I really struggled with whether to write this chapter or not. At first I was going to have Clark get rescued, because I really didn't want to write a scene like the following one. After a little thought, though, it just seemed like it would be too cliché to have Clark get rescued, plus it would take away from the Chlark that followed.
That, by the way, comes in the next chapter. So all of you who are waiting for Chlark can be very happy.
Just another response to reviews (which, by the way, I really appreciate, because they make me think, so by all means keep reviewing and giving me stuff to think about.) I know that Clark says the meteor rock will kill him, but does he know that? It never actually has, and he doesn't exactly have the experiences of others to look at. I know in Superman it kills him, but Smallville veers away from the exact legend of Superman a lot.
Once again, thanks for reviewing.
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The scientists arrived a good two hours later. There had been four this time, and Jason seemed to know all of them personally. None of them had wanted to waste any time.
So now they were back in the operating room. The four scientists, all donning white lab coats, had gathered around the table. A side table had been set up with all the necessary tools beside Clark.
Clark.
Lex had watched him cry since the scientists had come into the room. He knew Clark had taken biology. He'd probably even dissected a frog or something. He knew what scalpels looked like. He must have known why he was tied down and helpless.
Lex and Jason stood back against the wall. Clark had stopped crying for Lex again. Maybe he'd decided it was fruitless-Lex didn't know. All he knew was that the tears had increased when he'd stopped his pleas.
One of the scientists poured antiseptic on a cloth and dabbed it all along Clark's chest, down to his hip area. The smell reminded Lex of a hospital. People he loved died in hospitals.
Clark was hiccupping soft sobs as his chest was cleaned. "Get an oxygen mask and respirator," one of the scientists ordered emotionlessly. Another moved to obey the command. Clark tried to turn his head away, despite the strap over his forehead, as the scientist tried to place the oxygen mask on his face. For his troubles all he got was a yank of his hair and then the mask being shoved on anyway.
Lex looked at him again, even thought inside it was killing him. It was his best friend on that operating table, just lying there crying. He was going to be cut open, and no matter what the reason, Lex had had a hand in it. There were just some things that you couldn't deny and couldn't feel alright about, even if your reasons were justified.
He wished he'd killed Jason, morals be damned. But he couldn't now, because if Clark was still here than he'd never get him out. The security cameras had to be disabled before he got Clark out, and there hadn't been time to do that before the scientists had arrived. Even if he'd killed Jason and gotten Clark out, there would have been no time to get rid of all samples and data. He hadn't had a choice.
The scientists moved around the table, readying themselves. Clark had paled considerably and looked so strange to Lex with a mask over his face. Once again he promised to himself that Clark would have anything he wanted once he was out of there. He would protect him and Jason would pay.
Clark began to strain under the restraints again as one of the men picked up a scalpel while another adjusted the light over the table. The rest of the lights in the room were dimmed. Clark's muscles were clearly defined as he fought to free himself. They stretched themselves taught and Lex thought he looked a little a sacrificial lamb must of as it was held down for the slaughter.
All his struggling was for nothing, though. The descent of the scalpel towards Clark's flesh was unceremonious and, with not enough preamble, at least in Lex's opinion for something so significant. Shouldn't something as great-yet in a terrible sense of the word-have more to it?
It shouldn't have been this easy, Lex thought. The first cut that sliced though Clark's skin like it was mere butter, shouldn't have been so easy to make. For a boy that could take being hit by a car, there should have been more to this, or so Lex thought.
The scream that came from Clark when the first cut was made, as well as the look in his eyes, was enough to touch anyone. It was such a frighteningly primal sound that it chilled Lex to the bone and he fancied that even the four scientists looked as though it had at least pieced some part of the cold, uncaring wall they'd built that kept them from caring about what they dissected. Jason looked untroubled, and that didn't surprise Lex. He seriously suspected that Jason might have cracked a little after his near-death the day before the meteor shower.
After a few more cuts and many more screams, Clark's flesh was peeled back, and Clark fainted. Lex silently thanked God. It was the largest luxury that Clark could have in that situation. Lex knew it wasn't enough, and he wished he could afford the boy more, but at the currant time, it was impossible.
