Dis Pater Jupiter part 16
10/11/05 11:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxyThe Previous Parts are here, deciding that stiletto heels don’t do anything for their calves…but on the small of their backs….
Okay, everyone wanted fix it fic for poor Clark and Lex and here we go! Well, it’s the bottom of the hill that takes us to the top and over into happy fic! Whoo-hoo!
Hey, have I ever lied to you? Hmm?
And it's 5 for violent content. Check the ratings on my info page.
“I’m back.” He strolled into the entertainment room, grinning from ear to ear, hands in his pocket and a swagger in his walk. “How was your afternoon? Mine was pretty amusing.”
Lex raised an eyebrow and tried to look supremely uninterested in Lucas’ afternoon. He held up his hand, slim fingers tucked between the pages of a book. “I’ve been reading—and waiting for you to come back. I want to talk to you.”
“Wait,” Lucas said and tossed his jacket on the couch. “I meant to tell you this before but I got…distracted. I’m thinking about moving us back to Smallville.” He nodded at Lex’s startled glance. “I’ve got a contract with the military that involves re-opening the plant. They want to experiment with the Smallville meteorites. It appears they have a pretty dramatic negative effect on Superman.” He came around and sat next to Lex.
“Experiment? In what way—are they instituting a clean up operation to protect him?” Lex felt a weak wave of vertigo—moving back to Smallville…that was wrong.
Lucas laughed, a startled and incredulous laugh. “Hon…they want a *weapon* if they need it. He’s dangerous, can’t you see?”
He jumped up and stalked around the room. “Sure, *now* he’s our friend, our savior, Superman, the self-sacrificing, noble protector of the innocent. The big fucking Boy Scout. But what happens when he gets tired of giving something for nothing, when he realizes that he can be the *ruler* of the innocent, hmm? We’d need a pretty fucking big stick then.”
He leaned against the back of the couch and rested his chin on Lex’s head. “And that’s what our country wants me—Cadmus--to help create. Just in case, of course…in case he should go bad--” he kissed Lex’s head and jumped over the back of the couch, landed next to him, “—or he gets on my very last nerve.”
Lucas laughed brightly. “It’s nice our nation’s interests and mine coincide like this, I’m getting paid to do what I’ve planning to do for free and it helps fund a little project of mine.” He winked at Lex. “Of course as far as the town of Smallville is concerned, it’s a clean up operation—the government finally noticed the incredibly high cancer rates, put two and two together and blah-fuckin’ blah. We get what we want, the DOD gets what they want and Smallville gets jobs…I’m seeing this as win –win for all of us.”
He laughed and jumped up again, poured them both drinks from the bar. “I’m feeling pretty damn good right now. Help me celebrate!”
Lex stared down at the book in his hands and tossed it aside. He looked up into Lucas’ bright eyes.
“Sure—why not?”
*****
“Harder, more, come on…”
“I can’t--”
“Oh yes you can, come on, harder…”
Lex pushed forward, goaded by Lucas, wrapped a hand around the back of each knee, feeling the skin slip over muscle and bone as he dug his thumbs in, lifted and pulled Lucas’ legs wider apart. He thrust in hard--they were both going to be bruised in the morning—he slammed his hips against Lucas’ faster, faster, reaching that point where pain and pleasure became interchangeable. He wrapped his hand around Lucas’ dick, and squeezed and pumped, faster and harder than he would ever do to himself until Lucas flushed red from face to belly and he arched off the bed…he let go and Lucas dropped back down, his dick straining upwards and pouring come over his belly. “Don’t--fuck—fuck—ah!”
Lex shivered—he felt his orgasm start in a tight hot wave behind his balls, roar out of him—so intense he couldn’t breathe or see or move…he was trapped in the furnace of Lucas’ body, tight as a glove around him, so tight it felt as if he was being swallowed by him—
He lay loose limbed and weak against him, sweat and come gluing their skins together, his dick soft against Lucas’ thigh. Lucas’ chest heaved against his hammering heart. He felt pulse points all over his body throbbing. It had been intense, scary… “Why?”
