Chapter 64 - Prototype

"It's unhappy. I can feel that it's unhappy."

"Can you blame it? Let's get the door closed before it starts talking to you again."

Lex closed the door of the safe room, and Clark breathed a sigh of relief, both because the kryptonite exposure had been getting uncomfortable, and because of the fact that he couldn't get any vibes from the ship anymore.

"Better?"

Clark nodded.

"Hungry? I've got some snacks . . ."

"I don't think I have much of an appetite right now, Lex."

"Well, would you like something to drink? Just had a new soda imported in from Italy. Haven't even tried it yet, you can be the first."

Clark would really have rather tasted something like that in celebration of some victory, and it was fairly early in the day to be drinking that much sugar, but he could tell Lex was just trying to make him feel better. "Okay. Maybe a little," he said.

They walked up to one of the kitchens, where Lex poured him a glass of something fizzy and deep purple. He took a hesitant sip, then widened his eyes in surprise. It was really good, rich and tart and sweet but not too sweet. "Wow," Clark said.

"I'll leave the bottle." Lex smiled, and he went to pour himself a little glass of scotch, like he usually did. "Getting any signals from the ship?"

"No, nothing, but . . . we can't just leave it in there. What are we going to do?"

"I'm working on that. Mainly, I'd like to know where the signal's coming from."

"Isn't it coming from the ship?"

"This ship might just be an antennae of sorts. It's possible the signal is coming from your home planet."

"We could use it to find my home planet?" That might be the biggest victory they'd ever had, if they could manage it. "How are we supposed to find that?"

"I'm in contact with an astronomer. Dr. Virgil Swann. He's a reclusive billionaire with the resources to track a signal from anywhere in the galaxy."

Clark resisted the urge to get angry right away—Lex wasn't supposed to be involving scientists when it came to his secret. "Won't that mean he figures out who I am?"

"If the message gives a detailed description of the kid they sent to earth, he'll figure it out with or without my communication. If it doesn't, there's no way he'll connect it to you just because he's been talking to me. This way, at worst, he'll suspect I'm the alien."

He let his breath out. Lex was right. "Have you heard anything back from him yet?"

"I'll keep you posted if I do."

Clark took another sip of the soda, but ended up downing the glass. He poured himself a second. "You said you'd made some progress on the meteor rock research."

Lex's eyes went wide. "You're right. With everything going on, I haven't had the chance to tell you . . . let's go back down into the experiment room."

Clark picked up his glass and turned to follow Lex out of the room, but at the last moment, he grabbed the whole bottle and brought it with him.

Lex smirked. "You like that stuff?"

"It's really good. You should try it."

Lex shrugged and held up his own glass.

They entered the experiment room, and Lex took out a binder with a bunch of charts and diagrams. Clark didn't understand most of it, but it seemed to be helpful to Lex, so he didn't say anything and just let Lex explain. "We've collected enough data from known subjects to be able to generate a quick blood test to determine the nature of each mutation."

"To see whether someone's going to get cancer or become a murderer?"

Lex nodded and turned a couple of pages in the binder. "We're still working on using it as a predictive measure for people who haven't begun to see the effects of the mutation yet. In theory, it should be over 90% accurate, but it's difficult to test a predictive drug without knowing what the result will ultimately turn out to be. It could be years before we have the error bars on those numbers, but given the tests we've run so far . . ." He flipped a couple of pages. "I doubt it'll be a problem."

Clark's head was spinning. "You said it might be years before we have what?"

Lex sighed. "We have a test. We're pretty sure it's accurate."

"Oh. Okay." Clark knew this was going to be a very personal question, but it was important to ask. "Did you run your blood?"

"I . . ." Lex's voice caught. "We used mine as a control, Clark. I already know which one I have."

Clark gasped. "You have cancer?"

"Clark . . . I told you about Duncan. And . . . my father."

It dawned on Clark, what Lex was saying. He clenched his teeth. "That—that's not from the meteor mutation! Duncan was . . . a bad situation. Your father, anyone would have done that."

"The test results agreed with me even after extensive testing."

Clark crossed his arms. "I don't believe it. I refuse."

"Honestly, Clark, it was a relief, knowing this comes from a mutation and isn't just part of my father's genes. It means we might be able to fix it. We've developed a prototype of that switching drug."

"Switching?"

"The one that lets you change the gene expression from its current state, whether that's homicidal tendencies or cancer."

Clark blinked. He hadn't realized they were that far along. "A prototype, what does that mean?"

"We have a theory about what compounds will be required. The lab is working on synthesizing them. It'll take a week or two."

