Part 2

Escape from Wonderland

It was late and Lana was sitting cross-legged on the bed looking down at the picture albums she had found hidden deep within her – Isobel's – wardrobe. It had taken her a while to find them. She had taken out all the clothes and all the shoes and all those wonderfully expensive things, but she still hadn't found anything. However, only when all the clothes were out did she notice the fake floor beneath the mountain of shoes. And there, in a secret cabinet she had finally come across the picture albums Florence had referred to as 'private'. Now that she saw them, Lana understood why exactly they were 'private'. She had expected wedding pictures and old highschool ones, but instead had found an archive of pictures with Lex and everyone he had ever slept with since…well, Lana assumed, their marriage. Another album was full of pictures with handsome men and Lana hoped to god she hadn't really slept with all of them.

Without knowing what she was doing or why, she took out a picture from the envelope she had gotten from probably some spy of hers with Lex and the ambassador and put it on the last page of the album with Lex's past conquests. Disturbed, Lana put away that album. What the hell had they been doing? Some who conquers more people competition? She stared at the wall for a few moments before grabbing the album again and starting to flip through it. She wondered whether she knew any of those women. Then something strange started happening to her. As she stared at the pictures, showing Lex in the most intimate moments with women, they seemed to come alive before her eyes.

Lex… A voice cried out in her mind.

Something fast and dangerous and familiar. Lex…Lex… She wanted to unglue her eyes from the pictures, but couldn't. Her heart was pounding in her ears, her cheeks flushed. Lex…Lex…Lex…Lex…Then suddenly looking up:

"Lex!" there he was, leaning on the wall, observing her with a foggy gaze. She hadn't even heard him coming in.

"Mrs. Luthor," he saluted her raising his glass in her honor. Why did he always seem to have a glass in his hand?

"Have you been drinking?" Lana asked after a moment of awkward silence in which she fumbled with the album, putting it away.

"Yeah," he nodded. "You weren't really there to tell me when to stop."

"Oh, the benefit," she suddenly recalled. It had totally slipped her mind.

"The benefit," he repeated smirking. "I had a ball, just in case you're wondering. And I'm pretty sure your spies will have interesting things to report in the morning."

"I'm sorry if you wanted me there. It's just…," she looked at the albums spread on the bed. "I had a weird day."

"Mine wasn't all that good either," he said as he played absently with a crystal figurine displayed on a low shelf. Then suddenly looking up at her: "Funny thing happened. At the benefit. Quentin just happened to be there."

"Quentin…uhm," she looked back at the tabloid still lying on the nightstand next to her bed. "Terrane?" Lex chuckled.

"I'm glad you don't even remember his name. He's a smug kid," he said looking into his glass. "He couldn't help but try his best to rub it in my face all evening that he's sleeping with my wife instead of me," he stared straight at her.

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "It must've been awful for you," she added, but he only smirked:

"I've gotten used to it by now," he said and smiled weakly. "If I didn't know you just use them for the night and then throw them out with the morning garbage, I'd probably mind." Lana didn't say anything. She felt embarrassed by Isobel's actions in her body. Lex neared the bed until his knees were against the mattress and cupped her face in his palms. His breath smelled of wine. "So I did what I always do. I drank enough alcohol to knock out a small army and came up here to convince myself I can have you – unlike all those college rich playboys – anytime I want." He leaned down and kissed her. And this time it wasn't the chaste kiss from that morning, but a hungry kiss – mixed with fury and lust - that demanded more and more. The next thing Lana knew she was spread on the bed with Lex on top of her, kissing her, his tongue slipping over hers. And his hands…they just wouldn't stay still…Lana didn't even have time to register everything as he undid the fastenings of her silk robe and touched her. There. Fingers sliding over the hemline of her underwear and…

"Lex, no," she managed to murmur and push him slightly away, breathing heavily.

"Come on, it's been over a month. I almost forgot how your skin tastes," he whispered in her ear looking up at her with eyes full of lust and clouded by alcohol, his fingers stopping their exploration. She just stared in those pale blue eyes and slowly, his fingers started moving again, but she pleaded in a soft voice, closing her eyes:

"Please don't."

He looked at her surprised for a moment and then suddenly pulled away. He buried his head in his hands as Lana gathered the robe around her body. She looked at him hesitantly and then, putting a hand on his shoulder, she asked:

"Are you all right?" He shook her hand off and told her:

"If you don't want to sleep with me just say it the way you usually do. Scream and kick and act crazy, but don't ever use that voice on me." At first she didn't understand until it suddenly dawned on her and she muttered:

"Lana's voice." He didn't say anything, but it was obvious that was what he had meant.

"This is crazy," he said under his breath, but he seemed to be addressing himself more than Lana.

"You could…stay here if you want," Lana said uncomfortably.

"I don't want to bother you," he said standing up. "It was a mistake to come here. My head wasn't clear," he headed for the door. "Good night."

"Good night, Lex," she whispered as he disappeared out the door.

In another part of Metropolis, in an empty building, only the lights on one floor and one window were on. Sitting at her desk, overlooking a pile of files, photos and paper clips, Chloe Sullivan leaned in her chair, put her hands under her head and sighed. Now, everything seemed to indicate that Lana had been honest. In over two years she hadn't thought a single time at the possibility of her being possessed. She had been so busy trying to catch her doing nasty things that she hadn't been able to see the truth was la ying right in front of her.

