Chapter Text
Concern wasn’t unusual for Dad, and when living seventeen years with constantly anxious, overprotective parents, one learned to distance themself. Compartmentalize. Or recognize that the object of fear probably wasn’t actually dangerous. And yet, today, Clark did feel nervous, almost like their concern was contagious — not that he could catch anything anyway. Clark sighed and broke into a run. He was just going to circle the fields a bit, cool down, but something made him stop.
He felt this strange, sixth-sense-ish feeling, almost Deja Vu, the feeling that you were being watched. Clark turned around his own axis, trying to zero in on the sensation. And then: the weird exit sound, like a strong rush of air. Clark knew this sound.
He turned again, extended his hand to catch the bullet squarely in his palm, but there was this wrongness again -- crawling and subtle, but definitely there. Clark only realized how wrong everything was when the bullet, that glinted green in the afternoon sunlight, ripped straight through his hand and lodged itself into his torso.
He gasped. The pain was unbearable and immediate. He had been injured when Eric Summers had stolen his powers, blunt, cloying pain that made you ache and itch in the aftermath and he had been hurt by meteor radiation, which was another sensation entirely: sharp, sickening, and not purely physical, it tore at the synapses of your brain, stopped your neurons firing, made it impossible to think, to function. This was a combination of both.
His knees must have given out. The ground felt rough and warm beneath him. The pain was everywhere, he could barely move, barely breathe. Panicked, he looked around for help, but he had ran too far, definetily out of shouting range of the farm.
Even so, the surroundings looked familiar. It was the mansions foregarden, which meant Lex' gardener must be around here somewhere, or his security. Panic washed over Clark -- even if somebody heard him, they would probably call the ambulance, or Lex, and it would end up with somebody knowing.
But Clark didn't have many options: stay here and die, shout for someone and let them call the ambulance or shout for someone and hopefully get them to bring him to Lex. The latter was sounding more appealing by the second.
"Help! Can somebody hear me!" He shouted at the top of his lungs. "Please help!"
Sure enough, an errant security guard for the mansion came running past the corner. Clark knew him but only by face.
"Jesus, kid. I'm calling an ambulance now," and he was already taking out his communicator, probably to alert about a shooter in the vicinity and his hand in his pocket, on his cell phone.
"No! Please don't! Please get Lex, he'll know what to do, please!"
The guard stared at him. "You've been shot. I'm calling an ambulance and I'll let Mr. Luthor know where you are."
"Please," Clark said, sounding plaintive and helpless. "Please, you need to believe me--" and in that moment, he could hear the mansion doors swing open, hard, sharp crocodile shoes clicking on the asphalt path, it could only be one person.
"What's going on here," Lex called out, they must be making a funny picture from the distance. Then, alarmed, Lex called again, running over to them.
"Clark?"
"Lex!" he shouted, his voice breaking. "Please don't let them take me away, please no hospitals."
"What the hell happened here," Lex asked, low and dangerous. The security guard flailed under his hard gaze.
"I don't know, Mr. Luthor. I found him like this, he's been shot. I was about to call and ambulance. He was asking for you."
Lex was furious. "Leave. Leave now, and find who did this."
"He needs a doctor, Mr. Luthor," the guard insisted. Clark shook his head, tried to get words out but his tongue was thick and doughy. Everything hurt,
Lex exchanged some more harsh words with the guard, who retreated and hoisted Clark up, a hand warm and tight against where he was bleeding. They stumbled through the mansions door like one clumsy, off-balance horse, four legs, until Clark's legs gave out completely and they both tumbled to the ground.
"He was right, you need a doctor. God, so much blood," Lex said while pressing something clean and white to his wound.
"No! No doctors! You need to"--Clark shifted and felt his whole stomach turn, he sqeezed his eyes shut. It hurt like hell.
"Okay, okay, no doctors, I promise. What do I have to do?"
"The bullet, it's Kryptonite, you have, have to--" he winced. Speaking was hard.
"Kryptonite? You mean meteor rock. It hurts you, doesn't it? Will you heal if I get it out?"
Clark nodded, pained. Lex had put the pieces together alarmingly fast, which meant that he must have known part of it already. Clark would have been more panicked if living past today wasn't a challenge.
"Alright. Don't panic," Lex said while pouring alcohol over sharp utensils that he had extracted from his first aid box.
"Drink this, it'll help," he said, practically pouring the alcohol down Clark's throat. Clark doubted alcohol would even have an effect on him but complied anyway, and maybe it was the proximity to Kryptonite or the dose but he felt himself going woozy a moment later.
Lex shoved something soft in his mouth which was probably smart because when he started cutting into him, Clark screamed around it like crazy, he had never felt something like this before. He looked down, his shirt was off and Lex was working tenuously, dark veins spiderwebbing around where the bullet entered him.
Clark faded in and out of consciousness, pain was his only constant. That and Lex, who told him to stay awake and keep his eyes open, to count back from a hundred and count sheep and whatever.
Finally, it was over. Everything still hurt but the acuteness of the Kryptonite was gone.
"You’re a good friend," Clark said, before passing out, the last thing he saw was Lex' panicked expression, and heard him calling his name.
…
Clark woke up wrapped in a silk blanket. His shirt was gone and replaced with a grey sweater. He didn't feel bad, just achy and tired. It took a moment for the events of today to come rushing back to him.
"He's finally awake," Lex said. He was sitting on the armchair next to the couch, and Clark could see real worry behind his sarcastic tone. Under his eyes were heavy, watercolor blue smudges and his face was drawn up into a strange frown.
"Lex. You're here," Clark said lamely. Where else would he be? But Clark didn't really want to have this conversation now, especially when they were both so exhausted.
"Yeah. Look, Clark. I know you aren't comfortable talking about all of this. But I think, after today, I deserve an explanation."
Clark inhaled and braced himself. Lex hadn’t seen anything too incriminating. Maybe he could talk himself out of this. "I was shot. Which part do you need me to explain?"
"You were shot? Spare me the bullshit. You were shot with a glowing green bullet made of meteor rock, which, by the way, you called Kryptonite, and it made your blood curdle and your veins turn black and when I removed it, your whole body just healed. But you were just shot. Actually, when we're on the theme, mind letting me know why you were just shot?"
Oh god. Lex knew too much, much too much.
"Stop panicking. Whatever you're thinking about probably won't happen. But I need you to be truthful with me so I can help you."
That did temporarily quell his panic. Helping him sounded good. Clark thought that he he probably did need help. His life was kind of a mess.
"I'll tell you everything, Lex. I promise I will. But can it wait until tomorrow?" He pleaded. His body was still all achy, a headache was starting to bloom beside his temples and he was so, so tired.
Lex' lips set into a thin line. "Fine. Tomorrow. I'll call your parents to pick you up."
"No!" Clark could imagine what his fathers reaction would be to pick him up from Lex Luthors mansion, freshly shot by a Kryptonite bullet and basically having revealed his Big Secret. Not to mention, wearing Lex’s clothes, but that was something else entirely.
"I'll run."
"You'll run? It's quite a way back and as you said, you were just shot. Let me drive you, at least."
"I can run faster than your car, Lex," Clark said, staring up at him, trying to gauge his reaction. Something terrifying was crawling up his spine but he didn’t think it was fear.
"You can what?" Lex looked like he was having a very bad day. And this was very bad news. "Clark, what--"
"Tomorrow," Clark promised. He gave Lex a half smile before speeding out of the mansion.
…
Martha was baking bread, which was a good and a bad sign at the same time. On the downside, the amount of bread suggested severe stress baking, on the upside, Jonathan would be put in a good mood, begrudgingly or not, and bread was always an upside on its own.