“Hunh? Why what?” Lucas groaned and shifted under Lex.
“Why’d you want me to fuck you--”
“Why the hell not?” Lucas rolled Lex off of him. “What—you didn’t like it?” He reached over to the night table and grabbed the end of a joint lying in the ashtray, lit it. “Shit, “ he inhaled and held it, passed it over to Lex. “Don’t get used to it.” He exhaled and grinned. “I just…it’s been a real long time since I’ve gotten fucked, that’s all. I just felt like it.”
Lex nodded, feeling his lungs flutter from holding his breath too long. He gasped in air and stretched against Lucas’ heat. Okay. That made as much sense as anything his brother said or did. Maybe it was his idea of a gift.
Lucas got out of bed and walked to the bathroom and Lex watched him—he knew every bit of that body, the muscles sliding and tightening, the trail of hair that started in the middle of his back and worked down, the dusting of hair over his smooth taut ass--he knew how it felt under his hands, his lips, his tongue…his stomach flipped and he burned in a combination of shame and lust-- he knew he’d made the right decision.
******
The bed shifted and the movement woke Lex from the shallow sleep he’d drifted into. Lucas sat at the end of the bed, damp but dressed in a black suit and dark gray shirt and tie. He smiled when he saw that Lex was awake again and leaned over, bit lightly at Lex’s cheekbone, the tie dragged over his chest and made him shiver.
“I’ll call you tonight. And I don’t want you talking to the Kents. At least not for a little while, okay. Distance yourself, you know what I mean.” Lucas stood to leave and Lex grabbed his wrist so tight he could feel the bones shift under his fingers.
“Don’t you fucking dare do anything to the Kent’s, you hear?”
Lucas lowered his eyebrows and snarled. “Let go.”
“So help me god, if you do anything to hurt them, I’ll—I’ll hurt you back. I mean it.”
Lucas’ face crumbled. “ Fine! Fine—I won’t touch them. As long as you stay away from them, I won’t touch them.”
Lex nodded and Lucas ripped his wrist out of his grasp. When he got to the door Lex called him. His cheeks were red, his eyes narrowed, but wet when he looked at him.
Lex stepped quickly to his side. He took his face in both his hands and said, “I do love you.”
Lucas looked hopeful at first and then angry. “Of course you do.” He said, and his voice was bitter but he smiled when he reached up to pull Lex’s hands away. Lex stopped him.
. “No—I mean it. I *love* you.”
Lucas was still for a long moment, and then hugged him. He held him silently for a long moment and then pulled away. “I have to go—I’ll call you tonight.” He touched Lex’s cheek. “Thank you.”
He pulled the door shut behind him and Lex rolled against it, his knees shaking. I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m really sorry. No matter what he did he was going to hurt Lucas and the thought of that was strangely painful. He just didn’t feel he had a choice. Staying with Lucas hurt too much, leaving Lucas hurt too much…living with no hope of Clark hurt beyond bearing...he shrugged off the weight of his thoughts and went for the phone. First things first—he had to warn the Kents.
******
“Martha—I need to warn Clark about Lucas and you need to get in touch with Bruce—Bruce is the best person to help him….”
******
A few hours later he was neck deep in a tub full of hot scented water, candles around him and a fire laid out in the fireplace, It was overly dramatic perhaps, all this flickering flame, but he really did enjoy the glow of candlelight, firelight. It relaxed him—reminded him of happier times…mornings shared with his dad, his mom, a fire crackling and cocoa on brisk mornings, Lucas sitting in his lap and babbling on about school or some new story he’d read—flashlights under the blankets and ghost stories told in secret. He remembered sitting on his bed and candles on every surface in his room, the light dancing over Lucas’ face as he lied about some conquest he’d made in the club that night or made fun of mutual acquaintances, each of them trying to see who could make the other laugh the hardest….
