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As much as Lex hated to admit it, there were some advantages to being Lionel Luthor’s son. Chief of which was the ability to intimidate or manipulate people into doing what he wanted.
He was relieved when his investigator finally found Bruce, but dismayed when he learned exactly where Bruce was and just how bad a shape he was in. Not that the warden, or whatever he was, of the prison in Bhutan where Bruce was currently incarcerated, seemed to give a damn.
Lex didn’t tell Clark the full extent of what he had learned in his research. Bhutan was a harsh country. The location of the prison, on the very edge of the border, shadowed by the Himalayans, was about the worst place it could be. Not to mention the fact that the environment was harsh. While in New Jersey, it was yet to snow, in Bhutan, temperatures had already dropped below freezing.
Bruce was in trouble, and Lex was prepared to go to any length to get him out. Even if it meant blackmailing the warden, threatening him with going to the media. Bruce was the only Caucasian male in that prison and it should have already attracted attention. Except no one was really going to care about a little prison in a place like Bhutan.
It was a good thing that Lex still had an ace up his sleeve. The warden would have to cave once he knew his prisoner was the missing Wayne heir. The media would be all over the story. Not that Lex intended to publicise the fact if he could help it. Still, what the warden didn’t know wouldn’t kill him.
There was the minor complication of the charges against Bruce, but Lex had a plan to take care of that. Clark probably would have a fit if he knew, but Lex figured the only way to take care of matters was to find a patsy; someone else to take the fall for Bruce.
He forgot about Clark’s super-hearing. His friend overheard him discussing the matter with the investigator.
“You’re going to do what?” Clark asked.
Lex frowned, then spoke into the receiver.
“I’ll call you back later.” He hung up and looked at Clark. “If Alfred’s plan doesn’t work, it’s the only way we’re going to get Bruce out of that place.”
Clark shook his head stubbornly. “We had a plan, Lex. This isn’t the way we said we’d do this. I thought you talked to Lieutenant Gordon?”
“Alfred did. He wasn’t too optimistic.”
His friend sighed. “Lex, I don’t like this. There has to be a legal way to do this. If you get someone else to be the patsy, it’ll take you down a road that I don’t agree with. You know what Bruce always says. That way leads to darkness.”
“I know that,” Lex growled, “but what are we supposed to do? We can’t just leave him there.”
“Look, we can at least try to get him out of that prison and then work something out with the authorities. I mean, Alfred said we could talk to the embassy, maybe talk to the government …”
“Technically there isn’t a government. Bhutan isn’t a democracy.”
Still, Lex knew Clark was right. Bruce wouldn’t want him going down that route and the last thing he wanted was to do something that would make his lover hate him.
Alfred announced the very next day that he had spoken to the authorities and they had agreed to a pardon for Bruce in return for their silence. Even the Bhutanese king was apparently not happy to hear of such abuses and would have his people investigate the prison. The Wayne butler doubted it would do much good, but at least they could get Bruce out of the country.
Visas were arranged within a few hours and they flew to New Delhi, taking a smaller aircraft to the country’s capital before driving out to the prison in a landrover.
Clark, of course, insisted on coming along. Lex knew there was no point in arguing with his friend. They both cared about Bruce.
The warden still seemed unconcerned with the threats. Lex spoke to him through the interpreter.
“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 attempting to intimidate the man, who was about a head shorter than him. “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.”
The man’s eyes widened as he listened to the translation, but he clearly wasn’t going to give ground easily. He maintained a stoic demeanour even as he summoned the guard. The two men spoke rapidly, not giving the interpreter time to follow the exchange, then the warden turned back to Lex.
“Go with this man. Take your friend and leave this place.”
As they started to follow, the man gripped Lex’s arm and spoke in slow English.
“You will inform no one of this.”
Lex was going to promise nothing. Frankly, the man deserved everything he got once the government took over the prison.
Clark went ahead of them to the cell and gave a cry of dismay. Bruce was clearly worse than even Lex had been led to believe. Lex could see his friend was extremely thin, shivering under a blanket so thin he could see daylight in its weave. His eyes were sunken, his hair wet with perspiration.
“He’s sick,” Clark said.
Alfred moved into the cell.