"You what?! You told him that you--" Jonathan cut himself off.
"What was I meant to do? Go to the hospital? Just let myself die?" Clark shouted, slowly losing his temper.
"Of course not! But of all people, Lex Luthor! Jesus, son. How much exactly does he know?"
"He knows that Kryptonite hurts me, and about how I heal. And my super-speed." Clark wanted to mention that it was either the aforementioned Lex Luthor or a security guard with a shoot-to-kill license that he didn’t even know, but that would mean actually mentioning the security guard, which would make them worry themselves into oblivion again. Anyway, Lex said he’d take care of that.
"And he knows all of that just from stitching you up?"
"Well," Clark said, feeling a well-placed stab of sudden guilt. But as guilt went, in his experience, it wasn’t too bad. "All but the super-speed."
Jonathan looked like he was about to start shouting again. Martha sighed.
"You're being to hard on him, Jonathan. What was he meant to do?"
Clark could always count on mom to be in his corner. Mom was the best. He smiled.
"You're not off the hook either, young man. Want to go over how you got shot in the first place?"
It’s not like I was asking for it, he wanted to say. But Mom had never really approved of his heroics.
"I can't believe you almost died," she said, coming to kneel by where Clark was sitting. "My beautiful boy."
"Aw, mom. I'm fine now, I told you. Lex saved me."
She wrapped him up in a warm hug anyway. It was much too close and they all knew it.
"We still need to discuss the Luthor in the room. Maybe you can convince him it's a meteor mutation?" Jonathan said.
"No. I'm not going to lie to Lex anymore. It's not fair to him or to me." Clark was sure about that. He was also sure that Lex knew more than he was letting on. Lying now would be digging his own grave. And there was that other, almost selfish part of him that just wanted to tell people. Some people more than others.
"Clark," Martha said, sensing his determination. "We need to be careful about this. Telling him-- that's a big responsibility. For you and him."
"Absolutely not!" Jonathan shouted. "If you think you're just gonna tell him, what, everything, then you're out of your mind."
"Why not? Because Luthors can't be trusted? I trust Lex. He's my friend. And you couldn't stop me anyway."
With that, Clark sped upstairs, slamming his bedroom door on the way up. He was scared, yes and he knew his parents only wanted to protect him. But he didn't need protection, not from Lex. He imaged what Pete would have to say about this and groaned. But it didn't matter. It wasn't their decision.
When Lex went missing over the summer, he had regretted everything. Not telling Lex. Telling him too much. Agreeing to be his best man. Not turning up. Everything. His grief was hazy, he could remember much of anything, the red Kryptonite blurring lines in his memory. Most of all, he remembered missing Lex.
Clark didn't want to lie to Lex now and regret it later. Maybe he should have been more concerned, but he couldn't muster the strength. Lex had seemed confused but not dangerous. Not vicious and ready to pounce, not like a crazy, obsessive scientist. Just concerned for his friend. Maybe it was time to take a leap of faith.
…
Before talking to Lex, Clark had to first take care of Van McNulty. Truth to be told, Clark had been waiting for Chloe to drum up some more information about him before charging head-first into battle, which may have seemed weak or un-heroic of him, but in his defense, he had just been shot.
He was just gearing up for the big talk when a call from Lana came through.
"Remember Van McNulty? You may have been right about him being crazy. He just shouted something about shooting you at me -- and your obviously not dead."
"Where is he now? Are you okay?" Clark asked, torn between worry (Lana) and an already forming headache (McNulty).
"Yeah. He just charged into the school with a gun, talked about proving something."
Once again, the level of calm was to be expected in Smallville. Crazy students with guns in highschools trying to off meteor mutants? Normal here.
"Okay, don't do anything crazy. Did you call the police yet?" Clark asked, already speeding towards Smallville High.
"He said I would regret it, but that's not... I was just so worried, Clark, when he said he shot you. I needed to make sure you were okay."
"I'm okay, Lana," Clark said, materializing behind her. She turned and he could see how much McNulty had scared her. Would this be the right moment to give her a hug? It didn't feel natural, exactly, but then again the whole girl stuff didn't come as easily to him than to others. Like Lex, his brain unwittingly supplied.
Before he could decide, he heard someone scream from inside the school. It was weekend but that didn't mean it was empty -- cleaners, teachers picking up reports, Chloe working on an article for the Torch....
"Call the police," he told Lana and ran inside.
The hallway was, on first sight, empty. On second sight, however, he found a maid passed out (knocked out?) on the floor. So McNulty had resorted to violence against normal people. Innocent people.
"Clark Kent!" a booming voice echoed through the passage. McNulty rounded the corner, in his hand a machine gun. Already, Clark felt nauseous. Kryptonite.
"I knew all I had to do was scare your girlfriend and you'd come running right to me!" He lowered his voice conspiratorially. "I thought I'd killed you, yesterday. But then Luthor came and ruined everything. He'll pay, too. But not before I kill you for real."
Clark's charged him before he could think any better, rammed into him so hard that he dropped the gun. But now the Kryptonite was so close that he staggered back. McNulty swung back up and hit him hard across the face, not enough to make his iron skin bleed but enough to knock him down.
"The great Clark Kent! Everybody talks about you, you know. Like you're the perfect son. But we both know that's not true."
He took a step closer. Pressed the gun to the back of his skull. Clark's vision blacked out and he went all dizzy.
"Freak," McNulty whispered, hoisted the gun up properly. Clark braced himself. But the impact never came. Instead, McNulty was wrenched from him, the gun hurled backwards, crashing into the lockers with a metallic screech.
Clark scrambled up just in time to see Lana drop kick Van McNulty with surprising strength and accuracy. In that moment, Sheriff Addams burst through the entrance with an armed police squad. He quickly scrambled to his feet. The sheriff was one of those people who would silently laugh at you when down instead of showing stuff like empathy and compassion.
“Mr. Kent, why is it that whenever something happens here, you turn up right in the middle of it?” Sheriff Addams asked sternly while one of her acquaintances wrestled McNulty into handcuffs.
Clark shrugged and tried for an amiable, innocent smile that totally did not give up off weird space alien vibes.
“I guess I’m just an unlucky person.”
His brow furrowed when he realized that getting away unharmed might seem not unlucky at all and pretty suspicious but Sheriff Addams didn't bother with him further, shouting orders at the uniformed men.
Lana tapped him on the arm. "Are you okay? You looked pretty bad, down there."
Looking weak and humiliated in front of the girl you wanted to impress. Nice. But, as a bonus, no possible weirdness!
"Yeah, he hit me pretty hard but I'm fine now." Clark tried to put on his best injured but brave face on. A few bruises would've probably helped.
"Where did you learn to fight like that?" he asked to distract from the obvious lack of any kind of injury.
"Lex taught me -- remember?"
Lex! Clark had totally forgotten about their impending talk (his impending doom). Lex wouldn't be happy about him not showing up or him being late, even though they hadn't agreed on a time. Clark's panic must have showed up on his face because Lana was looking at him strangely.
"Everything okay, Clark? Sure you don't want to get checked out by the paramedics?"
"Yeah, fine. Just forgot something," Clark said, giving her his best smile. He was acting like such an idiot. Lex would laugh at him if he was there. "Yeah, actually, do you think you're gonna be okay? I kind of have to run."
She was looking at him strangely again.
"Sure, Clark. I wasn't the one almost shot," she said, her tone almost amused.
