Chapter Three - Fix You
Wow… Chapter Three… Has it come out quicker? Must say the brainwave of a certain scene comes from fan, totally inspirational! Guess which one?
Lex awoke with a stiff neck. He didn't want to open his eyes yet though… he was comfortable and warm and for once it seemed he'd slept for enough hours to make him feel normal… He moved his head gently, aware of his aching muscles and the warm weight in his arms. With a yawn he prised his eyes open, squinting in the dim spring light that was filtering through the small gap in the dark blue curtains. He smiled slightly and closed his eye again… He ran his own business he had no reason to get up too soon…. Wait… He opened his eyes again. Blue curtains? That was when he realised where he was.
Clark's peaceful form took him by surprise. The boy was curled into his chest, head tucked just under his chin, on the hollow of his collar bone… The complete calm on his face spoke of wonders… Lex smiled fully this time, his true smile, the one he kept for himself and Clark alone… No one else could turn his expression like Clark could and at that moment, with warm breaths tickling through his crumpled shirt Lex only wanted to share his happiness at this different boy asleep in his arms.
Thick, dark hair fell across his face and Lex found himself propping himself up and running his fingers through the luxurious waves, wondering at the silky feel of it slipping across his hands. This was the angel he remembered… albeit thinner and slightly more mature of face but still… right there, right then… there was no sign of his father.
"Don't stop…" Clark was leaning into his hand, eyes still closed in a contented smile and Lex had to struggle not to laugh. Slowly he started over again, tracing unsymmetrical patterns through the floppy bangs. A small sigh of comfort as the warm body shifted unconsciously closer to him brought in the sun… Perhaps he could still help Clark… Perhaps… He could still save him… Or at least he could try.
"Clark," He said in a voice just above a whisper, "it's probably time we got up…" In truth he had no idea of the time but seeing as the previous night was possibly the first time either of them had slept for more than a few hours consecutively he estimated that the hour made to fairly late.
The boy merely moaned slightly and pouted. If this was how it would always be with Clark waking up in the morning then Lex could think of nothing more adorable… If only this hadn't been such a… mistake… But it hadn't been a mistake had it? Not really… He had been able to protect Clark from his demons. That had to be worth something? Right?
"But it's so warm here…" Clark was still half asleep as he slurred his words in Lex's chest.
It was almost painful to pull away from the perfectly aligned body and bring himself to stand by the bed. Clark gave a disgruntled grumble, eyes squinting in the semi-light of the room. They focused on Lex, widened and he shot up, "That wasn't a dream…" he muttered mostly to himself.
"No. Not a dream." Lex smiled gently. Seeing Clark's uneasiness, realising he had been right… This had been one incurable mistake. He had been so wrong to let Clark wake up like that… What if… What if Clark was about to freeze up on him again? What if he panicked or- Lex realised he was the one panicking. Clark was merely looking up at him from the rumpled sheets.
"You were really there." Clark murmured, this time, to whom the words were for was lost entirely.
"I'll always be there…" Lex dared to answer after silence fell.
At that moment Lex felt out of place, out of sorts in his own home. Something about this boy from the stars made him feel so much more aware of himself. Of his body. Of the rumpled clothes he had slept in and the paleness of his skin. Of the dirtiness he still felt over his entire form… He shivered slightly.
"Don't get cold." Clark said then, the flippant, normal words making Lex look up and catch the still sleepy eyes.
"Come on," Lex smiled, realised that he'd been doing that a lot that morning and let it spread across his face, before holding out a hand to the other man.
With a yawn and a tiny, disgruntled moan Clark took the hand and found himself once more in Lex's embrace. He still felt ill, according to Dr. Lorenzo the krypton that had been injected into his blood would take longer to cure as, like a poison, the regularity at which they had been administered meant that there would have been a build up in his system… So despite having regained much of his strength he remained an invalid. Sickly and unable to help himself with many things that before would never have phased him. Lex held him gently, rubbing circles at the bottom of his neck as he regained his balance.
"Th-thank you…" Clark said softly.
Lex only nodded and asked if Clark wanted to dress or find food first. Of course he already knew the answer. Clark wouldn't make a decision for himself. It was still drummed into him that his opinion, his voice was worthless. So after a moment of pause after the predicted answer, Lex opted for dressing. He hated being untidy, not looking as perfect as he could. His father hadn't stood for it and nor did he… Or maybe that was just one of the lessons that had been drilled into him so early on that he'd forgotten when. He wasn't sure.
Clark sat sadly on the bed as Lex left him so that they could both get into something day-wear esq. He didn't want him to go. He didn't like being alone. Being alone made you vulnerable. He'd had enough of being vulnerable and yet he still felt it. Heat stung in his eyes as he made for the small cupboard of clothes that Lex had bought for him, having realised that none of his old stuff would fit on his now too slender frame.
