Fic: Revelation
Jun. 1st, 2007 05:41 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kirana posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
old_school_clexTitle: Revelation
Pairing: pre-slash (Clark/Lex)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: At some points in this fic, I have used dialogue from episode 1.01 (Pilot).
Spoilers: 1.01 - Pilot
Word Count: 7612
Summary: When you change one thing, how much actually changes? Clark rescues Lex. Lex returns the favour.
old_school_clex challenge #14: Clark tells Lex he did hit him on the bridge and that he doesn't understand why he's still alive (in shock).
Revelation
He was flying. Smallville passed under him and, for the first time, he saw possibilities instead of dead ends.
He spread his arms and laughed. Here was where it would all start, where he would begin.
An ominous thump made the air around him shudder and the world waver.
"Come on! Don't die on me!"
Die? He wasn't dead, not with his future spread below him.
And the world shuddered at another thump and he choked and coughed.
His eyes opened. Not the blue sky he'd been flying, but green eyes set in an anxious face.
Memory hit and hit hard.
"I could have sworn I hit you," he said, his voice low and rough.
The boy looked at him, fear lurking in his eyes, and then at the broken railing in the bridge. "If--if--you did. You hit me; we should be dead." And then his eyes rolled up and he slumped forward, unconscious.
Lex groaned as the not inconsiderable weight of the boy pressed him down. He took a moment to rest before trying to struggle out from underneath his 'saviour'. Forget about the plant--this had to be his new beginning.
And, so, far, it was so damn auspicious it hurt.
Clark stared at his ceiling, waiting for sleep to come. It had been a fun-filled day, that was for sure. Except for the part where it wasn't fun at all. Try fear-filled, maybe, and that would be closer to the truth.
He'd really thought he was going to die. When that guy--Lex--had woken up on the bank, he had been just as surprised. Surprised enough to admit it.
Clark squirmed a little. He shouldn't've said that, but he'd been in shock--as if that would save his butt when his mom found out--and not really in control of his mouth. Yeah, not a good excuse at all.
He hadn't told his parents about it yet. Not the accident, they already knew about that--kinda hard to miss, there's been someone from the Ledger there and Chloe had already wrung him dry for details for the Torch--but he'd kinda forgot to mention the whole car hitting him thing. Okay, so maybe not forgotten so much as . . . put off. His dad had not been in the mood to hear it when he'd driven them back home; he'd been muttering under his breath the whole time about 'damn Luthors' this and 'damn Luthors' that. Clark hadn't been sure his dad wouldn't've turned back around if he'd known that guy Lex had literally ran into him. So, really, he was doing his dad a favour, keeping him from jail time and everything.
Yeah, that excuse wouldn't hold much water, either.
And then his mom had come home from her class and he'd had to run the whole gauntlet of parental concern again, although he'd at least been given some cookies this time. And his mom had looked the other way when he'd sneaked a drink of milk from the bottle after.
But now he was in bed and free at last to think about what the day had brought.
It 'brought' to me the knowledge that a car will give me light bruising, he thought a little bitterly. He felt the bruise on his left thigh curiously. It barely hurt when he pressed on it now, yet it was the only indication a fast-moving car had hit him. I mean, I knew things maybe didn't hurt as much, but I thought I was just ignoring most of it, not that my skin was, well, getting tougher. And I skinned my palms this morning, too, when I fell in front of Lana. He spared a moment to writhe in the remembered humiliation of that wonderful moment. Maybe it's only when things are moving fast that they bounce off my skin. Or push him around as the case may be. Maybe he could throw some rocks really fast and then run in front of them. On the other hand . . . . He kinda wasn't into hurting himself to test if, maybe, he could hurt himself.
And there's another thing: I can hurt myself. He pinched himself again, just to make sure, and winced. Note to self: Pinching a bruise is not a good idea. He tried again, somewhere else, and, yep, still pain.
And what was he going to do about it anyway? He probably should tell his parents, although that would bring up questions about why he hadn't told them before and all the excuses in the world wouldn't save him. He wanted to keep it to himself at least a little bit longer, preferably without having to think about it. He was already different enough from everyone else, he didn't need something else to alienate him from the rest of humanity. He should probably talk to that guy, to Lex, to make sure he wasn't going to tell anyone about Clark's little slip of the tongue. That, though, would open up a whole new can of worms of embarrassment. After all, he'd rescued the guy and then fainted, like some girl who'd just been rescued. Lex had been the one to flag someone down and commandeer their cell phone. Lex had called the ambulance and a tow truck and, when Clark had decided to rejoin the land of the conscious, his dad.
Yeah, some hero you are, Clark.
Lex Luthor considered the car before him. A marvel of German engineering, fully customised, and looking more like it should be in a junkyard than the prime centrepiece in a showroom. He reached forward and gently touched the ruined front. There. That was where he'd hit Clark Kent.
Unless the boy had been confused--possible, anyone would have been in shock--and hadn't meant Lex's car had physically hit him. But Lex remembered far too well the green eyes that had stared at him over the hood of his car for the barest of moments. No, he'd hit the boy.
That, in fact, was the core of the mystery. He had hit the boy. Both of them should be dead.
Instead, Clark Kent had managed to drag him out of his car--another mystery, although one Lex was willing to lay at Clark's door again--and revive him.
Lex brushed a finger over his lips. Regrettably, he didn't remember the CPR part of it.
Which can only be a good thing, he told himself resolutely. The first stage of his discreet investigation had already told him Clark Kent was only just in high school and, therefore, underage. Even if he didn't look like it.
He circled the car again.
"Don't die on me!"
"You did. You hit me; I--we should be dead."
A fascinating mystery, all told.
Clark hitched his backpack a little higher up on his shoulder and joined the stream of students exiting the school. The sun, as always, was almost too bright after the dimness of the artificial light inside, but it was still more than welcome, one last reminder of summer vacation.
The water was cold, though, nothing summery about it.
He shook his head convulsively, trying to dismiss the memory. He still hadn't told his mom and dad everything and, frankly, he was a little scared to. Sure, he'd found reports of kids displaying "super" human strength and "super" human speed, but no one but him seemed to be able to bench press a tractor with one hand and no one but him could sneak out of the house by running so fast his parents couldn't see him. He already knew he wasn't normal; he didn't want to acknowledge there was something else weird about him.
He was jolted out of his thoughts when someone paid more attention to whatever he was looking at instead of where he was going. Clark managed not to drop his books--again, and hadn't that just been the most embarrassing moment of his life--and deliberately jostled back. Gently. Too bad he couldn't use that as an example of his control. "Yeah, Dad, this guy kinda ran into me and I pushed him back and, wow! He didn't go flying across the parking lot! Can I please play football now?" No, his dad would have a fit, as if Clark hadn't been learning to control his own strength all his life.
He was jostled again and he looked up, annoyed.
"Hey, Kent!" the senior who'd bumped into him said. "Looks like someone wants to see you!" Clark followed the pointing finger to see Lex Luthor leaning against a red and white pick up. The guy looked out of place, but, strangely, completely at his ease. And, also, right at Clark. He gave a half wave when he saw Clark had seen him.
"Clark, c'mon, we've got a bus to catch!" Pete yelled at him, drawing his attention away from the bald man,
Clark looked back and forth for a moment, then waved for Pete to go on without him. "I think I'll walk home," he called back, tipping his head unobtrusively--he hoped--at Lex. "I've, uh, got some stuff to take care of."
Pete scowled at him good-naturedly for a moment, then shrugged and headed for his bus and Clark changed course to meet up with Lex.
"Uh, hey," he said intelligently, coming to a halt a few feet away from the bald guy he had given mouth-to-mouth to. Gosh, and now he was blushing, he knew it. And he hadn't even thought of it like that before and he knew he was going to be thinking it every time he saw the guy now. "Um, are you okay?" he asked, trying to regain any cool points he might have once had in the guy's eyes.
To his surprise, Lex Luthor reached out and put his hands on Clark's shoulders and looked at him critically. "I think that's something I should be asking you, isn't it?" the bald man said. "It's not everyone who can do what you did."
Darnit, he'd known that little slip of the tongue was going to come back to haunt him! "I just did what anyone else would do," he protested feebly.
Lex gave him a knowing look, but let it pass. "But not what anyone else could do," he repeated. Then he abruptly changed the subject. "But that's not why I'm here. You saved my life, Clark, and that's not something I can dismiss lightly. If there's anything I can do for you, Clark, you let me know." He gave Clark one more searching look. "Anything," he repeated, then turned and started walking away. Why, Clark wasn't sure--they were both on the driver's side of the truck--but then, Clark wasn't sure he understood anything about Lex.
Lex stopped and snapped his fingers. "Just about forgot. Clark! Heads up!"
