Chapter 62 - Mercy

Clark couldn't bring himself to pay any attention to what was going on in class on Monday morning. He had barely slept the night before, thanks to the encounter with Lex's half brother, but he was also worried. About Pamela, about Ryan, about Lex. About whatever Lionel was planning, now that he could remember everything.

Halfway through the school day, Clark ended up telling his teacher he wasn't feeling well, asking to go to the school nurse. The nurse couldn't find anything wrong with him, but Clark had never, ever claimed to be sick at school before, so she had no reason not to believe him; they sent him home in the middle of the day.

His mom had to come pick him up; deep concern filled her eyes when she arrived at the office, and Clark immediately wished he'd just powered through the school day rather than worrying his parents. After a brief conversation with the school nurse, his mom put a hand on his back and walked him out of the school, and they walked out to the car.

Before she even pulled out of the parking lot, she was feeling his forehead and looking him in the eye. "What happened? Is everything alright?"

"I'm sorry, Mom, I told them I wasn't feeling well, and that wasn't a lie, but I'm not sick. I'm just overwhelmed."

She lowered her hand to his shoulder and nodded, though the concern in her eyes deepened.

He took a deep breath. "Just . . . the break-ins at LuthorCorp the other night, and Pamela getting taken hostage, and Lionel getting all of his memories back. And then Lex cracking the code on the cave walls, then his half-brother trying to shoot him . . ."

"It was a long night," his mom said.

"I didn't get much sleep, and I know I don't really have to sleep, but I just couldn't focus in class, and I . . . didn't want to be there." He hung his head—his parents always emphasized the importance of paying attention in school, and also honesty with them. His mom might consider telling the school nurse he was sick to be a lie; she might be upset with him. "If you want me to go back to class . . ."

She shook her head. "I'm going to take you home and get a nice lunch and some chamomile in you, and you're going to sleep for a few hours. Then you can call a friend to get your homework, and help your father with some chores."

Clark nodded. He'd lived with his parents long enough to know when chores were a punishment and when they were just his parents' way of helping him get some fresh air because they thought it would be good for him; he was sure he wasn't in trouble now. "Thanks, Mom."

She leaned over to kiss his cheek and started the engine. "If you want to talk about anything when you wake up, your father and I are happy to talk."

"Okay."

"But don't forget, we have dinner at the mansion tonight."

"Right." Clark winced. "Maybe we should cancel? Lex had a rough night, too, and I don't know if I feel like going anywhere."

"We'll let him cancel if he needs to. I'm not sure leaving him alone tonight is going to be the best thing for him." She began to pull out of the parking lot. "I know you're tired, but I think some food and a nap is going to help you a lot this afternoon."

Clark leaned back in the passenger seat, hoping she was right.

True to his mother's prediction, Clark felt a lot better when he woke up from a few hours of sleep. It didn't change anything physically—he'd never been physically worn out—but he felt like he could finally think straight. He was able to talk out some of the events from the night before with his dad while they worked on chores; his dad had been upset with Lex for some of the things surrounding the break-ins at the mansion, but it seemed a good night's sleep had done him a lot of good, too, and he was able to talk about it calmly and reasonably.

As they were wrapping up for the day, Clark asked, "Do you think we should cancel the dinner tonight?"

His father frowned. "Lex has probably already put in the order for dinner with his kitchen staff, it would be rude to give him such short notice. Besides, I snapped at him last night on the phone, it wasn't fair. I should talk with him and make sure he knows I'm not upset."

Clark smiled—it was a nice change of pace to get to hear his dad talking talking about Lex in a way that suggested he actually cared about him.

"C'mon, let's get cleaned up and ready to go. Your mom's supposed to be finishing that pie right about now."

Clark couldn't argue with that.

They all piled into the truck and drove over to the mansion. The security guard let the three of them in but didn't escort them all the way to the study; they knew the way by then.

Clark grimaced when he saw Lex—Clark had seen that face enough times. Apparently, something bad had happened at work. Lex was reclined on the couch, glazed eyes on his laptop, one hand holding onto his phone. He'd brought his decanter over to the table, and there were dark circles under his eyes. He looked up at the three of them with confusion in his eyes before his jaw dropped with realization.

