Brother and Heroes 3
11/1/05 01:53 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxy Parts Before
More AU shenanigans. Care to join me? There’s no quiz….
Brothers And Heroes
II
Bruce was writing his third letter to Lex that month. They only had weeks to go before school was out and Lex hadn’t told him yet what they were supposed to bring this summer. He hadn’t written back about the chicken pox Bruce had, or the fact that Lisa Barks had tried to kiss him in the coat closet, or the dead bat they’d found in the car, and he hadn’t screamed or nothing.
Was Lex mad at him? Was he mad about Lisa Barks? Maybe he was jealous because he had a girlfriend. Sort of, he guessed.
He wrote again and sent off the mail. He wrote again and got no answer, wrote again and this time told him he was a lousy friend and he didn’t like him any more either so there. And he kissed some other girls and he wasn’t going to tell him about that either, because he stunk.
Some days later, when his dad managed to pry from him why he was going about in a funk and snapping at every one, Mr. Wayne called the Luthor household and received distressing news.
Lex had been in the hospital the last few weeks, very ill. Bruce was horrified, and the Waynes decided that they’d spend their holiday in Gotham, doing whatever they could to help. Bruce felt like a dog, lowest of the low.
His friend was sick all this time and he’d been so mean…how could he apologize?
******
Bruce poked his head around the door and Lex’s face lit up at the sight. “Come in please! I was waiting for you; your dad said you were coming up!” Lex tossed a little radio down on the bed, a tiny tinny voice coming from it.
Bruce was a little frightened. Lex looked the same color as the white sheets, almost the same color as the pale green walls of his room. He was under a thin blanket, stuff running into his arm and his nose; he was wearing a weird muffin shaped white hat and ugly blue pajamas.
There were beeping machines and tubes and wires and stuff draped around his bed and the curtains were drawn, making the room dark as night even though it was the middle of the afternoon. Lex looked tiny in the bed, so small, like the china dolls his mom had. All eyes and lashes and nothing else…maybe he should hold his hand, or something…he didn’t seem mad about the stupid letters he sent. “Are you sure you want to see me?”
“Of course, you dope! Come here, idiot!”
Bruce ran forward. “You must feel better, you’re mean again!”
Lex laughed, but it was light and weak compared to Lex’s usual laugh. Bruce felt concerned but hid it. He said, “Hey, I was pretty crabby this summer and kind of stupid, but when you didn’t answer my letters I thought…”
Lex frowned, “You wrote? I didn’t get any letters. But I was pretty sick for a long time,” he said. And…he looked at Bruce, pleading in his eys, and Bruce hopped up on the bed with him, avoiding wire and tubes deftly.
“What’s going on, Casper?”
A broken laugh escaped Lex’s clenched jaw. “Casper’s right…I have to show you something…. Promise me--promise…crap.” He closed his eyes, took a deep shaky breath and yanked the cap off of his head and Bruce gasped.
Lex was bald, his head was completely smooth. All that wonderful clown hair was gone, gone with not a hint of it left behind. Lex trembled, his eyes still closed, and Bruce reached out slowly, slowly touched Lex’s scalp, fear and wonder making his touch hesitant, gentle. His fingers stoked over Lex’s bare head. The skin was soft as a bunny he’d had once, and very warm. He pressed a little harder and smoothed his palm over it. “Wow, Lex, it feels…nice.” And blushed and moved his hand away.
Lex opened his eyes. “You’re not creeped out by it? I know I look strange. I can see it in the nurse’s faces; they look like they don’t want to touch me. My dad…”
Bruce made a spitting sound. “It’s fine! You look fine! Not weird, just different. You’re still my friend, okay? Brothers!”
Lex smiled, relief evident in his posture, the softening of his expression. “Oh good. Do you…do you want to hear what happened?”
Bruce nodded yes and crawled further up the bed to lay down with Lex. Lex began to describe the day that he got sick.
“And the meteors were on fire, burning from entering the atmosphere. You see, when an object--”
Bruce slapped his palm over Lex’s mouth.
“Story first, lesson later, Mr.Wizard.” Lex nodded and went on, describing how his hair fell out, and how the Kents and his dad found him in the field and how a little boy was in the car with them…he’d never seen the boy before and he was –naked!