Clark looked up automatically and saw a shiny something arcing through the air towards him. Just as automatically, he reached out and caught it.
"Consider it a small token of appreciation for saving my life," Lex said, grinning at him. One long moment later, a Porsche--another one, for heaven's sake!--practically flew out of the parking lot.
Clark looked at the keys in his hand and back at the truck. And then back to the keys and to the truck again.
The slap on his back startled him and he dropped his books.
"Am I to assume, by the way Lex Luthor just peeled out of here in another car, that this baby is yours?" Pete asked from beside him.
"I guess so," Clark said slowly, then grinned at his friend. He dangled the keys in the air. "Hey, since you missed the bus, want a ride home?"
Pete slapped his back again and almost ran to the other side of the truck. "Oh, man, would I!" he crowed. "C'mon, open it up!"
Clark laughed and took a moment to examine the remote hanging off the ring. He pressed the padlock carefully and the truck unlocked. On his side at least, judging from Pete's unhappy face. He opened the door and found the automatic locks and pressed it one way--both doors locked--and then the other way. Then he and Pete climbed in and spent a few seconds breathing in that heavenly new truck smell.
"Looks like you've got a love note," Pete said, snickering a little.
Clark mock-glared at him and grabbed the envelope taped to the steering wheel. The purple card inside had the initials "LL" on it--as if it could be from anyone else--and he read out loud, "Dear Clark. Drive safely. Always in your debt. A maniac in a Porsche."
"Maniac, huh," Pete aid. "Can't argue with that, not after seeing his driving." He slapped the dashboard with his hands, practically bouncing in his seat. "C'mon, Clark, start her up!"
Clark grinned at him and inserted the key. It started smoothly and he watched Pete oooo and ahhhh over everything it could do.
What he'd told Lex was true--he'd only done what anyone else would have done--but he wasn't going to be so rude as to say "no" to such a reward.
Clark looked up at the imposing castle and sighed. Looked like he was going to be rude after all. His dad had taken one look at the truck and told him he couldn't keep it. And then he'd gone on and on about how Lex's dad was the root of all evil and all the nasty things Lex's dad had done. Clark, frankly had been just a little bewildered at the strength of his dad's anger against all things Luthor and hadn't been able to think of anything but the weakest of arguments for keeping the truck. And then his dad had said something about it being normal to be upset and he'd nearly shoved his arm in the wood shipper just to show his dad how unnormal he was. But he'd kept his temper--mostly--and instead there had been a grand old fight about how super strength and super speed weren't exactly normal and then his father had thrown out a few more examples of how Lex's dad was the Devil incarnate. And that had made the fight last even longer, because he was not able to reconcile this unforgiving side of his father he'd never seen before with the man who had taught him there was always some good in everyone and to look past the surface of a person before judging them.
In the end, long after it had become apparent he wasn't going to win the argument, he'd stormed off to find a place to cool down. And that was the only good thing about the argument; he'd met Lana in the graveyard and had talked with her. And she'd said she'd save a dance for him at Homecoming and then she'd kissed him. On the cheek, but it was still a huge step further than he'd ever been with her.
And it all lead to him, right here, right now, standing in front of the gates of Luthor Mansion. He was there to return the truck Lex Luthor had given him.
He ran his hands longingly over the steering wheel. It ran as smooth as butter and he wanted to keep it so bad. But his mom had eventually come down on his dad's side and there wasn't really anything he could do about it. He hadn't been happy--the farthest thing from it, really--but, with both parents set against it . . . .
He heaved a sigh and got out of the truck.
"Hello?" he called, approaching the gate. "Hi? Is anyone here?" He waited, but there was no answer. "Um, I'm just . . . returning this, uh, truck, so could I maybe come in?" Still no answer.
Clark considered the problem. No one was around and he had to get inside. He looked around carefully, but couldn't see any cameras or anything. He nodded. No witnesses meant no crime. Not that what he was contemplating was a crime, exactly. Or, well, he didn't mean it to be a crime.
First, though, he moved the truck as much to one side as he could and set the alarm for the last time. Then he bent one of the gate's bars enough for him to slip through before, just as carefully, he bent it back.
Then he faced the long walk up to the entrance. Or, even better, the short run . . . .
He grinned and straightened his clothes before knocking sharply at the door.
And then he waited. He tugged at his coat again and checked out what was in his pockets. Dimes, quarters, pennies--mostly pennies--and a note from Chloe, reminding him to hand in an article he had, in fact, forgotten to hand in. He whistled innocently as he balled it up again and shoved it deep in his pocket.
He knocked again, maybe a bit harder than before. This time, he examined what he could see of the grounds. Nice, if you liked your gardens to look like they'd just come out of a factory. Maybe he was biased, but he kinda preferred his mom's flower garden. It didn't always get quite enough tending--his mom did, after all, look after their organic stuff, too--but it was more welcoming, somehow, in its riotous disorder than the neatly clipped order of this garden.
He tried the door on the off-chance rich people left their doors unlocked, too. It turned easily, which kinda surprised him. Not enough to keep him from poking his head in.
"Hello?" he called again. He wandered down the--of course--empty hall. He couldn't hear anyone upstairs, but he thought there might be someone on this floor . . . . Maybe in that room, there.
He looked in and just about jumped in surprise at the sight of two faceless men fighting with swords. They looked alien, almost, with those all-white suits and headgear and swords and . . . . His eyes widened. And one of them was actually a girl! Or woman, but whatever she was, she pinned her opponent to the wall. They stood still for a moment before the girl stood back. And then the guy sorta tossed his sword in the air and then he threw it with an eerie precision, into the wall right beside Clark.
The guy seemed to see Clark, then, and hastily pulled off his mask, revealing Lex Luthor beneath it. "Clark?" He gave Clark a quick once over. "I didn't see you," he said as he crossed the room.
Clark opened his mouth, but nothing seemed to want to come out for a moment. "I, uh--I, uh, buzzed, but no one answered." Well, knocked, really, but he was just a little off-balance by way of having a sword thrown at him.
Lex reached out and pulled the sword out of the wall with one sharp move. "How'd you get through the gates?" he asked, looking a little puzzled.
Clark's eyes widened. "I kinda squeezed through the bars," he said quickly. It was the truth, just not the whole truth. "If, if this is a bad time--"
Lex looked over at the other person in the room, almost as if he'd forgotten she was there at all. "Oh, no, no. I think Heike has sufficiently kicked my ass for the day," he said as he walked over to where the woman--Heike, he'd said--was starting to take off her equipment and tossed her his headgear-thing.
Clark's gaze accidentally fell to Lex's butt, where a series of fasteners highlighted a crease the clothing tried to hide.
"Dad wants to know if you're upset about a guy."
Clark knew he was bright, bright red. First the CPR thing, then that Lana's dad thing, and then his own body taking very unwanted liberties with the sights offered. Not that they were offered, they were just there and, gosh, he was babbling to himself now. He looked around for something to--for something else to distract him.
"This is a great place," he said lamely.
"Yeah?" Lex asked. "If you're dead and in the market for something to haunt." Clark just saw the edge of a grin before Lex brushed past him.
"I meant it was roomy," he said quickly.
Lex turned to face him in the hallway. "It's the Luthor ancestral home," he said solemnly. Too solemnly, Clark thought, for it to be real, but he wasn't quite sure. And then Lex was in motion again, heading for the stairs. "Or so my father claims. He had it shipped over from Scotland, stone by stone."
Clark trailed along behind him. "Yeah, I remember the trucks rolled through town for weeks, but no one ever moved in."
Lex stopped climbing the stairs and turned to look at Clark again. "My father never intended to live here," he said as if it should have been obvious. "He's never even stepped through the door."
Clark was confused. "Then why'd he ship it over?" he asked.
Another look that clearly said Clark should already know. "Because he could," was all Lex said.
Clark didn't have anything to say in response to that and they finished the climb in silence.
"Sorry about throwing that foil at you," Lex said as he stripped off that white jacket and walked across the room to a table with fruit and bottles of . . . something. Clark was willing to bet it was something alcoholic. The bald man picked up one of the bottles and leaned against the table. "But it wouldn't have hurt you, would it."
Panic flooded Clark, at telling a guy he didn't even know about his power, however new it was, and at being forced to face yet another difference separating him and everyone else.
"--ark! Clark!" Someone took a firm hold on his shoulders and shook him. "Clark, look at me!"
With a harsh gasp, Clark focussed on the person in front of him. Bald head, blue eyes. Lex Luthor.
"Breathe, Clark," Lex told him. Obediently, he drew in a breath. "It's okay, Clark, I'm not going to tell anyone."
"Really?" Clark asked, hating the broken whisper it came out as.
