Crazy Lana Fic
8/23/05 12:03 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxyWell, my stars, this thing has really grown. We’re up to three parts and it doesn’t look like it’s going to be resolved too quickly. Since it’s crowding everything else out of my head at the moment, I figured I might as well let it have control!
This bit has a rating of 2
Part 1
Part 2
Lex spent his time coordinating his teams, combing through the mass of information received in a constant stream from dozens of sources…everything that seemed even mildly promising he shared with the Kents, he chased down any sighting of his friend that had even the barest hint of plausibility himself. His days were spent flying in and out of the city, heading off his dad, Gabe, Clark’s friends…he ate only when he absolutely had to, he had Toby keep him up for days on end until finally the man refused to give Lex any more of the cocktail of stimulants he’d been shooting up him with, swore that if Lex didn’t take a break he’d knock him out instead.
Still Lex went at it relentlessly, single-mindedly, like a man possessed. He drove himself harder and farther, until it was only matter of time before he burned himself out completely.
*******
Jonathan walked up the stairs to the study where the butler assured him that Lex was.
He had a covered dish in his hands, because Martha refused to believe that Lex’s cook had any idea how to care for a young boy. He sucked in a shaky breath. Well, if there was anything Martha knew about, it was caring for young boys.
He dashed at his eyes. Damn, he was so tired, it was getting harder and harder for him to control his emotions. He waited outside the study door until his eyes were dry, and he was in control again.
“ Lex?” He called softly as he poked his head around the doorframe. “Lex?” No answer. Was he in there, or was he lounging around somewhere in this over decorated pile of stone? Jonathan walked in, looking about at the display of wealth and shook his head. The rich…he glanced towards the far end of the study. There he was, at his desk—*Oh my God!*Jonathan’s heart nearly stopped. He dashed over to the desk, tossing the dish to the coffee table nearby.
Lex was head down on the desk, his cheek pressed against the glass, his arms splayed across scattered piles of folders, a snowdrift of paper around his feet.
Jonathan grabbed his arms, his heart hammering in his chest. He drew in a deep breath, ready to yell for help, until he realized a corpse wouldn’t drool—and at the same moment relief that Lex was unharmed made him weak enough that his knees sagged, Lex surged up, wide awake and wild eyed, his hands around Jonathan’s throat and his teeth bared in a snarl.
“What the fu—Mr. Kent!” Lex let go as if he held a live coal. “I—I’m sorry, please forgive me--” he staggered back and blinked blearily. He swept a hand over his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “Jesus,” he muttered, looking around his desk. “What a mess.”
“Lex, when’s the last time you slept in your bed?” Jonathan asked gently—suddenly, he didn’t see a ruthless businessman, acting concern for a supposed friend in order to look good to the town, to the media. He saw a kid not much older than Clark, almost in over his head, trying his damndest to help out a family that barely acknowledged him…he sighed deeply. Be honest— he was the one that never gave Lex the credit he deserved…he was the one turning him away at every point. Rejecting him because he was Lionel’s son.
He looked at him, really looked at him, and his hear t went out to him. This kid was at the end of his rope, he thought. He’d never seen Lex like this--he looked starved, rumpled and wrinkled and… Jonathan wrinkled his nose—in need of a shower.
“Come on, get a bag. You’re coming home with me.”
Lex looked up from the desk, where he’d been trying to shuffle his files into some kind of order, completely stunned. “What?”
“Get some things. You’re coming home where we can keep an eye on you.” Jonathan held out his hand, and pulled Lex to his feet when he gripped it. He held on to his hand and asked him if he needed help to get a bag together.
Lex’s eyes filled before he could help himself. “No—I mean…I don’t…”
“See,” Jonathan said. “You need a nap, a bath, some food—and someone to make you do that. Let’s go, son.”
Lex let out a sob—swung away from Jonathan and covered his face with one arm. “God—sorry, sorry I’m being ridiculous—please-- ignore me. I’m…I’m still half asleep. I guess.” He scrubbed his hands viciously over his face.
Jonathan put an arm around the boys shoulder. “When did you sleep last, Lex?”
“ Before this afternoon? I--I’m not sure, yesterday? The day before? Sorry…”
“Stop apologizing. *I’m* sorry! We’re sorry. We’ve just been letting you do it all---I never thought--”
Lex still had his hands over his face, and when he spoke again Jonathan had to lean in close to hear him. “I love Clark—I’d do anything for him, anything. He’s my lifeline—I need him…I love him so much…”
Jonathan paled. Shit. Lex was so out of it—he’d just confessed he loved Clark—and he was pretty sure he meant more than as a brother.
He became aware that Lex had run down, was silent. He looked into his face and it was white, pale as death, sweat stood out on his skin, and he looked stricken, horror struck. He opened his mouth a few times, but nothing came out.
