A/N: Your comments definitely inspired some of the details in this chapter. They also made me happy and extra excited about continuing :)

Chapter 3 - Scarecrow

Clark had never really been able to like Whitney—he was dating the girl Clark had loved since he was a child, after all—but Clark never really thought Whitney would have been capable of something like this.

For multiple reasons. He didn't think Whitney was the type, for one thing, but what had happened also shouldn't have been possible. Clark had been timid and a little nerdy in middle school, so he'd been teased, but never really bullied. He could have easily defended himself if it came to that. Today, though, he'd been totally defenseless. Weaker than his own parents, and definitely weaker than an entire football team.

The rough hands that had hit him and dragged him into the truck had hurt. Really hurt. Clark wasn't used to feeling pain at all. Now, though, those blows were distant, happy memories to the impossible chill of the October air, the excruciating ache in his arms from being wrenched back in the unnatural position on the cross, and the burning fire in his veins that didn't seem to counteract the icy night air in the slightest, concentrated around where Lana's necklace hung.

Someone passed by—a kid about Clark's age—but he refused to help. Said something about Clark being safer out there. But as the night crawled on, agonizing pain permeating every second, Clark slowly began to realize that if he couldn't get help, he was going to die.

The worst part about dying wasn't the soreness, or the cold, or the heat. The worst part was the last conversation he'd had with his father had been a fight.

His father had taken him down to the storm cellar as soon as Lex was gone and shown him his spaceship. He'd given Clark all of an hour to cool off from finding out he was an alien before calling him back down into the living room to be lectured.

"We've talked about letting people see your powers, Clark. You know how dangerous it is."

"More dangerous than drowning? Because that's what would have happened to Lex."

"It's not your job to fix everything."

"What are you saying, Dad? That I should have let him die?"

"No, that's not . . . Look, it doesn't matter. Just stay away from Lex."

That was the part that had hit Clark hard. Finally, someone besides his parents knew his secret, and he even seemed like a nice guy. He wasn't Clark's age, but he was closer than his parents were. And now his father wanted him to stay away from the one person he might be able to talk to.

"Why?" Clark had asked.

"Because you know how I feel about the Luthors."

"I've never even heard you mention Lex before. Why do you hate him so much?"

"I don't hate him."

"I heard you threatening him. I've never heard you talk like that to anyone."

"You've never met Lionel."

"And you had never met Lex!"

"Neither had you! All you know about him is that he hit you with his car."

"He was nice to me. He didn't treat me like a freak, he promised to keep my secret, and he helped me come up with a cover story. Hitting me was an accident."

"If he'd hit anyone else, they would have been dead."

"He would be, too! Can't we be thankful it was me?"

"I'm thankful you're alive. Believe me, son, I am. All I'm asking you to do is to stay away from the Luthors."

Clark had stormed out then, and they hadn't spoken since.

Looking back, Clark wasn't sure why it had been such a big deal. Yes, it seemed unfair for his father to be judging Lex so quickly, and those threats had been uncalled for, but Clark could understand why his father was reluctant to give the benefit of the doubt to someone who could have hurt Clark.

Now, with the perspective that came from knowing he was going to die, Clark couldn't see why defending a total stranger had been so important to him that he'd felt the need to yell at his dad. Maybe he was still upset about his dad having kept the spaceship from him for so long.

He couldn't die out here. He couldn't let those be the last words he and his dad ever spoke to each other.

"Help me," he managed to gasp out to the empty cornfield. "Help me!"

But there was nothing. No one. Only the darkness and the pain.

Lex had to pass by the cornfield where he'd lost his hair in order to get from the plant to the mansion.

He was sure that that wasn't a coincidence. For whatever reason, his father's mission really was to make his life as miserable as possible. It didn't make sense to Lex, but it didn't have to make sense—he just had to live with it.

Lex passed by the cornfield slowly. He couldn't reminisce every time he passed by, but this was the first time he'd been back in Smallville since the meteor shower. He remembered that day well, which didn't seem fair—why couldn't his mind have blocked out the trauma?—but the field looked and felt much creepier at night.

He let his mind wander back to that afternoon. His father had been especially annoyed with him for panicking in the helicopter. Lex had wandered into the cornfield against his father's orders, even knowing he'd probably face punishment for it later on. There had been a kid in the middle of the field, stripped to his underwear and tied to a stake. Crucified, he supposed, though he hadn't thought of it that way at the time.

A kid darted out from the field, then ran away.

Lex got out of the car. His mind must have been playing tricks on him. The kid looked exactly like the kid he'd seen that day in the field.

"Help me." A weak voice from the field.

That was what the kid had said. Lex's mind was definitely playing tricks on him. But the voice sounded awfully real . . .

Lex grabbed a flashlight from his trunk and started searching the cornfield. Part of him couldn't believe he was doing this, but Lex had been too startled to help that kid, all those years ago, and it had haunted him later.

He hadn't been imagining the voice—another kid was tied up in his underwear, with a big red "S" painted on his chest. But this time, Lex recognized him.

"Clark?"

Clark lifted his head. His twisted expression didn't leave much to the imagination in terms of the pain he was feeling.

"Oh, jeez." He could worry about Jonathan Kent's threats later. For now, he rushed over to untie the ropes. "Who did this to you?"

"Doesn't matter."

Lex might have let that one go until he made sure Clark was okay, if it weren't for what he'd seen earlier. "Doesn't matter? My car hit you going sixty miles an hour and you lived, but someone managed to tie you up here. That's not someone I want to meet in a dark alley. Who did this?"

"Just some guys at my school." Clark hit the ground, and he sprung to his feet.

"Did something happen to you?"

Clark scooped up a pile of clothes from where they'd been dumped a short distance away. "No, I'm fine."

"Fine? Earlier today, you ripped open the top of my car with your bare hands, underwater. Tonight, you couldn't break through a couple of ropes."

Clark's brow furrowed, but he remained silent as he started to dress himself.

Lex shook his head. He wasn't even supposed to be talking to this kid, let alone asking questions about his powers. Clark didn't owe Lex any answers. They didn't even know each other. "Sorry, I'll go."

"No, it's okay." Clark looked up, and his eyes met Lex's. "You're right, something happened to me, and I don't know what. But I can't talk to my parents about this. They'll freak out."

Lex could imagine that.

"Look, I've got to go do something right now, but I could use your help figuring this out. Can I drop by your house after school on Monday?"

"Ah . . ." Lex rubbed the back of his neck. "Your parents told me to stay away from you."

Clark gave him a slight smile. "I'm good at keeping secrets."

Despite everything, Lex found himself returning the smile.

"See you Monday," Clark said, and he disappeared into the night.