His mind drifted towards the day on the bridge…he sighed. The day he felt sure his life would have changed if it hadn’t derailed long before then…he felt as if he’d lived some stranger’s life—he knew it in his soul this life was not his. He woke up every morning seeing Clark’s face, every night he went to sleep with his name in his mouth…Clark…was supposed to be his, and they were supposed to be happy forever together.
Not like this.
He belched quietly and drank more champagne. He was getting maudlin now, a solitary drunk, getting plastered in the tub. But a drunk with some class, he thought as the candles flickered around him and music filled the air. Definitely not your ordinary drunk, no sir or madam—he had style, thank you, even if he was living a nightmare that should have been a dream, he lived it with style and he was going to fucking go out the same way. He moved and a splash of water extinguished a candle, he could hear the hiss of the killed flame over the music playing softly in the background. He giggled and pointed at the candle, water dripping from his finger, “Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow; a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more--it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing…" His voice echoed against the tiled walls and he snickered and swallowed another mouthful of champagne and washed down a few more pills.
He was an idiot—his whole life was an idiot’s tale, full of…nothing, just huge stretches of silent, mindless, worthless-- nothing. A fat tear rolled down his cheek. He should have done this long ago but hope kept dragging him on through the years.
He sighed. It only took a few days in Smallville to clear his mind enough to give him the courage to do this.
He swallowed a few more pills, “What the fuck—let’s go with the theme,” he muttered. “ ‘Oh true apothecary! Thy drugs are quick’…I fuckin’ hope. I don’t even get a kiss before I die, that sucks,” he told the tiles and finished the champagne with a flourish—tossed the glass somewhere in the direction of the fireplace and dropped the empty bottle in the water…the water lapped at his chest and he was surprised how calm he felt. How warm.
He swallowed hard and fumbled at the side of the tub and picked up a razor blade. He turned it over in his fingers and watched the light catch on it. The fucking thing looked sinister--like it was waiting for his blood…He took a deep breath and sliced—jerked it away from his skin.
Fuck! It hurt more than he thought it would. He sliced again and jerked forward, it hurt like…his heart sped up and his chest started to squeeze. He bit his lip and cut again. Should it hurt this much, why the fuck weren’t the pills working… he pressed harder and it still hurt, blood finally started to flow and the razor slipped out of his slick fingers…Fuck, fuck, fuck…it fell over the side of the tub, he stood and reached down for it, slipped and slammed his head against the porcelain. The pain made stars fill his head and the impact sounded unbelievably loud to his ears...he fell back and into the water, pushing waves out onto the floor.
The cuts he’d managed to make bled freely in the wet heat and he slipped beneath the pink water.
Clark…
*****
“He did what!” Clark was so furious, his eyes sparkled, red seemed to roll around the irises. Martha called out his name sharply and he snapped his eyes shut. She walked swiftly to where he stood at the bottom of the porch, carefully not squeezing the porch rail.
“Clark—he’s trying to scare us away from Lex…and doing pretty darn well, I have to say. He’s afraid that we’ll give Lex the strength to separate from him, don’t you see? As long as Lex is off balance, as long as he thinks Lucas is the only one who can ground him he’s going to stay. He thinks Lucas is all he has, so he clings to him.”
Clark shook his head angrily. “Are you saying he doesn’t know what he’s doing is wrong? Then why did he try to kill himself?”
Martha looked away from Clark, her expression pained. “Because he does know it’s wrong—and I think he probably feels he has no where else to go but…out of this world.”
“That’s ridiculous! He could have left Lucas anytime and if he felt he needed help, there are a million places he could have gotten it. He’s rich for fu—dge sake.”
“Lucas took over his life. For all intents and purposes, he brainwashed Lex into believing they only had each other. He made Lex dependent on him, pampered him and coddled him and gave him whatever it took to keep him happy and quiet.”