Jonathan winced. “It’s okay, Lex, it’s okay. I guess it should have been obvious. You’ve been so frantic, so deeply concerned...hell, even I can tell you’re suffering. It’s okay, I swear it. Clark—does—did--*does* he feel the same?”
Lex shook his head. “No. Maybe…I don’t know. I—I wanted to think it was possible…”
Jonathan nodded. “Let me take you home.”
Lex gasped and wiped at his red eyes. “Home? Oh. Thank you,” he choked, and let Jonathan guide him out of the study with a steady hand on his shoulder.
******
Lex was in the tub upstairs and Martha and Jonathan sat at the kitchen table.
Jonathan stared at the scarred tabletop, traced the nicks and scratches that over the years his son had etched into the surface. “He says he loves Clark.”
Martha nodded. “It makes sense. That explains his dedication. Good.”
“Good?”
“Lex will never give up until he finds Clark. Lex doesn’t let go easily of the things he loves.”
“Martha!” Jonathan looked at the woman across from him. He knew she could be determined and headstrong—her father had found that out—but this woman…she looked icy, unrelenting—
“I’ll use anything and anyone I have to get my son back. I love Lex, but I need my son back.”
“I agree, Mrs. Kent. I need him back, too. I understand.” Lex stood in the doorway; skin still flushed pink from his bath, wearing his rumpled dress pants, and one of Clark’s flannel shirts. He ran a hand down the front. “I hope you don’t mind, it was hanging on a hook on the bathroom door, and…and.” He stopped.
“Of course not.” She held her arms out and he came into them hesitantly, as if afraid she might change her mind. She hugged him fiercely. “Sleep now—tomorrow is another day. You go upstairs to Clark’s room and go to bed, okay?”
Jonathan made a small noise, a half-hearted sound of protest, but Martha ignored him. “Go on dear. Lay down. I’ll make something for you to eat later.”
He nodded and left the room, going upstairs to Clark’s room, to sleep in his bed.
“What do you think?” Jonathan asked, lines furrowing his forehead. “Do you think Clark—I mean, Lana…he talks—well, he *did* talk about her a lot.” Understanding began to dawn. “Oh.”
Martha nodded. “I think, I think it’s mutual. They may not know it yet. But it is.”
Jonathan looked drained. “Yep. I figured that.” He stood and held his hand out to Martha. “Come on, sweetheart. You gave Lex some good advice. Let’s take it too. The couch has a spot with your name on it. Relax a little until Lex wakes up.”
TBC
This bit has a rating of 2
Part 1
Part 2
Lex spent his time coordinating his teams, combing through the mass of information received in a constant stream from dozens of sources…everything that seemed even mildly promising he shared with the Kents, he chased down any sighting of his friend that had even the barest hint of plausibility himself. His days were spent flying in and out of the city, heading off his dad, Gabe, Clark’s friends…he ate only when he absolutely had to, he had Toby keep him up for days on end until finally the man refused to give Lex any more of the cocktail of stimulants he’d been shooting up him with, swore that if Lex didn’t take a break he’d knock him out instead.
Still Lex went at it relentlessly, single-mindedly, like a man possessed. He drove himself harder and farther, until it was only matter of time before he burned himself out completely.
*******
Jonathan walked up the stairs to the study where the butler assured him that Lex was.
He had a covered dish in his hands, because Martha refused to believe that Lex’s cook had any idea how to care for a young boy. He sucked in a shaky breath. Well, if there was anything Martha knew about, it was caring for young boys.
He dashed at his eyes. Damn, he was so tired, it was getting harder and harder for him to control his emotions. He waited outside the study door until his eyes were dry, and he was in control again.
“ Lex?” He called softly as he poked his head around the doorframe. “Lex?” No answer. Was he in there, or was he lounging around somewhere in this over decorated pile of stone? Jonathan walked in, looking about at the display of wealth and shook his head. The rich…he glanced towards the far end of the study. There he was, at his desk—*Oh my God!*Jonathan’s heart nearly stopped. He dashed over to the desk, tossing the dish to the coffee table nearby.
Lex was head down on the desk, his cheek pressed against the glass, his arms splayed across scattered piles of folders, a snowdrift of paper around his feet.
Jonathan grabbed his arms, his heart hammering in his chest. He drew in a deep breath, ready to yell for help, until he realized a corpse wouldn’t drool—and at the same moment relief that Lex was unharmed made him weak enough that his knees sagged, Lex surged up, wide awake and wild eyed, his hands around Jonathan’s throat and his teeth bared in a snarl.
“What the fu—Mr. Kent!” Lex let go as if he held a live coal. “I—I’m sorry, please forgive me--” he staggered back and blinked blearily. He swept a hand over his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “Jesus,” he muttered, looking around his desk. “What a mess.”