Almost. Yeah, right. But apart from that, Clark was almost happy that he wasn’t the one who had played hero today. Maybe he wasn’t giving Lana enough credit. And anyways — he was gonna need his strength. The day wasn’t over.
…
"There is something I have to show you," Lex said the moment Clark opened the doors to his office the same evening. Clark pretty worn out from the whole crazy guy with a gun routine. It was a alarmingly common occurrence in Smallville. He should be starting to build up a tolerance.
"You are probably wondering how much I know. I remember you're a visual learner."
Lex lead him down the hallway into the east wing of the castle. Clark was growing more nervous. What if it was a lab? A place where Lex was holding his other alien slaves? Clark decided he should probably stop reading his moms tabloid magazines.
When Lex opened the door, it wasn't a laboratory with screaming aliens. It was worse. In the middle of the room was the silver Porsche, the metal twisted unnaturally, frayed upwards. Clark's face was plastered up in a holographic projection. There was a blue veil with nothing inside.
"I had a meteor rock there once," Lex said, pointing at the blue light. "But I put it away yesterday. In case it might hurt you."
Lex actually made it sound thoughtful. As if the existence of the room didn’t destroy any notion of simplistic kindness he could have ever had. But that was so Lex-like, thinking the only thing that hurt was the thing that killed you.
"Is this all our friendship ever was to you? Collecting evidence?" Clark said. It was a genuine question, flat, lifeless. Not even angry. Maybe he was beyond that and had just come out on the other side.
Lex looked stricken. “Of course not! How could you think that of me?"
"It’s actually quite easy when your face is pinned up in a weird, dark room full of the most intimate details of your life!" He exploded.
"You know that's not what I--" Lex cut himself off. "This isn't about you. It's about me."
What? What? Clark wanted to laugh. Angrily. "You're not the one with the, I repeat, giant projection of your face."
Lex struggled. "I dont need you to understand. I don't need you to forgive me. I don't even need you to like me. But I promise you this: I never meant to hurt you. I never will hurt you. And I will do everything in my power to keep you safe."
Safe sounded good. But Clark had to stay firm, be angry. It wasn’t fair. “Try to explain, then.”
“What if I can’t?“
“Try.”
“Fine. Since I’ve come here, nothing has made sense. Meteor mutants, alien symbols, conspiracies? Many of which threatened my life. And at the middle of it was you. I’m not stupid, you know. I know when my friend is lying to me.”
“So all of this was to… what? Understand? Why do you need to know so badly, Lex?”
“It’s my life!”
Clark pointed to the hologram. “And this is mine!”
“I’m well aware. A life you don’t tell me anything about? How am I meant to ensure the safety of myself, you and the entire town if I don’t even understand what I’m protecting?”
“I never asked you to protect anyone.”
"You don't understand," Lex said, frustrated.
"Well, it's not like you're doing a good job explaining."
"It's—" Lex hesitated. "When I was twelve years old, I had a best friend. His name was Jacob. My father bankrupted his family and drove them to poverty. His only sin was being friends with me."
"That's—" terrible, Clark wanted to say, but there were no adequate words.
"He's done worse. So much worse. And Clark, if you think I'm obsessed with your secret, you have no idea about him."
"So, this,"— Clark gestured around, "Is to protect me? Smallville?"
"I do admit, I was curious. But that wasn't the main reason."
Clark had a hard time wrapping his head around that. But Lex looked earnest, almost anxious, as if, he too had had a truth lifted off his shoulders. Clark decided to be forgiving. It’s not as if Lex had done anything really, really bad. It would freak his parents out, though. Clark was not ever, ever telling them about any of this.
Suddenly, he was curious. "So. How much do you know exactly? I don't see anything actually written down here."
Lex shook his head. "I don't know anything for certain. I had my assumptions. And I would never write anything down-- too dangerous."
Clark motioned for him to continue.
"You are virtually invulnerable. You are far stronger and faster than the normal person. You can set things on fire by staring at them. I hit you with my car on the bridge.“
He hesitated before going on.
"The symbols on the cave wall... they're somehow connected to you. They're definetly not Kawatche. In fact, I don't think they're of this earth at all."
"What are you saying, Lex?" Clark asked hesitantly. So much for meteor mutants.
"I think you know what I'm saying. Or do you want me to spell it out?"
Clark swallowed. He shook his head.
"What are you going to do about it?"
Lex sighed. "That security guard is about to receive an inordinate amount of hush money."
"What! You're gonna pay him off? That sounds, like, illegal!"
"Would you rather him go to the next news station? ‘Boy is shot and then magically healed’? Or worse, my father?"
Lex had a point.
"And besides," Lex said, his voice humorous but dark, "It was either hush money, blackmail or murder."
"Jesus," Clark said.
"Yeah," Lex sighed. He led Clark out of the room.
"What are you gonna do with all of that?" Clark gestured at the insides.
"Dispose of it. Discreetly, of course."
A weight lifted off his shoulders.
"Just like that?"
Lex took the time to properly look at him. "What did you think I was going to do? Sell you out? Conduct experiments on you?"
That actually came remarkably close to his nightmares.
But that wasn't quite true either. He didn't actually think Lex would sell him out, or betray him any other way, no matter what his parents said. It was something else, something Clark didn't want to think about too closely. Because thinking about it made it real and he couldn't let it be real.
"I should have expected it, honestly. But I thought -- I thought you thought more of me, Clark."
And now Lex looked hurt. Great.
"It wasn't like that, Lex. I did, do trust you. It's just... complicated," he forced out, really not wanting to elaborate on the specifics of the complications.
Lex sighed again. He was doing a lot of sighing today.
"I understand. I'm not angry at you, I promise. It can't have been easy, being different like this."
Lex always just got it. Him. For the first time today, Clark felt a real smile break through.
"It isn't! Everybody's always so concerned about ordinary stuff! And I developed X-ray vision in gym! And heat vision in..." On second thought, he shouldn’t probably dive too deeply into that one.
Bemused, Lex smiled at him. Maybe this wasn't so bad. Maybe it would be nice having a friend that wasn't Pete to share these things with. Because Pete was nice and all, but Pete wasn't Lex. Nobody was Lex. Clark had a hard time with that one too but he found the best way to deal with complicated things like that was to ignore them.
"Lex. One last thing. You said you would protect me, right?"
"Of course."
"Being friends with me... knowing my secrets... it's dangerous. I just don't want you to hurt yourself protecting me."
Lex seemed to find that funny. "Hurt myself? You must mean hurt others."
"Well, that too. But also you. Yourself. You get into life-or-death situations too often -- it's not funny!"
"Sorry, sorry," Lex gasped, reigning in his laughter. "But really, Clark -- as you observed, I find get into trouble well enough on my own. You of all people don't need to worry."
"I always worry," Clark whispered, his voice not strong enough for what he wanted to say, "and I would never forgive myself if something happened to you because of me."
"Clark," said Lex earnestly, stepping up into his space. "I promise I'll be careful. But your concerns are unwarranted. You should be worried about yourself."
He shook his head quickly. "Not because I'll sell you out or whatever is written in the Kent family handbook. But I live in a different world -- no, now you're laughing!"
"I'm sorry," Clark said. "It's just -- a different world? Seriously?"
Lex straightened himself out into intimidating business man mode. "You know what I mean. The people I know. The people who pay attention to me. My father. It's dangerous for you to even know me."
"Sure. I think I'll manage."
"I'm being serious! You have to be careful!"
"You sound like my parents. I am careful!"
"I heard about what went on at your school today! That lunatic had bullets that could hurt you! Did you even think before running in there?"