Bruce was scandalized to Lex’s satisfaction. He went on to describe how the boy was dirty all over and Martha held him like she wasn’t ever going to let him go and Bruce nodded. Sounded right.
“The kid,” Lex went on, “was sweet, a real cute little kid, he petted my cheek and,” Lex laughed, “I actually felt better, can you believe it? I went right to sleep.”
Bruce frowned. “No, not really. So what happened then?”
“Then,” Lex said, “I ended up here and they keep doing things to me. They keep taking my blood and making me pee in things and I can’t even take a crap without them scooping it up!”
“No!” Bruce was properly outraged and disgusted for his friend. What the heck do they do with the crap, he wondered.
“Beats me,” Lex said, “but boy, I’m sick of this. And lately,” he whispered. “They’ve been—doing things that...that make me cry.” He cut his eyes at Bruce, looking for ridicule but Bruce looked angry.
“What do you mean?”
Lex showed him his arm. “Look. See that line?”
Bruce nodded. A long pink scratch stood out on his arm. “Yesterday, they took a knife and cut me. It bled.” Bruce gasped and Lex grimaced. “It was deep, it hurt like crazy.”
“But—that’s a couple of days old!”
“No, it’s from yesterday. I’m trying to tell you, I can heal up a cut fast. Faster. I don’t know why. It’s kind of—scary. Real scary. They’ve been poking me and cutting me and,” his voice dropped to a hoarse whisper, “they took this thing and scooped out some meat.”
Bruce yelped. “No! No they didn’t!” Lex lifted the sheet, and showed Bruce the fleshy part of his thigh and sure enough, a shallow depression marred the smooth skin.
Bruce was horrified. “Damn!” Lex nodded, it was a situation that required and forgave cursing.
Lex’s eyes were shining with unshed tears.
“Tell your dad what’s happening Lex! Make him tell them to stop!”
Lex blinked and the tears ran over. “Who do you think told them to do that?”
Bruce was shocked speechless. How could that be? How could your own father let strangers hurt you?
Lex shook his head. “He explained it wasn’t a punishment, that I had something valuable to contribute and I should feel proud, but mostly I just felt hurt.”
Mr. Wayne came in just then, a big smile that hid nothing of the anger and something else Lex couldn’t understand in his eyes. He pat Lex gently on the arm and told him, “I’m going to be your doctor now, for a little while anyway. No more of that,” he said, smoothing warm calloused fingers over the pink line on Alex’s arm. "We’re going to get you better and out of here.”
Lionel came up behind him and smiled at Lex. “You’re going home son, soon as we can get you on your feet again.”
Lex stared up at his dad. “Thank you, dad.”
Lionel flinched a little, and smiled.
Late that evening Bruce sat on the porch of a cheerful yellow farmhouse, a big house with white shutters and flowers at every window, and a huge porch wrapped around the front and sides. He sat on a deep cushioned swing chair hanging on the side porch, his feet propped up on the arm and his head cradled by pillows. He had one in his arms, warming his chest and he was content, drowsing in and out of sleep. His father’s voice caught his attention and he sharpened.
“Mattie and I can help forge information and a birth certificate, make it seem as though the boy was born in one of her charity clinics. Lionel has paper work in progress creating an adoption agency that the boy can be adopted through.”
He heard a murmur of voices and a sound like someone crying, and then Mr. Kent’s voice came through the open window, “Martha and I are grateful. Very grateful.”
Lionel’s voice next, “And the Ross’s? Can I count on you to help them decide in favor of selling their factory? For a colored man, he’s extremely stubborn and--”
“Bill Ross is a good *man*.” Mr. Kent's voice floated after and Bruce knew his emphasis of man meant something important.
“No doubt, no doubt. Well, it has been pleasant, but we really must be going. Morning comes quickly, and we want to be well rested before we spend the day with Alexander tomorrow.” Lionel said.
Bruce feigned sleep as the Luthors left the farmhouse and drove away.
Mr. Wayne and Mr. Kent stood on the porch and watched the red of the car taillights disappear into the distance.
“You know, if it weren’t for Lillian I’d never have anything to do with that man. But he had to be a part of this and we need to do everything we can to insure that your new son is safe. We must *never* let that man know that he’s so special.”