Lex nodded firmly. "You have my word on it." He released Clark's shoulders cautiously, as if afraid Clark might try to run away. "Now, why don't we sit down. You can have a drink of water and we won't talk about this until you're ready to, okay?" Lex waited until he nodded, then gently nudged him in the direction of the couch. "There. Go take a seat and I'll bring that water, okay?"
Clark sank down onto the couch and leaned forward, cupping his head in his hands. Yeah. So far down the scale of cool, he was somewhere between 'really darn cold' and 'insta-freeze'. And he was doing an admirable job of distracting himself.
A hand touched his shoulder lightly and he lifted his head enough to see Lex crouching down in front of him, a blue glass bottle held loosely in his other hand.
"Hey," Lex said quietly. "I meant what I said. Whenever you are ready." He handed the bottle to Clark, who took it reflexively, before shifting over a bit. He sat on the floor, back against the couch, and was silent.
Clark examined the bottle for lack of something better to do while he tried to bring his thoughts into some sort of order. The bald head at his knee drew his gaze, however, and distracted him. He'd assumed Lex shaved his head--maybe as some kind of statement--but, up close, he couldn't see any sign of stubble or even any nicks or irritated skin. It may have been from cancer treatment or something, but he was pretty sure Chloe would have mentioned if the Luthor Heir, as she had insisted on calling him, had cancer. Whatever the cause, it looked smooth and he found himself wondering how it felt. He ran his hand over his own head, but had to conclude the hair kinda got in the way.
He was startled when Lex ran his hand over his own head and he flushed, wondering if his thoughts were so obvious Lex could know them without even looking at him. He hurriedly transferred his eyes back to the bottle he was holding.
"I know what it's like to stick out," Lex said conversationally. "I've been bald since I was nine and, before that, I had screaming red curls. Add my father and his money to the mix and you get the kid even the other rich kids didn't want to play with."
Lex fell silent and Clark played with the bottle again. He traced a path in the condensation with his finger, wondering just how he was going to get out of this with his secrets intact. "I've always been different," he heard his voice say. He sounded small and he was more than a little appalled his mouth was following his eyes' example and completely not listening to his brain.
"Different how?" Lex asked casually, but Clark wasn't quite so naive as to believe that calmness.
So he shook his head. "Just . . . different, trust me on that. But . . . . What happened on the bridge? That was something completely new."
Lex turned to look at him, surprise clear in his eyes. "You've been injured before?"
Clark nodded. "Fell out of a friend's treehouse and broke my arm. I've cut myself on stuff, skinned my knees, even. So, yeah, kinda new when a car ploughs into me and I can walk away from it."
"I guess it would be," Lex agreed slowly. He gave a short laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. "I guess I thought you'd always been like that."
There really wasn't anything he could say in answer to that, so Clark just shrugged.
Lex suddenly slapped his hands on his thighs and rose smoothly to his feet. "All right, soul-baring time is officially declared over before I lose my balls." Clark turned an unexpected laugh into an almost plausible cough and Lex grinned at him. "So how's the new ride?"
Clark's smile faded and he rubbed his hand over the pocket holding the keys. "Actually, that's why I'm here," he admitted.
"What's the matter?" Lex asked, looking faintly concerned. "Didn't you like it?" It was barely there for a second, but Clark still saw the flash of hurt.
"No, it's not that," he said quickly. "It's--I can't keep it."
"Clark, you saved my life," Lex said, just a little bemused. "I think it's the least I can do." Then Lex seemed to realise something. "Your father doesn't like me, does he."
Clark shrugged awkwardly. "He's just not crazy about your dad," he said, knowing just how lame an excuse it was. Lamer, even, because he knew his dad and this was nothing like him.
Lex looked away, but not before Clark saw . . . something. He was reasonably sure it was hurt again, however 'unmanly' it was.
Lex said, "Figures the apple doesn't fall far from the tree." He nodded. "Understandable." He glanced sideways at Clark. "It's okay, Clark, I'm used to people judging me before they get to know me." He passed his hand over his head deliberately.
"I, umm, I'd better go," Clark said, never feeling more like a clumsy teenager than he did at that moment. "Thanks for the truck." He left the keys on the table beside the couch and headed for the door.
"Clark!"
He stopped and turned back at Lex's call. The bald man was halfway facing him.
"Clark, do you believe a man can fly?"
"Yeah, in a plane," Clark said, confused all over again by the rapid changes in the conversation.
Lex waved that away. "No, I'm not talking about that," he said. "I'm talking about soaring through the sky with nothing but air beneath you."
"People can't fly, Lex," Clark said, just a little uneasy with this particular new direction. After all, a car had already run him over; who was he to discount even more weirdness?
"I did," Lex said, looking down for a moment. "After the accident, when my heart stopped." He looked up again, but whatever he was focusing on wasn't in the room. "I flew over Smallville and, for the first time, I didn't see a dead end." He looked at Clark again, a faint smile on his lips. "Thanks to you, I have a second chance." He took a few steps forward and touched Clark's shoulder lightly. "We have a future, Clark," he said, his gaze intense. "And I don't want anything to stand in the way of our friendship.
Clark stared at the wall of newspaper clippings, feeling . . . well, he wasn't quite sure what he felt. Awe at the sheer number of articles posted up on the wall. And just a little scared, because he was pretty darn sure he belonged up there, too. One of his best friends had been finding all this weird stuff and putting it all together and his other best friend had known and not told him.
"I just--Why didn't you tell me about this?" he asked, trying to force his fear down enough to be able to talk. It wasn't easy. There was apparently a lot of weirdness in Smallville he'd never known about. Weirdness he should have known about, because his weirdness belonged right up there, on that wall. And that really scared him.
"--tell me everything that happens in your life?" Chloe asked, annoyed. "We all keep secrets, Clark."
She knew he had secrets?" And not the 'oooo, your birthday gift is a surprise' kind of secrets, but the real ones. It was all a bit too much and he needed to get out of there. "I-I've gotta go," he managed to say before rushing out into the empty hall.
"Clark. Hey, Clark!"
Clark just about jumped a mile high when someone snapped their fingers right in front of his face. He blinked and looked past them to see Lex Luthor crouched in front of him again.
"There you are," Lex said, concern showing in his eyes. "Any particular reason you're sitting on the side of the street?"
Clark looked around and saw, yes, his blind feet had sat him down on a street curb while his brain had been busy trying to shut itself up. "Ummm . . . ."
Lex shook his head and stood up. Clark stared at the hand offered to him, then made his hand work and let Lex pull him up. "I was just driving around for a bit," Lex said, walking to the driver's side of his car and, gosh, Clark really had been out of it because he hadn't even heard it. "Trying to get to know my new home, that sort of thing. But right now, I'm thinking more along the lines of some coffee. You game?"
"Uh, okay," Clark said, his mind still caught up in the revelation of the Wall. He climbed beside Lex and Lex, thankfully, kept silent, even as he made the engine roar.
In silence, they stayed until they reached the Beanery and, even then, Lex was the one who found a spot for them to sit and who ordered for both of them.
"So how come I found you on the side of the street?" Lex asked again.
Clark fiddled with his cup a bit. "Just stuff," he mumbled. He'd already confided in Lex twice; did he really need to put his foot in his mouth a third time?
"High school can be tough," Lex said, nodding his head. "Do you have a girlfriend?"
Clark shook his head, then volunteered, "There is this girl, though. But she's got a boyfriend already." After all, the whole world knew about him and Lana; what better way to distract Lex from his real problems than by dangling another problem in front of him?
"Pretty?" Lex asked, then shook his head. "No, of course she is. And a boyfriend, too. Not completely insurmountable, but a bit tricky, nonetheless."
"Yeah, she's . . . she's pretty much perfect," Clark said, sighing. "And he's on the football team and she's a cheerleader and we've only talked a few times." And now he was even more depressed. Lana plus Chloe's Wall of Weird plus the strange Lex Luthor . . . it was enough to give him a headache. And a yearning for Prozac.
"You shouldn't sell yourself so short," Lex said, frowning at him. "You've got some pretty admirable qualities of your own, you know. Computer club, astronomy club, even the glee club . . . . these are not the accomplishments of losers."
Clark gaped at him for a long moment. "Are--have you been spying on me?!" he demanded, half-rising from the table.
Lex grabbed at his wrist, his eyes wide with alarm and shock. "Clark, no! I just asked around a little, to find out who you are, that's all!"
Clark didn't move for a moment, debating whether or not he should just leave--surely saving the man's life allowed him to be able to leave in a huff--but grudgingly sat down again.
Lex rubbed at the back of his neck, almost hiding the look of relief in his eyes. "I'm . . . sorry, Clark," he said. "I could say I live in a different world, but . . . ." He shrugged. "I swear, I only wanted to know who you were."
"You could've asked," Clark said pointedly. "I was right there."
