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Clark ran up the hill to the house, unlocking the door and flinging it open. The sound of a phone ringing was high-pitched and annoying and he picked up the receiver.
“Yeah?”
“I’d like to speak to Lex.”
“He’s not here. Late class. Who’s this?”
“Bennett.” Clark couldn’t think of anyone Lex knew with that name.
“Who?”
“Just give Lex a message,” the man sighed, sounding irritated. “Tell him I tracked his friend down. He’s in a prison in Bhutan.”
“Wait. You found Bruce?”
“Yeah, kid.”
“How?”
“Let’s just say I know a few people. They told me a guy answering your friend’s description was locked up in a prison in Bhutan. He’s damn lucky he’s still alive, you ask me.”
Clark frantically looked around for a pen and paper, ignoring the icy wind blasting through the open doorway. He didn’t feel the cold, but Lex could and no doubt his friend would be home any minute. He saw a pad on the desk in the living room and used his super speed to get it, grabbing a pen at the same time.
“Okay, what’s this prison called?”
“Doesn’t matter. You won’t get him out easy.”
“Just give me the details. We’ll figure something out between us.”
“Fine kid.” Clark scribbled some notes on the pad as Bennett spoke. The man was right. Getting Bruce out wasn’t going to be easy, but Clark was sure Lex could come up with something.
He hung up, leaving the notes on the table by the phone, then grabbed some firewood and began making a fire in the living room fireplace. Lex’s last class of the day was all the way on the other side of the campus so it would take him about half an hour to get home since he didn’t have transport.
Once the fire was lit, he went to the kitchen to start making dinner. They took it in turns. Whoever finished first usually cooked while the other cleaned the kitchen after dinner. He had just started peeling the potatoes when he heard the door close. Lex gave a satisfied sigh.
“Clark?”
“In here.”
“God, it’s freezing out there. You’re so lucky you don’t feel the … hey, what’s this?”
Lex entered the kitchen with the notepad in his hand, a frown on his face.
“Bruce is in Bhutan?”
“That guy, I think your investigator, called just as I got home,” Clark said, washing the potatoes. The pipes had started to ice over but he’d used his heat vision to thaw the ice so they had running water. “He said he managed to track Bruce down to some prison. From what he said it sounded pretty bad.”
“Is he going to be able to get Bruce out?” Lex asked, sounding excited. It was the first lead they’d had in months.
“The way he was talking, he didn’t expect Bruce to last in there much longer.”
“Did you call Alfred?”
Clark shook his head. “I figured we should talk about it first.”
“What do you want to do?”
“Go and get him out and screw the people who run that place. They obviously don’t care about the prisoners.”
“Clark, that’s all very well, but a, it’s not a good idea for you to reveal your powers and b, it’s probably best if we try legal channels first.”
“And if that doesn’t work?”
“Well,” Lex said with a smirk. “A little blackmail couldn’t hurt.”
Clark shot his friend a withering look.
“Come on, Clark, if it’s as bad as you say, then there have to be several human rights violations. I’m sure the last thing the people who run that place will be wanting is intervention from the likes of Amnesty International.”
He had a point, Clark conceded. He resumed making dinner while Lex went out to call Alfred and tell him the news. He reported to Clark that the Gotham butler would be on the earliest train the next morning to Princeton.
As excited as Clark was that they’d found Bruce after over a year of searching, he was a little perturbed by the way Lex sat up until two in the morning searching the internet, trying to figure some way of getting Bruce out of the prison.
Clark yawned as he made his way downstairs to make some hot cocoa. Since he and Lex had started sleeping together, he found himself unable to sleep unless his boyfriend was beside him.
Scratching at the back of his head and yawning again, Clark glanced in the living room. Lex was still at the computer.
“Lex, what are you doing?”
“Trying to figure out how to get Bruce out of this mess he’s in.”
“Well, I don’t think you’re going to be able to solve it at two in the morning. You need to get some sleep. Alfred will be here in a few hours.”
Lex turned and looked at him. “Clark, the longer we wait, the less chance we have of getting him back.”
His friend was trying to hide it, but Clark could see the dark circles under his eyes. Lex was clearly so tired he could barely see straight but was determined to keep researching until he found what he wanted.
“I know that, Lex, but making yourself sick isn’t going to help the situation either.”
“I don’t get sick.”
Clark rolled his eyes, grabbed his friend and picked him up, dumping him over his shoulder.
“Hey! Put me down you Neanderthal!”
