Brothers And Heroes part 10
11/17/05 11:05 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxyParts Before
Back to the land of little Bruce and Lex, and tiny Clark?
Brothers And Heroes
At the end of Lex’s first semester at Hessian, an event took place that changed Lex’s life and reminded Bruce how unfair life could be.
Jon picked Bruce up from school, and that was startling to him—Pop didn’t waste gas to pick them up or drive them to school when the school bus came around to pick them up every day. In fact, Pop should be in the greenhouses, he was deeply involved in an important project right now. He was trying to develop a crop that could be planted in the soil around Smallville, something that would leach out the poisons in the ground and be easily destroyed or converted to something harmless. Everyone knew those green stones in the fields were dangerous, did things to people. His family knew they hurt Clark terribly. Kent Farms had long been collecting and trying to dispose of the rocks, and now they were working on decontaminating they land they lay in.
It was so strange to see Pop away from his work at this time of day that Bruce worried right away. Did something happen at home? Was Ma all right…Clark?
“Bruce,” Jon began, and he took off his hat and squashed the brim in his fingers, Bruce could see that he still had a little grime across the backs of his broad hands. There was a tiny shred of green caught in one of his nails...Bruce’s heart froze—nonono—don’t let it be Ma, don’t let it be Clark—his mind took a leap—don’t let it be Lex….
Jon coughed and continued, “Bruce—Lex’s mom passed away last night. We’re going to Metropolis, help out if we can. I already explained to your teachers you wouldn’t be back for a week…you can make up your work when you come back…” he trailed off, staring out of the car window, and Bruce looked at him.
He knew, with a sudden flash of insight, Pop was thinking about Ma, losing Ma. Tears rose to his eyes and he felt horribly, overwhelmingly sad. Without her, their family would fall apart. But looking at Pop he realized no—no way. His family would never do that. Not with Pop to look after them, not with his big heart and his love for them. But Lex…without his mom, he really didn’t have a family. What would he do, all alone with just his dad to look out for him, a man who didn’t even seem to like him much?
He shivered, and Pop wrapped a long arm around him, and asked the driver to turn up the heat. He pulled Bruce in to rest on his chest, and Bruce closed his eyes. The smell of damp wool, a woody kind of scent, the smell of fresh dirt was so comforting, it always made him think of Pop. The scratch of his overcoat against his cheek meant safety to Bruce.
Pop was there-- smelling of earth, sage and Old Spice, breathing, his heart thumping steady and strong, alive--and at home, Ma was safe and sound, making dinner, or working in the studio Pop built her, indulging her in her new hobby…linseed oil and turpentine was her new perfume. She’d be thinking, sketching, smiling, warm and alive. Clark was at school, cheerful and bright and full of love, making bright colored ugly pictures of cows with blue spots, or dogs with green ears, just for him…they were all happy, safe, with him, and Lex wasn’t. Lex was separated from them, all alone....
He held onto Jon’s coat and cried his heart out, and Jon patted him and made soothing sounds and let him cry.
This time, it was Lex who wore the black suit, tall and slim, solemn. Bruce was proud of him. He was like a soldier, like John Wayne. His head was held high, back straight as an arrow, Bruce thought—almost grown-up looking. His eyes looked blue in the low light of the chapel, he looked pale but strong, very strong.
Mr. Luthor sat next to Lex, his head down, every once in a while he’d pat Lex on the knee, or squeeze his hand. Lex didn’t look left or right, and didn’t seem to notice what his dad was doing. He was no place near the chapel, Bruce knew. He didn’t seem to notice anyone.
There were very few people at the service. Lillian’s family were all long gone—Lionel’s family also, Lex had no relatives apart from his dad. The Kents were probably the closest thing Lex had to family, Bruce thought, glad that they could be there when he needed them. Clark kept crowding him, trying to look at Lex. His eyes were huge, and fearful, and Bruce had to pat him on the shoulder over and over to remind him to behave. “Please be a good boy, Clark,” he whispered and Clark nodded, twisting Bruce’s fingers in his own, eyes focused on Lex.