He felt bad for being such a burden on his best friend… He felt ashamed for having not realised that Lex had been really holding him, for not letting the man go when he had so obviously been uncomfortable. Why did he have to be so stupid? He had always been stupid though… He had never been very good at anything. Except causing disasters and destroying people's lives, like he had Lana's and Lex's and his parents and all those others…
A few tears slipped from his eyes as he slid into a pair of loose jeans that Lex had approved of and a simple black t-shirt with FCUK branded onto one shoulder. Tentatively, he stepped in front of the long mirror in the door of the cupboard and tried to see himself in his reflection. Even now, with the careful feeding of Lex's staff, he was gaunt, frail looking even. He pushed his hair out of his face and smiled slightly to himself, Chloe would have laughed at him, his bangs were long enough to make him seem almost emo. He would never have been thought of like that by anyone… Nerdy, dorky… He remembered that… But Chloe had always mocked the moody, emotive cliques for their apparent attention seeking antics.
"Nice choice there," Lex was back, eyes gently showing approval, "You look like yourself when you're dressed more normally. At least as normal as you can without wearing flannel."
He tried to appreciate the joke but instead, blue eyes dropped to the floor, finding his bare feet fascinating all of a sudden because he knew that he looked like half a person. He certainly couldn't pull off looking good in clothes such as this. Unlike Lex… Lex was always immaculate. Even when he'd woken up in his crumpled suit he had looked fascinatingly unblemished. Perhaps it was just him… Perhaps Lex just was… perfect.
Then there was another pair of toes facing his and firm hands on his shoulders, he flinched slightly, unable to help himself, but he brought his eyes up slightly knowing that Lex would be angry. Trying to apologise, Clark voided looking into Lex's eyes. He didn't want to see disappointment or anger or hate. He knew that his friend didn't hate him, why was he even thinking these things? He whimpered slightly. Two fingers tipped his face so that he was looking up into the soft, silver eyes of his saviour.
"I'm not going to hurt you, Clark, you know that…" the gaze was questioning now, "So why… why do you fear me?"
He jumped at this, startled by the hurt that was laced into the otherwise neutral words, "I'm not scared." He attempted, weakly, "I…I'm not-t afraid of you…"
"Then why are you shaking, angel?" One of Lex's cool fingers gently traced the outline of his cheek, running the tip over his lips slightly, before dropping to his side. There was something in his look that opened Clark's tongue.
"I'm not scared of you," He whispered weakly, "I'm scared of letting you down. I don't want you to leave me again…" Tears threatened to fall and he could picture Chloe mocking him from afar. She had known how he felt about Lex from the beginning; she had known what he had not right from the very start. Now she'd be laughing, not only at his pathetic wheedling but at the puppy eyes that were looking up into grey, pleadingly.
"You could never let me down, cherie."
Lex pulled him close, feeling the sharp contours of his best friend's body; the jut of his hip bone, the rise and fall of his ribs, the shoulder blades that he passed his hands over. This boy should have wings, he wondered absently as Clark clung to him. He was meant to fly, meant to be free.
But he's not. Whispered a little voice in his head. And whose fault is that?
Lex pulled back, letting Clark step away, warily glancing up from time to time as if he believed this show of affection would turn around and throw him to the floor. Absently, he wondered if the boy's parents would know how to handle it… If they could stop Clark from edging away in terror whenever someone entered their rooms… Maybe they could do what he couldn't because they were not direct relations of the monster that had shredded his soul.
Praying today was not to be a day of screaming misery, Lex decided to ask; he needed to know, they all needed to know what was going on if they were to help and surely so did his parents, "Clark, don't you think it's time we saw your parents?... Told them you're alive…?"
Clark froze. Face paling even further. Then slowly he shook his head, "No." He said, shaking his head more, "No. No…" His hands crept to his neck, as if searching for a mark there, panicking, "No point… No… No point at all…" Tears had sprung from beneath clenched lids.
Shit. Lex darted to the other's side. This wasn't a good move, "Shhh… Clark…Clark it's ok…" He reached out, trying to pry the hands off of the pale throat but the quaking form jerked away, crumpling into a heap of bones on the carpet.
"Angel, what is it?" Lex hated sounding so demanding, loathed and abhorred having to try and force sense out of his friend, "Please, I can't help if I don't know…"
"Don't tell them I'm here… Don't tell them… Don't let them…" Clark was trying to calm himself, trying to breath more steadily, but his hands were still scrambling with the flesh above his collarbone.
"Tell me why. They love you -"
"No they don't!" The shout was pained, choked out through the flurry of worry, "They can't."
