fic post:Mariposa
12/23/06 03:38 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxyTitle:Mariposa
Fandom: SV
Pairing: Clark/Whit…
Rating: 1
Summary: No animals were harmed in the creation of this AU.
Sort of an in-betweeny bit, this. I'm hoping it helps me focus on the coming section, and not on the one waaaay down the line. *kicks brain*
Previous Parts are here, dunking your neighbor in a tub of ice—it’s kidney harvesting time!
Clark was sitting on the edge of an exam table, waiting to be released. The nurse with him assured him his parents were waiting in the lobby to pick him up—that his friend was fine, and he could speak to him right after he spoke with Mr. Luthor’s man. She told him it wasn’t an option-- no one was leaving the clinic until they’d talked to Mr. Luthor. The man must have more money than God, he thought, in order to make the doctors and Smallville cops practically dance to his tune. He’d been--not exactly ignored--but after a quick exam revealed no injuries, he got a pat on the back and a paper cup with a few pills rolling about the bottom. “Something to help calm you,” the nurse had smiled, and finally left Clark alone in the chilly exam room. Clark stared at the little pills thoughtfully, wondered if he should take them, shook his head. It was over, he was fine. Ready to go home. He jumped down from the table and picked up his shirt; grimaced at the stiff dark spots on the collar and sleeves…he rolled it in a ball and crammed it into the garbage pail. His t-shirt would have to do—nothing in the world would make him ever wear that shirt again.
There was a tap on the door, and a long lean form slouched in the doorway.
“Still here and bored. Dad’s interviewing all the kids from the event…so. I know you, don’t I?”
Clark thanked God he wasn’t blushing for once. “No, I don’t think so.”
Lex Luthor tilted his head just a bit, raised an eyebrow, and glided into the room—it was the only way Clark could describe the movement. He smirked at Clark, grey eyes sweeping him from head to toe, doing that disconcerting x-ray vision thing he’d done at the plant--as if he was looking beneath his clothes—deeper than that, even--right into his brain.
Lex…calling him by his first name, if only in his mind, was oddly intimate. He rolled the name silently in his mouth….Lex was idly chewing gum, his lips quirked, and a muscle on his jaw worked and Clark suddenly, horribly, had a complete mental picture of Lex swallowing him—‘Oh, I’m so sorry Whit,’ he apologized silently, and tried to cover his guilty start.
Lex licked at a scar on his upper lip. “You sick?”
“Better now,” Clark replied. Something about their terse conversation made him smile, and Lex looked mildly surprised, but smiled back. It was a real smile, and it did something to Clark. He had to look down to reset his expression.
“Gum?” the man asked, and before Clark could move, he was inches from him, close enough that Clark could smell mint, and an incredible cologne, like nothing he’d ever smelled before in his life…heat rolled off the slim body and Clark tried to move back without seeming to. Lex’s voice warmed his ear, made him tingle. “I do know you,” he murmured.
There was a commotion in the hallway, and the warmth peeled away from Lex’s expression. Now he looked disdainful and amused at Clark’s expense. He turned to face the doorway—
“Lex. Wait in the hall, this won’t take a moment.” Lionel Luthor and a group of identical guys in suits burst into the room. Eyes cold and sharp as lasers bored into Clark’s. “A moment of your time, mister…”
“Kent,” one of the faceless suits provided. “Clark Kent.”
Clark answered the questions asked of him with half of his attention; the rest was focused on Lex Luthor—and guilt. He was getting very familiar with guilt.
*****
Scary Monsters
I’m sitting on the bus, and it’s dark, all the other seats are empty. I can’t see the driver, but that doesn’t bother me, there must be a driver because we’re moving. As I’m thinking that, the bus slows, comes to a stop. The doors sigh open and someone gets on. They head right to me, gracing me with a wide smile and I see it’s the Boy, my friend. I’m so happy.
He sits next to me, and I have to smile too. This feeling I get—it’s huge and warm, like love. He’s so…good, this boy. He’s just such a good person you have to love him, reach out for him. I touch his shoulder and it’s so hot, it surprises me…
Hey. I missed you today, he says and I know it means we spend everyday together, closer than brothers. He’s my heart, and I’m his soul. I see it in his ocean green eyes, the curve of his red, red lips. I know I’ve known him my whole life, this magic Boy.
Let’s have fun—I want to show you something cool, the Boy says and the bus stops. We get off, and we’re in the bus depot. No one is here, no voices no sound…he takes my hand and we’re running, laughing…he’s so alive, so much fun. I want to be as free and happy, as beautiful as he is, and he says you are, dummy, of course you are. He stops and takes both my hands and for one awfulamazing second, I think he’s going to kiss me but he says, look up.