"That's amazing! So we could heal Ryan and Pamela in a week or two!"

Lex gave Clark a strange look. "Clark . . . we still have to figure out how to cure the cancer. That's the next step."

"But this would do it."

"It would turn them into murderers."

"So, what, were you going to use this drug on the people in Belle Reve? Sentence them to their deaths?"

"I was going to give them the option, yes. With the caveat that we're pouring all of the resources we can into curing that cancer."

Clark frowned, shifting his weight. He wasn't sure how he hadn't noticed that he and Lex weren't on the same page at all about that. He'd just assumed Lex would agree. "Lex, if Pamela was about to die, you wouldn't give her the switching drug, even if it would save her life?"

"As an absolute last resort. I know what the other side feels like, Clark. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy."

They were both quiet for a long time. Clark poured himself a third glass of soda and downed it, not sure exactly what else to do with himself.

He couldn't think of anything else to say about the research. He'd need sometime to process and maybe talk to his dad about it. That reminded him . . . "What are you going to do about your father?"

Lex shook his head, taking a few steps away. "There's not a lot I can do."

"Almost everyone at my school thinks that accident was your fault."

"I know. I'm considering hosting a school field trip at the plant for the good PR."

"Didn't someone take everyone hostage the last time you did that?"

"I'd double down on security, obviously."

Clark shifted his weight.

Clark headed back home shortly after that, though not before grabbing a last glass of that soda. He'd been planning to run home—he had a lot of chores to get to, after all, since he'd missed the morning ones thinking about his ship—but he ended up jogging. His stomach didn't feel quite right. He'd never been affected by drinking too much sugar before, so he doubted that was the problem. More likely, he was just stressed about the conversation he'd had.

His dad was out in the barn. He came over to Clark as he walked in. "Got the ship locked away?"

"Yeah. Can I talk to you about some things?"

"We'll have to talk as we work, we're a little behind today."

"That's fine," Clark said, but just then, his stomach gave another turn. "Um . . . I'm not feeling well."

His dad frowned and took a step closer. He held the back of his hand to Clark's forehead. "Feverish?"

"No," Clark said.

His dad stepped back, coughing, then his face turned red. "Well, that explains it. How much did you have?"

"How much what?"

"Alcohol."

"What?"

"Okay, I take it you didn't know. I guess that answers the question of whether you can get drunk. I'm betting Lex had the same question."

Clark's adrenaline had spiked. He didn't know what alcohol was supposed to taste like. He hadn't noticed anything was wrong—Lex hadn't, either. "He said it was soda. Maybe it was an accident."

"You expect me to believe he didn't know?"

"I—he—"

"I can smell the alcohol on your breath from here. You may not be familiar with that smell, but Lex is."

Clark tripped over his words. He was about to lose all of the progress he'd made with his dad, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. "He was drinking scotch, he probably didn't notice it on my breath."

"How often does he drink scotch when you're around?"

"I—I don't know." Clark's face felt warm.

"You sure he wasn't running a secret little experiment of his own? I have half a mind to—"

"Dad, he never would have given me alcohol. He's never offered to even let me taste it, the whole time I've been friends with him."

"Because he knew you'd say no. But if he gave it to you without you knowing, he could run whatever experiments he wanted."

"He wouldn't do that!"

His dad took a few breaths, his jaw pulsing. Then he finally lowered his head. "I'm going to give him a call."

"Please, Dad—"

"Because I think you're right, son." His dad shook his head, pacing a little. "Goes against every fiber of my being to say it, but he's been a good friend to you. I owe him the chance to explain himself."

Clark let his breath out, his heart slowing down. He wondered if Lex's father was somehow behind this. It was kind of petty, but it might pit Clark's family against them, which would be pretty effective revenge. "This might be a good thing."

"A good thing?"

"Well, someone spiked the soda, right? Or swapped it out? He can figure out which of his servants did it."

His dad started heading toward the house. "I'm going to call him."

Clark hurried to follow him. "Wait, what are you going to say if he's as surprised as I was?"

"I'll believe him. But I'm going to warn him about whatever servant gave him that soda. And if he's drinking enough alcohol around you not to notice that stench on your breath, well, I've got words for him about that. It's downright inappropriate."

Clark swallowed hard. His dad was probably right, but he doubted Lex had known any better, and that was going to be an uncomfortable scolding to take.

The scarier part of all of this was that it confirmed something else: Lionel really was going after Lex's friendships. Clark had to worry what he might be planning next.

A/N: Edited for continuity. Thanks, Chan!