“Master Bruce?”
“A-a-a-alfred?” Bruce was shivering so hard he couldn’t speak. Lex bit his lip.
“We need to get him out of here and find him a doctor. Pronto,” he said.
Lex watched as Clark gently picked up their friend and carried him out. Bruce made no sound of protest, which was a clear indication to Lex that the Wayne scion was very ill indeed. Neither one of them enjoyed being carried by Clark, except when he was using super speed to get them somewhere in a hurry.
The warden greeted them at the gate, saying something to the interpreter, who translated. Instead of a demand he was practically begging Lex not to alert the media or tell the king what had gone on.
Lex glared coldly at him.
“Take a look at this man. Look at him. He’s deathly ill. Is this humane? Is it?”
“The man is a thief,” the warden answered, still unrepentant.
“Yes, a thief,” Lex pointed out. “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!” he added angrily.
Alfred told them he had called in a few favours from some old friends. Lex knew the man had once served with the British SAS but he never talked about why he had left that to come to work for Thomas and Martha Wayne. He assumed the doctor who met them at the poor excuse for a hospital in the capital was one procured through Alfred’s contacts.
Alfred refused to let Bruce out of his sight, even going so far as to refuse to allow the doctors and nurses on staff to treat his charge. Lex thought he heard him mumbling something like: “bloody primitives”. He wasn’t about to disabuse the older man of the notion, since he knew of a few doctors who had done their training in the US or Britain and returned to work in third-world countries.
The doctor shooed them out of the room so he could examine Bruce and get him started on treatment. As they sat in the waiting room, Lex could see the looks of annoyance from the staff, who clearly resented the idea that their practices were less than first-rate. It didn’t help that Clark stood guard beside the examination room, glaring at anyone passing by.
It felt like hours before the doctor emerged.
“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.”
“Can we see him?” Lex said.
“He’ll have to be taken to a ward shortly. I’ve got him sedated but you can sit with him for a bit.”
Lex quietly thanked the man and glanced at Alfred.
“Alfred, you go first.”
“You’re very kind, Master Lex.”
The doctor put a hand on Alfred’s shoulder. A look passed between the two men but Lex had no idea what that was about. The butler went into the room, followed by the other man. Clark looked at Lex, cocking an eyebrow.
“What’s that all about?” he asked.
Lex shrugged. “No idea. C’mon, let’s go see if we can scrounge up some coffee or something. Let Alfred have his privacy.”
They walked along the corridor, looking for a coffee machine or a cafeteria.
“Think Bruce will be okay?” Clark said.
“He’s strong, but … I’m not trying to be pessimistic, Clark, but he did look pretty bad.”
“Assholes,” Clark murmured.
“Unfortunately in a third world country such as this, things like human rights aren’t exactly a high priority here.”
“Well they should be.”
“Care to tell them,” Lex replied, giving his friend a weak smile.
Clark still looked unhappy. Lex pulled him into a small, private room and kissed him.
“Hey, it’s okay. We got him out, and we didn’t even have to resort to my plan. I’m sure given time Bruce will recover.”
“I just think it’s wrong that people can be treated this way.”
“I get that, Clark, but sometimes there are things that you cannot change, even with your abilities.”
“But you could,” Clark pointed out. “I mean, what’s the point of having so much money you couldn’t possibly spend it all? You’re always talking about making a difference.”
“Touche,” Lex replied. “And you’re right. But there is far more to it than just money. You need to know the right people. Have influence in the right circles.”
“You mean political,” Clark answered.
“Yes, exactly. Unfortunately this isn’t something we can change overnight. You have to chip away at it.”
He could understand Clark’s point of view. His friend wasn’t someone who could stand by and allow an injustice to continue but in spite of his abilities, this wasn’t something he could do. Lex wasn’t even sure that Clark should use his abilities in something like this. Not with how powerful he was. The danger there was that he could be seen to be trying to dictate how people led their lives, which could make him very unpopular. There were too many incidents in history where men had used their power and influence to get them to the top only to become tyrants.