I look up and suddenly—we’re zooming into the sky and I’m screaming--no I’m laughing and I realize that I was *never* afraid of heights, I just wasn’t ready to fly yet. You see, he says, it’s so easy. Are you ready? I nod, yes! and he swings me around, laughing his wonderful laugh and he lets go of my hands and I zoom higher higher, I’m flying---
Clark woke up with his face wet, and no idea why—he wasn’t sure if his dream had been that terribly sad, or incredibly happy, he didn’t remember any of it—he just knew that he was crying. He glanced over at the TV muttering away on his dresser, had been all night long. He’d forgotten to set the sleep timer again and he was in for it if Dad heard.
He glanced at the screen.
Any rational thought crashed—the local news was high-lighting the departure of Lex Luthor and his father. They were boarding a helicopter, leaving Smallville again. He watched and felt like something was being taken from him. His vision blurred. He gulped air, and shook himself like a wet dog—told himself wake up for real this time, because the crying thing was freaky and weird.
He pulled himself out of bed, groaned when he glanced out the window at the sun beginning to crest the barn. Saturday. Fence maintenance today, yippee. Re-stapling and tightening the wire, checking the rails and posts for rot—so much joy. Thank goodness they didn’t have to do it often, but it was no fun on a chilly morning, thermos of hot cocoa or not.
He showered and dressed, and remembered to wear a pair of boot socks over his cotton socks--he hated when his feet got cold--and headed to the kitchen. He could smell breakfast, but his mom wasn’t eating, she had her hands over her mouth, barely muffling a pained moan. “Mom! What’s wrong?”
“Oh Clark,” she gasped. She was bent at the waist and hanging onto the counter for dear life. Her knuckles were white, her face just as pale. “Oh Clark--” She leaned over the garbage can and threw up. “Oh God,” she groaned, “sorry, sorry--”
“Mom, it’s okay!” He quickly ran a glass of water for her. “Here, rinse,” he said, and rubbed her back as she did. “You want some toast, or some crackers?”
She shook her head. “No…no.” She took a deep shaky breath, and sat at the table. Clark set the tea kettle on a burner, and waited for the water to heat. His dad was probably in the truck shed, loading the truck with the supplies they needed. He had time to make his mom a cup of tea, maybe make some toast anyway.
When the toast popped up, he sat a mug and a plate with toast in front of her, and she grabbed a slice without thinking, nibbled on it and Clark doubted she was even aware she was eating. “Oh dear…this isn’t the first time this has happened.” She nibbled a corner from the toast and stopped, staring at the slice in her hand with a mild expression of confusion. “Clark…” She laid the toast back on the plate and sighed. “I’m worried.”
Those two strangely calm words frightened the hell out of Clark. His mom was admitting to being scared? “Mom, call the doctor—make an appointment.” He handed her the phone. “Now. Make one now.”
She mock glared at him. “You’re so pushy. Just like your father.”
“I know you, Mom; you’ll never call unless I watch you. What’s Dad said about this?”
“He doesn’t know.”
“Mom. That’s crazy. Make your appointment and tell Dad, okay?”
She nodded, as she dialed. “See? Calling. Appointmenting.”
He smiled and headed out to start his chores.
****
“Clark.” Chloe tossed her books onto the table, and got a pointed look from the librarian. “Would you be surprised to know that almost any information about Earl Jenkins is gone? That the whole thing got reported as a hostage situation but nothing was mentioned about his condition? And there’s something else--you know that hermit out in the woods?”
Clark finally looked up from his notebook, confused by the abrupt turn into the woods. “Hermit? What hermit?”
“You know, that junk artist, the one that lives in a trailer out there in the woods. He killed somebody.” The librarian shushed her, and Chloe glared back as she dropped her book bag to the floor.
“What? I didn’t hear about a murder.”
“Hardly anyone has. He killed some real estate agent or something. And--he’s gone—I mean really gone, disappeared, left without a trace.”
“Well, that’s not really strange—if he killed the guy, he wouldn’t be sitting around waiting t o be caught.”
“Yeah, but would he burn down his trailer and practically wipe clean any trace of him ever living here? It’s the Spooks, Clark, I’m telling you.” Her look said don’t argue with me, and Clark shook his head.
“Chloe, for God’s sake…” For the last year, she’d been convinced that someone was collecting the oddities in Smallville. Artifacts, meteorites—people. People with strange...afflictions, like Sean, like Earl—they disappeared or died, people around them disappeared…he wanted to believe it was ridiculous. If such a thing were true, than she was putting herself in danger—and he might be in danger himself. “Chloe, you really shouldn’t be poking around where you’re not invited, it’s too risky.