Low blow. "I did think!"
"Please never let me in on your thought process. Really. How are you even still alive? Next you'll tell me you've stuffed a spaceship in the kitchen drawers."
"It was actually in the storm cellar."
Lex laughed. Then looked at him and reared back. "You're serious!"
Clark shrugged. "It was covered with tarp?"
Lex's brain was obviously running at unimaginable speeds already. "We're going to have to take care of that. The sooner the better."
"Oh, no, there’s no need for that. It — I blew it up. Before you… left."
Lex looked a bit wild. "Blew up? Clark, me and your family are going to have to sit down and talk about this. Extensively. Jonathan Kent can fight me on it."
Clark was so not looking forward to that discussion.
“I better get home — I would stay longer, but, you know, pot roast night.“ Lex did not look like he knew about pot roast night. Or thought very highly of it.
“Sure, Clark. But I will get my hands on what ever is left of that spaceship.“
Dad was gonna kill him. Clark smiled thinly: “See you later!“
“Oh and don’t forget, we still have to talk about the caves!“ Lex called from behind him. Clark sped off into the night. He’d had enough alien weirdness for today.
…
The universe wasn’t finished with him yet, because just as he was washing the dishes from a successful pot roast night, the Kent’s family phone rang. It was Chloe.
"And then he told me to stay away from him," she said, her mouth running at a hundred miles an hour. Clark heard something crash in the background.
"Shit — printer cartridges.” She propped something up on the table.
“But I’m telling you, Clark, that guy‘s a total psycho. Stay away from him. Like, he gives me serious bad vibes."
Clark resisted the temptation to bash his head against the table. It would probably break. Chloe had called him in bubbly hysteria slash excitement. Hysteria would make more sense, as Lionel had threatened her and then made a few personal inquiries about Clark but then again, this was Chloe. Luckily, she was more interested in Lionel’s bad mojo than him asking about Clark. Nevertheless, what a headache. Couldn't the guy just crawl back to where he came from?
"You too, Chloe. I don't want you getting mixed up with him either."
"Don't worry, I'm already in his bad books. Told him to stuff it. Have you talked to Luthor Junior lately?"
"Yeah," Clark said, not wanting to let on how much he had truly been talking to Lex. "But don't worry, Lex is different. And he probably hates Lionel more than we do, after the whole LexCorp thing.“
"Yeah, what a mess. I don't blame him for hating the guy."
Clark didn't either. He thought he probably hated Lionel more than he had hated anyone in his entire life. It wasn't quite by proxy either. The man was just... bad.
"We should talk to him. Maybe he could help us declaw the beast," Chloe said.
Clark privately didn't like the idea of Lex (or anyone for that matter, but especially Lex) starting something with Lionel. "Don't you think it's dangerous? Maybe we should just lie low for now."
"There's something off about this, Clark. You can't just ignore that." She paused. "Why was Lionel Luthor asking about you anyway?"
Darn it. He should have known it was coming.
"I don't know, Chlo. I don't usually think about what goes on in the mind of an evil billionaire."
"Yeah, whatever," Chloe said, sounding wary. "But it's weird. Everything surrounding Clark Kent is weird."
He cringed. She wasn't wrong. "I can't help it, I guess. Trouble finds me." Echoing Lex.
"This is more than just trouble. Your pet millionaire might like you but I promise, daddy Luthor doesn't feel the same. I'd start keeping an eye on things."
"I'm not the only one who has to be careful." It was true. Being around him was dangerous. Lex had warned him but he didn't understand that the danger was Clark. And now Chloe was twisted into this.
"I'm tougher than I look. And for the record, I still think we should talk to Lex. Gotta run now, catch you later," she said and hung up. Clark sighed. His mother came up behind him and stroked a warm hand through his hair.
"Everything all right honey? You never told us how the talk with Lex went."
Clark had been avoiding the topic. Dad would flip when he found out that Lex knew, or that Clark had point blank told him.
"I told him, mom. Everything."
Clark heard her sharp inhale. She was staring at him with something between wonder and horror.
"And how did he react?"
Clark shrugged. He wouldn't be able to describe it properly anyway. "Good, I guess. Much better than Pete. But he knew most of it already anyway." Clark thought it best to leave out the secret room stuff.
"Of course he did," he heard mom whisper. He probably wasn't meant to hear that. "And did he say anything? Something that he was going to do?"
"He said he wouldn't do anything. And he promised to protect me," Clark said miserably. Technically, he should have been happy about it. Realistically, he was worried sick. Another thing to be pushed aside, though. He couldn’t quite place the worry. It was just inherent to Lex.
If his mom was surprised, her face didn't show it. She looked a mix of contemplative and exasperated.
"Your father won't like this. You have to talk to him."
Clark wanted to tell her he didn't care but that wasn't true. He did care and that was what made it hurt, the unfairness of the situation.
"But Lex didn't do anything wrong!"
"I know, honey. But it's still dangerous for you that anybody knows. He's, no, we're just concerned. I don't want you to think badly of him," she said sternly.
Clark flopped around a bit helplessly. "I don't, mom, you know I don't. I wish he could just accept him."
She rubbed his back and the tension drained out of him. What a day.
"Give him time. And patience. Your father has reasons for disliking the Luthors."
"I know. But Lex isn't Lionel. And anyway,"— he hesitated. "It's nice not to lie to him anymore." That isn't exactly what Clark wanted to say but it conveyed the core message, more or less. Mom glanced at him, considering and seemed to find what she was looking for.
“What did Chloe want to talk about?“
“Nothing important. Just school paper stuff,“ he said, really not wanting to get into the Lionel weirdness. It would freak mom out and she would tell Dad and then Dad and Mom would be really, really freaked out and that was never good.
“That’s nice. It’s nice to see you have some normality.“
So much for that. Clark went to bed with a storm raging in his head and an uneasy feeling that whatever was coming had just begun.
…
The sun was shining. Clark's eyelids felt heavy, there was something strange and disorienting about today. He opened them. He was standing in the Talon, the walls were decorated with white flowers and garlands and the tables were set festively.
Slowly, his senses returned to him. Somebody was cheering and clapping. A champagne bottle was cracked open. Laughter echoed through the room.
"Clark? Are you all right?" Lana asked. She was standing next to him wearing bridal white and holding a bouquet of flowers.
"Yeah. Yeah, sorry, I'm fine. Must be pre-wedding jitters," he said, pasting on a winning smile.
They were getting married. It had been in the works for a while. He was still working on the farm while she had studied... something.
It had been in the works for a while but suddenly the details seemed a little blurry. He looked to his parents, who were sitting at a wide table and smiling up at him. Happy. Content. Proud.
Practically the whole town had gathered to congratulate him and Lana. They must be proud of him too. Today, he was normal. The towns golden boy.
Somebody splashed champagne all over his suit jacket. There were gasps. It almost didn't feel real, but it must be. It was real. It was everything he wanted.
"Where's Lex?" He asked his mother. One face that had been conspicuously absent. Her face drew into a frown.
"I'm not sure, Clark. I know it's been difficult with him lately."
Difficult? Hadn't he just told Lex his secret? Didn't that work out quite well? But no, he couldn't have. That was ages ago, in high school. Things had changed.
"Look," said his mom. "Chloe's over there. Why don't you say hello to her?"
Chloe had grown her hair out, long, golden-blond locks. She was amicably chatting up a dark-haired guy behind the counter. When he sauntered over, she redirected her attention to stare at him.
"Looking good! Is married life all it's chalked up to be?"
