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roxyIn Which:
Clark is tired.
Lex has a Moment.
Nothing will ever be the same again.
The End.
Ripley, Believe It Or Not
Christmas drew closer, the nearer it came, the more it hurt. It had been months since Clark talked to his family and *that* hurt more than he’d admit out loud. He didn’t get so much as a card from Mom—nothing. They knew where he was, they knew he was safe, they must have seen his pictures--hell, they were famous. Well. Maybe notorious was a better word.
And maybe that was it. Maybe they were in Smallville dying of embarrassment. Their big gay son, living all on the front page with his big gay billionaire. Clark smiled into his scarf--when Lex decided it was time to come out, he did it with a vengeance. Of course. There were no small gestures for Lex Luthor. Fireworks and stuff, that was Lex.
At least it hadn’t affected Lex’s ambitions as much as he’d worried about in the beginning. Various influential people who wanted him to run for office were courting him but as yet, he’d made no move.
“We’ll see, Clark, when Ripley’s here. We’ll know better then.”
******
Clark was walking along a street in the main shopping district, just window-shopping, waiting for Lex to meet him. He had one of Lex’s scarves wrapped around his neck, pulled up to his nose so that he could smell him. It helped. A lot. He listened to the squeak-crunch his boots made in the snow and smiled, imagining Ripley doing the same one day. Everything would be new and wonderful again when she was with him. Snow, and Christmas and cereal. Santa and cartoons and, and…everything. It would be like starting over, in a way.
He stopped and looked at a display of children’s snowsuits in Gordmans window. It reminded him of the times Mom and Dad and him would make a day of going into the city to shop on special occasions, like the beginning of school or Easter time, or Christmas time. Especially Christmas. They had fun--getting lunch, maybe catching a movie, or just walking around and looking at the decorations--just like he was doing now.
His eyes watered a bit. Mom had really been excited about a grandchild, back when this all started…even when they weren’t too certain it was going to be okay…the hell with it.
He was going to send a picture home. Lex had a million locked in his safe. His folks would know—they had to know—that he was safe and happy and glad he’d made this decision. Clark nodded, decided he’d ask him as soon as they were home.
Clark strolled along, idly looking, making lists in his head of what he wanted to get Lex, what he would buy Mom and Dad if he could.
A little girl ran out in front of him and he barely managed to avoid stepping on her.
The mother ran up behind her, apologizing. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I swear, she’s such a handful.”
Clark looked down into a grinning and unrepentant little face--green eyes, a dusting of freckles and bright red hair. Cute.
“Celia, tell the nice man you’re sorry!” the mother demanded and she said sorry with absolutely no remorse or apology at all.
Clark grinned at her, and then the crowds pulled them away.
Celia, he thought. Celine…Artia? Ashley? Antonia…He spoke it aloud quietly, thinking. Sophia…Simone? Hmm. He frowned. Martha? Lillian…Clark looked up at the top of the street and right on time, because punctual was his middle name, came Lex.
“It’s two o’clock, Clark. Lunch time.”
“Great.” He hugged Lex and colored faintly at how intimate his hug felt, at the intensity of Lex’s look—like Clark was the only dish on the menu.
He grabbed Clark’s hand, and hurried him along. He said, “I saw the most horribly behaved little girl on the way to pick you up—she was driving her mother crazy. My child would never be so badly behaved.”
“A little red-head?”
“Yeah—how did you know?”
“I ran into her earlier…Lex. We need to pick a name.”
“Excellent! I have several names already selected, great names. Perfectly suited for her. You just pick one and…what? Now what did I say?”
******
They sat at their favorite table in their favorite restaurant. Lex was relaxed—leaning back in his chair, one arm slung across the top. Knowing full well what it did to Clark when his shirt was pulled tight across his chest, and smiling with that little edge of possessiveness that was so hot. Lex had fun and games on his mind, and Clark figured now, while his mind was clouded by lust, would be the perfect time to ask Lex if he could send one of Ripley’s pictures to his parents.
Lex blushed a little. “Well…we’ll talk about that later, okay. Right now--”
Clark gasped and grabbed the edge of the table. “Oh…man. That—that was rough.”
“What happened-- you turned white as a sheet.” Lex stood and Clark motioned him impatiently to sit.
“I’m fine, I’m fine…just a little, hungry or something. When’s the food coming?”