Mr. Kent said, “Amen to that. I don’t like being around him but the girls are devoted to one another…and Clark needs to be safe so I guess I have a duty to be nice to that ass.” He sighed, disgruntled.
“Jon, I know that’s tough for you, you’re never been one to suffer fools lightly.”
“Well…as long as he doesn’t know about Clark--the way he treated his own son, Clark wouldn’t last a minute and—Martha’s already attached to the boy. I wouldn’t want her to suffer, Tom.”
“Oh no, no, it’s all for Martha’s sake we’re doing this.” Bruce peeked out from under his lashes and saw his dad put an arm around Mr. Kent and laugh a little. “You’re as crazy about this little boy as she is, Jon. Mattie and I are both pleased as hell for you.” He squeezed him against his side and let him go with a light slap on the shoulder. “Let me wake up Bruce and I guess we’ll be on our way too.”.
Bruce acted sleepy and groggy when his dad shook his shoulder and followed him into the house. He crawled into his mom’s lap, harder and harder to do since he was growing so much, like a weed his mom said.
Mrs. Kent came out of the rear of the large house holding a bundle against her shoulder. The bundle lifted and it was a boy wrapped in a red and blue blanket, a much bigger boy than Bruce expected. He looked at Bruce with big green eyes and a solemn little face and then—threw him a smile made his face seem to glow. Just like Lex’s smiles, this one made Bruce want to smile back at him. The boy—Clark--wiggled down from Martha’s arms and ran over to Bruce, pat his arm.
“Hi.” Bruce said.
Mr. Kent said, “He doesn’t talk, not yet---but he does love to listen.”
Dad laughed and said, “Bruce, you may have found your perfect friend.”
Bruce smiled on the outside but fumed on the inside. Clark was looking at him, his big eyes on him and his lips turned up into a big smile. Nope. His friend was better than anyone else. This kid was okay but he’d never be his *perfect* friend.
tbc
More AU shenanigans. Care to join me? There’s no quiz….
Brothers And Heroes
II
Bruce was writing his third letter to Lex that month. They only had weeks to go before school was out and Lex hadn’t told him yet what they were supposed to bring this summer. He hadn’t written back about the chicken pox Bruce had, or the fact that Lisa Barks had tried to kiss him in the coat closet, or the dead bat they’d found in the car, and he hadn’t screamed or nothing.
Was Lex mad at him? Was he mad about Lisa Barks? Maybe he was jealous because he had a girlfriend. Sort of, he guessed.
He wrote again and sent off the mail. He wrote again and got no answer, wrote again and this time told him he was a lousy friend and he didn’t like him any more either so there. And he kissed some other girls and he wasn’t going to tell him about that either, because he stunk.
Some days later, when his dad managed to pry from him why he was going about in a funk and snapping at every one, Mr. Wayne called the Luthor household and received distressing news.
Lex had been in the hospital the last few weeks, very ill. Bruce was horrified, and the Waynes decided that they’d spend their holiday in Gotham, doing whatever they could to help. Bruce felt like a dog, lowest of the low.
His friend was sick all this time and he’d been so mean…how could he apologize?
******
Bruce poked his head around the door and Lex’s face lit up at the sight. “Come in please! I was waiting for you; your dad said you were coming up!” Lex tossed a little radio down on the bed, a tiny tinny voice coming from it.
Bruce was a little frightened. Lex looked the same color as the white sheets, almost the same color as the pale green walls of his room. He was under a thin blanket, stuff running into his arm and his nose; he was wearing a weird muffin shaped white hat and ugly blue pajamas.
There were beeping machines and tubes and wires and stuff draped around his bed and the curtains were drawn, making the room dark as night even though it was the middle of the afternoon. Lex looked tiny in the bed, so small, like the china dolls his mom had. All eyes and lashes and nothing else…maybe he should hold his hand, or something…he didn’t seem mad about the stupid letters he sent. “Are you sure you want to see me?”
“Of course, you dope! Come here, idiot!”
Bruce ran forward. “You must feel better, you’re mean again!”