And it was tearing into Lex because Clark seemed to so genuinely believe that the miserable parents that had mooched around town with tears sprinkled in their eyes, didn't and couldn't love him. Why? Surely he must understand how worried, how forlorn, how despondent they had been in his absence…
"They do love you, angel," he started more softly now, seizing the moment as Clark stopped muttering to start his own conversation, "They always have done. Without you they were nothing, Clark. They've only just started to smile again. Just begun to wash away the tears-"
"Then why did they give me to him?" The question was only a whisper, only just perceptible.
He couldn't have heard that right. This couldn't be right. What was Clark implying, "They gave you to whom?" Lex didn't know if he really wanted to know… If he was thinking right...
"Him. Lio-" The name was too hard to say and the slight form curled tighter, one hand clamped on a spatter of small scars that had not quite healed completely.
"They gave you to Lionel…" Lex didn't want to believe it. He didn't want to believe that the couple he had grown to respect had destroyed the enviable love that had coursed between them. Martha and Jonathon had betrayed their own son. The son that was now sobbing helplessly into his knees; desperate to be healed, deserving to be held and heeded to; they had given that all up. For what? Why? "Why?" The word had slipped, without any tack to the task, from his mouth.
Clark jerked violently as if a Carthaginian elephant was walking over his grave, "I… I don't know…" He whispered, shivering, "Don't know…"
"You do know." Lex could feel shreds of anger rising, impatience trying to overcome his logic which told him to keep calm, "Clark, tell me."
"No!" His friend shouted, defiance cowering into shame, "I can't say. I'm too dirty…"
"Dirty? How so?" Lorenzo's voice entered their sick equation, taking the words straight from Lex's mouth, but saying them so gently they seemed like warm milk slipping from his lips, comforting and smooth.
"I'm dirty." Clark was mumbling but the words could be caught from the lines of incoherence, "I think so many dirty things. So disgusting."
Lex recoiled, trying to comprehend, trying to begin to imagine how much hatred must have been present in the Kents' for this to have happened to their son. Hadn't he been envious when he'd seen their tender embrace after the man with the terrible shakes had tried to kill them all? Hadn't he been jealous of the home Clark had to return to, despite the luxuries of his mansion? Hadn't he coveted what Clark had with his parents, lusted after the love that Clark showed them? Now here it all was, splintering respect striking the ground with a thud.
"Because I thought bad things. Bad things about people and god doesn't like it. He doesn't like love. He doesn't like my love. Because I'm dirty and wrong and it's so wrong and so dirty and wrong…wrong wrong wrongwrongwrong…" It wasn't all discernable… He didn't like what he was hearing, what Lorenzo was wrenching through little pretences of security out of the fallen boy.
"And is it because of your heritage?" Lorenzo was soothing with his tone, prying deeper with his words, "What is so dirty? What were your thoughts? Does it seem natural to you?"
Clark didn't understand why his parents hated him. Hated him when he had found someone who he loved more desperately than he could put into words. Why didn't they want him to be happy? They didn't mind when he liked Lana… He knew it was different because they had trusted Lana, known her since she was little but they hadn't minded his short fling with one of the travellers that had by passed their home either… Jor-El hadn't minded… He had been satisfied… But Jonathon hated it. Despised it. Hit him and then hit him harder, knowing Clark wouldn't retaliate because he wouldn't understand. Martha had wrapped her fingers about his neck and locked a lump of green kryptonite about his throat. Choking him. Making him asphyxiate almost to the point that he was no longer breathing. Blearily he had heard the words telling him to repent. To give it up. That he could make it right if he wanted. But he couldn't say that he didn't love who he did. He was in love. Truly. Blindly. Miserably. In love… Martha begged him to atone for his sin. But he couldn't so it just kept on happening and happening and happening and then… then she beseeched him to give it up but even if he had… Jonathon was on the phone. Answering questions with truths that had been kept secret for the best part of seventeen years. He was only seventeen… And then there was wintry, whinging wind and merciless chills crawling over him with the delicate legs of spiders. He was on the side of a road, dumped carelessly by the man he trusted more than anyone else, weakening and wearing away in a slight ditch… And then Lionel had come. His red hair streamed out around his face in a bloody halo. And Lionel had looked with those cold, smirking eyes at the wreck that had become him. And it was all so blurry. So weak and pathetic and he was always dirty and Lionel told him that he was there to free him of the filth.
"Free me… He said so…"
"WHO FREED HIM?" The deafening roar reverberated around to every aching ear, "WHICH PLEBIAN FREED MY EXPERIMENT!?"