Lex hesitated, and then sat. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Clark nodded and yawned. He yawned again, and blinked. “Wow, gosh, all of a sudden I’m so tired. Really tired.” He laid his head on the arm crooked on the table. Blinked at Lex again. “Sooo tired.” His voice dropped lower, and his words were slurred. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so tired. His eyes drooped shut and warm velvety darkness snuggled all over him.
******
Lex gaped—what the hell—Clark was blearily looking at him, a little smile on his face. His eyelids fluttered closed and he looked like he was five. So sweet, so innocent. He jumped to his feet, panicked. Something awful was happening—Clark was dying!
Clark started at the sound of Lex’s chair scraping back. He lifted his head and looked around. “Why are we still here? I thought we went home. Can we?”
Lex hustled Clark out of the restaurant and out to the limo, trying to get him into the car before he passed out again.
Clark kept dropping off, sleeping—snoring. Lex had to nearly drag him to the elevator, and he feel asleep on his shoulder, and against the wall, and he fell asleep while Lex was unlocking the apartment door.
Lex laughed softly—it was kind of cute. He hung from Lex’s shoulder, and drooled a little, and curled over him as he tried to walk him to the bedroom. He finally got him stretched out on the bed, and he held up his arms, but Lex shook his head.
“You need sleep—I’ll bet you were up all night again without telling me. Sleep, sweetheart. I’ll wake you later.”
Clark nodded and was asleep almost before he stopped, still in his suit, minus jacket and shoes.
Le smiled and headed to the bathroom. He might as well shower and change, and then maybe do a little work as long as Clark slept. He heard a sound, a little groan, and looked over his shoulder. Clark was frowning in his sleep…Lex turned to walk back to the bed, and suddenly, Clark was sitting up, screaming. Lex ran to the bed, and grabbed Clark’s shoulder. “Clark!”
Clark was still asleep, screaming in his sleep. He lunged forward and only Lex’s hand on his shoulder kept him from crashing to the ground. “LEX! Lex!” He was asleep, the screams were louder—Lex shook him, harder and harder, shouting at him to wake up, he slapped him, slapped him until his hand hurt and he split Clark’s lip.
Clark suddenly shook, his body convulsed and he woke, staring into Lex’ face. “HURTS!”
He dropped back against the bed, and groaned, “Help me, please, Lex, please…” He was ripping at his shirt, and groaning, and Lex grabbed the edges and ripped down, exposing his chest and belly.
“Shit.” He cursed under his breath and touched the ridge, and Clark shrieked—it was fire red, it pulsed and writhed, he could see rapid almost frantic movement under the distended skin.
“Get her out,” he panted, “Get her out.” He arched and screamed again, and Lex stuttered, “Yes, yes, le-let me call Toby--” He fumbled with his phone, dropping it to the floor. “Fuck!” He dropped to his knees, frantically grabbing for it.
“No-no! You have to--” Clark stopped speaking, he arched again, his skin flushed red, then it drained away to white, he dropped with a gasp to the bed. He panted hard, groaned, “please, now.”
“Do what now, Clark?” Lex gingerly put his hand against the ridge, feeling if it was parting at all, but it was as seamless as it had been since he first saw it. The movements were less frantic now, and Clark wasn’t screaming anymore—his hopeless silence was more frightening than his screams had been.
He rolled his eyes toward Lex.
“Lex, cut her out.”
”Are you fucking insane—I’ll get Toby now.” He grabbed again for his phone and Clark just—stopped.
Out, quiet, unconscious…Lex shook him and shook him—he pressed his hand against his belly. Ripley wasn’t moving either.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his knife.
Clark woke with a gasp. Lex stood staring down at him, shaking. “I can’t—I’ll hurt her, I’ll hurt you.”
“Yes you can…you have to…Lex!”
Lex stood frozen, white as milk and Clark cried, “Don’t make me do it!”
Lex jerked and flipped open the blade. He took a deep shaky breath and cut as carefully as he could across Clark’s belly. Fear made the cut too shallow, it was barely a scratch, and Clark screamed, “Fuck—don’t torture me—cut, fucker!”
Lex grunted, and slashed deep, trying not to cut too far down into Clark’s belly, and the skin parted. Blood erupted from the cut, splashing him, spattering his shirt, his hand. Clark was grabbing the bed, ripping at the sheets. Again, he screamed and Lex cut again and something bluish showed in the cut. The skin parted with a wet, crackling sound, and there she was.
He dropped the knife and stuck his hand into the open wound and felt blood, something hot and thick and sticky. He felt a weak squirming under his hand. He grit his teeth, prayed and pulled upward.