"Well, it's only been--" he checked his watch that he didn't remember buying -- "Seven minutes so far. But no complaints. I'll mail you a list when I decide."
She laughed, high and giggly. "You sure look happy. Like the weight of the world has been lifted off your shoulders."
She'd said that before, Clark was sure of it. But no, that hadn't been Chloe, had it? That had been Lana. What was wrong with his memory?
"And now," his Dad said. He lifted his champagne glass. Lana sidled up next to him. "Let's toast to the happy couple!"
Everybody cheered louder and lifted whatever they were holding. A glass, a bottle, a napkin, a forlorn pastry.
Clark was overcome with a sudden uneasiness. Just before his dad and the countless other people tipped their heads back and drank, he saw Lex appear in the doorway. He looked well put together, as always, but he wasn't toasting to their marriage. In fact, he wasn't even smiling. Clark couldn't place the look on his face. It was almost...
A scream pulled him out of his reverie. Everybody turned around. It was coming from the storage room.
"Let me go check," he said. The crowd of people were strangely passive and listened to him. He opened the door and made his way into the dark room.
In the corner cowered a girl. She couldn’t have been older than sixteen, her hair was tangled and blond and she looked terrified. He went to kneel beside her.
"Hey, what's wrong? Are you hurt?"
She shivered and drew into herself. "You have to get out of here."
Clark looked around. The room didn't look atypical to him. Everything was in its place. "Why? I'm getting married, you know. I should be asking you what you are doing here."
"You aren't," she said uncertainly. "Or at least, I don't think you are."
Clark bent down closer to her. "What are you talking about? Are you sure you're okay? Should I drive you to the hospital?"
She shook her head. "He's getting close. You need to get out of here before he takes you too."
"Who's he? Where is he going to take you?" Maybe he should call the police instead of the ambulance. He saw her freeze and scramble backwards.
"He's here! Don't let him take me, please!" She screamed and then something strange happened. He watched as the ground twisted and turned and pulled her down. She was struggling but the gaping maw swallowed her bit by bit.
He tried to wrench her up by the arms but it was too late, she was torn out of reach and the concrete closed up again. Gasping, he stumbled backwards.
"Clark? Are you okay?" It was Lana.
"Did you see that? The girl?" He rasped, out of breath and panicked beyond his comprehension.
"Which girl? Why are you in here anyway?"
"The girl! She's who was screaming!"
She stared at him strangely. "No one was screaming, Clark." Then, contemplative: "Maybe you've had too much to drink."
This wasn’t real. Couldn’t be.
“Yeah, probably," he said anyway and let himself be pulled upwards. She lead him out of the storage room. He looked to the doorway but Lex was gone.
Another one of those indescribable feelings stirred inside of Clark. He walked outside, trying to parse out Lex's car. It would be something expensive and European -- something his father would call a eurotrash sports car. But nothing fit the bill. Had he just imagened him? Like the girl? But that had seemed so real.
His dad came to stand next to him. "How are you holding up? Weddings can be tiring, I'll give you that."
"Wait until I tell mom that marrying her was tiring."
"Don't you dare!" Jonathan laugh-growled, then sobered up. "If you're marrying the right person -- I'll tell you that, son, you'll never get tired. Except maybe with seating arrangements." He paused. "Don't tell your mother that."
Clark was tired, though. He was so tired of this never-ending day. "I -- Dad, I know, I guess that we haven't been on good terms, but I miss—” he cut himself off, realizing who he was talking to.
"This is about Lex, isn't it?" Jonathan said. He didn't seem as angry as he normally was, more... considering. Not considerate but also not dismissive.
"How did you know?" Clark asked, genuinely curious.
His dad just chuckled, sounding kind of tired himself. "Isn't it always about Lex?"
Which sounded quite accusatory but it wasn't, not really, there was more to it. Clark froze. He had half the mind not to ask what he meant. Something was twisting inside of his stomach and it wasn't nice or warm but it was shockingly truthful.
"I should go talk to him," Clark said when he was sure his voice wasn't going to break.
Jonathan gave him an appraising once over. "Okay. Don't be home too late." Which was, once again, weird, because he was old enough, he had just gotten married. Had he?
Before the doubts consumed him, Clark sped off into the night, heading towards the mansion. He loved running, normally it always cleared his head, but today it did nothing for the mess that he harbored. Tangled like wires. He had watched Lex sort wires before, when the lights didn't work in the mansion. Normally, you would need an electrician. Lex, it seemed, mastered anything he put his mind too.
It was late when he reached the mansion but it had been late before he reached the mansion too so it wasn't much of a setback for Clark. The gates weren't locked so he sped through them too, through the front door and through the doors to Lex's study.
Lex was standing, predictably, next to the table, pouring himself a glass of scotch out of an elegant crystal decanter. "Clark. I've been expecting you," he said, the words smooth and velvety.
He had? "You have?"
Lex turned to him, smirking and shrugged. "You've always been so predictable."
"I -- what?" Clark was seriously starting to feel out of his depth here. He cleared his throat. "What do you mean?"
Lex's mouth was drawn into that half smile, the one he made when he was about to laugh at something he probably shouldn't be laughing at. "You said you would come, didn't you? You promised?"
Another thing Clark had forgotten, it seemed. Today was a very forgetful day for him but he was getting married (was he? He wasn't so sure of it, now) so he supposed it could be allowed.
"Yeah," Clark settled on. "What did I promise, again? I've been a little busy today."
Lex smiled again, but this time it was both soft and impossibly dark. Almost scary, definetly terrifying. "Our agreement, Clark. How could you forget?"
"I'm really sorry," he said sincerely. He was. Whatever agreement this was, it must've been important. "Could you just quickly jog my memory?"
Lex shrugged again. Clark could see his muscles flexing under his suit. He was rather dressed up today, but for Lex fancy was normal. "Whatever you want, Clark. You've always been a visual learner."
Something about that really irked Clark, something was off, wrong, repetitive. But before he could voice his concerns, Lex stepped towards him, into his space and Clark was almost confused for a moment before he saw the syringe. The large, glass syringe, full to the brim with a bright green liquid. It could only mean one thing.
A burning, debilitating pain started at his neck and spread through his body.
"Lex, what--" he gasped and felt strong, smooth hands push him down, his back to a gurney, like one of those wheeled tables they push patients around in hospitals. He wondered where it came from.
"Shhhh, Clark. This is what we agreed on. Just calm down," Lex said. The world was dark and blurry at the corners. He saw Lex strip on scientists gloves, but not white or blue, black like his driving gloves. The latex clung to his skin, Clark could smell the plastic as Lex fastened straps around his neck, tied his hands and his legs down.
I didn't agree to this, Clark wanted to say, but why would Lex lie, and honestly, it was kind of nice, not having any powers. Not being strong, not being free. Then he saw the scalpels.
"What are you doing," Clark whispered, throat hoarse.
Lex smiled at him again, so warm. "Nothing we didn't agree on."
He felt cold metal on his skin and closed his eyes, this was insane. But the pain never came. He opened his eyes. The room was black and empty.
"Lex," he called hesitantly. He was still tied to the gurney but the straps were loose and he could feel his strength returning. Had he blacked out?
A figure approached him. It was the girl. She looked as terrified as he was.
"What's happening? Who are you?" He asked her scratchily. She stared at him, then started untying the straps around his wrists.
"My name is Sarah Conroy. This has never happened before." She glanced furtively around the room and he remembered how the ground had swallowed her earlier.
"Who are you running away from?"
She shook her head. "It doesn't matter. He'll always find me."
"Maybe I can help," said Clark, realizing then that he probably didn't look like someone that could be of help, all tied up and weak. "Just tell me who he is."
