask about Isis, but Martha made him drink instead.
"It's okay, Clark. You don't have to worry. Isis is better," Jon told him. As their son's body visibly relaxed a look passed between Jon and Martha. Though it was true that Isis' vitals were back to normal, but she had yet to regain consciousness.
Sheriff McKinley gave Pete cop-eyes as she said, "You better count your blessings Mrs. Strauss didn't press charges, young man."
"It wasn't his fault," both Mrs. Strauss and Pete's mother said. Mrs. Strauss' eyes were dark -- from either worry or lack of sleep.
Probably both, Pete thought. Despite the scowl threatening to erupt on his face, he was grateful to Dylan's mother.
"The doctor said it wasn't his fault," she repeated in her skittish voice.
Sheriff McKinley flipped open her notepad, although they had all been present when Doctor Norma had confirmed the pronouncement of the emergency room nurse: "What this young man did certainly hasn't helped matters, but there's no evidence that either the force of the blow or its location caused Mr. Strauss' apparent coma. No offense, but the worse it should have done was minor bleeding from the nose." Pete hadn't been offended.
Flipping the notepad closed, Sheriff McKinley nodded. "That's what the lady said all right. But just know that I'm keeping my eye on you. Somehow you and that Kent boy seem to manage to get into a lot of trouble for such a small town."
Pete felt his mother's hand tighten on his shoulder. "Is your business with my son completed Sheriff?"
"Yes, ma'am, it is." She tipped her hat to the formidable woman, "Judge Ross," and to Dylan's mother, "Mrs. Strauss," before turning on her heel and leaving.
Pete turned to face his mother, an eager fire glittering in his eyes. One look from his mother doused it. "Get your things, we're going home Peter."
"Yes, ma'am." Pete lived in dread of a lonely "r" being stuck on the end of his name. No good ever came of it.
Mrs. Strauss caught his arm just as he was turning to leave. "May I?"
"I'll meet you in the car, Peter."
He nodded, dreading whatever Dylan's mother had to say to him. No matter what the Doc said, Pete knew it was his fault Dylan was in a coma, if only because it had been his fondest wish.
"Pete?"
"Yeah, Mrs. Strauss?"
"Thank you."
The muscles of her hand spasmed. Years later, sitting alone in a glass and steel cage of his own design, this night would come back to Lex as he reads selected articles forwarded to his computer. Fingers hovering over the down-arrow, he will have a sense memory so powerful that for a moment he will feel the weight f her hand draped over the back of his, the heat of it through his skin, and smell the unique scent of hospital disinfectant and machinery. And he will feel that spasm of her once lifeless hand…the texture of her fingers as they jerk gracelessly against his skin. In that glass and steel cage, flooded with morning light, a decade removed from that long lonely night, Lex will realize that it was in that moment he knew Isis was coming out of her long sleep.
Isis turned her head restlessly. Her eyelids fluttered but didn't quite open. Silently Lex rose, crossed the room and poured cool water into a hospital cup. He brought it back to the bed, then slowly began raising the bed to an upright position. When she appeared to be both more conscious and comfortable, Lex brought the straw he'd dropped into the cup to her lips. Isis drank greedily.
Lex pulled the straw away. "You have to slow down or you'll make yourself sick."
"I--" Isis' voice was croak. "I know that."
"You sound like hell," Lex said, smirking.
Isis tried swatting him with her hand, but it was too heavy and he was too far. Her eyes drifted closed.
Lex felt his heart trip in his chest until he heard the growled, "Turd," from her lips. He picked up her hand and kissed her knuckles above the IV. "Your turd."
Isis opened her eyes groggily and caught his gaze in hers. She snorted. Lex grinned. He pulled the uncomfortable orange hospital chair closer to the bed. "How do you feel?"
"Like the…tire marks of…of a Mac are permanently tattooed to my…"
"Not so fast, Isis.
"…to my skin."
It was obvious the exchange was tiring for her and Lex was beginning to feel like a heel for not calling in the doctor immediately. He stood, ready to rectify that oversight.
"Where're you going?"
He'd had to be absolutely silent to hear her before, and now was no exception. "Hmm?"
"Where are you going," she said more slowly although she was still difficult to understand with the new deeper timbre of her voice.
"To get the doctor."