The funeral seemed to grind to a halt rather than have any clear end, one minute people were there and the next not, or so it seemed to Bruce. They were headed to their car, when he heard footsteps on the gravel behind him. It was Lex. Now that the funeral was over and they were alone, he looked unsure and worn out. Martha immediately opened her arms and Lex flew into them.
“I’m so sorry honey, you know I am.” Ma spoke softly against Lex’s cheek and Lex nodded silently. Jon rubbed his shoulders and told him, “You did good today, son. Your mother would have been proud.”
After a moment Lex stepped back and looked down at the ground, he shifted the gravel with his feet, and looked at Bruce and Clark. “Hi…”
Bruce felt strangely reluctant to speak, now that he was in front of him, he felt weird. As if he wasn’t sure he knew Lex anymore. Clark was on him in an instant, arms carefully wrapped around his waist, his cheeks bright red. “Lex,” was all he said, and it was enough to make Lex start to sniff. He bent a little, the top of Clark’s head still under his chin, but barely–he rubbed his face into Clark’s hair.
Martha turned to Jon and told him, “Tell Lionel Lex is coming home with us tonight.” She looked in the man’s direction. He stood next to the long black limousine that the Luthor’s had arrived in, deep in conversation with a redheaded woman, seemingly oblivious to the fact Lex wasn’t with him. “I doubt he’ll mind.”
Jon looked momentarily disgusted. ‘I think you’re right. I’ll do that.”
After a brief exchange of words Jon came back, little spots of red on each cheekbone and his blue eyes snapping. “Let’s go,” he told the driver and didn’t speak again, but put his hand on Lex’s shoulder as he climbed into the back of the car with them. Lex pressed himself into the corner and closed his eyes. Clark sat next to him, stroking his back and talking quietly. Every once in a while Lex would nod, and Bruce sat on the opposite bench seat between his mother and the car door, facing them, watching, wondering what Clark was telling Lex. He felt bad--guilty; he was the one who remembered losing a mother—losing family. He should probably be the one comforting Lex, but he didn’t know what to say to make it better this time and the ball of pain in the middle of his chest closed his throat. It was hard to breath. He couldn’t imagine talking….
Back to the land of little Bruce and Lex, and tiny Clark?
Brothers And Heroes
At the end of Lex’s first semester at Hessian, an event took place that changed Lex’s life and reminded Bruce how unfair life could be.
Jon picked Bruce up from school, and that was startling to him—Pop didn’t waste gas to pick them up or drive them to school when the school bus came around to pick them up every day. In fact, Pop should be in the greenhouses, he was deeply involved in an important project right now. He was trying to develop a crop that could be planted in the soil around Smallville, something that would leach out the poisons in the ground and be easily destroyed or converted to something harmless. Everyone knew those green stones in the fields were dangerous, did things to people. His family knew they hurt Clark terribly. Kent Farms had long been collecting and trying to dispose of the rocks, and now they were working on decontaminating they land they lay in.
It was so strange to see Pop away from his work at this time of day that Bruce worried right away. Did something happen at home? Was Ma all right…Clark?
“Bruce,” Jon began, and he took off his hat and squashed the brim in his fingers, Bruce could see that he still had a little grime across the backs of his broad hands. There was a tiny shred of green caught in one of his nails...Bruce’s heart froze—nonono—don’t let it be Ma, don’t let it be Clark—his mind took a leap—don’t let it be Lex….
Jon coughed and continued, “Bruce—Lex’s mom passed away last night. We’re going to Metropolis, help out if we can. I already explained to your teachers you wouldn’t be back for a week…you can make up your work when you come back…” he trailed off, staring out of the car window, and Bruce looked at him.
He knew, with a sudden flash of insight, Pop was thinking about Ma, losing Ma. Tears rose to his eyes and he felt horribly, overwhelmingly sad. Without her, their family would fall apart. But looking at Pop he realized no—no way. His family would never do that. Not with Pop to look after them, not with his big heart and his love for them. But Lex…without his mom, he really didn’t have a family. What would he do, all alone with just his dad to look out for him, a man who didn’t even seem to like him much?