"His name... I call him the traveler," she said, then startled.
"There! There he is!" She screamed and pointed behind her. Clark ripped through the restraints, his strength back again and whipped around.
This had to be some bad dream. A cloaked figure floated in the endless dark, a golden St. Christopher pendant dangling around it's neck.
"You can never escape me, Sarah," it screeched and lunged at her. Clark geared up for a super-punch that would have rappelled any normal person (or evil spirit) through the air, but instead, it was him that was tossed backwards. Figures that the weird cloaked guy in the endless dark room wouldn't abide by the normal laws of physics.
It wound tightly around Sarah, then plunged her into the ground. Clark threw himself towards both of them, but instead of helping anyone, he was pulled deeper, into a darkness deeper than before, deeper, deeper, deeper...
With a budding scream on his lips, he woke up.
…
Mom was hovering over him concernedly. “Clark! Are you alright?”
He glanced around blearily. "Yeah. Just had a bad dream, I think."
"You weren't just dreaming, honey. You've been asleep for thirty-six hours," his mother said, wiping his eyes with a warm cloth.
"What! That's crazy!"
"It's good to have you back," Dad said, climbing up the stairs to his loft. "We were starting to get worried. Do you think is is to do with... you know?"
Clark shook his head. "Normally when I'm developing a new power, it feels different. Like something completely new and strange. This — I wasn't even sure I was dreaming at first. It was so... real."
"Hopefully good dreams," said his father, sitting next to him and patting him on the shoulder. Both his parents were fawning over him as if he was a newborn. Clark supposed they wouldn't know what to do if he was really sick. Hospitals weren't an option, after all.
Clark didn't want to tell them the extent of his dreams. He didn't even understand them himself. "I dreamt about this girl. Sarah Conroy. She needed help."
"Conroy?" His dad looked confused. "The people moving into the old house of the Langs are called the Conroys. I think they have a teenage daughter."
Strange. His whole life was so strange. "I'll go and talk to them. See if they have anything to do with this."
"No, you shouldn't. If this girl is trapping you in your dreams, it's probably best not to go and visit her," his Dad reprimanded. Mom nodded, looking serious.
"But she needed help, in my dreams! I can't just not do anything!"
"It was just a dream, Clark," his mother said. "It could be you just heard her name in the passing and your subconscious made up a face to go along with it."
"I slept for thirty-six hours straight. It wasn't just a dream. And anyway, how do we know that she's the one trapping people — for all we know it could be me! Weird space alien, remember!"
His father frowned disapprovingly. But Clark was right. "I'm just saying, you should be careful."
"I will, Dad. I'm always careful," Clark smiled.
"You sure weren't when you told Lex Luthor your secret," Dad huffed. Before Clark could answer, he turned his back to them and trampled down the stairs. Mom sighed.
Clark had told Dad about him-telling-Lex a few days ago and had been getting the cold shoulder since. Mom had said it would wear off soon. Dad could never be angry with him for too long. He yawned and started with his chores.
…
Clark was terrified to go to sleep. Tomorrow was a Saturday, so it wasn’t that important. But even if he’d had school, he'd have rather pulled an all-nighter than dive back into the nightmare fuel of the last few days (nights?).
He spent the night listlessly reading through the pages of old books and magazines. He felt fidgety, uneasy, his thoughts circling around his dream like vultures. The Lana part was easy. It was everything he wanted. To be married to the pretty girl next door, to have the entire town applaud him -- that was to be normal. White picket fences and all. The life his parents wanted for him.
But what of the Lex part? The whole secret thing had been on his mind the last week but he hadn't -- hadn't even considered that as a possibility.
His alarm clock rang. He was so tired, dead tired.
"Clark? Breakfast!" His mom called from downstairs. Normally Clark would get dressed in an instant, super speed and all, but he took his time today. His mom had made pancakes with syrup and bacon. He started wolfing some down and she slapped his head with a flyer, a talon advertisement.
"Manners, young man. And don't think I don't see you, Jonathan Kent! Put that bacon back!"
Dad wiggled his eyebrows at her conspiratorially and walked over to shake Clark's shoulder, who suppressed a yawn.
"You seem tired, son. Did you sleep at all?"
"I'm kind of scared to close my eyes," Clark admitted. "What if I get trapped again? Or trap her, or whatever?"
"Maybe we should talk to the Conroys," Mom said, frowning. "You can't live like this."
"I'm not sure about that. For now, we should be careful and keep our distance. Especially you, Clark." Dad looked at him sternly.
Clark sighed. "Yeah, yeah. Now I've gotta be careful when I'm sleeping too." He made a note to tone down the self pitying in the future. Mom was worried enough. Unbidden, thoughts of Lionel rushed back to him. Lionel, who was unusually interested in him. Maybe he should go talk to Lex. He would know what to do about the dreams. And yet, something stopped him. For some reason, he really didn't want to discuss the nightmare with Lex. Just the thought made him uneasy.
Lana found him later, baling hay in the field. She had come to give him his homework.
"You look tired. Maybe you should get some sleep," she suggested. This whole looking-weak-in-front-of-the-girl-you-like-thing was really starting to become a pain. She gave him his schoolwork.
Lana was always easy to talk to. Clark thought he might even love her. Love was nice. Love was simple. Maybe that was why he found himself sharing his weird dream escapades, obviously omitting some details. Like practically the entire Lex part.
"We were at a wedding together? Who was getting married?" She asked.
"Uh," said Clark eloquently. "It wasn't important, I think. I'm a bit hazy on the details."
"And this traveler, do you have any idea who it could be? Maybe traveler stands for something. Symbolically." That was the thing with Lana. She was so pretty that people thought that was her only attribute, pretty but surface-level, but that wasn't true. Lana was smart, interesting, funny... It was normal to be in love with her.
"Maybe we should go see Sarah in person. It could clear things up a little," she said.
"You don't think I'm crazy?"
Lana appraised him with her bright eyes. She looked almost worried. "Clark. I admit, it does sound a little weird. And you have a lot of... issues. But I don't think that you're losing your mind."
Clark thought he should feel insulted by the issues comment but instead, he felt comforted. Lana took him by the arm and they made their way to the Conroys.
As it turned out, family was an overstatement. The Conroys consisted of a young girl named Sarah (hah!) and her uncle, who wore a golden St. Christopher medal, answered their questions cagily and smiled creepily at Lana.
"I know that it's him," he whined to Chloe later on. "Lana and me went through the public records -- he's the sole proprietor of Sarah's parents estate, who were, by the way, super rich."
"Sheriff Addams will have your head if you go to her with this," Chloe said. "Like, how are you gonna spin this? I saw this girl in my dream and she was asking me to save her from her evil uncle who may or may not be drugging her -- how do you think that's gonna go over?"
Clark had to do something, though. He was seriously concerned about going to sleep. He had tried running to distract himself and caught himself snoozing against a tree by crater lake — not good.
Not knowing where else to go, Clark made his way to the mansion.
Lex was sitting behind his desk, chewing on a pen, looking particularly stressed. It wasn't often that Clark saw him express emotion this blatantly.
"Hey, Lex. What's up?" He asked, sauntering over to him. Lex put the pen down. Clark was mesmerized by the movement, the way the tip glistened.
"You look exhausted," Lex said bluntly. "Is everything alright?"
Did he look that bad? It had been pointed out to him more than once today.
"Just tired. Can't sleep," Clark said and started explaining. Lex listened to him, rapt attention, silent, mind probably racing how to fix this. That was Lex's thing: fixing stuff.