Clamps held the flesh back and Lex was hit by a wave of anxiety when a look of disbelief was adopted by every scientists. "This-this isn't possible," one of them murmured.
"What is it?"
It took Lex a moment to realize it was Jason's voice.
"Mr. Teague, this-this is just...astonishing. I'm not sure what this boy is, but he is not human."
Well, damn, thought Lex. Just what had they seen to make them draw that conclusion?
Another scientist waved his hand, and Lex and Jason approached. His best friend's innards were not what Lex had ever had any desire to see, but at this point in the game he couldn't afford to look as though he was disgusted by what they were doing to Clark.
Looking into Clark, he was amazed and a little bit in awe of what the scientist pointed to.
Clark had all the organs of a human, and they looked just like them, with the exception of what should have been his appendix. Instead of being nonfunctioning like a human's appendix, it was, well, functioning.
Blood appeared to be flowing into it and, strangely enough, the blood that came out of it was a lighter shade than that which went in. "His blood has healing properties, right?" one of the men asked.
Jason nodded. "Yeah."
"I think we've found out why."
Lex had always known Clark was unique, but this...this was just-wow. "You think this organ is what makes his blood...unique?" Lex asked.
"Yes," the man confirmed. "I'm nearly sure of it."
A long low moan turned Lex's attention back to Clark. Clark had been wrapped in a cloak of unconsciousness up until that point, but Lex really hadn't expected him to stay there. Another moan and he knew Clark had woken up. Pretty eyes fluttered open and he saw the absolute horror on Clark's face when he saw what had been done to him-What was being done to him.
They were taking samples of his organs. Not much, but clearly enough to make him feel it, and Lex didn't even want to think about what it must be like to have someone poke at your organs.
Clark's chest began to rise and fall rapidly, only making things more painful for him. Lex couldn't take it. He moved beside Clark and gently stroked over his forehead. It was a gesture his mother had done when he was younger and it had always soothed him-not that he expected anything to be soothing to Clark in his present state.
"Lex." It was a soft moan, barely audible, but it cut through Lex like the knife had Clark. There had to be a change of plans. He couldn't let Clark remain like this until the drugs worked well enough on Jason.
Lex wasn't clear on whether it was for himself-his not being able to handle seeing Clark like this-or for Clark, or maybe it was both. He thought it was a little of both. Either way, he knew that Clark would be out of there as soon as possible.
"Shhh," he whispered. Clark's eyes were bright with tears and pain, the sheer suffering shinning like a beacon, but certainly not of hope. Clark blinked a few times and opened his mouth as if to say something again.
He never got to though, because one of the scientists took that moment to take a bone saw out, and find out exactly what was inside of Clark's bones-the bone in his wrist most specifically. There was no scream from Clark this time, but only a low guttural moan that was every bit as bad. Lex didn't take his hand off Clark's head, and he could feel the fever developing as well as the cold sweat that broke out.
"Amazing," Lex heard the men whisper.
"What is it?" he asked, before Jason could beat him to it.
"His bones-they're hollow."
Lex swallowed heavily. Abruptly he felt the tense muscles of Clark's forehead relax and he knew that Clark had passed out again. Hollow bones. That was certainly a new one.
"Like birds?" Jason asked.
"Yes, Sir," one of the scientists replied. "Exactly like birds. In fact, it almost seems like his insides were built for-for flying."
Lex chanced a glance at Jason. His eyes were wide in astonishment, yet there was a quality so avaricious that it scared Lex. "Wow."
Lex thought they must have forgotten that he was there. Strangely, for he usually hated that, he was thankful, for he was unsure that he would have been able to adequately hide his emotions. Clark was not-nor would he ever be just a lab rat. He was not something for experiments to be run on.
He broke out of his thoughts and realized that they'd stitched Clark up. He looked so young, lying there, held down by restraints all over his body, and with an ugly bunch of stitches running up his chest. He looked so helpless. Lex didn't want Clark to be helpless-not then, not ever.
"He's done," one of the scientists unceremoniously announced. They were gathering the samples up, labeling them meticulously. The notes that they had taken during their observations were also being placed into carefully marked binders. Everything was being cleared away. They turned off the light over the table as well. All that remained to show that they'd dissected a boy was said boy, lying unconscious on the table.