Lex gave him a wry look. "Clark, you fainted after you rescued me and then, when you came to again, there were a lot of other people around. Believe me, there wasn't exactly a good time to ask you anything."
Clark nodded slowly after a moment's thought. He hadn't exactly thought of it like that. "So," he said, casting about for a new topic of conversation. "How's Smallville treating you?"
"Like roadkill two weeks old," Lex said, grimacing as he lifted his cup. He caught the incredulous look Clark gave him and sent one right back. "C'mon, Clark, the Luthors, as far as the good people of Smallville are concerned, are the source of everything wrong with the world."
"Well, maybe your dad," Clark said awkwardly, "but you seem to be a pretty good guy."
"Thanks for your vote of confidence," Lex said dryly. "But I'm afraid the rest of Smallville, like your father, believes the apple doesn't fall far from the tree." He took another sip, keeping his eyes on Clark. "How about you, Clark? Did your apple fall far from the tree?"
Clark flushed and lowered his eyes. "I was adopted," he said in a low voice.
Lex's cup was set down hard and Clark looked up, startled. "I--I'm sorry, Clark, I didn't know," Lex said, honest regret in his face.
"It's okay," he assured the bald man. "It--it's not like I remember them or anything. I don't even know who they were. And Mom and Dad have been great, you know? They'll always be my real parents, as far as I'm concerned."
"Well. I guess I can't argue with that," Lex said finally, a hint of a smile on his face.
"You were saying something about the Luthors being the source of everything wrong," Clark said, changing the subject quickly. "What did you mean by that? I mean, if anything, LuthorCorp has helped Smallville grow, hasn't it?" With a twinge of guilt, he remembered what his dad has said about the Luthors--or, rather, Lex's dad--but anything that got Lex's attention off of him . . . .
Lex chuckled humourlessly. "There's all sorts of wild rumours about how LuthorCorp's shit factory is responsible for all manner of ills around town," he said. "Enough that we have the EPA inside a bit more frequently than actually called for." He leaned forward. "But the reports are generally clean. And I've found no evidence my father's been, ah, encouraging the inspectors to say that."
"Your . . . your dad would bribe someone?" Clark asked, flabbergasted.
Lex gave him an odd look. "He has in the past," was all he said. "Thing is, none of the violations catalogued would have produced such . . . stunning mutations. And some of the reports have actually come from further up Elbow River than the plant. That could hardly be LuthorCorp's 'lax' waste management."
Clark frowned, unwillingly reminded of Chloe's Wall of Weird and the theory she had come up with. "What about the meteors?" he asked hesitantly.
Lex winced elaborately. "Meteorites, Clark," he said with a pained expressions. "Once they enter our atmosphere, the proper term is meteorites."
Clark rolled his eyes. Of course he knew the right word--astronomy club, anyone?--but it was just easier to do what everyone else did and call them 'meteors'. "Yeah, but my friend, Chloe, thinks they're the cause. She has this . . . wall of weird stuff in Smallville and she doesn't think it's LuthorCorp, either."
"Chloe . . . ." Lex mused. "Chloe Sullivan? I think she's your age."
Clark was taken aback--again. "Yeah," he said slowly. "How'd you know?
Lex waved away Clark's concern. "Gabe Sullivan is my right hand man at the plant," he said. "I make it a point to know about my staff; it helps head off those awkward moments." Wow, and Lex had been in town less than a week. "So," Lex continued, leaning forward again, "she thinks it's the meteorites? I thought they were classified as harmless."
Clark shrugged again. "She only told me about this today," he said. "You know as much as I do about them." Then he thought about it and added, "More, actually."
"I have a personal interest in them," Lex said.
Clark nodded in understanding. "The plant."
"Not really," the bald man disagreed. "I mean, yes, I'd like for something other than LuthorCorp to get the blame, obviously, but . . . ." He looked away for a moment. "I was in Smallville," he said. "The day of the meteorite shower. I lost my hair that day. To say I'm interested in the cause of Smallville's mutations would be understating the case."
Clark didn't say anything to that. Well, what could he say? "Sorry you lost your hair, Lex"? Not quite a scintillating piece of conversation, there, Clark.
"Well," Lex said finally. "I think it's time for me to be heading to my monstrosity of an abode." He made a face. "I'm still more used to seeing morning from the other side, I think."
From the other . . . . Oh, right. "Not used to getting up with the cows?" Clark asked innocently, hardly daring to believe he, Clark Kent, was teasing Lex Luthor.
Lex glared at him as he stood up. "Laugh it up, farm boy," he said. "Id' like to see you change your waking time."
Clark winced. Although they'd never said anything directly to him, he knew Chloe and Pete had a standing bet on if he was going to catch the bus or not.
"So," Lex said as they left the Beanery, "can I give you a ride home?"
Lex closed the door behind him and just gripped the steering wheel for a long moment. A full day of work, of trying to learn enough about the workings of this plant to be able to apply any and all business management he'd learned. A day with absolutely no chance to see Clark--although he knew no one with half a brain would trust someone they barely knew with such a big secret, and never mind he was a Luthor as well. Curiously enough, though, he'd heard Martha Kent sold organic produce and her son delivered it. He, of course, had resolved to place a standing order the next day. Or when he had a few moments to himself, although the next day may have come and gone before he had that free moment.
"Damn you, Clark Kent," he muttered, clutching the wheel a bit tighter. After all, if the boy hadn't rescued him, he wouldn't actually be possessed of any work ethic, much less one like he'd been exhibiting. It annoyed him that he was undoubtedly 'taking responsibility' as his father wanted, but it was still a bit cheering to know his father actually had nothing to with his improved outlook.
Lex sighed and turned the key. Tomorrow was a new day, already filled to the brim with reading reports. And manuals. And other dry, dry literature.
"Be still, my beating heart," he murmured, throwing the car into reverse and then changing gear to peel out of the empty parking lot.
And then he saw something on the road and braked hard. His headlights illuminated a face burned into his memory, a face he hadn't seen for twelve years.
Help me . . . .
And then the kid turned and vanished into the corn.
Lex shoved open the car door and stood up. But the kid was gone and the only movement in the corn was from the night wind blowing.
"Help me . . . ."
At first, he thought his mind was playing tricks on him, remembering the kid's plea, but . . . . His eyes narrowed and he got back into the car long enough to get the flashlight from the glove compartment.
"Help me . . . ."
Right. He wasn't nine anymore. The corn would not explode around him.
"Please . . . ."
He shone the light at the edge of the field. Not there, but . . . . There. Disturbed earth and crushed stalks showed a meagre trail. He followed it.
Clark let his head fall forward with a groan. Visions of the guy who had been electrocuted danced through his head. Chloe's assertion it had been Jeremy who had done it joined in and he groaned again, pulling weakly at his bonds. He had to get free.
Then something bright shone in his eyes and he jerked in pain.
"Clark?!"
When he heard Lex's voice, he forced his head up again, a wild hope competing with the nausea within him. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
"Aw, jeez." Lex came forward and began fumbling with the ropes keeping him upright. "Who did this to you?"
Clark shook his head. "Doesn't matter," he made himself say. There was a moment of vertigo when the ropes gave way and he fell forward onto his hands and knees. He scrabbled at the necklace, avoiding the burning green stone, and pulled until the thin chain snapped. It dropped and he backed away from it, until he felt like he wasn't going to fall over if he stood up.
Cool hands on his shoulders pulled him back. He let Lex check him over for a moment before pushing the bald man away and standing up. "Thanks," he said, looking into grey eyes for a moment.
Lex grabbed at him. "Clark, you need to see a doctor!"
Clark shrugged him off. "Lex, I can't--there's this kid and he's going to the school--"
"Clark!" Lex said, grabbing at his arm again. "What about the school?"
Clark pulled away completely. "I'll be fine," he said.
"Wait!" he heard Lex say as he started to run. "At least let me give you a ride!"
No time, no time . . . .
He'd found his clothes in the back of Whitney's truck. And then he'd found Jeremy looking like he wanted to electrocute the whole school via the sprinkler system. And then he'd been run into again and Jeremy had apparently shocked himself into amnesia. Which had been really lucky 'cause he hadn't really had a plan.
And then Lex had swerved into the parking lot and found him and Jeremy. Having Lex there when the police had come by had been . . . reassuring. and definitely helpful.
In fact, he was pretty sure it was only because of Lex that the police had cleared out of there at all. Now, it was just him and Lex. And all the people still at the dance, of course, but they hardly counted because they didn't even know anything had happened.
"There's still plenty of time left if you want to stop in there," Lex called to him. The man was standing beside his car, looking just as much at ease there as he had dealing with the police.
Clark shook his head. "Nah, I'll pass," he said easily.
"Then can I offer you a ride now?" Lex asked, smiling.
