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Entry tags:
Deal Part 5
title: Deal
fandom: SV
rating:3
pairing: Clark/Lex
Dropping through the clouds to float above the desert floor, he could see footprints of glass, leading from a collapsed hole in the ground. Acrid clouds of dust and dirt and smoke rose upward, the smell of blood even from that far below assaulting him. Under the creak and crack of cooling metal and stone, he picked up the distinct sound of a heartbeat, so very slow, and slowing with each passing moment. He turned toward it, rushed in the direction.
At the end of the trail a blackened skeleton laid curled on the ochre sand, hands under it’s head like a sleeping baby, still and quiet. The beat quieted, stuttered a few times, stopped.
“No. No.” He could feel the word tumbling out of his mouth, over and over--he landed; sand spraying away from under his feet as he stumbled and lurched to a stop in front of the shape huddled on the ground.
Lex lay on his side; his skin blackened, red and raw in spots. He looked like…a pharaoh. An ancient mummy, sucked dry, withered by the centuries.
Clark dropped down next to the lifeless husk and his hands hovered uncertainly over it. “Lex?” tears fell, “lexlexlexlex…”
And it’s eyes opened—glared red from the sunken sockets.
help me.The beat climbed wildly before slowing down to a barely perceptible thump.
Clark dropped back with a silent scream, but even as his conscious mind was trying to deal with Lex’s resurrection, he was covering him, ripping off his shirt and laying it over him, pitiful useless protection against every thing that had already happened to him and then, he was gone, out of the desert, streaking towards home and safety and…Clark moaned. There was no way; no way Lex was going to survive this….
******
He landed lightly as possible in back of the yellow farmhouse, holding Lex carefully. Adam came out to meet him, anger and worry plain on his face.
“Clark, what the hell is happening?” He snapped, “We haven’t heard from you in days—your parents were worried, and I was scared…”
Clark could see the anxious faces of his parents from the kitchen window. He shivered and tried not to hold Lex too tightly.
Adam came closer, and Clark took a step back.
“Clark…Clark…Jesus! What the hell is that?” His features twisted in revulsion for a moment, and Clark screamed.
“Get away--get away from us!” and leaped away again.
Adam watched him disappear as the Kents rushed forward. “Where’s he going? What’s wrong? What was that?”
Adam reached out to them, a sick feeling washing over him… “Lex.”
******
Clark laid Lex on the bed—in his bedroom. Lex was silent, still, twisted—lifeless. Only the occasional beat of his heart kept Clark from losing his mind. He ran to the bathroom and wet a towel, brought in back to lay over Lex’s blackened skin. Almost immediately he heard the skin crack, and to his horror, it peeled away…Lex let out the ghost of a groan and when Clark pulled the towel back, it took the cracked skin with it. He gasped…under the strips, lay new pink skin. As he watched, it healed. He looked beneath the surface, and saw…skin being rebuilt, frantically, the cells knitting wildly trying to rebuild what was lost. It was impossible, it was frightening, but it was happening. Lex moaned and moaned and Clark was nearly frantic, “What can I do, Lex? How can I help?” He bit his lip and gently as possible pulled back the skin—the shell, Clark thought, removed all the loose pieces, the flaking bits, until most was gone, and Lex was pale, pale pink. His skin was crisscrossed with blue veins and he shuddered, slow waves swept him as Clark worked on him.
Lex’s voice startled him—he hadn’t expected him to be--had hoped he wasn’t—conscious. It was a barely audible dry rattle of sound, like leaves in the wind. “Sleep…sleep…”
Clark nodded, yes, all right; he wanted to sleep, good, good. He’d wait until he woke up again, and they’d figure out what to do together, because Lex would be fine soon, he’d be all right again. Lex was unbeatable. Clark leaned against the headboard, a fingertip on Lex’s ankle— hoped it didn’t hurt to touch him.
Clark woke and he wasn’t sure if it was minutes or hours or days. There was a tray next to him, on the nightstand, a cold mug of tea sat on it, and a little pile of sandwiches. He felt a little warmer at the sight. There was a blanket over his knees, and nothing on Lex, who was bright pink from head to toe, and skeletally thin, so terribly thin, Clark could see every bone, he could see every pulse point throb—and he heard constant tiny whispers, tiny moans of pain, ….Clark cried at the thought of what Lex was going through in his sleep.