She nodded and relaxed into the bed. She was still watching him when he opened the door, flooding the room with light from the hall. Lex quickly apologized as Isis shut her eyes, hissing in pain. As he slipped into the hall he chalked her seemingly green eyes to lack of sleep.
By that morning it was a confirmed fact and not just a figment of Lex's imagination. Doctor Norma had someone from Ophtomology brought to check Isis' eyes. He flicked off his pen light and stood. "Well there isn't much I can tell you without better diagnostic tools," he said waiving the light, "but her eyes -- your eyes, young lady -- seem to be fine. I'd like to have them dilated so I can see what all is going on back there, but we don't have to do that right now. Now as for the green…" He scratched his head full of white hair. "From what Doctor Norma's told me I can only guess its another side-effect of the traces of meteor-rock still in her system. I'd suggest going to a specialist in Metropolis if you want to find out if this is permanent or not, although my feeling is it's not."
"Thank you, Dr. Edsel," Dr. Norma said, smiling genially at colleague. "Mr. Luthor, can I talk to you outside?"
"Lex nodded and followed them out. When he glanced quickly back into the room, Isis was staring at herself with the hand-mirror Doc Norma had brought her.
They're not really real, was Isis' first thought. Every time she closed her eyes she knew that when she opened them they'd be their deep chocolate brown again. But they weren't. They might never be brown again. Staring at her face in the mirror, Isis wasn't sure she recognized the woman looking back at her. Her face was more triangular than heart-shaped with its dark hallows and too-defined cheekbones; her hair where it curled in tiny tangles at the base of each braid was dull and dirty; and her eyes…her eyes seemed to float above her face too white, too wide and too wise to be her own. Their vivid green seemed to mock her -- a semi-permanent reminder of what Dylan had done.
Lex came back into the room, quietly closing the door behind himself. "I made an appointment with Dr. Edsel for--"
"I want to go home, Lex, " Isis' brow creased as Lex stiffened as he crossed the room.
He stopped some distance away from the bed, feet braced as if preparing for some blow. "I'll have the helicopter take you back."
Giving him a look that said she clearly though he was losing it, she said, "Don't you think a 'chopper from here to the mansion is a bit…" She paused, hand coming up to cover her eyes. "It's a little much, Lex."
She couldn't see the way his shoulders relaxed as he came toward the bed. He took her hand from over her eyes and kissed her palm. "I'll have Enrique come pick you up after your appointment tomorrow," he said, straightening.
Isis held his hand with surprising strength. "Not tomorrow. Now."
"Isis you need--"
"I need to get out of this bed."
Gently Lex pried her fingers from his hand. "You're still not well. You heard Dr. Norma, you still need to be under observation."
"I won't stay."
"Isis, you can hardly sit up. How do you expect to make it to the Mansion?"
"On my own, apparently," she growled, ignoring Lex's reasonable tone.
"Ice…"
But she was already struggling to rise, pushing herself higher on the already raised bed. Lex stepped backward. She pushed the sheets away from her body and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Palms flat on the bed, she paused as she took a trembling breath.
"Isis, let me--"
"I'll do this on my own, Lex.
"I'll do this on my own if I have to, Lionel. I refuse to stay in this bed one moment longer." Lillian Luthor pushes herself off the bed holding onto the guardrail with all her strength; and Lionel Luthor catching his wife -- "Never alone, Lillian" -- despite her harsh words, never seeing their son watching from the darkened door.
Isis pushed herself off the bed.
And Lex caught her before she could fall. "But you don't have to," he said into her hair as she clung to his neck. "Let's get some clothes on you."
"Want to leave now."
"It's freezing out there, Isis, and you're as good as naked." She didn't protest when he arranged her in what had become his favorite of the uncomfortable orange hospital chairs and helped her pull on the sweater and jeans she'd worn to the hospital almost a week ago. "Don't worry," he said with a lecherous gleam in his eyes, "I promise to peal these off you the first chance I get."
Isis giggled and something in Lex's chest tightened. He handed her long shearling coat, with its split up the back, to her. "Hold this." Then he picked her up in his arms and carried her out of the room.
"What happened to Clark?" she murmured in his ear.
"Declared fit to go home yesterday afternoon."
"What day is it?"
"Monday, February 17th, some time around two in the afternoon if that clock's right."
She didn't speak for a moment, then voice breaking said, "I've been out for six days?"