Clark ducked his head, but he was smiling, too. "I dunno," he said, walking over to his personal saviour. "How fast does that car go?"
"Not as fast as you, apparently."
Clark's smile died a bit, but . . . he owed Lex a huge debt just for getting him off the scarecrow post, and even more for sticking around and making up a cover story for Clark and Jeremy and another ruined vehicle. Besides, he'd already told Lex cars couldn't kill him and he was still alive and free. And speed and strength were surely less valuable than being able to survive car crashes.
He looked over at Lex again and grinned. "Wanna see how fast?" he challenged.
Lex's eyes gleamed with a fierce curiousity and Clark looked around for something to do. His eyes lit on the trucks and cars of Smallville High.
The dance was over, but the students weren't leaving just yet. There was a crowd around the newest spectacle at school and scattered laughter throughout it.
"Who did this to my truck?!"
Clark and Lex grinned at each other before Lex gunned the engine and tore out of the parking lot.
They left behind one crowd of gawkers, one angry quarterback, and three trucks, stacked one on top of the other.
END
Pairing: pre-slash (Clark/Lex)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: At some points in this fic, I have used dialogue from episode 1.01 (Pilot).
Spoilers: 1.01 - Pilot
Word Count: 7612
Summary: When you change one thing, how much actually changes? Clark rescues Lex. Lex returns the favour.
old_school_clex challenge #14: Clark tells Lex he did hit him on the bridge and that he doesn't understand why he's still alive (in shock).
He was flying. Smallville passed under him and, for the first time, he saw possibilities instead of dead ends.
He spread his arms and laughed. Here was where it would all start, where he would begin.
An ominous thump made the air around him shudder and the world waver.
"Come on! Don't die on me!"
Die? He wasn't dead, not with his future spread below him.
And the world shuddered at another thump and he choked and coughed.
His eyes opened. Not the blue sky he'd been flying, but green eyes set in an anxious face.
Memory hit and hit hard.
"I could have sworn I hit you," he said, his voice low and rough.
The boy looked at him, fear lurking in his eyes, and then at the broken railing in the bridge. "If--if--you did. You hit me; we should be dead." And then his eyes rolled up and he slumped forward, unconscious.
Lex groaned as the not inconsiderable weight of the boy pressed him down. He took a moment to rest before trying to struggle out from underneath his 'saviour'. Forget about the plant--this had to be his new beginning.
And, so, far, it was so damn auspicious it hurt.
He'd really thought he was going to die. When that guy--Lex--had woken up on the bank, he had been just as surprised. Surprised enough to admit it.
Clark squirmed a little. He shouldn't've said that, but he'd been in shock--as if that would save his butt when his mom found out--and not really in control of his mouth. Yeah, not a good excuse at all.
He hadn't told his parents about it yet. Not the accident, they already knew about that--kinda hard to miss, there's been someone from the Ledger there and Chloe had already wrung him dry for details for the Torch--but he'd kinda forgot to mention the whole car hitting him thing. Okay, so maybe not forgotten so much as . . . put off. His dad had not been in the mood to hear it when he'd driven them back home; he'd been muttering under his breath the whole time about 'damn Luthors' this and 'damn Luthors' that. Clark hadn't been sure his dad wouldn't've turned back around if he'd known that guy Lex had literally ran into him. So, really, he was doing his dad a favour, keeping him from jail time and everything.
Yeah, that excuse wouldn't hold much water, either.
And then his mom had come home from her class and he'd had to run the whole gauntlet of parental concern again, although he'd at least been given some cookies this time. And his mom had looked the other way when he'd sneaked a drink of milk from the bottle after.
But now he was in bed and free at last to think about what the day had brought.
It 'brought' to me the knowledge that a car will give me light bruising, he thought a little bitterly. He felt the bruise on his left thigh curiously. It barely hurt when he pressed on it now, yet it was the only indication a fast-moving car had hit him. I mean, I knew things maybe didn't hurt as much, but I thought I was just ignoring most of it, not that my skin was, well, getting tougher. And I skinned my palms this morning, too, when I fell in front of Lana. He spared a moment to writhe in the remembered humiliation of that wonderful moment. Maybe it's only when things are moving fast that they bounce off my skin. Or push him around as the case may be. Maybe he could throw some rocks really fast and then run in front of them. On the other hand . . . . He kinda wasn't into hurting himself to test if, maybe, he could hurt himself.
And there's another thing: I can hurt myself. He pinched himself again, just to make sure, and winced. Note to self: Pinching a bruise is not a good idea. He tried again, somewhere else, and, yep, still pain.
And what was he going to do about it anyway? He probably should tell his parents, although that would bring up questions about why he hadn't told them before and all the excuses in the world wouldn't save him. He wanted to keep it to himself at least a little bit longer, preferably without having to think about it. He was already different enough from everyone else, he didn't need something else to alienate him from the rest of humanity. He should probably talk to that guy, to Lex, to make sure he wasn't going to tell anyone about Clark's little slip of the tongue. That, though, would open up a whole new can of worms of embarrassment. After all, he'd rescued the guy and then fainted, like some girl who'd just been rescued. Lex had been the one to flag someone down and commandeer their cell phone. Lex had called the ambulance and a tow truck and, when Clark had decided to rejoin the land of the conscious, his dad.
Yeah, some hero you are, Clark.
Unless the boy had been confused--possible, anyone would have been in shock--and hadn't meant Lex's car had physically hit him. But Lex remembered far too well the green eyes that had stared at him over the hood of his car for the barest of moments. No, he'd hit the boy.
That, in fact, was the core of the mystery. He had hit the boy. Both of them should be dead.
Instead, Clark Kent had managed to drag him out of his car--another mystery, although one Lex was willing to lay at Clark's door again--and revive him.
Lex brushed a finger over his lips. Regrettably, he didn't remember the CPR part of it.
Which can only be a good thing, he told himself resolutely. The first stage of his discreet investigation had already told him Clark Kent was only just in high school and, therefore, underage. Even if he didn't look like it.
He circled the car again.
"Don't die on me!"
"You did. You hit me; I--we should be dead."
A fascinating mystery, all told.
The water was cold, though, nothing summery about it.
He shook his head convulsively, trying to dismiss the memory. He still hadn't told his mom and dad everything and, frankly, he was a little scared to. Sure, he'd found reports of kids displaying "super" human strength and "super" human speed, but no one but him seemed to be able to bench press a tractor with one hand and no one but him could sneak out of the house by running so fast his parents couldn't see him. He already knew he wasn't normal; he didn't want to acknowledge there was something else weird about him.
He was jolted out of his thoughts when someone paid more attention to whatever he was looking at instead of where he was going. Clark managed not to drop his books--again, and hadn't that just been the most embarrassing moment of his life--and deliberately jostled back. Gently. Too bad he couldn't use that as an example of his control. "Yeah, Dad, this guy kinda ran into me and I pushed him back and, wow! He didn't go flying across the parking lot! Can I please play football now?" No, his dad would have a fit, as if Clark hadn't been learning to control his own strength all his life.
He was jostled again and he looked up, annoyed.
"Hey, Kent!" the senior who'd bumped into him said. "Looks like someone wants to see you!" Clark followed the pointing finger to see Lex Luthor leaning against a red and white pick up. The guy looked out of place, but, strangely, completely at his ease. And, also, right at Clark. He gave a half wave when he saw Clark had seen him.
"Clark, c'mon, we've got a bus to catch!" Pete yelled at him, drawing his attention away from the bald man,
Clark looked back and forth for a moment, then waved for Pete to go on without him. "I think I'll walk home," he called back, tipping his head unobtrusively--he hoped--at Lex. "I've, uh, got some stuff to take care of."
Pete scowled at him good-naturedly for a moment, then shrugged and headed for his bus and Clark changed course to meet up with Lex.
"Uh, hey," he said intelligently, coming to a halt a few feet away from the bald guy he had given mouth-to-mouth to. Gosh, and now he was blushing, he knew it. And he hadn't even thought of it like that before and he knew he was going to be thinking it every time he saw the guy now. "Um, are you okay?" he asked, trying to regain any cool points he might have once had in the guy's eyes.
To his surprise, Lex Luthor reached out and put his hands on Clark's shoulders and looked at him critically. "I think that's something I should be asking you, isn't it?" the bald man said. "It's not everyone who can do what you did."
Darnit, he'd known that little slip of the tongue was going to come back to haunt him! "I just did what anyone else would do," he protested feebly.
Lex gave him a knowing look, but let it pass. "But not what anyone else could do," he repeated. Then he abruptly changed the subject. "But that's not why I'm here. You saved my life, Clark, and that's not something I can dismiss lightly. If there's anything I can do for you, Clark, you let me know." He gave Clark one more searching look. "Anything," he repeated, then turned and started walking away. Why, Clark wasn't sure--they were both on the driver's side of the truck--but then, Clark wasn't sure he understood anything about Lex.