Lex slept for days, out to the world. Between himself, Adam and his parents, they managed to keep a little water in him, every so often he woke enough to take some broth and was out again…Clark and Adam argued constantly about sending for Toby. Adam wanted Lex to be looked after by a doctor, he wanted him in a hospital. “He’s a Luthor, we can buy anonymity, we can buy a fucking hospital. He’ll be safe, Clark—and maybe, they can find out what happened to him—is happening to him.”
Clark refused—he felt deep down that letting anyone know that Lex was alive was a mistake…he couldn’t explain—he just knew it would be a bad thing to do. And he pointed out to Adam that he seemed to be repairing himself without help. He looked less--raw--God, less on the edge of death. He begged Adam for a few more days—if Lex didn’t wake then, he’d do whatever Adam wanted. Adam finally gave in to Clark—and Lex woke not soon after.
The first thing he did was scream, and scream until he didn’t have the strength to. He turned to sobbing when his strength ran out. The sheets hurt him, their hands hurt him, the air hurt him. Cool damp cloths hurt him. Feeding him caused him pain, swallowing made him hurt, and Clark…Adam finally sent him out, told him not to return until he could stop hurting Lex with his behavior. He suffered too openly for Lex to deal with.
******
Clark stomped off to the farmhouse, vibrating with anger and having to imagine the cold peace of space to cool off. He thought again about the huge globe floating out in space, all the pain and hurt and sorrow assaulting everyone, pain that people handled, lived with every day, and most of them were doing a much better job than he was at the moment. He slowed a little, calming. Nothing like a sense of shame to kill a tantrum, he thought, with a grim smile.
By the time he reached the house, he was cooled down enough to enter. His mom and dad were in the kitchen—they looked startled and then a little fearful to see him.
“Son—is Lex…” his dad rose from his chair, concern on his face.
“No. He’s…okay. Adam made me leave.”
“Oh? Oh!” He gestured Clark over, made him sit in his chair. “Here, you finish this pie, I have to go close up the sheds anyway. Why don’t you relax for a few minutes?”
Clark tried to protest, and his dad put a hand on his shoulder, squeezed lightly. “It’s okay, you know—to take a minute for yourself. He understands. He’d want you to.”
Clark gave him a small smile. They were trying hard, his parents. He should—would—meet them halfway.
“Thanks Dad.”
His dad nodded, patted his back and gave his mom a quick hug before letting himself out the backdoor, and his mom closed it behind him. She turned to look at Clark, and he could see the love—and guilt—she felt. Clark sighed and dropped his head, concentrated on eating the pie and avoiding his mother’s eyes.
He finished, and took the plate to the sink. She was standing there, running hot water and soapsuds in to the basin, and suddenly he was completely overcome with the need for contact, for a hug. He stood frozen, his hands clenching and unclenching…he couldn’t move forward, and couldn’t move away. His mother glanced over at him, and gasped. “Oh, Clark, Clark, baby!”
He broke and she wrapped her arms around him, and for a moment, he felt like a little kid again--safe. She cried on his shoulder, “sorry, sorry, sorry,” and “I love you, we love you, we never meant for this…” and he nodded, pushed his face into her neck, his arms went tight around her, her scent enveloped him, cotton, cinnamon, peaches, White Shoulders and…and a worn kind of smell he’d never noticed before. She was thin under his hands, and her hand on his face was dry and soft…he took it and held it in his …he’d not noticed how lined it was before… “I—I”…love you. Love you so much
She nodded, and wiped his face, kissed his cheek. “Go on back now. It’ll be fine. Lex has strength we can’t even imagine.”
He nodded and stepped back, shy again. “Okay. I’ll be—back. Tomorrow.”
******
“What happened? What went on, Lex?” Lex shook his head, and let Adam rub his lips gently with a damp cold cloth. “You don’t remember—or you don’t want to say?”
Lex touched Adam’s wrist gently, begging for him to stop, and Adam nodded grimly. “All right—but I want to know who did this, because I plan to make them hurt, hurt beyond--”
“Dead. All.” Lex closed his eyes, and Adam looked down at him, his bright pink shiny skin—he looked like he was made of cheap plastic…something in him told him that this being wasn’t Lex at all. Not the Lex they’d taken, who ever they were—this Lex was something else. Someone else. The thin hot hand drew along his wrist, soft, and caressing, and Adam fought back tears. He missed Lex terribly.
“B’better soon…” Lex stilled all over and Adam thought he was asleep. He pulled away a little and when he did, Lex whispered, “Clark?”
“I’ll bring him in when he comes back. I sent him home to take a breather, told him he needed to eat.”