They still didn’t know the full extent of Clark’s background. The most they had been able to learn so far was that Clark’s planet had exploded not long after his parents had sent him away. That had come through a man who had sent Clark a mysterious email in their second year at Princeton. Clark had gone to visit Dr Swann in New York and had returned telling them of the mysterious message.
Whatever Clark’s ‘destiny’ was, it was far off in the future and something they didn’t need to think about right now.
By the time they managed to find some coffee, albeit a very bad facsimile of it, and returned to Bruce, the doctor had arranged a private room – if there even was such a thing in the hospital. There was no way they could have flown him to the States. Or even to India. He was in no shape to be going anywhere.
Not that that deterred Clark, who had wanted to use his speed to take Bruce to the nearest first-class facility.
Alfred was sympathetic, even as the doctor shook his head to their query.
“I’m afraid any further travel might worsen his condition.”
He didn’t voice what they were all thinking. Bruce might not last the distance. They weren’t even sure if he would survive the night.
They followed the doctor up to the room, standing back as a staff nurse, a woman with very dark skin and what Lex remembered was a bindi on her forehead, settled Bruce and checked his vitals.
“Don’t worry,” the doctor assured them. “Nurse Singh was trained in one of the best hospitals in Mumbai.”
“Thank you, Dr Crittendon,” Alfred said, shaking the man’s hand.
“Not to worry, old chap. I’m sure he’ll be right as rain in no time.”
Lex wondered if the doctor was just telling them things he thought they wanted to hear. Clark had mentioned his own doubts and he had to admit he had felt the same way.
They were allowed to sit with Bruce for a while, but he slept on. Lex could hear the occasional hiss of the oxygen tank, watching as his friend’s chest moved up and down as he breathed. At least his breathing didn’t seem as laboured as it had when they’d taken him out of the prison.
Bruce finally woke up early the next morning, his eyes still sunken but seemingly clearer. His skin no longer had the waxen look. It seemed he was stronger than even they realised.
“Bruce,” Lex whispered, glancing over to the other chair where Clark was snoring lightly. Lex had to grin at that. For an alien, the boy could certainly snore. “How are you feeling?”
His friend didn’t reply to that.
“What are you doing here?” He frowned. “Where is … here … exactly?”
“You’re in a hospital in Thimpu. Don’t try to talk too much.”
“You … got me out?”
“Me, Clark and Alfred, yeah.”
“Why?”
“Why? Because you would have died there, idiot!” Lex said, unintentionally raising his voice. Clark came awake with a start, staring at them.
“Wha …?” He saw that Bruce was awake. “Bruce?”
“Clark,” Bruce whispered. “I …”
“We’ve been trying to track you for a year,” Lex told him. “Clark was all for searching every inch of Asia.”
Bruce snorted, or at least tried to. He began coughing, a harsh sound that seemed to hurt. It brought the nurse in.
“Mr Wayne, you must rest,” she told him in halting English. She shot Lex a look which suggested she was not happy with him for upsetting the patient.
“We’re going to leave you to rest,” Lex told Bruce, rising from his chair. “Come on Clark.”
They went to get some breakfast. By the time they returned, Alfred was outside the room talking to Dr Crittendon.
“It’s natural for him to be depressed. Pneumonia is a serious illness.” He looked up. “Ah, hello boys.”
“What’s going on?” Clark asked.
“It seems Master Bruce is, uh …”
“Down in the dumps, one might say,” Dr Crittendon finished. “As I was telling Alfred, it’s natural and not unexpected.”
Bruce’s mood only seemed to get worse as the day went on. Alfred finally took them aside.
“I think you boys best return to the States,” he said quietly.
“No,” Clark replied. “We want to stay here.”
“Master Bruce needs some time to recover and you boys shouldn’t miss any more school. I believe you have mid-terms you should be attending.”
“Who cares about stupid exams?” Clark complained bitterly.
Lex could see Alfred’s point. Sticking around was not going to help Bruce get better any faster and he probably needed time to sort things out in his own head.
The good news was that within a week of their return home, Alfred called and told them that Bruce had been deemed well enough to return to Gotham. He would need some physical therapy, and would still be bedridden for a week or two, but he would be home for Christmas.
As school wound up for the holiday break, they made arrangements to spend the holidays in Gotham. Clark’s parents were not exactly happy with this. He sat on the bed, talking with his mother on the cordless phone while Lex packed his suitcase.