The scientists looked down at him. "What should we do with him for now?"
"Leave him here," Jason said uncaringly. Lex watched, a feeling of immense pleasure sprouting in his chest, as Jason raised his hand to his neck again, clearly having muscle pain. "He'll be fine for a night."
They only nodded. Nobody protested when Lex left Clark and moved over to the corner, picking up a thin, folded hospital style blanket that was there. They only watched him with what seemed to be contempt for a man who could care for an alien as he placed the blanket gently over Clark.
With a soft snort and shake of his head, Jason headed for the door. Lex followed, as did the other scientists. "Talk to your supervisors tonight and see if you can get more time off," Jason ordered them as they reached the stairs. "By the way, where did they think you went today?"
All four men grinned. "Perks of being government scientists; sometimes you can get off work just because you want to, no questions asked."
Jason nodded understandingly. "Well try and get out 'just because you want to' again."
Lex watched them all smile, their faces all betraying their greed, their hope to earn something off of Clark. As the men left, he'd never had more of a desire to put a bullet through anyone's head before.
Once they were gone, Jason turned to Lex. "That was certainly productive. Bet you never thought he was an alien."
Lex shook his head. "No, that was never an option I considered."
Jason shrugged. "The possibilities are always amazing, even if they don't come to fruition." Looking at Lex seriously, he said, "I'll see you tomorrow then?"
"I'm going to go make sure Clark doesn't need anything first, but, yes, I'll see you tomorrow."
"Suit yourself," he said, heading for the kitchen. Lex fervently hoped he was going for a drink.
Once Jason was gone, Lex immediately turned and headed for Clark's room.
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Clark was awake, even if his eyes were not open. It was a tactic Lex knew all too well: He'd used it himself in the days when his father had come into his room and he hadn't wanted to account for his wild behavior the night before. He knew Clark didn't want anyone to know he was awake yet, and he wasn't altogether certain that if Clark knew it was him he'd want to talk anyway.
"Clark," he called softly.
Clark's eyes flickered open. "What?"
Lex faltered. Clark sounded so resigned-so broken. And yet, he still sounded as though he was going to fight-broken, but not bereft of hope quite yet.
Lex didn't know if there were cameras in that room or not. Best not to give anything away yet. "How are you feeling?"
"That's not the question you really want to ask me." Maybe Clark was better at reading people than he thought. Or maybe his father was right-emotion does make you weak. Maybe everything he'd felt and seen today had just torn down his defenses. But that was Ok, because this was Clark, and he wanted him to know that something was up.
"But I'd like an answer."
"Lex, I was just a subject of vivisection. They did that sort of thing in the Holocaust. Things like that are not supposed to happen in twenty-first century America."
He stepped closer to Clark, and couldn't explain the un-rational feeling of fear that was gripping him. This was Clark. His best friend-his farm boy best friend. His Clark that he knew so well-why was he afraid of him?
He knew the answer to that question.
Lie Lex, but never to yourself.
If he was honest with himself, it was because he wanted Clark to be proud of him. What it all came down to was that he wanted the approval of an eighteen year old Kansas farm boy. And he'd just watched said farm boy be dissected like a frog in a biology class. Naturally that farm boy probably wouldn't be very forthcoming with approval.
"Why are you just standing there watching me?"
A very good question, Lex thought. He hadn't even known that he was doing it.
"Go home, Lex. You can't straddle the fence between my secrets and my friendship. You've made your choice. Go home."
It was a good idea, Lex decided, but not because he had any intention of staying there. No, he'd be back that night. But for the time being, he decided it was an idea he'd use. Before he left, he walked over to the operating table and filled a syringe with a heavy sedative. Clark needed to sleep, and he'd have horrible dreams if it wasn't drug induced.
Clark must have realized that, because he didn't struggle as Lex injected him with the drug. Once he was done, Lex set the syringe aside. "Sleep, Clark," he muttered softly, as he left.
Once outside the door, he could only think of the words of Douglas MacArthur in World War Two, corny as they might have seemed in the present situation.
I will return