Lex laughed, but it was light and weak compared to Lex’s usual laugh. Bruce felt concerned but hid it. He said, “Hey, I was pretty crabby this summer and kind of stupid, but when you didn’t answer my letters I thought…”
Lex frowned, “You wrote? I didn’t get any letters. But I was pretty sick for a long time,” he said. And…he looked at Bruce, pleading in his eys, and Bruce hopped up on the bed with him, avoiding wire and tubes deftly.
“What’s going on, Casper?”
A broken laugh escaped Lex’s clenched jaw. “Casper’s right…I have to show you something…. Promise me--promise…crap.” He closed his eyes, took a deep shaky breath and yanked the cap off of his head and Bruce gasped.
Lex was bald, his head was completely smooth. All that wonderful clown hair was gone, gone with not a hint of it left behind. Lex trembled, his eyes still closed, and Bruce reached out slowly, slowly touched Lex’s scalp, fear and wonder making his touch hesitant, gentle. His fingers stoked over Lex’s bare head. The skin was soft as a bunny he’d had once, and very warm. He pressed a little harder and smoothed his palm over it. “Wow, Lex, it feels…nice.” And blushed and moved his hand away.
Lex opened his eyes. “You’re not creeped out by it? I know I look strange. I can see it in the nurse’s faces; they look like they don’t want to touch me. My dad…”
Bruce made a spitting sound. “It’s fine! You look fine! Not weird, just different. You’re still my friend, okay? Brothers!”
Lex smiled, relief evident in his posture, the softening of his expression. “Oh good. Do you…do you want to hear what happened?”
Bruce nodded yes and crawled further up the bed to lay down with Lex. Lex began to describe the day that he got sick.
“And the meteors were on fire, burning from entering the atmosphere. You see, when an object--”
Bruce slapped his palm over Lex’s mouth.
“Story first, lesson later, Mr.Wizard.” Lex nodded and went on, describing how his hair fell out, and how the Kents and his dad found him in the field and how a little boy was in the car with them…he’d never seen the boy before and he was –naked!
Bruce was scandalized to Lex’s satisfaction. He went on to describe how the boy was dirty all over and Martha held him like she wasn’t ever going to let him go and Bruce nodded. Sounded right.
“The kid,” Lex went on, “was sweet, a real cute little kid, he petted my cheek and,” Lex laughed, “I actually felt better, can you believe it? I went right to sleep.”
Bruce frowned. “No, not really. So what happened then?”
“Then,” Lex said, “I ended up here and they keep doing things to me. They keep taking my blood and making me pee in things and I can’t even take a crap without them scooping it up!”
“No!” Bruce was properly outraged and disgusted for his friend. What the heck do they do with the crap, he wondered.
“Beats me,” Lex said, “but boy, I’m sick of this. And lately,” he whispered. “They’ve been—doing things that...that make me cry.” He cut his eyes at Bruce, looking for ridicule but Bruce looked angry.
“What do you mean?”
Lex showed him his arm. “Look. See that line?”
Bruce nodded. A long pink scratch stood out on his arm. “Yesterday, they took a knife and cut me. It bled.” Bruce gasped and Lex grimaced. “It was deep, it hurt like crazy.”
“But—that’s a couple of days old!”
“No, it’s from yesterday. I’m trying to tell you, I can heal up a cut fast. Faster. I don’t know why. It’s kind of—scary. Real scary. They’ve been poking me and cutting me and,” his voice dropped to a hoarse whisper, “they took this thing and scooped out some meat.”
Bruce yelped. “No! No they didn’t!” Lex lifted the sheet, and showed Bruce the fleshy part of his thigh and sure enough, a shallow depression marred the smooth skin.
Bruce was horrified. “Damn!” Lex nodded, it was a situation that required and forgave cursing.
Lex’s eyes were shining with unshed tears.
“Tell your dad what’s happening Lex! Make him tell them to stop!”
Lex blinked and the tears ran over. “Who do you think told them to do that?”
Bruce was shocked speechless. How could that be? How could your own father let strangers hurt you?
Lex shook his head. “He explained it wasn’t a punishment, that I had something valuable to contribute and I should feel proud, but mostly I just felt hurt.”