Knowing Lex wasn’t going to stop complaining, Clark sped up to the bedroom and dumped his boyfriend on the bed. He didn’t bother removing Lex’s clothes, just his shoes, then wrapped his arms around him, basically forcing him to lie still.
“Sleep,” he ordered.
“I’ll just wait until you’re asleep and I’ll go back downstairs again.”
“Nice try. You know I’ll know.”
“Bastard!”
Clark ignored that and laid a passionate kiss on his boyfriend’s lips.
“Go … to … sleep!”
In spite of his protests, Lex dropped off to sleep within minutes. It was no fake-out either.
Clark rose early the next morning, leaving Lex still sleeping, and made sure the house was clean and tidy. His mother had taught him long ago about keeping things neat and clean but Alfred could be a tyrant about keeping order sometimes.
It was Saturday so they had no classes. Clark could see some of the students out in the frosty morning air. It was less than a month to Christmas. Exams were meant to be starting next week. Then they would have time off for the holidays before they’d return for their final spring term.
The phone rang and Clark picked it up.
“Hello?”
“Master Clark?”
“Alfred. Where are you?”
“I believe we are just out of Philadelphia. I shall be arriving at Princeton Junction in approximately thirty minutes.”
“Don’t worry, Alfred. I’ll take Lex’s car and meet you at the station.”
“Thank you, young man.”
Alfred was as stoic as Bruce could be but Clark could hear the joy in his voice, even as tired as he was. The older man had clearly been as worried for Bruce as they were.
Clark went upstairs to check on Lex, who was still sound asleep. He quickly scribbled a note telling his boyfriend where he was going, then made sure the house was warm enough so Lex wouldn’t freeze when he finally did get up.
He left the house, driving Lex’s car carefully to the train station. The roads were already icy although it hadn’t snowed yet. This year just seemed to be colder than most and would no doubt get colder.
Lex owned about half a dozen cars – most of them expensive sports cars – but while at college he had opted for a classic Dodge Charger, mostly because Bruce had laughed at him when he’d wanted to drive his Porsche 911 from Kansas to New Jersey. The Wayne scion had told him using the Porsche would be too pretentious, even for them and second, it really wasn’t the most practical car around campus.
Clark liked driving the Dodge. It was big and built like a tank, or sort of. Since he’d grown to his full height of six three, Clark liked having a car that was made to fit his long limbs. A big plus was it had great traction in the snow and ice.
The train was just coming in as he parked the car in the lot and got out, walking quickly to the platform. Alfred stepped off the train and Clark waved.
“Master Clark,” the older man called, much to the wonder of the other passengers who had disembarked. He was carrying a small bag, which he called a valise.
“Alfred.” He took the bag and began walking behind the older man, exiting the station. Alfred glanced at him but said nothing.
Lex was up by the time they returned to the house. Alfred greeted him with a smile and a nod.
“Master Lex.”
Lex still looked half asleep, sipping his coffee and giving a half-nod in reply.
“Now,” Alfred said. “Let’s sit and discuss what we are going to do to get Master Bruce out of that dreadful place.”
“I’ve done some research,” Lex began, but Clark shot him a look.
“Lex, he just got here and you’re still half asleep. You could use some time to wake up and I’m sure Alfred could do with a warm drink.” He glanced at the butler. “Would you like tea or coffee, Alfred?”
“Oh, tea, please Master Clark. Allow me.”
Clark shook his head. “No, sir, my mother did teach me some manners. You’re a guest in our home. And I believe your favourite is Earl Grey?”
“It is indeed, with …”
“Lemon and honey,” Clark smiled. The older man smiled back at him.
“Your mother has taught you well.”
Lex was rolling his eyes. “Enough of the small talk already,” he said.
Clark glowered at his boyfriend as he put the kettle on to make Alfred’s tea.
“A little cranky this morning?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow.
“Well, someone manhandled me last night.”
Clark made a sound that resembled mock sympathy.
“Poor baby,” he said. “Imagine being made to go to bed at two in the morning when you were obviously still wide awake.”
Lex shot him a filthy look. “You’ll get yours, Kent!”
The kettle whistled and Clark made the tea. They sat down at the table.
“I spoke with Lieutenant Gordon and he advises we contact the Embassy in New Delhi,” Alfred told them.
“What was Bruce in prison for?” Clark asked.
“Apparently theft,” Lex replied. He’d clearly done more than research on the ‘net. “The authorities in Bhutan do not look kindly on such behaviour. The irony of it is it was his own company’s shipments.”
Clark frowned at his boyfriend. “You know that for sure?”
Lex nodded. “The investigator emailed me some of the documents from Bruce’s arrest.”