No one moved, the assembled crowd were stiff and emotionless, trying hard not to meet the gaze of their employer. The doctors were Lionel's prime suspects… So far no one had mentioned the fact that one of their number was missing and so far three more people had been killed by suspicion. No one was going to talk… Because everyone knew that no matter what they said there would be no respite from his anger. Each of them would be homeless in seconds, helpless in moments, disposed of within a year and it was inevitable. Why take a hero down with them? At least that was what they had decided on the night of the escape. And despite the constant, never ending rages and the miserable interrogation that just went on and on and on and on… no one had snapped yet. Because Lionel had never had any of the room's respect, not when it came to the Kent boy and certainly not when it came to his disappearance.
"Now, I understand that some of you must be very disappointed. An entirely different species was right here. A discovery waiting to be told to the world. But all that research has gone now is it not?" Lionel's tone dropped into a dangerous dulcet tone, "Very disappointed…"
It was true. Many of them had been excited about the unearthing of an alien on this planet. Many of them had been enthralled with the concept that life really was out there. But all had been disgusted by the torture, the meaningless pain inflicted upon an intelligent being. It wasn't right. And even those who had not been privy to the details still looked upon it with contempt because they still heard the rumours. Of days when they'd extracted blood only to refill the vein with boiling kryptonite solution; of times when a young boy had been sliced open, his internal organs examined, whilst he was still conscious and under the influence of the green rock. Brutality… the epitome of their master.
They were only stalling… Lionel would find out in the end… But they would hold their tongues because integrity at this point was the last inch that any of them truly had… and even that was thin.
Lex held the broken form close to his chest, cradling the shuddering body as Clark drifted of into an escapist sleep. He would never let him go… He never wanted to let him go. Lorenzo was watching from his position, leaning on the chest of drawers demurely.
"This is much more messed up than I first thought…" The good doctor said, voice level, "I do believe that to undo the stripes of torture may even be the easier of our problems."
"But-"
"Did you listen to his testimony, Lex?" Lorenzo was obviously not too pleased with Lex's demeanour, "He doesn't understand that he didn't do anything wrong. He thinks that he must deserve it."
"But he doesn't! He-"
Lorenzo scowled and waved a hand for silence, "The transition from complete love into complete hate has broken him. That's the point Lex. Not whatever is running through your head. Don't you remember how you used to melt into every single physical touch-"
Lex stiffened, all praise Lorenzo for his bluntness, "How could I forget."
With a sigh the doctor approached the now sedate form in his employer's arms, "I just want you to keep it straight in your head that no matter how you feel towards the boy you can't let it interfere; Clark Kent is a beaten child much the same as-"
"You think I'd hurt him?" Lex could feel the surface anger bubbling again.
"No. I don't think you'd hurt him, not intentionally at any rate, but you could fix him up only to break him again if you get too close before either of you are ready."
The pair of them were glaring at each other. Theirs had always been a volatile relationship, Lex never quite recovering from Lorenzo's forceful extraction of all his secrets when he was younger, Lorenzo just being the sarcastic, well meaning bastard that Lex loved him for as much as he hated him.
"So what does the doctor prescribe his patient?" Lex asked, bitterness filling his voice, remembering the words Lionel had spoken over his head after a particularly revealing session behind locked doors.
"Time…" Lorenzo murmured, "Right now I don't know what else can be done."
Clark woke up again in the late afternoon. This time he noticed, he was alone, completely alone. The room was filled with wintry light that sifted through the white chiffon curtains that at night were covered by the think blue drapes… This room was luxury. This house, this magnificent manor was luxury. Clark stretched out, realising he was still fully dressed beneath the thin blanket that had been tucked in about him, and sat up with a little yawn. Gently he circled his head on his shoulders, stretching the tense muscles he could feel tightening about him. If anything this place was heaven, a haven in the midst of a hellish world.
It was true wasn't it? That earth was just a different word for cruelty and misery and pain and nightmares. No… It wasn't all true… He could remember being happy, he could remember love and laughter with his friends and his-
Colour drained from his face as he remembered the conversation he'd had with Lex. What had he said? How much did Lex now know? Would he hate him? Was that why he was alone? Was that the reason Lex had left him here when he had never done so before?
"Lex?" He called softly, too softly he knew for it to be heard.
Nothing. Silence greeted him in return, between the whispers of the whining wind. Clark felt the calm that had still be snug around him from sleep whisked away by fate. Lex must hate him. Lex must have realised why he was so unworthy of his friendship. Lex must know about his impurities. He didn't want the perfect man marred by his contamination.
He didn't freak out when he found out you were an alien. A little voice whispered in his head. That was true but… Lex wasn't… Lex wouldn't be… Lex was untainted. He had said it himself, Lex had been reborn that day that Clark had saved him. But then again that was when his own addiction had started. The day his life had been changed was the day he met Lex Luthor.