“Lex, when’s the last time you slept in your bed?” Jonathan asked gently—suddenly, he didn’t see a ruthless businessman, acting concern for a supposed friend in order to look good to the town, to the media. He saw a kid not much older than Clark, almost in over his head, trying his damndest to help out a family that barely acknowledged him…he sighed deeply. Be honest— he was the one that never gave Lex the credit he deserved…he was the one turning him away at every point. Rejecting him because he was Lionel’s son.
He looked at him, really looked at him, and his hear t went out to him. This kid was at the end of his rope, he thought. He’d never seen Lex like this--he looked starved, rumpled and wrinkled and… Jonathan wrinkled his nose—in need of a shower.
“Come on, get a bag. You’re coming home with me.”
Lex looked up from the desk, where he’d been trying to shuffle his files into some kind of order, completely stunned. “What?”
“Get some things. You’re coming home where we can keep an eye on you.” Jonathan held out his hand, and pulled Lex to his feet when he gripped it. He held on to his hand and asked him if he needed help to get a bag together.
Lex’s eyes filled before he could help himself. “No—I mean…I don’t…”
“See,” Jonathan said. “You need a nap, a bath, some food—and someone to make you do that. Let’s go, son.”
Lex let out a sob—swung away from Jonathan and covered his face with one arm. “God—sorry, sorry I’m being ridiculous—please-- ignore me. I’m…I’m still half asleep. I guess.” He scrubbed his hands viciously over his face.
Jonathan put an arm around the boys shoulder. “When did you sleep last, Lex?”
“ Before this afternoon? I--I’m not sure, yesterday? The day before? Sorry…”
“Stop apologizing. *I’m* sorry! We’re sorry. We’ve just been letting you do it all---I never thought--”
Lex still had his hands over his face, and when he spoke again Jonathan had to lean in close to hear him. “I love Clark—I’d do anything for him, anything. He’s my lifeline—I need him…I love him so much…”
Jonathan paled. Shit. Lex was so out of it—he’d just confessed he loved Clark—and he was pretty sure he meant more than as a brother.
He became aware that Lex had run down, was silent. He looked into his face and it was white, pale as death, sweat stood out on his skin, and he looked stricken, horror struck. He opened his mouth a few times, but nothing came out.
Jonathan winced. “It’s okay, Lex, it’s okay. I guess it should have been obvious. You’ve been so frantic, so deeply concerned...hell, even I can tell you’re suffering. It’s okay, I swear it. Clark—does—did--*does* he feel the same?”
Lex shook his head. “No. Maybe…I don’t know. I—I wanted to think it was possible…”
Jonathan nodded. “Let me take you home.”
Lex gasped and wiped at his red eyes. “Home? Oh. Thank you,” he choked, and let Jonathan guide him out of the study with a steady hand on his shoulder.
******
Lex was in the tub upstairs and Martha and Jonathan sat at the kitchen table.
Jonathan stared at the scarred tabletop, traced the nicks and scratches that over the years his son had etched into the surface. “He says he loves Clark.”
Martha nodded. “It makes sense. That explains his dedication. Good.”
“Good?”
“Lex will never give up until he finds Clark. Lex doesn’t let go easily of the things he loves.”
“Martha!” Jonathan looked at the woman across from him. He knew she could be determined and headstrong—her father had found that out—but this woman…she looked icy, unrelenting—
“I’ll use anything and anyone I have to get my son back. I love Lex, but I need my son back.”
“I agree, Mrs. Kent. I need him back, too. I understand.” Lex stood in the doorway; skin still flushed pink from his bath, wearing his rumpled dress pants, and one of Clark’s flannel shirts. He ran a hand down the front. “I hope you don’t mind, it was hanging on a hook on the bathroom door, and…and.” He stopped.
“Of course not.” She held her arms out and he came into them hesitantly, as if afraid she might change her mind. She hugged him fiercely. “Sleep now—tomorrow is another day. You go upstairs to Clark’s room and go to bed, okay?”
Jonathan made a small noise, a half-hearted sound of protest, but Martha ignored him. “Go on dear. Lay down. I’ll make something for you to eat later.”
He nodded and left the room, going upstairs to Clark’s room, to sleep in his bed.
“What do you think?” Jonathan asked, lines furrowing his forehead. “Do you think Clark—I mean, Lana…he talks—well, he *did* talk about her a lot.” Understanding began to dawn. “Oh.”
Martha nodded. “I think, I think it’s mutual. They may not know it yet. But it is.”
Jonathan looked drained. “Yep. I figured that.” He stood and held his hand out to Martha. “Come on, sweetheart. You gave Lex some good advice. Let’s take it too. The couch has a spot with your name on it. Relax a little until Lex wakes up.”
TBC
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(no subject)
8/24/05 04:18 pm (UTC)More, please! *is greedy*
(no subject)
8/25/05 05:53 am (UTC)