Clark looked ill. “Kept him like a pet. He trained him….”
Martha nodded. “It’s a lot easier to do then you’d think. And Lucas would swear he loves Lex and everything he does is for his benefit. He is a seriously disturbed and frightening young man.” She shivered. “Clark, when I looked in his eyes, it was like staring over the edge of a cliff into some… dark hell.”
Clark stared at her; she was really shook—it wasn’t like her to be so vocal about being frightened.
As if he sensed Martha’s upset, Jonathan was there, rubbing her shoulders before sitting down on the step. “Son. Your mother has been worried sick about Lex since he’s come back. I have to say—I’m worried about him too. You know, at first all you see is this guy looking down his nose at you, and then suddenly, there’s this frightened kid peeking out from around the edges and you just have to help—even when he pushes you away.” Jonathan half-smiled. “Sometimes he reminds me of you.”
Clark jerked back, immediately irate. “I’m nothing like him!” He stared at his dad, horrified until he realized—his mom hadn’t told his dad the whole story….
Martha looked right into Clark’s eyes and the message was clear—this is between us…“I think what your dad means is that you can both be stubborn, and angry, and sometimes a little withdrawn—but you both have such a huge capacity to love.” She sighed when Clark frowned and she leaned against Jonathan. Nothing she could say would change Clark’s mind. At least, not right away.
“Clark,” his dad asked again. “Lex took a risk to warn you about Lucas. You owe him at least a thank you for that.”
Clark frowned even deeper but nodded. “Okay, I’ll call him later tonight.”
“Clark—we think you should go see him. Talk to him. Now would be nice,” his dad smiled.
“Lex--” Fuck Lex, fuck thank you, he wanted to say…but the feeling wasn’t as clear as it used to be.
“All right,”--damn it, he was getting it—Lex was kind of a victim too. Lex was damaged; fragile, poor little thing, blah-blah crap…Lex was his mother’s project now and honestly he didn’t know whether to feel jealous or sorry for him. “All right! I’m going—and Lucas better not be there or else…”
Okay, everyone wanted fix it fic for poor Clark and Lex and here we go! Well, it’s the bottom of the hill that takes us to the top and over into happy fic! Whoo-hoo!
Hey, have I ever lied to you? Hmm?
And it's 5 for violent content. Check the ratings on my info page.
“I’m back.” He strolled into the entertainment room, grinning from ear to ear, hands in his pocket and a swagger in his walk. “How was your afternoon? Mine was pretty amusing.”
Lex raised an eyebrow and tried to look supremely uninterested in Lucas’ afternoon. He held up his hand, slim fingers tucked between the pages of a book. “I’ve been reading—and waiting for you to come back. I want to talk to you.”
“Wait,” Lucas said and tossed his jacket on the couch. “I meant to tell you this before but I got…distracted. I’m thinking about moving us back to Smallville.” He nodded at Lex’s startled glance. “I’ve got a contract with the military that involves re-opening the plant. They want to experiment with the Smallville meteorites. It appears they have a pretty dramatic negative effect on Superman.” He came around and sat next to Lex.
“Experiment? In what way—are they instituting a clean up operation to protect him?” Lex felt a weak wave of vertigo—moving back to Smallville…that was wrong.
Lucas laughed, a startled and incredulous laugh. “Hon…they want a *weapon* if they need it. He’s dangerous, can’t you see?”
He jumped up and stalked around the room. “Sure, *now* he’s our friend, our savior, Superman, the self-sacrificing, noble protector of the innocent. The big fucking Boy Scout. But what happens when he gets tired of giving something for nothing, when he realizes that he can be the *ruler* of the innocent, hmm? We’d need a pretty fucking big stick then.”
He leaned against the back of the couch and rested his chin on Lex’s head. “And that’s what our country wants me—Cadmus--to help create. Just in case, of course…in case he should go bad--” he kissed Lex’s head and jumped over the back of the couch, landed next to him, “—or he gets on my very last nerve.”