Lex stopped and snapped his fingers. "Just about forgot. Clark! Heads up!"
Clark looked up automatically and saw a shiny something arcing through the air towards him. Just as automatically, he reached out and caught it.
"Consider it a small token of appreciation for saving my life," Lex said, grinning at him. One long moment later, a Porsche--another one, for heaven's sake!--practically flew out of the parking lot.
Clark looked at the keys in his hand and back at the truck. And then back to the keys and to the truck again.
The slap on his back startled him and he dropped his books.
"Am I to assume, by the way Lex Luthor just peeled out of here in another car, that this baby is yours?" Pete asked from beside him.
"I guess so," Clark said slowly, then grinned at his friend. He dangled the keys in the air. "Hey, since you missed the bus, want a ride home?"
Pete slapped his back again and almost ran to the other side of the truck. "Oh, man, would I!" he crowed. "C'mon, open it up!"
Clark laughed and took a moment to examine the remote hanging off the ring. He pressed the padlock carefully and the truck unlocked. On his side at least, judging from Pete's unhappy face. He opened the door and found the automatic locks and pressed it one way--both doors locked--and then the other way. Then he and Pete climbed in and spent a few seconds breathing in that heavenly new truck smell.
"Looks like you've got a love note," Pete said, snickering a little.
Clark mock-glared at him and grabbed the envelope taped to the steering wheel. The purple card inside had the initials "LL" on it--as if it could be from anyone else--and he read out loud, "Dear Clark. Drive safely. Always in your debt. A maniac in a Porsche."
"Maniac, huh," Pete aid. "Can't argue with that, not after seeing his driving." He slapped the dashboard with his hands, practically bouncing in his seat. "C'mon, Clark, start her up!"
Clark grinned at him and inserted the key. It started smoothly and he watched Pete oooo and ahhhh over everything it could do.
What he'd told Lex was true--he'd only done what anyone else would have done--but he wasn't going to be so rude as to say "no" to such a reward.
In the end, long after it had become apparent he wasn't going to win the argument, he'd stormed off to find a place to cool down. And that was the only good thing about the argument; he'd met Lana in the graveyard and had talked with her. And she'd said she'd save a dance for him at Homecoming and then she'd kissed him. On the cheek, but it was still a huge step further than he'd ever been with her.
And it all lead to him, right here, right now, standing in front of the gates of Luthor Mansion. He was there to return the truck Lex Luthor had given him.
He ran his hands longingly over the steering wheel. It ran as smooth as butter and he wanted to keep it so bad. But his mom had eventually come down on his dad's side and there wasn't really anything he could do about it. He hadn't been happy--the farthest thing from it, really--but, with both parents set against it . . . .
He heaved a sigh and got out of the truck.
"Hello?" he called, approaching the gate. "Hi? Is anyone here?" He waited, but there was no answer. "Um, I'm just . . . returning this, uh, truck, so could I maybe come in?" Still no answer.
Clark considered the problem. No one was around and he had to get inside. He looked around carefully, but couldn't see any cameras or anything. He nodded. No witnesses meant no crime. Not that what he was contemplating was a crime, exactly. Or, well, he didn't mean it to be a crime.
First, though, he moved the truck as much to one side as he could and set the alarm for the last time. Then he bent one of the gate's bars enough for him to slip through before, just as carefully, he bent it back.
Then he faced the long walk up to the entrance. Or, even better, the short run . . . .
He grinned and straightened his clothes before knocking sharply at the door.
And then he waited. He tugged at his coat again and checked out what was in his pockets. Dimes, quarters, pennies--mostly pennies--and a note from Chloe, reminding him to hand in an article he had, in fact, forgotten to hand in. He whistled innocently as he balled it up again and shoved it deep in his pocket.
He knocked again, maybe a bit harder than before. This time, he examined what he could see of the grounds. Nice, if you liked your gardens to look like they'd just come out of a factory. Maybe he was biased, but he kinda preferred his mom's flower garden. It didn't always get quite enough tending--his mom did, after all, look after their organic stuff, too--but it was more welcoming, somehow, in its riotous disorder than the neatly clipped order of this garden.
He tried the door on the off-chance rich people left their doors unlocked, too. It turned easily, which kinda surprised him. Not enough to keep him from poking his head in.
"Hello?" he called again. He wandered down the--of course--empty hall. He couldn't hear anyone upstairs, but he thought there might be someone on this floor . . . . Maybe in that room, there.
He looked in and just about jumped in surprise at the sight of two faceless men fighting with swords. They looked alien, almost, with those all-white suits and headgear and swords and . . . . His eyes widened. And one of them was actually a girl! Or woman, but whatever she was, she pinned her opponent to the wall. They stood still for a moment before the girl stood back. And then the guy sorta tossed his sword in the air and then he threw it with an eerie precision, into the wall right beside Clark.
The guy seemed to see Clark, then, and hastily pulled off his mask, revealing Lex Luthor beneath it. "Clark?" He gave Clark a quick once over. "I didn't see you," he said as he crossed the room.
Clark opened his mouth, but nothing seemed to want to come out for a moment. "I, uh--I, uh, buzzed, but no one answered." Well, knocked, really, but he was just a little off-balance by way of having a sword thrown at him.
Lex reached out and pulled the sword out of the wall with one sharp move. "How'd you get through the gates?" he asked, looking a little puzzled.
Clark's eyes widened. "I kinda squeezed through the bars," he said quickly. It was the truth, just not the whole truth. "If, if this is a bad time--"
Lex looked over at the other person in the room, almost as if he'd forgotten she was there at all. "Oh, no, no. I think Heike has sufficiently kicked my ass for the day," he said as he walked over to where the woman--Heike, he'd said--was starting to take off her equipment and tossed her his headgear-thing.
Clark's gaze accidentally fell to Lex's butt, where a series of fasteners highlighted a crease the clothing tried to hide.
"Dad wants to know if you're upset about a guy."
Clark knew he was bright, bright red. First the CPR thing, then that Lana's dad thing, and then his own body taking very unwanted liberties with the sights offered. Not that they were offered, they were just there and, gosh, he was babbling to himself now. He looked around for something to--for something else to distract him.
"This is a great place," he said lamely.
"Yeah?" Lex asked. "If you're dead and in the market for something to haunt." Clark just saw the edge of a grin before Lex brushed past him.
"I meant it was roomy," he said quickly.
Lex turned to face him in the hallway. "It's the Luthor ancestral home," he said solemnly. Too solemnly, Clark thought, for it to be real, but he wasn't quite sure. And then Lex was in motion again, heading for the stairs. "Or so my father claims. He had it shipped over from Scotland, stone by stone."
Clark trailed along behind him. "Yeah, I remember the trucks rolled through town for weeks, but no one ever moved in."
Lex stopped climbing the stairs and turned to look at Clark again. "My father never intended to live here," he said as if it should have been obvious. "He's never even stepped through the door."
Clark was confused. "Then why'd he ship it over?" he asked.
Another look that clearly said Clark should already know. "Because he could," was all Lex said.
Clark didn't have anything to say in response to that and they finished the climb in silence.
"Sorry about throwing that foil at you," Lex said as he stripped off that white jacket and walked across the room to a table with fruit and bottles of . . . something. Clark was willing to bet it was something alcoholic. The bald man picked up one of the bottles and leaned against the table. "But it wouldn't have hurt you, would it."
Panic flooded Clark, at telling a guy he didn't even know about his power, however new it was, and at being forced to face yet another difference separating him and everyone else.
"--ark! Clark!" Someone took a firm hold on his shoulders and shook him. "Clark, look at me!"
With a harsh gasp, Clark focussed on the person in front of him. Bald head, blue eyes. Lex Luthor.
"Breathe, Clark," Lex told him. Obediently, he drew in a breath. "It's okay, Clark, I'm not going to tell anyone."
"Really?" Clark asked, hating the broken whisper it came out as.
Lex nodded firmly. "You have my word on it." He released Clark's shoulders cautiously, as if afraid Clark might try to run away. "Now, why don't we sit down. You can have a drink of water and we won't talk about this until you're ready to, okay?" Lex waited until he nodded, then gently nudged him in the direction of the couch. "There. Go take a seat and I'll bring that water, okay?"
Clark sank down onto the couch and leaned forward, cupping his head in his hands. Yeah. So far down the scale of cool, he was somewhere between 'really darn cold' and 'insta-freeze'. And he was doing an admirable job of distracting himself.
A hand touched his shoulder lightly and he lifted his head enough to see Lex crouching down in front of him, a blue glass bottle held loosely in his other hand.