“If Master Bruce were a minor, there would be no issue. However, he is twenty-one.”
“Still, we can talk to the authorities. Maybe Lieutenant Gordon can advise us on the legal issues.”
“Do we have an extradition treaty with Bhutan?” Clark asked.
Alfred shook his head. “Unfortunately not, Master Clark. The US has no diplomatic relations with Bhutan.”
“But if our investigator is correct, we can’t ignore the human rights abuses that have gone on in that prison,” Lex declared. “Bruce has been denied due process.”
It was a stark contrast to the laws governing their own country, Clark thought. The authorities in the Asian country seemed to care little for justice. As far as they were concerned, there was no innocent until proven guilty.
Then again, they had no idea who exactly they had in that prison.
They discussed the issue for a few hours and came up with a plan. Alfred contacted the embassy in New Delhi and spoke to the ambassador’s assistant. Early the next morning, they were told that the warden, if he could be called that, a harsh and cruel man who claimed he didn’t answer to any authority other than his government, would meet with them. Clearly he didn’t like the thought of the world’s media learning of the prison and the abuses that went on there.
Two days later they were in said warden’s office. Lex was regarding the man coldly.
“I’m not sure you’re understanding the situation you have here,” he said. His cool demeanour belied his anxiety that only Clark and possibly Alfred could see. He clearly didn’t like this man, who was as stubborn as they came.
The conversation was being translated by an interpreter, hired from the Bhutanese government.
“I’m well aware of the situation and I don’t care.”
“We have orders from the King himself,” Lex proclaimed. “You are to release Bruce Wayne into our custody.” He stepped forward in a clear attempt to intimidate the man, who was about a head shorter than Lex. “Unless you want us to contact the world media and inform them exactly what goes on in this place. I have no doubt they would be very interested in the gang rapes and the corruption among your own men.”
Clark glanced at Alfred as the man listened to the translation. His eyes widened at the mention of the gang rapes. Clark had done a little speed reading on the plane and knew a few words of the language, although he wouldn’t be able to hold a conversation.
Clearly the threat of the world’s media invading the walls of this hellhole was enough to convince the man they meant business. A guard was quickly summoned and ordered to lead them down to Bruce’s cell.
Clark walked ahead, following the guard, who kept glancing at him uneasily, as if half-expecting Clark to attack him. He unlocked the heavy steel door to the cell and stood aside, getting out of the way quickly. Clark stared in dismay at the thin, pale body shivering under a paper-thin blanket.
“Bruce?”
He looked back at Lex and Alfred.
“He’s sick.”
Alfred moved into the cell.
“Master Bruce?”
“A-a-a-alfred?” Bruce was shivering so hard he could barely speak. His body was wet with sweat from his fever. Clark noticed what seemed to be a bluish tint to his skin.
“We need to get him out of here and find him a doctor. Pronto,” Lex said.
Clark bit his lip. If he didn’t know better, he would say that Bruce was near death. He moved forward, picking his friend up in his arms. Bruce had clearly been ill for a while as he was so thin he was almost skeletal. He’d barely been in this prison five months. How could things have become so bad in such a short time?
The warden greeted them at the gate, saying something to the interpreter that Clark didn’t catch. The translation came back. He was pretty much asking them not to alert the media or tell the king what had gone on.
Lex turned a cold gaze on him.
“Take a look at this man. Look at him. He’s deathly ill. Is this humane? Is it?”
“The man is a thief!”
“Yes, a thief. Not a murderer. Nothing he’s done deserves this kind of treatment. What you’ve done makes you no better than the men imprisoned here and if he dies, you can be damn sure we will not only make sure this prison pays for it, but we will also hold you personally responsible. Now get the fuck out of my way!”
Alfred had called in a few favours from some old friends. Neither Clark nor Lex questioned who they were, but they were grateful for it as a doctor met them at the miserable excuse for a hospital in Bhutan’s capital. Alfred refused to allow the staff to treat him.
It was an anxious wait as the British doctor who had been flown in from an army hospital in India where he had been stationed, examined Bruce. They sat in what passed for a waiting room, ignoring the staff who were clearly annoyed at this intrusion. Clark stood guard beside the examination room, glaring at anyone passing by.
After what felt like hours, the doctor came out.
“How is he?” Lex asked.
“Well, I’m afraid it’s not good news, chaps. He has pneumonia and it’s in both lungs. We’ve put him on oxygen, intravenous fluids and antibiotics. If he can make it through the night he has a good chance.”
Why did Clark get the feeling the doctor wasn’t optimistic?