Clark had never seen so many elegantly dressed people in his life. Sure, he was wearing clothing similar to them (Lex had gotten him a tux.), but he didn't feel like them. Inside he was just dieing to jump up and scream at them, to yell at them until they understood how they'd betrayed their race, but he knew it would do no good. Like him, they'd made a choice.
He hadn't seen Lex since the start of the party and Clark knew he'd long ago gone to make small talk with the other people who were high up in the system. After all, Lex wasn't one to let opportunities slip by.
Clark had grabbed a glass of champagne of a passing tray and had merely settled himself against the wall to wait. Part of him almost felt bad for Lana, for he suspected she'd been pushed into what she'd done. She hadn't been able to hold out anymore, and Clark knew that. Some people simply weren't strong.
The other part of him hated her without reserve for what she'd done to him, to Chloe, to Pete. That part hated her for giving in and giving up. There may have been reasons, but there was no excuse.
He didn't have to wait too long. About an hour after the first guest arrived she was ushered through the door into the room. Clark had to admit that she looked absolutely gorgeous in the light blue dress that she wore, her long dark hair curled up into a complicated arrangement. She wore a shawl, and Clark knew it to be because she was still far too thin to present an immaculate picture without it. Even so, she was still lovely.
Clark merely watched her for a few minutes. It was almost sickening the way she rubbed shoulders with the other rich people. She seemed to carry no remorse with her as she moved among them, and if Clark were honest with himself, he knew she'd been meant for this world.
That didn't mean she deserved to have it.
He waited about another hour until she moved out onto the balcony to approach her. She had seemed to grow tired of the party, and she'd shown the first signs of fatigue and stress that he'd seen all night. When no one had been looking, she simply slipped away and made for the balcony. Clark only smiled softly, though it was not a pleasant smile, and followed.
She snagged a glass of champagne on the way, and had walked out towards the balcony, her expensive shoes clicking on the floor as she went. No one stopped her, although she did turn a few heads. She turned the corner as she went outside and Clark lost her for a moment. Then he too turned the corner and his view of her resumed.
It was a large balcony, to the right of the doorway that allowed access to it, effectively hiding any who cared to go out upon it from the party inside. Lana had come to stand at the railing, her newly manicured hand holding the rail, while the other held the champagne glass. She seemed to be staring off into the distance, at the moon or something else. He had to admire the way the moonlight shone on her hair. She really had been meant to live in such a way, he thought again. She'd been born with the beauty and the grace to live this life and Clark wondered if maybe she had so much of those qualities because she was being compensated for her lack of bravery and loyalty.
"Nice night, isn't it?" he asked from behind her, his tone conversational.
She spun around as though she'd heard a dead man, and Clark decided that was almost fitting, because that was what she'd sold him out to be. Her beautiful doe eyes widened impossibly as she caught sight of Clark, and her rose mouth dropped open. The glass of champagne in her hand shattered as she dropped it and gravity carried it to the floor.
"Surprised?" he asked softly.
"Clark," she whispered. Shock was not a good look on her, Clark thought. "How-?"
"Am I not dead?" he asked, raising an eyebrow and giving her a questioning look. He didn't try to move any closer to her, though, because if there was one thing that Clark was not, it was someone who liked violence. Clark never, even now, liked to hurt anyone.
"I-Clark, you've got to believe me. I swear I never meant to-"
"What, Lana? You swear you never meant to betray your boyfriend and two closest friends? What exactly was your intention?"
"I cracked, Clark!" she protested, tears forming in her eyes. She held her arms out in dramatic emphasis. "I couldn't take living like an animal anymore!"
"Then you could have left!" he heard himself yelling. "No one was stopping you. But you didn't have to sell us out while you did so."
"They wouldn't have given me all this otherwise," she cried with another sweep of her arms, gesturing to everything around her. "I wanted the nice clothes again, the home, the car-I didn't want to live like I was living anymore!" Tears began to stream down her cheeks, ruining her mascara.
"So our lives were the price of your happiness? I would have died before I did that to you, Lana." He could hear the condescension in his voice, and he didn't regret it at all.
"You're stronger than I am, Clark. You always have been!" She looked almost desperate, as if she were afraid of Clark.
"That's an excuse and a bad one, Lana. You're as strong as you make yourself. Those who say that they simply aren't strong enough are only making excuses." He was aware of how hard his tone was, and the effect it was having on her, but he didn't care. She deserved what he was saying, and she was lucky that the only tit for tat that she was receiving at the moment was that of a verbal rebuke.
She braced her hands on the rail and turned back towards the sky. She was sobbing, her shoulders shaking as she did. There was a time when Clark would have held her and comforted her, but that time was passed, and it wasn't ever coming back; it had been killed by her selfish ambitions.
He moved forward to stand beside her, being sure to keep a few feet from her. "How are you still alive?" she choked out.
"What, it's too hard for you to see me? You thought that you could do the dirty work and never have to face those whom you betrayed?"
"No, I never expected to have to see you," she admitted, refusing to look at him. Instead she looked up at the moon, which illuminated her face so that Clark could clearly see the tears on it.
"Funny how things work, hmmm? And what about Pete? Did you ever care about him?"
"I loved him, Clark. I still do!" she protested, throwing her hands up and finally turning to face him.
"You tried to kill him," he spat angrily. "Love doesn't do that. I would die for Chloe."