"Hey," Lex said quietly. "I meant what I said. Whenever you are ready." He handed the bottle to Clark, who took it reflexively, before shifting over a bit. He sat on the floor, back against the couch, and was silent.
Clark examined the bottle for lack of something better to do while he tried to bring his thoughts into some sort of order. The bald head at his knee drew his gaze, however, and distracted him. He'd assumed Lex shaved his head--maybe as some kind of statement--but, up close, he couldn't see any sign of stubble or even any nicks or irritated skin. It may have been from cancer treatment or something, but he was pretty sure Chloe would have mentioned if the Luthor Heir, as she had insisted on calling him, had cancer. Whatever the cause, it looked smooth and he found himself wondering how it felt. He ran his hand over his own head, but had to conclude the hair kinda got in the way.
He was startled when Lex ran his hand over his own head and he flushed, wondering if his thoughts were so obvious Lex could know them without even looking at him. He hurriedly transferred his eyes back to the bottle he was holding.
"I know what it's like to stick out," Lex said conversationally. "I've been bald since I was nine and, before that, I had screaming red curls. Add my father and his money to the mix and you get the kid even the other rich kids didn't want to play with."
Lex fell silent and Clark played with the bottle again. He traced a path in the condensation with his finger, wondering just how he was going to get out of this with his secrets intact. "I've always been different," he heard his voice say. He sounded small and he was more than a little appalled his mouth was following his eyes' example and completely not listening to his brain.
"Different how?" Lex asked casually, but Clark wasn't quite so naive as to believe that calmness.
So he shook his head. "Just . . . different, trust me on that. But . . . . What happened on the bridge? That was something completely new."
Lex turned to look at him, surprise clear in his eyes. "You've been injured before?"
Clark nodded. "Fell out of a friend's treehouse and broke my arm. I've cut myself on stuff, skinned my knees, even. So, yeah, kinda new when a car ploughs into me and I can walk away from it."
"I guess it would be," Lex agreed slowly. He gave a short laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. "I guess I thought you'd always been like that."
There really wasn't anything he could say in answer to that, so Clark just shrugged.
Lex suddenly slapped his hands on his thighs and rose smoothly to his feet. "All right, soul-baring time is officially declared over before I lose my balls." Clark turned an unexpected laugh into an almost plausible cough and Lex grinned at him. "So how's the new ride?"
Clark's smile faded and he rubbed his hand over the pocket holding the keys. "Actually, that's why I'm here," he admitted.
"What's the matter?" Lex asked, looking faintly concerned. "Didn't you like it?" It was barely there for a second, but Clark still saw the flash of hurt.
"No, it's not that," he said quickly. "It's--I can't keep it."
"Clark, you saved my life," Lex said, just a little bemused. "I think it's the least I can do." Then Lex seemed to realise something. "Your father doesn't like me, does he."
Clark shrugged awkwardly. "He's just not crazy about your dad," he said, knowing just how lame an excuse it was. Lamer, even, because he knew his dad and this was nothing like him.
Lex looked away, but not before Clark saw . . . something. He was reasonably sure it was hurt again, however 'unmanly' it was.
Lex said, "Figures the apple doesn't fall far from the tree." He nodded. "Understandable." He glanced sideways at Clark. "It's okay, Clark, I'm used to people judging me before they get to know me." He passed his hand over his head deliberately.
"I, umm, I'd better go," Clark said, never feeling more like a clumsy teenager than he did at that moment. "Thanks for the truck." He left the keys on the table beside the couch and headed for the door.
"Clark!"
He stopped and turned back at Lex's call. The bald man was halfway facing him.
"Clark, do you believe a man can fly?"
"Yeah, in a plane," Clark said, confused all over again by the rapid changes in the conversation.
Lex waved that away. "No, I'm not talking about that," he said. "I'm talking about soaring through the sky with nothing but air beneath you."
"People can't fly, Lex," Clark said, just a little uneasy with this particular new direction. After all, a car had already run him over; who was he to discount even more weirdness?
"I did," Lex said, looking down for a moment. "After the accident, when my heart stopped." He looked up again, but whatever he was focusing on wasn't in the room. "I flew over Smallville and, for the first time, I didn't see a dead end." He looked at Clark again, a faint smile on his lips. "Thanks to you, I have a second chance." He took a few steps forward and touched Clark's shoulder lightly. "We have a future, Clark," he said, his gaze intense. "And I don't want anything to stand in the way of our friendship.
"I just--Why didn't you tell me about this?" he asked, trying to force his fear down enough to be able to talk. It wasn't easy. There was apparently a lot of weirdness in Smallville he'd never known about. Weirdness he should have known about, because his weirdness belonged right up there, on that wall. And that really scared him.
"--tell me everything that happens in your life?" Chloe asked, annoyed. "We all keep secrets, Clark."
She knew he had secrets?" And not the 'oooo, your birthday gift is a surprise' kind of secrets, but the real ones. It was all a bit too much and he needed to get out of there. "I-I've gotta go," he managed to say before rushing out into the empty hall.
Clark just about jumped a mile high when someone snapped their fingers right in front of his face. He blinked and looked past them to see Lex Luthor crouched in front of him again.
"There you are," Lex said, concern showing in his eyes. "Any particular reason you're sitting on the side of the street?"
Clark looked around and saw, yes, his blind feet had sat him down on a street curb while his brain had been busy trying to shut itself up. "Ummm . . . ."
Lex shook his head and stood up. Clark stared at the hand offered to him, then made his hand work and let Lex pull him up. "I was just driving around for a bit," Lex said, walking to the driver's side of his car and, gosh, Clark really had been out of it because he hadn't even heard it. "Trying to get to know my new home, that sort of thing. But right now, I'm thinking more along the lines of some coffee. You game?"
"Uh, okay," Clark said, his mind still caught up in the revelation of the Wall. He climbed beside Lex and Lex, thankfully, kept silent, even as he made the engine roar.
In silence, they stayed until they reached the Beanery and, even then, Lex was the one who found a spot for them to sit and who ordered for both of them.
"So how come I found you on the side of the street?" Lex asked again.
Clark fiddled with his cup a bit. "Just stuff," he mumbled. He'd already confided in Lex twice; did he really need to put his foot in his mouth a third time?
"High school can be tough," Lex said, nodding his head. "Do you have a girlfriend?"
Clark shook his head, then volunteered, "There is this girl, though. But she's got a boyfriend already." After all, the whole world knew about him and Lana; what better way to distract Lex from his real problems than by dangling another problem in front of him?
"Pretty?" Lex asked, then shook his head. "No, of course she is. And a boyfriend, too. Not completely insurmountable, but a bit tricky, nonetheless."
"Yeah, she's . . . she's pretty much perfect," Clark said, sighing. "And he's on the football team and she's a cheerleader and we've only talked a few times." And now he was even more depressed. Lana plus Chloe's Wall of Weird plus the strange Lex Luthor . . . it was enough to give him a headache. And a yearning for Prozac.
"You shouldn't sell yourself so short," Lex said, frowning at him. "You've got some pretty admirable qualities of your own, you know. Computer club, astronomy club, even the glee club . . . . these are not the accomplishments of losers."
Clark gaped at him for a long moment. "Are--have you been spying on me?!" he demanded, half-rising from the table.
Lex grabbed at his wrist, his eyes wide with alarm and shock. "Clark, no! I just asked around a little, to find out who you are, that's all!"
Clark didn't move for a moment, debating whether or not he should just leave--surely saving the man's life allowed him to be able to leave in a huff--but grudgingly sat down again.
Lex rubbed at the back of his neck, almost hiding the look of relief in his eyes. "I'm . . . sorry, Clark," he said. "I could say I live in a different world, but . . . ." He shrugged. "I swear, I only wanted to know who you were."
"You could've asked," Clark said pointedly. "I was right there."
Lex gave him a wry look. "Clark, you fainted after you rescued me and then, when you came to again, there were a lot of other people around. Believe me, there wasn't exactly a good time to ask you anything."
Clark nodded slowly after a moment's thought. He hadn't exactly thought of it like that. "So," he said, casting about for a new topic of conversation. "How's Smallville treating you?"
"Like roadkill two weeks old," Lex said, grimacing as he lifted his cup. He caught the incredulous look Clark gave him and sent one right back. "C'mon, Clark, the Luthors, as far as the good people of Smallville are concerned, are the source of everything wrong with the world."
"Well, maybe your dad," Clark said awkwardly, "but you seem to be a pretty good guy."
"Thanks for your vote of confidence," Lex said dryly. "But I'm afraid the rest of Smallville, like your father, believes the apple doesn't fall far from the tree." He took another sip, keeping his eyes on Clark. "How about you, Clark? Did your apple fall far from the tree?"
Clark flushed and lowered his eyes. "I was adopted," he said in a low voice.