The realisation of the changes came slowly; ever since Luthor had arrived his relationship with his parents had seemed on edge. Time after time he had had to put his family, and his friends too, second after his duty to the town and the mutations he had caused with his crashing entrance to the world. He and Jonathon had had a more bitter relationship as the older Kent realised that Clark would not stop being 'the Luthor brat's' friend. He didn't understand why Jonathon had never been able to give Lex a proper chance, only a resigned agreement to a truce.
With a forlorn sigh Clark pulled himself out of the bed entirely, swiftly beginning to feel claustrophobic with the sentiments ricocheting off the walls of his room. He needed air.
The door was slightly ajar and Clark knew that if he went straight ahead he would find himself at the door of Lex's study. That was certainly not where he wanted to be though, his friend was probably busy and he definitely didn't have the right to interrupt. But the question was… Was left or right the way out? Peering cautiously down to the end of the right hand corridor he could see a series of serious looking ancestors from the Luthor name and another set of corridors stretching out from it. Tentatively he decided to take the other route, deciding that it had perhaps the better claim as it only had one branch coming off it instead of two and Clark really only wanted things to be simple right that moment. He could always turn around anyway.
Lex stood in the window, the light from the gloomy outdoors floating across his face as clouds covered the sun, "So you've come to tell me what, father?" He asked with a completely blank mask in place, his tone sneering.
"That little business proposition you had for me a while back, I've now come across one of my own," His father was looking tired around his eyes, the lines in his face deeper than Lex remembered them being before. Was the old man really so perturbed by Clark's disappearance? He doubted it. There had to be something else.
"I will not bend to suit you." He replied, flippant this time, taking a sip from a glass of water.
Lionel frowned slightly before covering up his disapproval with a smile, "I know you don't, son, which is why I think you'll find this to your advantage."
"Explain." He might as well entertain his father, mislead him a little, see what the twisted man had thought up this time.
The flame lit up in Lionel's eyes, the passion for his work taking over and for a second Lex could forget what his father had done; in that look it was as if the man his mother loved was still there beneath the surface of his mask, "You must first understand that I have a series of investments in pharmaceutical companies, medicinal value is at an all time high and I believed that through a number of experiments I had indeed discovered the cure to some of our most vicious afflictions; cancer for one."
Lex scowled, knowing that his father had dropped that in there to appeal to the guilt that he still felt over his mother's death. He had let her down… Had not found the cure fast enough and Lionel was manipulating it. Well he would just have to fool it.
"The key to this experiment was a young man, someone I remember you being very close with, Clark Kent."
Everything fell into place, surely and suddenly and his father must have mistaken the horror that had flittered into his eyes for surprise as he endeavoured on, "You remember his disappearance I'm sure but the truth is he came to me looking for guidance as he was struggling with a… mutation… he had acquired from this place…" He paused for effect, "And knowing he was your friend I obliged. Now, he ran away, under the influence of his mutation and I believe he could potentially serve as a great threat to society. All I ask is that if he comes to you, you inform me immediately in order that his danger may be contained and we can continue to develop this potential cure."
"And you offer me what?" Lex spat it out but his father was unfazed.
"A fifty/fifty split with me over my shares in the company."
He was desperate. Lex thought of the sobbing wreck that had arrived at his home such as short time ago, remembered the peaceful face that he had left sleeping in order to speak with the man before him. He smirked, "Lovely offer father, but I decline."
"W… Wh…What?" Lionel had gone white, angry red blood blotching in his cheeks, "You what?"
"I decline. You've lied to me the whole way through your proposal, you've asked me to hand over the greatest friend I've ever had and only so that you may 'experiment' on him. I understand the nature of your research, father, I'm not a fool like you believe." Lex took another sip of his water and turned away, "Now if you'd just show yourself the door."
He could imagine the purple colour of his father's face, imagine the fury and the want to lash out and strike him as he had so many times when he was a child. Outside the cold, grey day was beginning to brighten; sun tilting itself so that it could peer out from behind a mantle of cloud. Behind him he heard his father's breath becoming laboured, a chair scraping back, footsteps and then a fierce grip on his shoulders. Pain shot through him as he was roughly shoved up against the wall. Lionel's livid look brought back brutal memories from his childhood. He had pushed him too far. The man slammed him into the wall again, causing Lex to hiss.
"Think about it. It could be the world." The man smashed his spine into the wall once more, dropping him to the floor before kicking him in the stomach, "Think about it very hard."
Lost. Lost in a manor he thought he knew… Shivers were shaking his body, he was alone and lost and afraid. He wanted to know where he was, he wanted his x-ray vision back then he'd be safe, he'd know where he was then. There were rooms he had never seen, dining rooms and bed rooms that didn't look like they had ever been slept in, the gallery of paintings from all over the world that he had found himself entranced by, a photo studio covered in black and white snapshots of Smallville, the weird and the wonderful and many of himself… Wryly he wondered if he was weird or wonderful in Lex's eyes. Probably neither now… Lex hated him.