He shivered, and Pop wrapped a long arm around him, and asked the driver to turn up the heat. He pulled Bruce in to rest on his chest, and Bruce closed his eyes. The smell of damp wool, a woody kind of scent, the smell of fresh dirt was so comforting, it always made him think of Pop. The scratch of his overcoat against his cheek meant safety to Bruce.
Pop was there-- smelling of earth, sage and Old Spice, breathing, his heart thumping steady and strong, alive--and at home, Ma was safe and sound, making dinner, or working in the studio Pop built her, indulging her in her new hobby…linseed oil and turpentine was her new perfume. She’d be thinking, sketching, smiling, warm and alive. Clark was at school, cheerful and bright and full of love, making bright colored ugly pictures of cows with blue spots, or dogs with green ears, just for him…they were all happy, safe, with him, and Lex wasn’t. Lex was separated from them, all alone....
He held onto Jon’s coat and cried his heart out, and Jon patted him and made soothing sounds and let him cry.
This time, it was Lex who wore the black suit, tall and slim, solemn. Bruce was proud of him. He was like a soldier, like John Wayne. His head was held high, back straight as an arrow, Bruce thought—almost grown-up looking. His eyes looked blue in the low light of the chapel, he looked pale but strong, very strong.
Mr. Luthor sat next to Lex, his head down, every once in a while he’d pat Lex on the knee, or squeeze his hand. Lex didn’t look left or right, and didn’t seem to notice what his dad was doing. He was no place near the chapel, Bruce knew. He didn’t seem to notice anyone.
There were very few people at the service. Lillian’s family were all long gone—Lionel’s family also, Lex had no relatives apart from his dad. The Kents were probably the closest thing Lex had to family, Bruce thought, glad that they could be there when he needed them. Clark kept crowding him, trying to look at Lex. His eyes were huge, and fearful, and Bruce had to pat him on the shoulder over and over to remind him to behave. “Please be a good boy, Clark,” he whispered and Clark nodded, twisting Bruce’s fingers in his own, eyes focused on Lex.
The funeral seemed to grind to a halt rather than have any clear end, one minute people were there and the next not, or so it seemed to Bruce. They were headed to their car, when he heard footsteps on the gravel behind him. It was Lex. Now that the funeral was over and they were alone, he looked unsure and worn out. Martha immediately opened her arms and Lex flew into them.
“I’m so sorry honey, you know I am.” Ma spoke softly against Lex’s cheek and Lex nodded silently. Jon rubbed his shoulders and told him, “You did good today, son. Your mother would have been proud.”
After a moment Lex stepped back and looked down at the ground, he shifted the gravel with his feet, and looked at Bruce and Clark. “Hi…”
Bruce felt strangely reluctant to speak, now that he was in front of him, he felt weird. As if he wasn’t sure he knew Lex anymore. Clark was on him in an instant, arms carefully wrapped around his waist, his cheeks bright red. “Lex,” was all he said, and it was enough to make Lex start to sniff. He bent a little, the top of Clark’s head still under his chin, but barely–he rubbed his face into Clark’s hair.
Martha turned to Jon and told him, “Tell Lionel Lex is coming home with us tonight.” She looked in the man’s direction. He stood next to the long black limousine that the Luthor’s had arrived in, deep in conversation with a redheaded woman, seemingly oblivious to the fact Lex wasn’t with him. “I doubt he’ll mind.”
Jon looked momentarily disgusted. ‘I think you’re right. I’ll do that.”
After a brief exchange of words Jon came back, little spots of red on each cheekbone and his blue eyes snapping. “Let’s go,” he told the driver and didn’t speak again, but put his hand on Lex’s shoulder as he climbed into the back of the car with them. Lex pressed himself into the corner and closed his eyes. Clark sat next to him, stroking his back and talking quietly. Every once in a while Lex would nod, and Bruce sat on the opposite bench seat between his mother and the car door, facing them, watching, wondering what Clark was telling Lex. He felt bad--guilty; he was the one who remembered losing a mother—losing family. He should probably be the one comforting Lex, but he didn’t know what to say to make it better this time and the ball of pain in the middle of his chest closed his throat. It was hard to breath. He couldn’t imagine talking….
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11/17/05 11:11 pm (UTC)