"So she's gained some sort of telepathy due to frontal lobe activity during REM sleep," Lex concluded. It sounded remarkably similar to what Chloe had said.
"And you're sure it doesn't have anything to do with... me?" Clark asked.
"Considering the car crash happened in a meteor rock infested area? I would say it's rather unlikely. What I can imagine though, is that she can only communicate with you due to your... uniqueness."
"You can call it weirdness, Lex," Clark said and flopped down on the couch. Lex hummed and sat down next to him.
"You seem tired, too," Clark noticed. "Is all truly well in Metropolis?"
"Fine," Lex sighed but Clark knew him well enough to know that that was a lie, or at least not a real answer. "It's been... strained. With my Dad. He wants me to complete five mandatory therapy sessions before truly accepting me into the big bad fold of LuthorCorp."
"I've actually been wanting to talk to you about your Dad," Clark remembered. "He's apparently taken up the hobby of threatening high schoolers. And stalking them, for that matter."
Lex's head snapped up. Shocked. Concerned. Angry. "What the hell did he do?"
"Nothing — Nothing too bad. He ambushed Chloe at the Torch and asked a few questions about me," Clark said, trying to calm him down. Lex looked furious, almost murderous.
"What did she tell him? How much does she know?"
"She told him to stuff it. You really shouldn't worry too much, Chloe doesn't know anything."
"She's a budding reporter, Clark. Of course she knows something."
Everything's weird about Clark Kent. Clark frowned. "She doesn't know enough for it to be dangerous."
Lex bared his teeth, something that was meant to resemble a smile but in truth, looked like something a predator would wear. Too many teeth. "Anything my father knows is dangerous."
Then, suddenly, he sunk in on himself. "I was thinking of leaving LuthorCorp for good. I didn't want work with him to closely, now that I... know. Too much potential for slip-ups. But now, it may be a better idea to stay close. That way I can keep an eye on him."
"You'd be doing that for me. That's not fair."
Lex smiled a strange little smile. "I said I would protect you, Clark. I meant it."
There was no good answer for that. Clark turned to look at him. "But I don't want you to face him head on because of me. You're right — he is dangerous. Of all people, you have to be careful."
"I'll be fine," Lex said dismissively. "We should get back to your sleeping problems. Her range should decrease if you distance yourself. Do you want to sleep at the mansion until we find a solution."
Clark yawned. "I think my Dad would actually kill me. Or you — actually, probably, definetly you."
"You're basically falling asleep already. Why don't you crash on my couch for the meantime? I'll be in the room next door if that suits you."
"No!" Clark said, then realized how he sounded. "You should, uh, stay. What if I get trapped again?"
"I don't know if I can help you, if you do. I'm still not quite sure how her ability works," Lex said but nevertheless remained sitting beside him.
Just you being here helps, Clark didn't say, instead, he let himself fall into the pillows on the side of the couch and curled up, two behind him, one in his arms.
"I'll just continue working here, at my desk," Lex said, pulling a blanket out of one of the drawers. "Here."
People made such a fuss about the mansion, that it was cold and empty and over all, expensive, but Clark liked it. That may have been due to the inclusion of one bald millionaire but even when Lex had been — gone, he had snuck in in the night, when Helen was asleep, and just sat on the cold, hard floor in front of the dark fireplace and waited. For what, he had not known. It just made everything hurt a little less. He hadn’t told anybody about it and didn’t plan to.
When Clark opened his eyes, Sarah was there, so he knew it must be a dream. When Lex had been gone, he had given up sleeping. Every dream was about him, everytime he saw his face, it wasn't real. Clark had become extraordinarily adept at separating dream from reality.
"Please help me," she said. "He's going to take me down, back into this dark place, where you can't hear anything except your own heartbeat. I can't go back there, please help me!"
"I'll help you, Sarah," Clark said. "But I need you to release me from this dream. You're keeping us trapped here."
"If I let you go, you'll leave too!" Sarah cried. "Everybody always leaves — I can't hold onto anything here. It all slips away."
"Who's keeping you here? Is it your uncle? Is he drugging you?"
She curled in on herself, her long blonde hair swishing in the wind. Clark looked around and realized, with a start, where they were. It was a graveyard. In the middle stood a big, black grave. It could have only one persons name on it.
"I can help you! I'll stop him, if you just let me go!" He shouted desperately, not wanting to spend a minute longer in this cursed place, not because of the grave but because of what it meant. Dreams weren't real, but they were universes, realities, worlds of their own. Clark didn't want to be in a world where Lex was dead. Not even for a moment.
She looked up at him. "Do you promise?"
Clark took her hand in his. It was cold. "I promise. I swear on my life."
This time, waking up wasn't hectic. It was soft and slow. He blinked his eyes open and listened to the calming tap-tap of Lex's computer, the thump of his heartbeat.
"Her uncle's drugging her," he told Lex, yawning and stretching. "I have to stop him."
Lex threw him a not-so-fast-mister look. "The police has to stop him. I'll give them a call—"
"No! I promised her that I would help her now! I can't just wait until the police does something!"
"And what do you suggest? Just barging into her house and spouting accusations?"
That had been and still was Clark's plan. "She's scared and alone, Lex. I can't wait." He threw off the blanket and sped through the doors. Lex scrambled up and shouted something at him but it was too late, he was too far away.
It may have been polite to knock but Clark resorted to banging and ringing the bell aggressively. The moment Mr. Conroy opened the door, he stormed through angrily.
"I know that you're drugging your niece because of the money! My friend has called the police. I'm here to make sure you don't do anything stupid." With that he pushed past the man, who looked both furious and flabbergasted and made his way into Sarah's room. She was laying on the bed, still asleep, almost peaceful. But Clark knew that that was a farce.
He tore open the medicine drawers and found, surprise, something that should definetly not be there. Blue liquid — drugs? Before he could finish up his inspection, Sarah's uncle grabbed his shoulders and pulled him backwards.
"What do you mean, you've called the police?" He growled, angry but anxious. Clark assumed he'd have tried a more lethal tactic if he hadn't had thrown that comment in.
"I meant what I said. You're a bad man, Mr. Conroy, for doing this to Sarah, and you'll spend a long time in prison because of it."
For a moment, all the man did was stare at Clark in panic. Then, he lurched upwards, grabbed a hockey stick that was leaning next to the cupboard and hit Clark over the head — or tried to, at least. Clark caught it with ease and sent him tumbling backwards. Realizing that this was a hopeless pursuit, Mr. Conroy tumbled out of the room, as fast as his legs would take him, and ran down the stairs.
Clark heard the telltale sign of police cars pulling up — thank God for Lex — and made a sneaky exit out of the window and sprinted back to the mansion. He caught Lex in time, just as he was pulling out of the mansions driveway.
Lex slammed on the brakes heftily. Clark saw his mouth work around a few swear words that his mother would murder him for, should they be repeated.
Clark gestured at him to unlock the car and slid into the passenger seat, smiling.
"Goddamnit! You know how to give someone a heart attack," Lex hissed at him.
"Maybe if you'd have driven slower..." Clark said, then trailed off. Lex looked murderous.
"Do you always just throw yourself into danger?"
That particular opinion had been really prominent in his last talk with Lex. Clark had told him about the various escapades he had gotten up to with or due to his differences. They'd finally talked about the caves, too, even taken a walk through them.
"Naman and Segeeth," Lex had said. "An enemy that starts as a friend?"
"It couldn't be you," Clark had answered. "You'd never be my enemy."