Wrapping his arms about himself he settled back into the corner of the art gallery, knowing that someone would have to find him eventually… One of the servants that would find him and smile sadly and tell him that a Lionel Luthor was coming to retrieve him and save him from his wicked thoughts.
"It's not my fault I love him…" He whispered up at the faces of the paintings about him, they continued to stare, eyes still full of the same emotion as they had before. An angel curled into the side of an alley, smoking caught his eye. The angel's face seemed so solemn, so disappointed… He wondered if he was disappointed at him… He imagined it was. Saddened by the stupidity of his weakness… He remembered people calling him strong and amazing and super human. He wasn't even human though… He was a grubby freak that couldn't even find his own way through a house he'd frequented in the past. He was so useless. Leaning his head back against the wall he looked up, looked through the ceiling and the roof and imagined that he was dancing on the clouds with the drizzling rain.
He could remember someone telling him God was in the rain… Maybe it could wash away the contamination if he let it. Pearls slid across his cheeks and he didn't know if he was sad or content in that moment.
Lex shivered uncontrollably where his father had left him, seconds ticking into moments into minutes and all he knew was that he had failed in his promise to himself. He had failed to come through on the one thing he swore he would never let happen again to him. He had let his father hurt him. If only he could be assured of Clark's safety, he was certain that his father knew that all the star child had to turn to in the world was Lex himself now. Chloe and Pete were, of course, also options; only that they had neither the security nor the ability to keep a secret such as Clark Kent safe. He was beginning to wonder if he himself did.
Fragile as glass… it was as if his mask was this solid, perfect shield that was made of the most delicate crystal and now it had once again been splintered by his father… his new protection dropped and broken in seconds as he let his father abuse him. He knew that masks could be resurrected… that the old could be replaced with the new, but the lessons he had learnt when he was little were simple: each mask can be worn with ease, but each time it breaks a little part of your self goes with it, irreplaceable.
With a sigh, the pale young man gathered his wits, collecting the fragments of his pretence and threading them back into place. Slowly rising, Lex decided to check on his guest, praying the boy hadn't been too perturbed by his absence if he had awoken. Something in his gut told him otherwise, something told him that things were not all alright with his young friend.
Padding down the corridor towards their adjoining rooms he noticed immediately that the door was wide open, not how he would have left it… Heart leaping to hang in this throat, he hurried to the door, pulling it open to see the empty bed and the crumpled sheets he knew were there.
"Shit." He cursed aloud; where would his boy have gone? He could be anywhere… Lex paled… He could have found his lead lined room, the shrine of Clark Kent that he had created during his time of obsessive need to know. Slowly he turned, not knowing which way to go from the room itself, knowing he'd just have to rely on his intuition… He was awful at this game.
Lionel sat, fuming, in his car. How dare Lex defy him? How dare he go against his own father in such a crude manner? It went against everything that was Luthor. The Luthor name stood for dignity and finesse and eloquence, even in the face of an enemy the aim was to remain cold and removed from the topic, shooting it down with witticisms after completely annihilating the case made for it. Lex had clearly forgotten his manners. Manners were everything in their world; why couldn't the foolish boy take heed of his faults and be rid of them? Clark Kent had twisted the perfect shell that had been Lex Luthor into a powerful young man that could think, live, breathe without Lionel's authority. It wasn't right. Lex was his. Nothing would ever change that.
He bent, looking for the suitcase he had placed under his seat, only to realise it wasn't there. He snarled. He had left it in his blasted son's office.
"Turn us around, Swaniker, I've left some important documentation at the manor."
He saw his driver's tired sigh and smirked, he loved having the power to hurt people… if only he hadn't become so addicted to the cries of a beautiful monster.
Clark came down from the clouds, drained, his eyes heavy with reflection and badly contained pain. He wondered if memories ever stopped hurting… If time would make things seem less real… He'd heard it did… That as memories faded so did the hurt… Or maybe it would make it worse. Shaking his head he realise that something of the rain had left tracks on his face and he frowned to himself, he cried too often these days. He never used to cry. Weeping was weakness, he remembered Luthor telling him that as he smirked down at him… He'd been beaten and flayed until he could no longer feel his back as so many nerves had been shredded, but Lionel of course didn't care about that. Lionel liked to hear his screams; liked to punish him further if only to elicit more cries and tears.
Whimpering, Clark curled into himself, remembering. Why had it all happened? He didn't know anything. He couldn't do anything. And no one had cared to find out. No one until…
"Lex…" he whispered… But even his saviour hated him now. He wouldn't be taken away again. He couldn't go through it all again. And Lionel would be so mad. He would be furious, livid, incensed by vehemence at his escape. There wouldn't be a respite…
"Oh please…"
The nightmares had come back, were tugging at his eyes to turn into memory. Why couldn't they just leave him alone?