Lucas laughed brightly. “It’s nice our nation’s interests and mine coincide like this, I’m getting paid to do what I’ve planning to do for free and it helps fund a little project of mine.” He winked at Lex. “Of course as far as the town of Smallville is concerned, it’s a clean up operation—the government finally noticed the incredibly high cancer rates, put two and two together and blah-fuckin’ blah. We get what we want, the DOD gets what they want and Smallville gets jobs…I’m seeing this as win –win for all of us.”
He laughed and jumped up again, poured them both drinks from the bar. “I’m feeling pretty damn good right now. Help me celebrate!”
Lex stared down at the book in his hands and tossed it aside. He looked up into Lucas’ bright eyes.
“Sure—why not?”
*****
“Harder, more, come on…”
“I can’t--”
“Oh yes you can, come on, harder…”
Lex pushed forward, goaded by Lucas, wrapped a hand around the back of each knee, feeling the skin slip over muscle and bone as he dug his thumbs in, lifted and pulled Lucas’ legs wider apart. He thrust in hard--they were both going to be bruised in the morning—he slammed his hips against Lucas’ faster, faster, reaching that point where pain and pleasure became interchangeable. He wrapped his hand around Lucas’ dick, and squeezed and pumped, faster and harder than he would ever do to himself until Lucas flushed red from face to belly and he arched off the bed…he let go and Lucas dropped back down, his dick straining upwards and pouring come over his belly. “Don’t--fuck—fuck—ah!”
Lex shivered—he felt his orgasm start in a tight hot wave behind his balls, roar out of him—so intense he couldn’t breathe or see or move…he was trapped in the furnace of Lucas’ body, tight as a glove around him, so tight it felt as if he was being swallowed by him—
He lay loose limbed and weak against him, sweat and come gluing their skins together, his dick soft against Lucas’ thigh. Lucas’ chest heaved against his hammering heart. He felt pulse points all over his body throbbing. It had been intense, scary… “Why?”
“Hunh? Why what?” Lucas groaned and shifted under Lex.
“Why’d you want me to fuck you--”
“Why the hell not?” Lucas rolled Lex off of him. “What—you didn’t like it?” He reached over to the night table and grabbed the end of a joint lying in the ashtray, lit it. “Shit, “ he inhaled and held it, passed it over to Lex. “Don’t get used to it.” He exhaled and grinned. “I just…it’s been a real long time since I’ve gotten fucked, that’s all. I just felt like it.”
Lex nodded, feeling his lungs flutter from holding his breath too long. He gasped in air and stretched against Lucas’ heat. Okay. That made as much sense as anything his brother said or did. Maybe it was his idea of a gift.
Lucas got out of bed and walked to the bathroom and Lex watched him—he knew every bit of that body, the muscles sliding and tightening, the trail of hair that started in the middle of his back and worked down, the dusting of hair over his smooth taut ass--he knew how it felt under his hands, his lips, his tongue…his stomach flipped and he burned in a combination of shame and lust-- he knew he’d made the right decision.
******
The bed shifted and the movement woke Lex from the shallow sleep he’d drifted into. Lucas sat at the end of the bed, damp but dressed in a black suit and dark gray shirt and tie. He smiled when he saw that Lex was awake again and leaned over, bit lightly at Lex’s cheekbone, the tie dragged over his chest and made him shiver.
“I’ll call you tonight. And I don’t want you talking to the Kents. At least not for a little while, okay. Distance yourself, you know what I mean.” Lucas stood to leave and Lex grabbed his wrist so tight he could feel the bones shift under his fingers.
“Don’t you fucking dare do anything to the Kent’s, you hear?”
Lucas lowered his eyebrows and snarled. “Let go.”
“So help me god, if you do anything to hurt them, I’ll—I’ll hurt you back. I mean it.”