"Yes, Isis."
Her head went back into the crook of his neck.
They were coming to the nurses' station. Lex braced himself for the inevit--
"What do you think you're doing?"
Lex turned. It was Dr. Norma standing behind them, left hand indignantly on her hip. "Miss Ross is a very sick woman."
"She wants to go."
"She needs to stay."
Isis picked her head up. "Don't blame Lex. I threatened to leave on my own."
"You don't have to protect your boyfriend, Miss Ross."
Shaking her head, Isis rejoined, "Can't you see? He's the one protecting me. I would have crawled out this hospital if I had to."
"Really?" Dr. Norma's eyebrows arched in question.
Lex felt his muscles tighten. Something he wasn't going to like was about to happen.
"Come over here and sign yourself out."
Lex started forward.
"No. On her own."
Isis had her hand on Lex's chest before he could voice his protest. "It's okay. She has a point.
"It seems like a rather sadistic one to me," he said, glaring coldly at Dr. Norma.
"I'll be all right. Put me down." Which he did reluctantly, taking the heavy shearling from her arms. She clutched his arm only for a moment before slowly crossing the three feet separating her from the nurses' desk. Her movements were a far remove from usual graceful stride -- the were the painfully slow steps of a child holding a glass full of water, or a man relearning to walk after a long illness. It took every bit of the calculating patience his father had hammered into him for Lex to remain rooted where he was.
The nurse at the desk had the forms waiting for her when Isis finally reached the counter. "Where do I sign?" she asked steadily, palms flat on the counter, arms at rest.
"Print then sign right here…and the date."
"Thank you." Isis turned slowly toward Dr. Norma. "And thank you for caring."
But Dr. Norma gave no quarter, a frown deepening the lines of her face. "I expect to see you often, young woman."
Isis nodded slowly. "L-Lex?"
He swooped her up into his arms before she collapsed, the coat over his right shoulder. Once in the car he draped it over her before speeding off toward the Mansion. Isis looked out the window the whole way.
"What's the last thing you remember?" he asked suddenly.
Isis was silent so long that he was positive that she had dozed off. Thumbs itching, Lex flipped on the CD-player with his right hand via the steering wheel of the tiny Aston Martin and turned down the volume with the other. He reached over to touch Isis' cheek and check her temperature--
"You were calling my name."
--but stopped midway.
"And then…" she hesitated. "Then blackness. What happened?"
"I was going to throw a snowball at you. I did throw a snowball at you, but missed. Then you collapsed." They pulled into the garage. As the doors closed behind them Lex got out, went around the car and collected Isis. As soon as she was out, she was up in his arms.
"Lex."
"Shh."
So she did, tucking her face into his neck as he carried her upstairs. She heard her name murmured and called a few times as he went through the kitchen, using the servants' stair to get them upstairs.
"Would you like a bath?"
"Please? I'm so cold."
Lex glanced down at her face -- Isis' skin was thin, purplish blue veins showing underneath, while her fingers had his overcoat in a death grip. Even the roots of her hair, starting to grow out from the box braids, were dull and dirty. Lex tried to set her down in an armchair in front of the fireplace but she wouldn't go. "Isis, I can't start the water running with the power of my mind," he said as he uncurled her fingers from his lapels.
"Sorry," she apologized, smiling. "I know you're busy Lex. You don't have to stay," she said as he set her down to strip off his car coat.
"I've been working from home all week." Before she could reply Lex was in the bathroom starting the water. Not one for baths himself he had few amenities in that regard, but if he remembered right there was…
On a shelf just above the sunken whirlpool bath, which was filling quickly, he found scented bath salts. The sniff he took of the first one was too close, and he sneezed violently.
"Lex?"
"I'm okay," he called back. Then to himself, "But Citrus Medley is out." Remembering his lab training, Lex opened the second glass container and waved his free hand over the top, gently bringing the scent to his nose instead of the other way around. Satisfied, he poured a good quantity into the water, turning it a Mediterranean blue. he tested it quickly -- near scalding. Perfect.
"Lex, what happened?" Isis asked as he came back for her.
"Stuck my nose where I shouldn't have," he answered looking up at her from where he knelt at her feet.
Smiling slyly, Isis said, "I think I like you like this."
Lex snorted softly, pulling off her boots. "Don't antagonize the guy running your bathwater," he said as he proceeded to undress her.