Lex's cup was set down hard and Clark looked up, startled. "I--I'm sorry, Clark, I didn't know," Lex said, honest regret in his face.
"It's okay," he assured the bald man. "It--it's not like I remember them or anything. I don't even know who they were. And Mom and Dad have been great, you know? They'll always be my real parents, as far as I'm concerned."
"Well. I guess I can't argue with that," Lex said finally, a hint of a smile on his face.
"You were saying something about the Luthors being the source of everything wrong," Clark said, changing the subject quickly. "What did you mean by that? I mean, if anything, LuthorCorp has helped Smallville grow, hasn't it?" With a twinge of guilt, he remembered what his dad has said about the Luthors--or, rather, Lex's dad--but anything that got Lex's attention off of him . . . .
Lex chuckled humourlessly. "There's all sorts of wild rumours about how LuthorCorp's shit factory is responsible for all manner of ills around town," he said. "Enough that we have the EPA inside a bit more frequently than actually called for." He leaned forward. "But the reports are generally clean. And I've found no evidence my father's been, ah, encouraging the inspectors to say that."
"Your . . . your dad would bribe someone?" Clark asked, flabbergasted.
Lex gave him an odd look. "He has in the past," was all he said. "Thing is, none of the violations catalogued would have produced such . . . stunning mutations. And some of the reports have actually come from further up Elbow River than the plant. That could hardly be LuthorCorp's 'lax' waste management."
Clark frowned, unwillingly reminded of Chloe's Wall of Weird and the theory she had come up with. "What about the meteors?" he asked hesitantly.
Lex winced elaborately. "Meteorites, Clark," he said with a pained expressions. "Once they enter our atmosphere, the proper term is meteorites."
Clark rolled his eyes. Of course he knew the right word--astronomy club, anyone?--but it was just easier to do what everyone else did and call them 'meteors'. "Yeah, but my friend, Chloe, thinks they're the cause. She has this . . . wall of weird stuff in Smallville and she doesn't think it's LuthorCorp, either."
"Chloe . . . ." Lex mused. "Chloe Sullivan? I think she's your age."
Clark was taken aback--again. "Yeah," he said slowly. "How'd you know?
Lex waved away Clark's concern. "Gabe Sullivan is my right hand man at the plant," he said. "I make it a point to know about my staff; it helps head off those awkward moments." Wow, and Lex had been in town less than a week. "So," Lex continued, leaning forward again, "she thinks it's the meteorites? I thought they were classified as harmless."
Clark shrugged again. "She only told me about this today," he said. "You know as much as I do about them." Then he thought about it and added, "More, actually."
"I have a personal interest in them," Lex said.
Clark nodded in understanding. "The plant."
"Not really," the bald man disagreed. "I mean, yes, I'd like for something other than LuthorCorp to get the blame, obviously, but . . . ." He looked away for a moment. "I was in Smallville," he said. "The day of the meteorite shower. I lost my hair that day. To say I'm interested in the cause of Smallville's mutations would be understating the case."
Clark didn't say anything to that. Well, what could he say? "Sorry you lost your hair, Lex"? Not quite a scintillating piece of conversation, there, Clark.
"Well," Lex said finally. "I think it's time for me to be heading to my monstrosity of an abode." He made a face. "I'm still more used to seeing morning from the other side, I think."
From the other . . . . Oh, right. "Not used to getting up with the cows?" Clark asked innocently, hardly daring to believe he, Clark Kent, was teasing Lex Luthor.
Lex glared at him as he stood up. "Laugh it up, farm boy," he said. "Id' like to see you change your waking time."
Clark winced. Although they'd never said anything directly to him, he knew Chloe and Pete had a standing bet on if he was going to catch the bus or not.
"So," Lex said as they left the Beanery, "can I give you a ride home?"
"Damn you, Clark Kent," he muttered, clutching the wheel a bit tighter. After all, if the boy hadn't rescued him, he wouldn't actually be possessed of any work ethic, much less one like he'd been exhibiting. It annoyed him that he was undoubtedly 'taking responsibility' as his father wanted, but it was still a bit cheering to know his father actually had nothing to with his improved outlook.
Lex sighed and turned the key. Tomorrow was a new day, already filled to the brim with reading reports. And manuals. And other dry, dry literature.
"Be still, my beating heart," he murmured, throwing the car into reverse and then changing gear to peel out of the empty parking lot.
And then he saw something on the road and braked hard. His headlights illuminated a face burned into his memory, a face he hadn't seen for twelve years.
Help me . . . .
And then the kid turned and vanished into the corn.
Lex shoved open the car door and stood up. But the kid was gone and the only movement in the corn was from the night wind blowing.
"Help me . . . ."
At first, he thought his mind was playing tricks on him, remembering the kid's plea, but . . . . His eyes narrowed and he got back into the car long enough to get the flashlight from the glove compartment.
"Help me . . . ."
Right. He wasn't nine anymore. The corn would not explode around him.
"Please . . . ."
He shone the light at the edge of the field. Not there, but . . . . There. Disturbed earth and crushed stalks showed a meagre trail. He followed it.
Then something bright shone in his eyes and he jerked in pain.
"Clark?!"
When he heard Lex's voice, he forced his head up again, a wild hope competing with the nausea within him. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
"Aw, jeez." Lex came forward and began fumbling with the ropes keeping him upright. "Who did this to you?"
Clark shook his head. "Doesn't matter," he made himself say. There was a moment of vertigo when the ropes gave way and he fell forward onto his hands and knees. He scrabbled at the necklace, avoiding the burning green stone, and pulled until the thin chain snapped. It dropped and he backed away from it, until he felt like he wasn't going to fall over if he stood up.
Cool hands on his shoulders pulled him back. He let Lex check him over for a moment before pushing the bald man away and standing up. "Thanks," he said, looking into grey eyes for a moment.
Lex grabbed at him. "Clark, you need to see a doctor!"
Clark shrugged him off. "Lex, I can't--there's this kid and he's going to the school--"
"Clark!" Lex said, grabbing at his arm again. "What about the school?"
Clark pulled away completely. "I'll be fine," he said.
"Wait!" he heard Lex say as he started to run. "At least let me give you a ride!"
No time, no time . . . .
And then Lex had swerved into the parking lot and found him and Jeremy. Having Lex there when the police had come by had been . . . reassuring. and definitely helpful.
In fact, he was pretty sure it was only because of Lex that the police had cleared out of there at all. Now, it was just him and Lex. And all the people still at the dance, of course, but they hardly counted because they didn't even know anything had happened.
"There's still plenty of time left if you want to stop in there," Lex called to him. The man was standing beside his car, looking just as much at ease there as he had dealing with the police.
Clark shook his head. "Nah, I'll pass," he said easily.
"Then can I offer you a ride now?" Lex asked, smiling.
Clark ducked his head, but he was smiling, too. "I dunno," he said, walking over to his personal saviour. "How fast does that car go?"
"Not as fast as you, apparently."
Clark's smile died a bit, but . . . he owed Lex a huge debt just for getting him off the scarecrow post, and even more for sticking around and making up a cover story for Clark and Jeremy and another ruined vehicle. Besides, he'd already told Lex cars couldn't kill him and he was still alive and free. And speed and strength were surely less valuable than being able to survive car crashes.
He looked over at Lex again and grinned. "Wanna see how fast?" he challenged.
Lex's eyes gleamed with a fierce curiousity and Clark looked around for something to do. His eyes lit on the trucks and cars of Smallville High.
"Who did this to my truck?!"
Clark and Lex grinned at each other before Lex gunned the engine and tore out of the parking lot.
They left behind one crowd of gawkers, one angry quarterback, and three trucks, stacked one on top of the other.
END
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2007-06-01 01:57 pm (UTC)Thanks for answering my challenge *smiles happily*
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Date: 2007-06-01 08:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-06-01 08:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-06-01 02:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-06-01 08:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-06-01 02:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-06-01 08:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-06-01 04:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-06-01 08:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-06-01 07:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-06-01 08:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-06-01 09:46 pm (UTC)I like your version of the pilot much better! Enjoyed reading this!
Corinna J
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Date: 2007-06-02 03:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-06-01 11:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-06-02 03:21 am (UTC)I'm glad you enjoyed it! ^^
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Date: 2007-06-02 12:54 am (UTC)Any chance you'll continue this story beyond the challenge? :)
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Date: 2007-06-02 03:28 am (UTC)Yeah, I live to be mean to Clark. ^^
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Date: 2007-06-02 12:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-06-02 03:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-06-02 04:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-06-02 07:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-06-02 04:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-06-02 07:43 am (UTC)I'm glad you liked it. ^^
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Date: 2007-06-02 09:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-06-03 03:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-06-14 04:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-14 08:21 pm (UTC)i think, i prefer to think of your version as canon *g*