"And how are you so sure of that?" Lex had seemed concerned, anxious almost, but also curious in Clark's unwavering certainty.
"You might think I'm your enemy. You might even think you're mine. But I won't ever, ever..." he let the words trail off. The message was clear enough and anything more didn't make its way past his lips. It, he couldn't.
"I'm driving you home. No mock heroics anymore today," said present-Lex, jolting Clark out of his memories.
"I would say my heroics were very much real," Clark mused. Lex hummed, but not in a nice way. More in the I'm-making-fun-of-you way. Whatever.
He pulled into the Kent-driveway. "There we are."
Clark didn't want to leave yet. It was evening, which meant sleep, which meant possible recurrence of Sarah.
"I'll see you tomorrow, after school?" He asked.
Lex shrugged. "Sure. I'll pull up the pool table. It's been a while." It had been a while. They'd been so consumed in discussions of all things alien that there hadn't been much time for simple fun. Not that the talking wasn't fun -- it had actually surprised Clark how enjoyable it had been, to actually open up to someone.
He exited the car and watched Lex drive away mournfully. Lex always pulled around the corners energetically, the tires almost skidding. He wasn't a bad driver -- it was actually the opposite. Clark knew he could drive safely, even maneuver himself out of dangerous situations with little effort, but in his day to day life, Lex just didn't. Clark supposed it was the same reason he dated all of those crazy women. Living for the thrill of it.
He turned and walked towards the house which was, in hindsight, probably a mistake because he was immediately monopolized into helping his mom with dinner. Helping with dinner was always just a flimsy excuse to talk. Clark didn't feel like talking today.
Moms chosen subject today was his (lack of) love life which meant ultimate embarrassment.
"Chloe's a nice girl. You've been friends for quite a while," she said while stirring the sauce and musing on further matchmaking scenarios.
"We have and that's all we'll ever be," Clark said, trying to inject finality into his words without sounding bored or pissed off. "And anyway, I like Lana, remember?"
She nodded dutifully. "And how's that going? Didn't you break up?"
Clark shrugged. "Yeah." He went to grab some carrots and chop them up. Mom bent down and brandished another pan. There were currently three sizzling on the stove, all carrying different condiments.
She looked up at him, accidentally banging the pan against his hands. It didn't hurt, she knew that but still inspected his fingers cautiously.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'll be more careful."
"It doesn't hurt, mom."
She fell silent. It was an uncomfortable silence, one that stretched and filled all the crevices of a room until it popped like a balloon.
"Lana's a nice girl. I heard that it was you who broke up with her."
Clark resisted the temptation to run away. "Yeah. I thought it would be better for both of us. I don't want to... endanger her."
Mom sighed. "Oh, Clark... but doesn't it bother you?"
Did it? Should it? Truthfully, he didn't really think about it so much. Sure, they'd kissed and it had been alright but he didn't really...
"I just want her to be happy."
"And what about you, honey? Are you happy?"
Not really, but Clark didn't think it was because of Lana. Lana was nice. He loved Lana. She didn't make him unhappy, even if he couldn't be with her.
"It doesn't matter, mom. Didn't you say that when you love someone, you should put them first?"
"When you love someone, it's hard to let them go."
That made him feel defensive. "It has been hard!"
She startled. " I know, I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to imply otherwise. Of course it's been hard for you. Especially with Lex gone over the holidays..."
"What does this have to do with Lex?"
She smiled at him. For a moment, Clark thought he was going to have the strangest case Deja-vu ever, that she'd say what Dad had in his dream, or at least some variation, isn't everything about Lex?
But she just kept on smiling. "I'm only happy he's back. For all of our sakes."
Strangely cryptic for mom. "So it doesn't bother you? Him knowing?"
She hesitated. "It doesn't bother me, exactly. Lex is a good man. But sometimes... sometimes you can see his father shining through the edges."
As badly as Clark wanted to disagree with her, she wasn't wrong. Lex wasn't Lionel, wasn't anything like Lionel, but sometimes he would say something and Clark would know it was something his father had told him.
"But I also know that as long as you're there, you'll keep him from that darkness. Probably you won't even notice it. God knows that boy needs a friend." She tapped the stove thoughtfully. "Why don't you invite him over for dinner tomorrow? Once in a while we all need home-cooked."
The last time Lex was here, it had been to discuss Clark’s secret. Lex had promised to keep him safe, said all of the right things, tried to comfort the older members of the Kent family as if they were small, anxious animals. Dad had lashed out one or two times but they had gotten through the majority of the evening fight-free.
"Yeah, sounds good, I'll ask him. I wanted to stop by at the mansion tomorrow anyway," Clark mumbled.
"You do that."
Dad obviously had a lot of questions about the Conroys. He had been working on the field when the arrest happened and had heard the commotion. Clark tried to leave out the parts involving Lex because that always sent Dad into a spiral and Clark had discussed Lex enough today already.
…
The next day, Clark went to visit Sarah Conroy in the hospital. She would be fine, the doctors ensured, just the usual routine after being drugged into a coma for so long.
She brightened when she saw him. "Hey! You must be Clark!"
He shrugged. "In the flesh."
For a moment they both didn't know what to say. It was kind of a strange situation.
"It's weird," she said. "I feel like I know you but this is the first time we're meeting."
"Yeah, I guess so."
"I'm sorry for trapping you. I don't really know how to control it."
Clark tried for a reassuring smile. "No problems. I'm actually happy you did — or else I wouldn't have known that you needed help."
"You're too nice. I know whatever you saw freaked you out."
"Did you see everything?" He asked, curious. Luckily he hadn't dreamt anything particularly incriminating. Clark supposed the human experiments part must have looked the weirdest.
"Pretty much. It was so crazy — I was still me but I could also see what you were seeing, like this little window in my mind, which is double crazy, I guess, because all of it was happening in my mind anyway."
She looked like she was about to say something but then cut herself off and gestured for him to sit down. "You know... dreams are normally meant to be private, so I'm sorry if I'm overstepping..."
"No, it's really no problem. I'm interested to hear your perspective," Clark said, smiling at her. He actually was rather nervous but then again, she seemed more nervous than he was and after all of the terrible things that had happened to her, he felt almost guilty. Kind of like how it was with Lana: her parents died so everybody had to be nice to her. Of course, Clark actually had reason to feel guilty for that, but that was another matter entirely...
"It's nothing important. I just saw your wedding."
"My — oh, yeah. We're, me and Lana, we aren't really getting married. We aren't even together anymore." He shrugged, trying to stay nonchalant. "Dreams can’t always come true, right?"
She considered him. "I would've thought you were together."
"We were, for a while. But I guess it isn’t strange to dream about something you... want." Clark truly hoped so. This wasn't the time to discover another not-normal thing about himself.
"Yeah. That's why I thought you were together. You didn't seem... I'm overstepping, right?"
Clark was frozen to the baby blue hospital seat. He wanted to marry Lana. Why wouldn't he want to marry Lana? He loved her.
"No, you... I guess it was just my subconscious projecting. I like Lana. Lana's nice." It wasn't hard to make it sound convincing.
Sarah stared at him quizzically. "Sure. I believe you, Clark. I just hope you get whatever it is you want."
What did Clark want? He wanted to be able to hold his glass without being scared of breaking it, he wanted paper cuts and colds and heatstroke and to be able to play football with everybody else, with the cool kids, the people who fit in and he wanted... Lana.
Clark pondered this mournfully on the way back home. This was once again one of those things that he’d rather not think about too often. It just left him confused or scared and tonight, with Lex coming to dinner, he didn’t want to be either. He wanted to enjoy it.