Lucas’ face crumbled. “ Fine! Fine—I won’t touch them. As long as you stay away from them, I won’t touch them.”
Lex nodded and Lucas ripped his wrist out of his grasp. When he got to the door Lex called him. His cheeks were red, his eyes narrowed, but wet when he looked at him.
Lex stepped quickly to his side. He took his face in both his hands and said, “I do love you.”
Lucas looked hopeful at first and then angry. “Of course you do.” He said, and his voice was bitter but he smiled when he reached up to pull Lex’s hands away. Lex stopped him.
. “No—I mean it. I *love* you.”
Lucas was still for a long moment, and then hugged him. He held him silently for a long moment and then pulled away. “I have to go—I’ll call you tonight.” He touched Lex’s cheek. “Thank you.”
He pulled the door shut behind him and Lex rolled against it, his knees shaking. I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m really sorry. No matter what he did he was going to hurt Lucas and the thought of that was strangely painful. He just didn’t feel he had a choice. Staying with Lucas hurt too much, leaving Lucas hurt too much…living with no hope of Clark hurt beyond bearing...he shrugged off the weight of his thoughts and went for the phone. First things first—he had to warn the Kents.
******
“Martha—I need to warn Clark about Lucas and you need to get in touch with Bruce—Bruce is the best person to help him….”
******
A few hours later he was neck deep in a tub full of hot scented water, candles around him and a fire laid out in the fireplace, It was overly dramatic perhaps, all this flickering flame, but he really did enjoy the glow of candlelight, firelight. It relaxed him—reminded him of happier times…mornings shared with his dad, his mom, a fire crackling and cocoa on brisk mornings, Lucas sitting in his lap and babbling on about school or some new story he’d read—flashlights under the blankets and ghost stories told in secret. He remembered sitting on his bed and candles on every surface in his room, the light dancing over Lucas’ face as he lied about some conquest he’d made in the club that night or made fun of mutual acquaintances, each of them trying to see who could make the other laugh the hardest….
His mind drifted towards the day on the bridge…he sighed. The day he felt sure his life would have changed if it hadn’t derailed long before then…he felt as if he’d lived some stranger’s life—he knew it in his soul this life was not his. He woke up every morning seeing Clark’s face, every night he went to sleep with his name in his mouth…Clark…was supposed to be his, and they were supposed to be happy forever together.
Not like this.
He belched quietly and drank more champagne. He was getting maudlin now, a solitary drunk, getting plastered in the tub. But a drunk with some class, he thought as the candles flickered around him and music filled the air. Definitely not your ordinary drunk, no sir or madam—he had style, thank you, even if he was living a nightmare that should have been a dream, he lived it with style and he was going to fucking go out the same way. He moved and a splash of water extinguished a candle, he could hear the hiss of the killed flame over the music playing softly in the background. He giggled and pointed at the candle, water dripping from his finger, “Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow; a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more--it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing…" His voice echoed against the tiled walls and he snickered and swallowed another mouthful of champagne and washed down a few more pills.
He was an idiot—his whole life was an idiot’s tale, full of…nothing, just huge stretches of silent, mindless, worthless-- nothing. A fat tear rolled down his cheek. He should have done this long ago but hope kept dragging him on through the years.
He sighed. It only took a few days in Smallville to clear his mind enough to give him the courage to do this.
He swallowed a few more pills, “What the fuck—let’s go with the theme,” he muttered. “ ‘Oh true apothecary! Thy drugs are quick’…I fuckin’ hope. I don’t even get a kiss before I die, that sucks,” he told the tiles and finished the champagne with a flourish—tossed the glass somewhere in the direction of the fireplace and dropped the empty bottle in the water…the water lapped at his chest and he was surprised how calm he felt. How warm.
He swallowed hard and fumbled at the side of the tub and picked up a razor blade. He turned it over in his fingers and watched the light catch on it. The fucking thing looked sinister--like it was waiting for his blood…He took a deep breath and sliced—jerked it away from his skin.