Lex made a little noise of surprise. “Really? He doesn’t, not really…” his voice trailed off as he dropped back into sleep, and Adam stared down at him—what the fuck?
fandom: SV
rating:3
pairing: Clark/Lex
Dropping through the clouds to float above the desert floor, he could see footprints of glass, leading from a collapsed hole in the ground. Acrid clouds of dust and dirt and smoke rose upward, the smell of blood even from that far below assaulting him. Under the creak and crack of cooling metal and stone, he picked up the distinct sound of a heartbeat, so very slow, and slowing with each passing moment. He turned toward it, rushed in the direction.
At the end of the trail a blackened skeleton laid curled on the ochre sand, hands under it’s head like a sleeping baby, still and quiet. The beat quieted, stuttered a few times, stopped.
“No. No.” He could feel the word tumbling out of his mouth, over and over--he landed; sand spraying away from under his feet as he stumbled and lurched to a stop in front of the shape huddled on the ground.
Lex lay on his side; his skin blackened, red and raw in spots. He looked like…a pharaoh. An ancient mummy, sucked dry, withered by the centuries.
Clark dropped down next to the lifeless husk and his hands hovered uncertainly over it. “Lex?” tears fell, “lexlexlexlex…”
And it’s eyes opened—glared red from the sunken sockets.
help me.The beat climbed wildly before slowing down to a barely perceptible thump.
Clark dropped back with a silent scream, but even as his conscious mind was trying to deal with Lex’s resurrection, he was covering him, ripping off his shirt and laying it over him, pitiful useless protection against every thing that had already happened to him and then, he was gone, out of the desert, streaking towards home and safety and…Clark moaned. There was no way; no way Lex was going to survive this….
******
He landed lightly as possible in back of the yellow farmhouse, holding Lex carefully. Adam came out to meet him, anger and worry plain on his face.
“Clark, what the hell is happening?” He snapped, “We haven’t heard from you in days—your parents were worried, and I was scared…”
Clark could see the anxious faces of his parents from the kitchen window. He shivered and tried not to hold Lex too tightly.
Adam came closer, and Clark took a step back.
“Clark…Clark…Jesus! What the hell is that?” His features twisted in revulsion for a moment, and Clark screamed.
“Get away--get away from us!” and leaped away again.
Adam watched him disappear as the Kents rushed forward. “Where’s he going? What’s wrong? What was that?”
Adam reached out to them, a sick feeling washing over him… “Lex.”
******
Clark laid Lex on the bed—in his bedroom. Lex was silent, still, twisted—lifeless. Only the occasional beat of his heart kept Clark from losing his mind. He ran to the bathroom and wet a towel, brought in back to lay over Lex’s blackened skin. Almost immediately he heard the skin crack, and to his horror, it peeled away…Lex let out the ghost of a groan and when Clark pulled the towel back, it took the cracked skin with it. He gasped…under the strips, lay new pink skin. As he watched, it healed. He looked beneath the surface, and saw…skin being rebuilt, frantically, the cells knitting wildly trying to rebuild what was lost. It was impossible, it was frightening, but it was happening. Lex moaned and moaned and Clark was nearly frantic, “What can I do, Lex? How can I help?” He bit his lip and gently as possible pulled back the skin—the shell, Clark thought, removed all the loose pieces, the flaking bits, until most was gone, and Lex was pale, pale pink. His skin was crisscrossed with blue veins and he shuddered, slow waves swept him as Clark worked on him.
Lex’s voice startled him—he hadn’t expected him to be--had hoped he wasn’t—conscious. It was a barely audible dry rattle of sound, like leaves in the wind. “Sleep…sleep…”
Clark nodded, yes, all right; he wanted to sleep, good, good. He’d wait until he woke up again, and they’d figure out what to do together, because Lex would be fine soon, he’d be all right again. Lex was unbeatable. Clark leaned against the headboard, a fingertip on Lex’s ankle— hoped it didn’t hurt to touch him.
Clark woke and he wasn’t sure if it was minutes or hours or days. There was a tray next to him, on the nightstand, a cold mug of tea sat on it, and a little pile of sandwiches. He felt a little warmer at the sight. There was a blanket over his knees, and nothing on Lex, who was bright pink from head to toe, and skeletally thin, so terribly thin, Clark could see every bone, he could see every pulse point throb—and he heard constant tiny whispers, tiny moans of pain, ….Clark cried at the thought of what Lex was going through in his sleep.
Lex slept for days, out to the world. Between himself, Adam and his parents, they managed to keep a little water in him, every so often he woke enough to take some broth and was out again…Clark and Adam argued constantly about sending for Toby. Adam wanted Lex to be looked after by a doctor, he wanted him in a hospital. “He’s a Luthor, we can buy anonymity, we can buy a fucking hospital. He’ll be safe, Clark—and maybe, they can find out what happened to him—is happening to him.”