The first sign of Clark was in the haphazardly opened doors. Every so often there was a room unbolted and left gaping into whatever space lay behind it. Smiling slightly, he wondered what the boy had thought of the vast rooms he had never been privy to before. He had probably been disturbed by the sheer amount of them, all tucked into the walls as if there was an enchantment enlarging the space. At least this was the wrong side of the house for Clark to find anything concerning in. This was the creative side of his home. Perhaps some sort of solace would have been found in this part of the house.
Every so often he called out for his friend, but there was still no sign of him. Not for the first time, Lex resented the sheer size of the manor. It was too big for just himself at any rate.
That was when he heard it. The smallest of whimpers. A distinctly Clarkish whimper. Tiny but still there Lex began to follow the noise, listening as intently as possible so that he could discern between reverberating echoes and the actual sounds. Rounding the corner he found himself in the gallery. Art lined the walls in a haphazardly arranged hall of portraits, paintings and mixed media work from all over the world. He loved this place… it was a calm place and he could remember many times that it had lent him a sort of solace. Today, however, it was protecting more than just paintings, curled up into the wall there was a crumpled form.
"Hey Clark…" He said in a low voice as he came slowly towards the miserable figure, "I wondered where you'd gone." He smiled, glowing inside at finding his friend. Then the complete terror that tore apart Clark's face put out the light, "Angel, what's wrong?" Concern flooded into his veins, what had disturbed him so much?
Clark flinched as he reached out to touch him, curling further into himself. What did he think he was going to do now? With a sad sigh, Lex moved away again, sliding down to settle against the opposite wall. The blue eyed boy was trying desperately not to meet his gaze and Lex, for the umpteenth time when it came to Clark, didn't know what to do. The silence spread, neither willing to break the delicate thread that invisibly circled them.
Lionel stormed through to Lex's office, he wanted to scare the brat again after their little meeting only a short while before. Flinging open the doors with a lavishness that was overly excessive for the occasion he glared directly at an empty chair in a desolate room. There lay his case, untouched by the plush seat he'd been settled in before and the study was Lexless. Where would the boy have gone? Probably to find sanctuary in his room and lick his wounds. Lionel growled, deciding to go investigate, he could find a reason for the intrusion, an excuse to frighten his beaten child a little further. He did so delight in seeing old wounds reopen in Lex's eyes. Those ridiculously expressive eyes thanks to the decadent influence of the Kent boy.
The Kent boy… Blue eyes glazed over with panic and pain… perfect…
He wanted the boy back.
"Lexy… Where are you?" He snarled as he began to prowl through the corridor, specifically choosing to use the pet name the boy's mother had used to put more sting into the words that no one was going to hear.
Or maybe he'd have trekked to his 'shadow gallery', the pathetic collection of artwork he'd accumulated over the years, it was a waste of space that Lionel had never appreciated but Lex, he remembered, had loved.
"Oh yes Lexy… I'll find you…"
There was no malice in Lex's eyes… no anger or disgust… And the shadows were pulled back from his eyes as the pale white glow that seemed to circle his friend drove them away. He didn't want to believe that Lex was under the thumb of Lionel. He wanted Lex to hold him and care for him. But he didn't want to be touched if he was just to be pushed away. He didn't want proof that Lex hated him… so he bowed into himself, uncertain and shaking…
Why was Lex so… He didn't know which word was right… Lex was many things that he didn't understand… He was sexy and smart and sarcastic and yet still sensitive beneath it all… He was incomprehensibly layered, as if he'd been constructed like a jigsaw, piece after piece to make up the man before him… Why was Lex so complicated? How many times had he been thrown off by a cold shoulder? How many times had he been held close for comfort? There was faces to his friend he had yet to discover and now he was scared to know what was real and what wasn't…
Lionel prowled at the back of his mind. Red hair and maniacal eyes would never leave him alone. Cowering away further, he whimpered… Pleading with his ghostly phantom to leave him. Begging for freedom from the foul restraints that bound him.
"Angel…" Lex, it seemed, couldn't bare to take the silence any more.
Tentatively, afraid of seeing the echoing look of his parents, he lifted his head, lifted his eyes to the one man he had never lost hope in.
Something sparkled beneath the surface of the grey irises, something suspiciously akin to unshed tears. Why was Lex unhappy? Lex wasn't meant to be unhappy… Lex never let himself slip enough to show… Without thinking, Clark unravelled himself, finding himself running his thumb over the light rouge that had risen with the shimmering in the storm.