He held a tiny dripping lump in his hands and his heart stuttered—it was just a mass of undifferentiated cells, a blob…his heart raced painfully and he felt weak, horrified—drowning in a wave of grief.
Clark was still out…what would he tell him? His head hung and he fought tears…it wasn’t as if—as if…a tear fell and dropped onto his hands.
The lump made a slow, thick movement in his palms and he nearly dropped it…under the blood and thick mucous covering, a thin bluish membrane glimmered…egg sac, he thought wildly. Fuck—he laid the lump on the bed and hoped against hope, grabbed up the decidedly un-sterile knife and slashed a shallow line across the dripping blob.
It parted with a gush and Ripley slid out, curled in a pool of blue fluid and pale blood.
Lex stared. Blinked. Snatched his phone up, hit Toby’s number and screamed something incoherent into it. He threw it and dropped to his knees next to the bed. She was dead. Nothing he’d done had worked. He’d failed any way.
This time, he had no strength to fight the tears that welled up and ran down his face.
She lay curled like a comma, motionless, cooling rapidly under his fingers. He tried to grab Clark’s hand, dropped it with a moan. He was ice cold, still as Ripley. His skin felt hard, his muscles were stiff…Lex grabbed the remnants of his shirt, yelling hysterically. “You bastard, come back here—don’t you dare leave me—don’t you dare.”
He reached out for Ripley, “You killed him.” He picked her up and his hands came up around her body. It was tiny…so tiny, he could surround her with his two hands, cover her completely. Crush her.
He held her like that, tears falling and dropping on his clasped hands. Come back, he begged silently. Please.
The suite door flew open and Toby ran in, with attendants and machinery, and snatched Ripley up. They shoved him into a corner, and converged on her, and she disappeared behind a wall of backs. He stood paralyzed, alone, and cold. He fucked up. He’d ruined everything, like always. He’d destroyed everything he loved in one day—he glanced at the alarm clock on Clark’s side of the bed, and was almost hysterical with laughter—in less than a half hour, he’d destroyed his life.
The air vibrated with a thin, wavering scream—and Clark jerked like an electric current was being passed through him. Again she screamed, and Lex screamed, and Clark jerked and shuddered.
Lex grabbed her from Toby and the nurses and laid her across Clark’s bare chest. Color flooded him, and he groaned. As they watched, the pouch Ripley rested in all those months expelled the lining; the placenta-like mass broke free, and looked as if it were disintegrating, rapidly turning form red to blue to gray, going from firm to slimy… Toby cocked an eyebrow, said thoughtfully, “Hmm. Maybe we need to get that out of there.”
He pulled the graying matter free of the pouch, and as soon as it cleared Clark’s body, dramatic changes took place. The pouch seemed to evert, flattened out and—disappeared. The skin looked unchanged, unbroken, healthy and pink and just a shade or two paler then the surrounding skin and--Clark blinked.
He looked accusingly and a little blearily at Lex. “You stabbed me.”
Lex gasped out a little laugh and wiped his wet face. “Well…yes, I did. But there was a prize involved.” And he stroked Ripley.
Clark looked awestruck. “It’s true…it was true all along. I thought it was all--am I dreaming? I had a horrible dream, we died--” He laid his hands over her. “I’m not dreaming, right—this is really happening?”
“Oh fuck yeah, it is. We’ve ruined the bed and the carpet and my shoes and suit--it’s real. Look at her. She’s incredible. She’s beautiful.”
Clark peered down at her. “Why does she have red hair?”
Lex squinted at her. “She does, doesn’t she…. how odd. I used to have red hair, you know. Bright red hair, curly….” He touched the thin hair waving damply on her perfect head, felt her hand curl around his finger.
“She’s beautiful Clark.”
“I know. You said she would be.”
“Ripley. You’re beautiful.”
Clark shook his head. “Not Ripley, Alexandra. That’s her name. Alexandra Kent-Luthor.”
Lex smiled. “It’s a perfect name, Clark. Beautiful. Just like her father.”
“*Fathers*,” he smiled.
******
Dear Ripley,
Believe it or not, having you was the most wonderful thing that ever happened to me. Poppa’s a close second, but don’t tell him, trust me, it’s better this way. Now that your name is officially Alexandra, I should call you that…oh, I’ll have to finish this later—Gramma and Grandpa are here and no way am I leaving them alone in the room with Poppa.
click
6-01-2006
Fin
Clark is tired.
Lex has a Moment.