“Mom, Bruce can’t come to Smallville. His doctor won’t allow it.”
Clark paused, wincing as his mother’s voice came through the receiver.
“Well, why can’t we all have Christmas in Gotham?” he asked.
Again Lex could hear Martha’s voice. She clearly didn’t want to compromise. Clark sighed and hung up.
“No go,” he said. “I have to spend Christmas in Smallville.”
“Well, I’m sure your parents will let you come to Gotham after Christmas,” Lex soothed. “They just want to have Christmas Day with you.”
“It’s not fair. I’m a senior in college. Why do they still have to treat me like a kid?”
Lex wasn’t going to touch that one. Clark could pout all he wanted, but the truth was, Lex envied him his parents. Maybe they still weren’t happy about their relationship, but at least they were willing to be open-minded about it. It wasn’t as if Clark had come out to them and they’d kicked him out of the family home.
“Clark, there’s one thing that you’ll have with your parents that I will never have from Lionel.”
“Yeah? What’s that?” Clark said gloomily.
“Limitations. All Lionel ever said to me was, ‘don’t get caught’. Your parents hardly get to see you all year because you’re away at school.”
Clark sighed. “I guess you’re right.”
“As soon as Christmas is over, you can come to Gotham. I’m sure they’ll let you come for New Year’s.”
“Yeah,” Clark said, brightening.
Lex sat on the bed and wrapped an arm around his boyfriend, giving his shoulders a squeeze.
“Now, help me get this damned thing closed, will you?”
Clark grinned. “You’re only going to Gotham, Lex, not a round the world trip.”
“Can the comedy, kid, and help me.”
Alfred greeted him cordially as he entered the manor.
“Happy Christmas, Master Lex.”
“Happy Christmas, Alfred. Clark is stuck in Smallville, but he’ll be here for New Year’s.”
“Wonderful. I’m sure Master Bruce will be happy to see him.”
Lex looked at the butler. His tone was a little too jovial to be genuine.
“How is he doing? Really?”
Alfred sighed. “Guess I can never fool you, Master Lex. He’s rather despondent. I hoped by bringing him home it would cheer him, but …”
“But he’s still the same brooding idiot he always was.” Lex patted the older man’s arm. “Don’t worry Alfred. I’m sure between the two of us we can knock some sense into him.”
“Indeed.” Alfred handed him a tray. “Tea, Master Lex, for the invalid, and your favourite coffee blend.”
Lex looked at him askance. “Alfred, I don’t know how you do it.”
“Years of practice, Master Lex. Now, off with you.”
Bruce was lying in bed, looking bored out of his mind. He glanced up when Lex came in.
“Oh, it’s you,” he said.
“Who else would it be?” Lex replied mildly. He set the tray down on the nightstand. “Alfred made you some tea.”
“Don’t want any,” Bruce grumbled.
He was still thin by his normal standards, but other than that he seemed to be well on his way to recovery. Lex knew it could take weeks for Bruce to be fully recovered from the pneumonia, and he probably had some scarring on the lungs, but that wasn’t what concerned him right then.
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
“Bruce …”
“Forget it, all right? I didn’t ask you to come down here.”
“I came because I care about you, you jerk!” Lex tried to keep his temper, but he couldn’t stop it.
“Why?”
Lex huffed. “Why? You want to know why? Come on, Bruce, how long have we known each other? If it hadn’t been for you, I might have ended up dead of some drug overdose, or face down in some back alley with a bullet in my head. I love you, dumbass. Why the hell do you think I spent hundreds of thousands of dollars trying to find you? I need you. What I don’t get is why you had to run out on me. And Clark.”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“What wouldn’t I understand? I get it, Bruce. You got a bee in your bonnet. You figured the only way to beat guys like Falcone was to get down in the dirt with them. Well, you did. You got yourself real dirty and almost died for it! That’s what I understand.”
To his surprise, Bruce’s eyes filled with tears. Lex wrapped his arms around him, holding him as his friend began to sob.
Bruce would heal from the damage the pneumonia had caused. The emotional damage? That would take time, and a lot of love.