Their eyes never left each others… Clark felt arms lace themselves around his waist, holding him carefully, protectively. Gently Lex tugged him nearer, bringing their faces closer; Clark could feel the tickle of Lex's breaths across his cheek. A single tear slipped from the long lashes to trace the gentle slope of Lex's face. And just as sadly as before, he found himself brush the tear away, wondering at the sudden sorrow in his friend.
Lex lifted his face up slightly, smiling softly as their lips hovered only inches apart. They both shoevered slightly, nestling into one another's embrace more fondly as they did so. One hand rose to bury itself in the unruly mop of hair, the other teased his neck, circling motions with long, pale fingers making Clark's eyes widen with a mixture of emotion. Was Lex… Were they… Noses touched, eye fluttered shut and lips…
"LEX!"
Clark went rigid in the warm arms that pulled him even closer. Footsteps… That voice… This had been a trap. Clark moaned, slipping back into his reality, misery cascading down in showers… Lex had ensnared him so… Why? He looked up into grey, longing to understand. But all he saw was fear… and this time he wasn't sure who for…
"LEXY!" Lionel knew the brat would be here. If he wasn't then… No the boy had to be. Where else would the predictable young fool crawl away to find refuge? He rounded the corner into the gallery with a snarl as he caught sight of the wretch. Lex was sitting, head bowed, not looking at him but he glared anyway. He made him so angry.
"You went through my case." He made sure his voice was icy as the Styx , the fury hidden in the full grip of force. Lionel wanted to see her eyes, his wife's eyes in his son. The grey swept through with dark silver fear. He wanted Lex to fall apart.
"I didn't see your case, father." Lex's voice was layered to resemble control. He had taught him so well.
"I returned to your office only to find it on your desk, opened. You went through private documentation didn't you, Lexy?" Lionel saw the quiver in the narrow shoulders.
"No."
Rage bubbled and frothed. Fury spat over the edges and Lionel grabbed his first toy, lifting it, slamming it into the wall, letting him fall to the ground with a hiss. Then he kicked him. Repeatedly stamping his boot into the pale, bruising flesh. Not a sound, Lex, not a sound… He backed off, waiting for Lex to stagger to his feet. Watching as he did so… seeing the tremble in his stance, watching for the inevitable break in his porcelain mask. The bruises would be gone before they had settled. His son did have a remarkable talent for miraculous healings. So he let the grey settle on him, emotionless still. And he pulled back his arm. He let his hands curl into a fist. The impact set Lex to the floor, unmoving, blood trickling from his nose.
"Don't look through my belongings, Lex. I thought you'd have known that by now." He tried to sound saddened, but with the bald freak lying unresponsive on the floor, he couldn't help but feel a smile carve itself into his face.
The maniac had had enough fun though… at least for today.
With satisfaction streaming through his veins, Lionel Luthor left his son alone, knowing sooner or later someone would come along and find him. Probably the boy would have recovered. Probably the boy would be broken.
Clark crept out from his hiding place inside a portrait, still afraid, but more worried about his friend. He knelt at his side, tenderly tugging Lex closer, pulling him into his arms. Blood was sliding across his pale skin, dripping across his lip. Clark didn't know what to do… What if Lionel was still there? What if he was waiting for him to fall into his trap. But Lex was hurt... Lex needed the expertise of Doctor Lorenzo. Lex needed to be taken care of this time. Looking into the passive unconsciousness of Lex's face he wondered if this was the reason for all Lex's subtleties and masks.
Clark was inside a painting. Clark was safe. Clark was inside a painting. He'd be fine. He'd see everything. He'd never be able to look at him again. He'd turn away. He wouldn't feel safe with him anymore… And he was trapped. Lionel had taken him back to Arkam. No… He wouldn't have… Clark was safe… That's all that matter… That his angel was safe…
"Clark…" He groaned. Forcing his eyes open, only to meet a too bright light.
"He's here. He's right here." Lorenzo's gravely tone shuffled warmth between words. He wasn't at Arkam. He was just with Lorenzo.
"Lionel didn't…" Lex squinted through the lights, looking for the dark haired man he had braved his father for.
"He didn't find me." Clark's voice was small, uncertain.
"Good…" Lex reached out for the voice, felt a hand curl into his, "I just don't think here is safe anymore though…"
Lorenzo shot him a look that even the light couldn't blind. He knew what his patient was thinking. It made sense, Lex knew it made sense, they needed to slip away unnoticed by his father to somewhere that Lionel would never find them. Clark's grip tightened slightly and he knew he had to do it… they had to leave before it was too late, portraits couldn't hide his guest forever.
"I think we need to go to Switzerland."
FIN
Woo Woo! The end of another chapter at last. And I get to send them away. AND I got in a precious moment that really was desperately needed. Awww that reminded me of me and my boyf. I think we should go for another chapter, don't you? Toodle pop! - Matt