Nothing will ever be the same again.
The End.
Ripley, Believe It Or Not
Christmas drew closer, the nearer it came, the more it hurt. It had been months since Clark talked to his family and *that* hurt more than he’d admit out loud. He didn’t get so much as a card from Mom—nothing. They knew where he was, they knew he was safe, they must have seen his pictures--hell, they were famous. Well. Maybe notorious was a better word.
And maybe that was it. Maybe they were in Smallville dying of embarrassment. Their big gay son, living all on the front page with his big gay billionaire. Clark smiled into his scarf--when Lex decided it was time to come out, he did it with a vengeance. Of course. There were no small gestures for Lex Luthor. Fireworks and stuff, that was Lex.
At least it hadn’t affected Lex’s ambitions as much as he’d worried about in the beginning. Various influential people who wanted him to run for office were courting him but as yet, he’d made no move.
“We’ll see, Clark, when Ripley’s here. We’ll know better then.”
******
Clark was walking along a street in the main shopping district, just window-shopping, waiting for Lex to meet him. He had one of Lex’s scarves wrapped around his neck, pulled up to his nose so that he could smell him. It helped. A lot. He listened to the squeak-crunch his boots made in the snow and smiled, imagining Ripley doing the same one day. Everything would be new and wonderful again when she was with him. Snow, and Christmas and cereal. Santa and cartoons and, and…everything. It would be like starting over, in a way.
He stopped and looked at a display of children’s snowsuits in Gordmans window. It reminded him of the times Mom and Dad and him would make a day of going into the city to shop on special occasions, like the beginning of school or Easter time, or Christmas time. Especially Christmas. They had fun--getting lunch, maybe catching a movie, or just walking around and looking at the decorations--just like he was doing now.
His eyes watered a bit. Mom had really been excited about a grandchild, back when this all started…even when they weren’t too certain it was going to be okay…the hell with it.
He was going to send a picture home. Lex had a million locked in his safe. His folks would know—they had to know—that he was safe and happy and glad he’d made this decision. Clark nodded, decided he’d ask him as soon as they were home.
Clark strolled along, idly looking, making lists in his head of what he wanted to get Lex, what he would buy Mom and Dad if he could.
A little girl ran out in front of him and he barely managed to avoid stepping on her.
The mother ran up behind her, apologizing. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I swear, she’s such a handful.”
Clark looked down into a grinning and unrepentant little face--green eyes, a dusting of freckles and bright red hair. Cute.
“Celia, tell the nice man you’re sorry!” the mother demanded and she said sorry with absolutely no remorse or apology at all.
Clark grinned at her, and then the crowds pulled them away.
Celia, he thought. Celine…Artia? Ashley? Antonia…He spoke it aloud quietly, thinking. Sophia…Simone? Hmm. He frowned. Martha? Lillian…Clark looked up at the top of the street and right on time, because punctual was his middle name, came Lex.
“It’s two o’clock, Clark. Lunch time.”
“Great.” He hugged Lex and colored faintly at how intimate his hug felt, at the intensity of Lex’s look—like Clark was the only dish on the menu.
He grabbed Clark’s hand, and hurried him along. He said, “I saw the most horribly behaved little girl on the way to pick you up—she was driving her mother crazy. My child would never be so badly behaved.”
“A little red-head?”
“Yeah—how did you know?”
“I ran into her earlier…Lex. We need to pick a name.”
“Excellent! I have several names already selected, great names. Perfectly suited for her. You just pick one and…what? Now what did I say?”
******
They sat at their favorite table in their favorite restaurant. Lex was relaxed—leaning back in his chair, one arm slung across the top. Knowing full well what it did to Clark when his shirt was pulled tight across his chest, and smiling with that little edge of possessiveness that was so hot. Lex had fun and games on his mind, and Clark figured now, while his mind was clouded by lust, would be the perfect time to ask Lex if he could send one of Ripley’s pictures to his parents.
Lex blushed a little. “Well…we’ll talk about that later, okay. Right now--”
Clark gasped and grabbed the edge of the table. “Oh…man. That—that was rough.”
“What happened-- you turned white as a sheet.” Lex stood and Clark motioned him impatiently to sit.
“I’m fine, I’m fine…just a little, hungry or something. When’s the food coming?”
Lex hesitated, and then sat. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Clark nodded and yawned. He yawned again, and blinked. “Wow, gosh, all of a sudden I’m so tired. Really tired.” He laid his head on the arm crooked on the table. Blinked at Lex again. “Sooo tired.” His voice dropped lower, and his words were slurred. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so tired. His eyes drooped shut and warm velvety darkness snuggled all over him.