"You know you do this so well, Lex. Ever play with dolls when you were younger?" Isis asked as a wave of self-consciousness threatened.
"Only the kind that could talk back."
"Mama," Isis said, mimicking a cupie doll.
"Mmm, more like 'Harder, Lex,'" he deadpanned as he swung her into his arms.
"I deserved that," she said into his neck as she clutched him.
Lex sighed. "No you didn't. Hold on, I'm going to lower you into the tub."
"I've seen your tub," Isis said as she held on dearly. "That's not a tub, it's a kiddie-pool."
"Ha ha." Down on one knee, Lex proceeded to lower Isis, who hissed as she sank into the hot water. When he moved to stand she asked where he was going. "I'm going to let you relax."
"No, Lex, stay."
"Isis you need--"
"I need you here." With no other warning she pulled him into the hot water.
"Isis!" Water sloshed over the wall onto the marble tile. Lex's skin was immediately flushed, his clothes soaked through when he rose from the water. "These shoes are leather and now they're ruined," he said through gritted teeth.
Isis rose to full height, shedding water. "You have a willing and naked woman all to yourself in a deliciously hot bath all to yourself and all you can think about is how I've ruined your fine Italian shoes?" Isis sank back into the water, her braids floating around her neck, new-green eyes flashing.
Lex watched with passive inevitability as she made her way toward him. Soon he was watching as her body brushed full length against his as she came out of the water again, this time with the hem of his soaked sweater in her hands. Dutifully he raised his arms over his head as she pushed and tugged the now-heavy cloth from his body, revealing his long, pale torso. He caught her right hand with his left as she made to throw the sweater onto the floor. It landed half in and half out the water with a heavy thwack. Using her raised arm as leverage, Lex bent down and took Isis' mouth with his own. With his free hand he pulled Isis closer and felt her arm come up behind him to clutch his shoulder. Simultaneously they brought down their joined raised arms, Lex bringing his now free left hand to the back of Isis' head as he took complete control of the kiss, angling her head to deepen it as their tongues twined and danced. Vaguely he felt Isis' right hand snake its way up his naked back to hold him to her.
Foreheads pressed together they broke for air. Isis' cat-green eyes flashed dark with desire into Lex's. The sound of their breathing occupied the spaces between the gurgle of water swirling around their upper thighs. Lex felt Isis' hands slide down his back, along his sides, around his narrow hips to his belt. Bodies still flush against the other it took her two tries to get it undone. And about that long for Lex to bring his hands down over hers, stopping her.
"What's wrong," she breathed.
"It's too soon, Ice."
"Lex, I--"
"No, Ice, it's too soon." He cupped her face in one hand, smoothing her eyebrow with his thumb. "Trust me." He felt her hands go slack at his belt. He watched the energy drain from her green eyes and from her body until it was his arms holding her up and not any part of her will.
Gently he lowered her back into the water, directing her toward the seats built into the wall, then he stood and removed his shoes and trouser socks.
"Not the pants, Lex? Wont you chafe?"
"I could do with some chafing," he said nonchalantly, "but I think it's a necessary precaution."
"I could chafe you," Isis said, reaching for him.
Lex quickly slipped backward out of reach. "Play nice, Isis."
She pouted prettily. And when she continued to tease him as he gave her her bath, until she was lulled into semi-somnolence, he knew that eventually everything would be all right.
By the time he had her dry and wrapped in one of his terry-cloth robe, she was half asleep. Lex had already shed what was left of his waterlogged clothes in the bathroom. A towel wrapped around his hips, he searched through his armoire, quickly pulling out and putting on a new wardrobe. In his searching he came across a faded grey gym-shirt that was, of course, not only clean but pressed. He dressed Isis in it.
Her eyes fluttered as he moved the shirt over her head. "Lex?"
"Sleep, Isis." She did, looking small and lonely in his large, dark bed. So Lex picked her up, feeling again the fragility of her bones, and took her down the hall to her room. It was beginning to smell musty from disuse, but he dared not open a window. Instead he set her down gently on the bed and pulled the comforter up and around her.
Outside her door he paused and took a deep breath. The muscles of his arms trembled, but he didn't think it had anything to do with all the carrying of Isis he had done.
Lex pushed off the door and went downstairs.