Fuck! It hurt more than he thought it would. He sliced again and jerked forward, it hurt like…his heart sped up and his chest started to squeeze. He bit his lip and cut again. Should it hurt this much, why the fuck weren’t the pills working… he pressed harder and it still hurt, blood finally started to flow and the razor slipped out of his slick fingers…Fuck, fuck, fuck…it fell over the side of the tub, he stood and reached down for it, slipped and slammed his head against the porcelain. The pain made stars fill his head and the impact sounded unbelievably loud to his ears...he fell back and into the water, pushing waves out onto the floor.
The cuts he’d managed to make bled freely in the wet heat and he slipped beneath the pink water.
Clark…
*****
“He did what!” Clark was so furious, his eyes sparkled, red seemed to roll around the irises. Martha called out his name sharply and he snapped his eyes shut. She walked swiftly to where he stood at the bottom of the porch, carefully not squeezing the porch rail.
“Clark—he’s trying to scare us away from Lex…and doing pretty darn well, I have to say. He’s afraid that we’ll give Lex the strength to separate from him, don’t you see? As long as Lex is off balance, as long as he thinks Lucas is the only one who can ground him he’s going to stay. He thinks Lucas is all he has, so he clings to him.”
Clark shook his head angrily. “Are you saying he doesn’t know what he’s doing is wrong? Then why did he try to kill himself?”
Martha looked away from Clark, her expression pained. “Because he does know it’s wrong—and I think he probably feels he has no where else to go but…out of this world.”
“That’s ridiculous! He could have left Lucas anytime and if he felt he needed help, there are a million places he could have gotten it. He’s rich for fu—dge sake.”
“Lucas took over his life. For all intents and purposes, he brainwashed Lex into believing they only had each other. He made Lex dependent on him, pampered him and coddled him and gave him whatever it took to keep him happy and quiet.”
Clark looked ill. “Kept him like a pet. He trained him….”
Martha nodded. “It’s a lot easier to do then you’d think. And Lucas would swear he loves Lex and everything he does is for his benefit. He is a seriously disturbed and frightening young man.” She shivered. “Clark, when I looked in his eyes, it was like staring over the edge of a cliff into some… dark hell.”
Clark stared at her; she was really shook—it wasn’t like her to be so vocal about being frightened.
As if he sensed Martha’s upset, Jonathan was there, rubbing her shoulders before sitting down on the step. “Son. Your mother has been worried sick about Lex since he’s come back. I have to say—I’m worried about him too. You know, at first all you see is this guy looking down his nose at you, and then suddenly, there’s this frightened kid peeking out from around the edges and you just have to help—even when he pushes you away.” Jonathan half-smiled. “Sometimes he reminds me of you.”
Clark jerked back, immediately irate. “I’m nothing like him!” He stared at his dad, horrified until he realized—his mom hadn’t told his dad the whole story….
Martha looked right into Clark’s eyes and the message was clear—this is between us…“I think what your dad means is that you can both be stubborn, and angry, and sometimes a little withdrawn—but you both have such a huge capacity to love.” She sighed when Clark frowned and she leaned against Jonathan. Nothing she could say would change Clark’s mind. At least, not right away.
“Clark,” his dad asked again. “Lex took a risk to warn you about Lucas. You owe him at least a thank you for that.”
Clark frowned even deeper but nodded. “Okay, I’ll call him later tonight.”
“Clark—we think you should go see him. Talk to him. Now would be nice,” his dad smiled.
“Lex--” Fuck Lex, fuck thank you, he wanted to say…but the feeling wasn’t as clear as it used to be.
“All right,”--damn it, he was getting it—Lex was kind of a victim too. Lex was damaged; fragile, poor little thing, blah-blah crap…Lex was his mother’s project now and honestly he didn’t know whether to feel jealous or sorry for him. “All right! I’m going—and Lucas better not be there or else…”
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