She looked over at the phone. It hadn't rang – as she had feared – to announce that Lana was pressing some sort of absurd charges against her or that she had a restraining order with her name on it…No, it hadn't rang at all. None of the other papers had announced anything spectacular would be running about the Luthors the next day except the usual things either. Illicit affairs, illegal activity, etc. Lana Luthor – the one Chloe had gotten to know in two excruciating years – would have publicly humiliated her, gotten her fired and taken over the Daily Planet by now just for Chloe's audacity of raising her voice.

So could Lana Luthor have actually been Isobel Theroux all this time? Chloe thought back to the events right after the meteor shower. Clark's disappearance. Lex showing his true face. Lana's mysterious illness. Lex taking care of Lana a little too much. Clark returning just in time to see Lana waking up. Then he was gone again and Lana had come back with a fresh new way of seeing life. A week later, she married Lex in an extravagant Bahamas wedding. She had been invited too. Like everyone had. She had seen them vowing eternal loyalty to each other. She smirked now as she looked at the stack of tabloids reporting Lex and Lana's many flings outside their marriage.

What had been Lana's words when Chloe had asked her what was suddenly wrong with her? Why had she just up and decided to marry Lex?

"I almost died. I saw everything I ever loved destroyed in a matter of minutes. That just puts life in a whole other perspective. I'm sick and tired of having to fight for everything I want. To worry about what tomorrow may bring. With Lex, I won't ever have to worry about any of those things," the words rang in her mind as if they had been spoken only seconds ago, not years.

Then, standing in the rubble of her own home, among the burnt copies she had kept of the Torch since she had started writing for it, with a lifetime of memories turned to ash at her feet, Chloe had somehow understood her. One meteor shower had made Lana an orphan on the cover of Time magazine and another had made her into a ruthless woman in a gorgeous designer dress on the cover of Bride Magazine. Chloe didn't think much of it then. Hadn't thought of it much later either. Money made people greedy. Too much money made them uncaring. And as much money as the Luthors had made them evil.

But if Isobel had truly taken over Lana, why had she allied herself with Lex? Before, if she recalled correctly, she had dispatched him without a second glance. And why hadn't she used her powers? Isobel had been big on using her magic. Unless of course something had taken her powers away. Like those rocks everyone kept mentioning, but she never understood what exactly they were for.

"God, listen to yourself, Sullivan," she muttered to herself shaking her head. "You've had too much coffee," she yawned and stood up. Lana was probably keeping everything under wraps till morning, making sure she'd be taken by surprise. She liked to kick people down when they least expected it.

In the morning however Chloe wouldn't be getting any surprises. Lana Luthor hadn't ordered a public image shattering hit against her. She would find the Daily Planet as she had left it, the papers full of Lex's escapades at the Luthorcorp benefit party, Lana's absence from it and speculations on reasons for it. Not one mention of Chloe's insolence or the earth-shattering consequences of it. Not one word.

In her apartment, Lana was twisting and turning in her bed. She hadn't managed to close an eye after Lex had left. She didn't understand why, but he had left something unsatisfied within her. It wasn't just the sexual frustration. It was also the fact she had felt like mocking him continuously for some reason. To beat him down when he was vulnerable, to scream and shout and laugh in his face. Tear him apart… And her tongue would've been sharper than a sword. She had never felt that way toward anyone. Lana Lang hadn't been capable of such fury, but her ancestor had been. Isobel apparently loved to hate Lex or actually loved him in a strange unconceivable way. What had Lex told her the previous morning?

"We're as sick as that," she muttered and rubbed her eyes tiredly. She wanted to sleep. She wanted to be home again. She wanted everything to be the same as it was two years ago before Smallville's destruction. Why did things have to change? Couldn't she just take it all back? She closed her eyes and counted to ten. 1…Smallville…2….Clark…3…The barn…4… Smallville High…5…The Talon…6…Her apartment…7…Clark's kiss…8…Prom night…9…Her friends…10…the vague scent of someone familiar… "10," she repeated and opened her eyes. She was still in the Metropolis penthouse. She sighed frustrated and only now noticed that the room was full of flowers. When had they been delivered? She hadn't fallen asleep…had she? She hadn't felt like she had been sleeping. Maybe she had been focusing so hard on falling asleep she hadn't realize she actually had.

She stood up from the bed and picked up the card that had been conveniently left on the nightstand. It was hand written by Lex himself and it said: "From the unworthy husband of a goddess. I'm sorry about last night. Lex." She suddenly realized whose scent she had recalled in her mind. Lex's. And that kiss…it had felt so real…too real to have been just her mind remembering a distant memory.

She quickly got dressed. She gathered some things. Clothes, shoes, a tooth brush, anything essential she could get her hands on until the duffle bag she had found hidden in the back of the closet was full. She looked around the apartment, wondering whether Isobel kept money in cash around. She searched through the drawers, but found nothing. Only credit cards over credit cards she couldn't risk taking. In the end, she grabbed a necklace at random and headed out the door. She didn't even take her car, preferring to walk in a rush.

The pedestrians didn't pay much attention to her. She had sunglasses, no make-up and was dressed strangely. And although there might have been one or two who thought she resembled Lana Luthor a bit no one really spoke up. Lana Luthor didn't walk. She paraded, she strode. She drove. If Lana Luthor had been walking among them, there would have been an empty circle around her to be sure no one would be bothering her. But this was not Lana Luthor, but plain Lana Lang of Smallville. And Lana Lang was nowhere as frightening or as demanding as Mrs. Luthor.

End Part 2