"You're better than me, Clark. I don't know what else to say."
"I don't need your bull shit explanations," he replied, his tone icy. He carefully set his champagne glass on the railing of the balcony and shoved his hands in his pockets.
"Do they know about all your little exploits, Lana?" he asked, jerking his head towards the party inside. "What did you tell them? Surely they wouldn't take in a rebel."
"I told them that I was brainwashed. That I just suddenly came out of it," she whispered.
"And they bought that?" he asked with an incredulous laugh and a very fake smile. "What am I thinking? Of course they did. The turning in of three close friends that you were sighted with on multiple occasions is evidence enough. They're not skilled in the ways of humans, anyway. That's why they need humans on their side. That's why they didn't just enslave the human race completely in the first place."
Lana swallowed and nodded. "I'm sorry."
Clark snorted. "I bet you are."
"No, Clark, I am. I'm sorry for what I've done...and for what I've got to do."
"Do?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. A parody of a smile inhabited his lips, so false that anyone who knew him could see through it.
"You-if you testify that I wasn't brainwashed-"
Clark laughed bitterly. "Bit of course! I'm a time bomb to you! If I were to slip anything to them-"
"My life would be over," she whispered. She finally turned to look at him, tears still rolling down her face. "I can't let you do that."
He raised his hands about shoulder height, akin to a gesture that you make when a policeman pulls a gun on you. This gesture was nothing of fear, though, and everything of mockery. "You didn't kill me the first time; do you think a second time will be any different?"
She nodded slowly. "I'm nothing if not smart, Clark, and I know where you're weak-both mentally and physically." She seemed to be regaining some of her confidence. Clark was slowly beginning to realize that the sweet Lana he'd known for so long had disappeared; she simply didn't exist anymore. The woman in the body before him wasn't her. "I bet you're not even legal. Do you have the mark?"
"You think I'm going to tell you things like that?" he asked with a laugh. He knew that he should have been afraid of her, but he couldn't muster up the emotion. She seemed to him almost like a little girl who had taken on too much and had cracked. He wasn't scared of her, although, he thought, knowing her mind, perhaps he should have been.
"You don't need to. If you were sold anywhere at all I'll be able to pull the records." She'd straightened up to face him, and he saw that the tears had stopped. Her perfect mouth had drawn together in a thin line. Yes, the girl he'd known and loved was gone.
He shrugged and took his hands out of his pockets, reaching for his champagne. He thought he might just get very drunk later that night. "You know what I'm capable of, Lana. If it's a fight you want then you can have it. Although, I must admit, I never thought I'd see you as my enemy."
"I don't want to be," she whispered, her expression faltering again. A look of sudden hope washed over her face. "Join me, Clark! We could be so great together! They'd accept you too, I know they would."
Clark laughed bitterly. "And turn my back on my race like you have?"
"Don't you get it, Clark?" she yelled, her face reddening slightly. "WE'VE LOST!"
"No, you've given up," he replied calmly. The came visage melted, though, when he asked, "All those times I saved you, Lana, did they mean nothing? When Lois sacrificed herself for you in Chicago, when I saved you in Chicago, did those deeds really mean so little to you?"
"No, Clark," she replied, her anger abating if only for the moment. "They meant so much."
"Enough to betray those who committed them?"
"I gave up!" she yelled suddenly, a little hysterically. "I damn well gave up! I didn't see a light at the end of the tunnel! I didn't see an out, and maybe I thought this would be the only way to get out!"
"So you betrayed everyone who cared about you, everyone who would have died for you. And now you're in too deep to turn back, because you've betrayed me and I won't join you, so you see your only option as sticking to the regime."
"Something like that," she replied, dropping her eyes to the floor.
"You're in too deep, and you know what, Lana? No one's going to rescue you when you get stuck. You picked the wrong people to pledge your loyalty to. Pete, Chloe, and I-we would have protected you. You think an alien regime will?"
"I've got the means to protect myself now. You have nothing," she said softly, her eyes traveling back up to meet his. He held her stare easily.
"And by that you mean?"
"You didn't turn anyone in, so you certainly aren't living the high life off of your own means. Anything that isn't your own can be easily taken from you. I imagine you must have been bought by some man who you're probably sleeping with out of necessity, who thought he'd bring you to a party."
Clark smirked. "I do what I need to."
Her mouth dropped and Clark couldn't help but smirk more. He'd known she hadn't really believed he'd been sleeping with anyone, and she was right. As soon as she knew exactly whom he was here with, it would be obvious that he was not, but she wouldn't be able to prove that. And while Clark didn't like hiding in the shadow of others for protection, he did trust Lex and had finally realized his need for his help.
"What would Chloe think?" she asked incredulously.
He laughed. "I imagine she'd understand, but the point is, Lana, you'll find nothing on me." He took his glass and raised it to her. "I can work the system as well as you can. Here's to a good night sleep for you, since you'll be lying in bed contemplating just what I can divulge and when."
It was a cruel blow to attack her mind like that, but Clark wasn't above that from someone who had done what she'd done. He took a small sip from his glass and then turned around and headed from the balcony. He didn't turn around to see if she were looking after him or not-he didn't need to because he knew she was, and he didn't really care.
As he slipped back into the ball room he took another sip. Getting drunk sounded remarkably good at that point.