******
Lex gaped—what the hell—Clark was blearily looking at him, a little smile on his face. His eyelids fluttered closed and he looked like he was five. So sweet, so innocent. He jumped to his feet, panicked. Something awful was happening—Clark was dying!
Clark started at the sound of Lex’s chair scraping back. He lifted his head and looked around. “Why are we still here? I thought we went home. Can we?”
Lex hustled Clark out of the restaurant and out to the limo, trying to get him into the car before he passed out again.
Clark kept dropping off, sleeping—snoring. Lex had to nearly drag him to the elevator, and he feel asleep on his shoulder, and against the wall, and he fell asleep while Lex was unlocking the apartment door.
Lex laughed softly—it was kind of cute. He hung from Lex’s shoulder, and drooled a little, and curled over him as he tried to walk him to the bedroom. He finally got him stretched out on the bed, and he held up his arms, but Lex shook his head.
“You need sleep—I’ll bet you were up all night again without telling me. Sleep, sweetheart. I’ll wake you later.”
Clark nodded and was asleep almost before he stopped, still in his suit, minus jacket and shoes.
Le smiled and headed to the bathroom. He might as well shower and change, and then maybe do a little work as long as Clark slept. He heard a sound, a little groan, and looked over his shoulder. Clark was frowning in his sleep…Lex turned to walk back to the bed, and suddenly, Clark was sitting up, screaming. Lex ran to the bed, and grabbed Clark’s shoulder. “Clark!”
Clark was still asleep, screaming in his sleep. He lunged forward and only Lex’s hand on his shoulder kept him from crashing to the ground. “LEX! Lex!” He was asleep, the screams were louder—Lex shook him, harder and harder, shouting at him to wake up, he slapped him, slapped him until his hand hurt and he split Clark’s lip.
Clark suddenly shook, his body convulsed and he woke, staring into Lex’ face. “HURTS!”
He dropped back against the bed, and groaned, “Help me, please, Lex, please…” He was ripping at his shirt, and groaning, and Lex grabbed the edges and ripped down, exposing his chest and belly.
“Shit.” He cursed under his breath and touched the ridge, and Clark shrieked—it was fire red, it pulsed and writhed, he could see rapid almost frantic movement under the distended skin.
“Get her out,” he panted, “Get her out.” He arched and screamed again, and Lex stuttered, “Yes, yes, le-let me call Toby--” He fumbled with his phone, dropping it to the floor. “Fuck!” He dropped to his knees, frantically grabbing for it.
“No-no! You have to--” Clark stopped speaking, he arched again, his skin flushed red, then it drained away to white, he dropped with a gasp to the bed. He panted hard, groaned, “please, now.”
“Do what now, Clark?” Lex gingerly put his hand against the ridge, feeling if it was parting at all, but it was as seamless as it had been since he first saw it. The movements were less frantic now, and Clark wasn’t screaming anymore—his hopeless silence was more frightening than his screams had been.
He rolled his eyes toward Lex.
“Lex, cut her out.”
”Are you fucking insane—I’ll get Toby now.” He grabbed again for his phone and Clark just—stopped.
Out, quiet, unconscious…Lex shook him and shook him—he pressed his hand against his belly. Ripley wasn’t moving either.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his knife.
Clark woke with a gasp. Lex stood staring down at him, shaking. “I can’t—I’ll hurt her, I’ll hurt you.”
“Yes you can…you have to…Lex!”
Lex stood frozen, white as milk and Clark cried, “Don’t make me do it!”
Lex jerked and flipped open the blade. He took a deep shaky breath and cut as carefully as he could across Clark’s belly. Fear made the cut too shallow, it was barely a scratch, and Clark screamed, “Fuck—don’t torture me—cut, fucker!”
Lex grunted, and slashed deep, trying not to cut too far down into Clark’s belly, and the skin parted. Blood erupted from the cut, splashing him, spattering his shirt, his hand. Clark was grabbing the bed, ripping at the sheets. Again, he screamed and Lex cut again and something bluish showed in the cut. The skin parted with a wet, crackling sound, and there she was.
He dropped the knife and stuck his hand into the open wound and felt blood, something hot and thick and sticky. He felt a weak squirming under his hand. He grit his teeth, prayed and pulled upward.