Mr. Wayne came in just then, a big smile that hid nothing of the anger and something else Lex couldn’t understand in his eyes. He pat Lex gently on the arm and told him, “I’m going to be your doctor now, for a little while anyway. No more of that,” he said, smoothing warm calloused fingers over the pink line on Alex’s arm. "We’re going to get you better and out of here.”
Lionel came up behind him and smiled at Lex. “You’re going home son, soon as we can get you on your feet again.”
Lex stared up at his dad. “Thank you, dad.”
Lionel flinched a little, and smiled.
Late that evening Bruce sat on the porch of a cheerful yellow farmhouse, a big house with white shutters and flowers at every window, and a huge porch wrapped around the front and sides. He sat on a deep cushioned swing chair hanging on the side porch, his feet propped up on the arm and his head cradled by pillows. He had one in his arms, warming his chest and he was content, drowsing in and out of sleep. His father’s voice caught his attention and he sharpened.
“Mattie and I can help forge information and a birth certificate, make it seem as though the boy was born in one of her charity clinics. Lionel has paper work in progress creating an adoption agency that the boy can be adopted through.”
He heard a murmur of voices and a sound like someone crying, and then Mr. Kent’s voice came through the open window, “Martha and I are grateful. Very grateful.”
Lionel’s voice next, “And the Ross’s? Can I count on you to help them decide in favor of selling their factory? For a colored man, he’s extremely stubborn and--”
“Bill Ross is a good *man*.” Mr. Kent's voice floated after and Bruce knew his emphasis of man meant something important.
“No doubt, no doubt. Well, it has been pleasant, but we really must be going. Morning comes quickly, and we want to be well rested before we spend the day with Alexander tomorrow.” Lionel said.
Bruce feigned sleep as the Luthors left the farmhouse and drove away.
Mr. Wayne and Mr. Kent stood on the porch and watched the red of the car taillights disappear into the distance.
“You know, if it weren’t for Lillian I’d never have anything to do with that man. But he had to be a part of this and we need to do everything we can to insure that your new son is safe. We must *never* let that man know that he’s so special.”
Mr. Kent said, “Amen to that. I don’t like being around him but the girls are devoted to one another…and Clark needs to be safe so I guess I have a duty to be nice to that ass.” He sighed, disgruntled.
“Jon, I know that’s tough for you, you’re never been one to suffer fools lightly.”
“Well…as long as he doesn’t know about Clark--the way he treated his own son, Clark wouldn’t last a minute and—Martha’s already attached to the boy. I wouldn’t want her to suffer, Tom.”
“Oh no, no, it’s all for Martha’s sake we’re doing this.” Bruce peeked out from under his lashes and saw his dad put an arm around Mr. Kent and laugh a little. “You’re as crazy about this little boy as she is, Jon. Mattie and I are both pleased as hell for you.” He squeezed him against his side and let him go with a light slap on the shoulder. “Let me wake up Bruce and I guess we’ll be on our way too.”.
Bruce acted sleepy and groggy when his dad shook his shoulder and followed him into the house. He crawled into his mom’s lap, harder and harder to do since he was growing so much, like a weed his mom said.
Mrs. Kent came out of the rear of the large house holding a bundle against her shoulder. The bundle lifted and it was a boy wrapped in a red and blue blanket, a much bigger boy than Bruce expected. He looked at Bruce with big green eyes and a solemn little face and then—threw him a smile made his face seem to glow. Just like Lex’s smiles, this one made Bruce want to smile back at him. The boy—Clark--wiggled down from Martha’s arms and ran over to Bruce, pat his arm.
“Hi.” Bruce said.
Mr. Kent said, “He doesn’t talk, not yet---but he does love to listen.”
Dad laughed and said, “Bruce, you may have found your perfect friend.”
Bruce smiled on the outside but fumed on the inside. Clark was looking at him, his big eyes on him and his lips turned up into a big smile. Nope. His friend was better than anyone else. This kid was okay but he’d never be his *perfect* friend.
tbc
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![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
11/2/05 03:06 am (UTC)Bruce being the most concerned friend in the world.
Baby Clark and his big sunshine smiles.
Wow! You really are trying to kill us with the cute!!!
(no subject)
11/2/05 04:00 pm (UTC)Heeeeeee! It's a shmoopfest!