Clark refused—he felt deep down that letting anyone know that Lex was alive was a mistake…he couldn’t explain—he just knew it would be a bad thing to do. And he pointed out to Adam that he seemed to be repairing himself without help. He looked less--raw--God, less on the edge of death. He begged Adam for a few more days—if Lex didn’t wake then, he’d do whatever Adam wanted. Adam finally gave in to Clark—and Lex woke not soon after.
The first thing he did was scream, and scream until he didn’t have the strength to. He turned to sobbing when his strength ran out. The sheets hurt him, their hands hurt him, the air hurt him. Cool damp cloths hurt him. Feeding him caused him pain, swallowing made him hurt, and Clark…Adam finally sent him out, told him not to return until he could stop hurting Lex with his behavior. He suffered too openly for Lex to deal with.
******
Clark stomped off to the farmhouse, vibrating with anger and having to imagine the cold peace of space to cool off. He thought again about the huge globe floating out in space, all the pain and hurt and sorrow assaulting everyone, pain that people handled, lived with every day, and most of them were doing a much better job than he was at the moment. He slowed a little, calming. Nothing like a sense of shame to kill a tantrum, he thought, with a grim smile.
By the time he reached the house, he was cooled down enough to enter. His mom and dad were in the kitchen—they looked startled and then a little fearful to see him.
“Son—is Lex…” his dad rose from his chair, concern on his face.
“No. He’s…okay. Adam made me leave.”
“Oh? Oh!” He gestured Clark over, made him sit in his chair. “Here, you finish this pie, I have to go close up the sheds anyway. Why don’t you relax for a few minutes?”
Clark tried to protest, and his dad put a hand on his shoulder, squeezed lightly. “It’s okay, you know—to take a minute for yourself. He understands. He’d want you to.”
Clark gave him a small smile. They were trying hard, his parents. He should—would—meet them halfway.
“Thanks Dad.”
His dad nodded, patted his back and gave his mom a quick hug before letting himself out the backdoor, and his mom closed it behind him. She turned to look at Clark, and he could see the love—and guilt—she felt. Clark sighed and dropped his head, concentrated on eating the pie and avoiding his mother’s eyes.
He finished, and took the plate to the sink. She was standing there, running hot water and soapsuds in to the basin, and suddenly he was completely overcome with the need for contact, for a hug. He stood frozen, his hands clenching and unclenching…he couldn’t move forward, and couldn’t move away. His mother glanced over at him, and gasped. “Oh, Clark, Clark, baby!”
He broke and she wrapped her arms around him, and for a moment, he felt like a little kid again--safe. She cried on his shoulder, “sorry, sorry, sorry,” and “I love you, we love you, we never meant for this…” and he nodded, pushed his face into her neck, his arms went tight around her, her scent enveloped him, cotton, cinnamon, peaches, White Shoulders and…and a worn kind of smell he’d never noticed before. She was thin under his hands, and her hand on his face was dry and soft…he took it and held it in his …he’d not noticed how lined it was before… “I—I”…love you. Love you so much
She nodded, and wiped his face, kissed his cheek. “Go on back now. It’ll be fine. Lex has strength we can’t even imagine.”
He nodded and stepped back, shy again. “Okay. I’ll be—back. Tomorrow.”
******
“What happened? What went on, Lex?” Lex shook his head, and let Adam rub his lips gently with a damp cold cloth. “You don’t remember—or you don’t want to say?”
Lex touched Adam’s wrist gently, begging for him to stop, and Adam nodded grimly. “All right—but I want to know who did this, because I plan to make them hurt, hurt beyond--”
“Dead. All.” Lex closed his eyes, and Adam looked down at him, his bright pink shiny skin—he looked like he was made of cheap plastic…something in him told him that this being wasn’t Lex at all. Not the Lex they’d taken, who ever they were—this Lex was something else. Someone else. The thin hot hand drew along his wrist, soft, and caressing, and Adam fought back tears. He missed Lex terribly.
“B’better soon…” Lex stilled all over and Adam thought he was asleep. He pulled away a little and when he did, Lex whispered, “Clark?”
“I’ll bring him in when he comes back. I sent him home to take a breather, told him he needed to eat.”
Lex made a little noise of surprise. “Really? He doesn’t, not really…” his voice trailed off as he dropped back into sleep, and Adam stared down at him—what the fuck?
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