He held a tiny dripping lump in his hands and his heart stuttered—it was just a mass of undifferentiated cells, a blob…his heart raced painfully and he felt weak, horrified—drowning in a wave of grief.
Clark was still out…what would he tell him? His head hung and he fought tears…it wasn’t as if—as if…a tear fell and dropped onto his hands.
The lump made a slow, thick movement in his palms and he nearly dropped it…under the blood and thick mucous covering, a thin bluish membrane glimmered…egg sac, he thought wildly. Fuck—he laid the lump on the bed and hoped against hope, grabbed up the decidedly un-sterile knife and slashed a shallow line across the dripping blob.
It parted with a gush and Ripley slid out, curled in a pool of blue fluid and pale blood.
Lex stared. Blinked. Snatched his phone up, hit Toby’s number and screamed something incoherent into it. He threw it and dropped to his knees next to the bed. She was dead. Nothing he’d done had worked. He’d failed any way.
This time, he had no strength to fight the tears that welled up and ran down his face.
She lay curled like a comma, motionless, cooling rapidly under his fingers. He tried to grab Clark’s hand, dropped it with a moan. He was ice cold, still as Ripley. His skin felt hard, his muscles were stiff…Lex grabbed the remnants of his shirt, yelling hysterically. “You bastard, come back here—don’t you dare leave me—don’t you dare.”
He reached out for Ripley, “You killed him.” He picked her up and his hands came up around her body. It was tiny…so tiny, he could surround her with his two hands, cover her completely. Crush her.
He held her like that, tears falling and dropping on his clasped hands. Come back, he begged silently. Please.
The suite door flew open and Toby ran in, with attendants and machinery, and snatched Ripley up. They shoved him into a corner, and converged on her, and she disappeared behind a wall of backs. He stood paralyzed, alone, and cold. He fucked up. He’d ruined everything, like always. He’d destroyed everything he loved in one day—he glanced at the alarm clock on Clark’s side of the bed, and was almost hysterical with laughter—in less than a half hour, he’d destroyed his life.
The air vibrated with a thin, wavering scream—and Clark jerked like an electric current was being passed through him. Again she screamed, and Lex screamed, and Clark jerked and shuddered.
Lex grabbed her from Toby and the nurses and laid her across Clark’s bare chest. Color flooded him, and he groaned. As they watched, the pouch Ripley rested in all those months expelled the lining; the placenta-like mass broke free, and looked as if it were disintegrating, rapidly turning form red to blue to gray, going from firm to slimy… Toby cocked an eyebrow, said thoughtfully, “Hmm. Maybe we need to get that out of there.”
He pulled the graying matter free of the pouch, and as soon as it cleared Clark’s body, dramatic changes took place. The pouch seemed to evert, flattened out and—disappeared. The skin looked unchanged, unbroken, healthy and pink and just a shade or two paler then the surrounding skin and--Clark blinked.
He looked accusingly and a little blearily at Lex. “You stabbed me.”
Lex gasped out a little laugh and wiped his wet face. “Well…yes, I did. But there was a prize involved.” And he stroked Ripley.
Clark looked awestruck. “It’s true…it was true all along. I thought it was all--am I dreaming? I had a horrible dream, we died--” He laid his hands over her. “I’m not dreaming, right—this is really happening?”
“Oh fuck yeah, it is. We’ve ruined the bed and the carpet and my shoes and suit--it’s real. Look at her. She’s incredible. She’s beautiful.”
Clark peered down at her. “Why does she have red hair?”
Lex squinted at her. “She does, doesn’t she…. how odd. I used to have red hair, you know. Bright red hair, curly….” He touched the thin hair waving damply on her perfect head, felt her hand curl around his finger.
“She’s beautiful Clark.”
“I know. You said she would be.”
“Ripley. You’re beautiful.”
Clark shook his head. “Not Ripley, Alexandra. That’s her name. Alexandra Kent-Luthor.”
Lex smiled. “It’s a perfect name, Clark. Beautiful. Just like her father.”
“*Fathers*,” he smiled.
******
Dear Ripley,
Believe it or not, having you was the most wonderful thing that ever happened to me. Poppa’s a close second, but don’t tell him, trust me, it’s better this way. Now that your name is officially Alexandra, I should call you that…oh, I’ll have to finish this later—Gramma and Grandpa are here and no way am I leaving them alone in the room with Poppa.
click
6-01-2006
Fin
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6/2/06 05:42 am (UTC)(no subject)
6/2/06 11:00 am (UTC)