"The dinner." Lex closed his laptop and tossed it aside, beginning to pace. "I'm so—ah, damn it." He'd managed to drop his phone, and he went back for it before hurrying toward the door of the study. "Oh, I'm so sorry, please excuse me—"

"Lex, are you okay?" Clark asked.

Lex turned back toward them. "You didn't hear about the accident?"

Clark looked up at his dad, who said, "Been working on the farm all day, haven't gotten out until now. What happened?"

"Ah, there was an accident at the factory. One of the steel drums that mixes the raw materials came detached from its axle. Four employees injured, two of them hospitalized, and—I'm sorry, I should have called and asked to reschedule, I didn't put in an order with the kitchen staff—"

"Don't worry about that, Lex," Clark's dad said. "What happened with the drum?"

"We're still working on figuring that out."

Something about the way he said it told Clark that that wasn't the whole story. "Have you had anyone in to take a look?"

"Every kind of analyst you can imagine, but . . ." Lex lowered his head. "You're going to hear this eventually, it's better if you hear it from me first. There are rumors going around that it's because I tightened the operating budget and cut corners on safety measures."

Clark breathed in to reply, but his father spoke first: "Did you?"

Lex took a deep breath. "It was an older drum, and yes, we cut back on some of our operating budget, but none of those cuts were to anything related to safety. They were all related to working efficiency."

"You sure about that?"

"I can show you the inspection reports if you want to see them. They're a matter of public record. I would never do anything to endanger the lives of my employees. Or my friends, for that matter."

"And the bugs in the mansion?"

"Dad!" Clark jumped in. "That wasn't Lex's fault, and it hurt his business a lot more than it hurt me."

"Is that true?" his dad asked, never taking his eyes off of Lex.

"The corporate espionage may explain why I lost several multi-million dollar contracts. But to be honest with you, I'm thankful I did. They'll let me trace back when all of this started, which helps me determine whether they might have heard anything about Clark. His protection is my first priority, Mr. Kent, now and always."

Clark's dad stared at Lex for a long, long moment. Clark was almost ready to jump in again and defend Lex.

Then his dad said, "Jonathan."

Lex blinked. "I—I beg your pardon?"

"Call me Jonathan."

Lex shifted his weight. "I'm not sure I understand."

"Look, Lex . . ." Clark's dad rubbed the back of his neck. "I know we didn't start off on the right foot, I know it's taken me some time to get used to all of . . . this . . . and I know I snapped at you last night, when I found out the mansion was bugged. But . . . you know what, you've given me every reason to believe that you meant nothing but good, for Clark and for our family. For the most part, you've been a good influence on him. And you've been as responsible as I could ever reasonably hope."

"Wow. That means a lot, coming from you."

"I'll have to ask your forgiveness again, for those first few months. I have certain . . . instincts about people. It can come in handy in my line of work, as I'm sure you know, but it can also lead to a lot of prejudice."

"I'm not sure I know much of anything about farming."

"I meant business ownership."

"Ah." Lex nodded. "I know a couple of things about that."

"But I . . . I was wrong about you." His eyebrows knitted. "I trust you won't make me regret saying that."

"I don't plan to, Jonathan."

Clark grinned. It had taken a long time, but they were finally all on the same page.

His mom cleared her throat, taking a step closer to Lex. "You look like you haven't slept all night. Have you eaten today?"

"I guess not. I'm sorry about the dinner, I can call for delivery—"

"No, no, I wouldn't hear of it." Clark's mom reached out to take Lex by the arm. "Let's all go back to the house. I'll make us something."

"I don't want to impose, and I really should finish up here."

His mom frowned. "You sure, Lex?"

Clark was sure Lex was going to decline the invitation a second time, so he said, "Come on, Lex, you've got to eat something. And you were up all night last night."

Lex let his breath out. "I'll meet you at the farm in an hour?"

Clark's mom nodded. "We'll see you then."

"Thanks so much, Mrs. Kent."

"Martha."

Lex gave a slight smile. "Thanks, Martha."