“Oh, like you believe in the W.O.W. Clark. So, here by yourself? Where’s the boyfriend,” she whispered.
“He’s been kind of busy lately.” He dropped his eyes, and Chloe reached over and tilted his head back up. “You know he’s got a lot to do lately. I’m sure it’s nothing—besides, Her Royal Highness has been complaining lately that he’s not around much.”
“See,” he said, “that makes me feel better not at all, thank you.” But he smiled and she grinned back.
“Don’t worry, Clark—everything will be fine, and you and your special friend have the whole summer to spend together, right?
“Stop. What if he goes off to school and forgets all about me? What if I’m just a fling—an experiment?”
She rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically. “First off—Metropolis isn’t that far from here. Second—even if it *was* curiosity at first, you can’t honestly believe that’s the case now. That boy is hooked, leashed and branded.” She stopped a second and leered until Clark nudged her none too gently. “Besides, doesn’t he tell you all the time how much he cares?”
Clark blushed. “How did you know?”
“I didn’t until right now.” She grinned, and bounced to her feet. “Okay—back to class—I’ll see you after school.”
TBC
Fandom: SV
Pairing: Clark/Whit…
Rating: 1
Summary: No animals were harmed in the creation of this AU.
Sort of an in-betweeny bit, this. I'm hoping it helps me focus on the coming section, and not on the one waaaay down the line. *kicks brain*
Previous Parts are here, dunking your neighbor in a tub of ice—it’s kidney harvesting time!
Clark was sitting on the edge of an exam table, waiting to be released. The nurse with him assured him his parents were waiting in the lobby to pick him up—that his friend was fine, and he could speak to him right after he spoke with Mr. Luthor’s man. She told him it wasn’t an option-- no one was leaving the clinic until they’d talked to Mr. Luthor. The man must have more money than God, he thought, in order to make the doctors and Smallville cops practically dance to his tune. He’d been--not exactly ignored--but after a quick exam revealed no injuries, he got a pat on the back and a paper cup with a few pills rolling about the bottom. “Something to help calm you,” the nurse had smiled, and finally left Clark alone in the chilly exam room. Clark stared at the little pills thoughtfully, wondered if he should take them, shook his head. It was over, he was fine. Ready to go home. He jumped down from the table and picked up his shirt; grimaced at the stiff dark spots on the collar and sleeves…he rolled it in a ball and crammed it into the garbage pail. His t-shirt would have to do—nothing in the world would make him ever wear that shirt again.
There was a tap on the door, and a long lean form slouched in the doorway.
“Still here and bored. Dad’s interviewing all the kids from the event…so. I know you, don’t I?”
Clark thanked God he wasn’t blushing for once. “No, I don’t think so.”
Lex Luthor tilted his head just a bit, raised an eyebrow, and glided into the room—it was the only way Clark could describe the movement. He smirked at Clark, grey eyes sweeping him from head to toe, doing that disconcerting x-ray vision thing he’d done at the plant--as if he was looking beneath his clothes—deeper than that, even--right into his brain.
Lex…calling him by his first name, if only in his mind, was oddly intimate. He rolled the name silently in his mouth….Lex was idly chewing gum, his lips quirked, and a muscle on his jaw worked and Clark suddenly, horribly, had a complete mental picture of Lex swallowing him—‘Oh, I’m so sorry Whit,’ he apologized silently, and tried to cover his guilty start.
Lex licked at a scar on his upper lip. “You sick?”
“Better now,” Clark replied. Something about their terse conversation made him smile, and Lex looked mildly surprised, but smiled back. It was a real smile, and it did something to Clark. He had to look down to reset his expression.
“Gum?” the man asked, and before Clark could move, he was inches from him, close enough that Clark could smell mint, and an incredible cologne, like nothing he’d ever smelled before in his life…heat rolled off the slim body and Clark tried to move back without seeming to. Lex’s voice warmed his ear, made him tingle. “I do know you,” he murmured.
There was a commotion in the hallway, and the warmth peeled away from Lex’s expression. Now he looked disdainful and amused at Clark’s expense. He turned to face the doorway—
“Lex. Wait in the hall, this won’t take a moment.” Lionel Luthor and a group of identical guys in suits burst into the room. Eyes cold and sharp as lasers bored into Clark’s. “A moment of your time, mister…”
“Kent,” one of the faceless suits provided. “Clark Kent.”
Clark answered the questions asked of him with half of his attention; the rest was focused on Lex Luthor—and guilt. He was getting very familiar with guilt.
*****
Scary Monsters
I’m sitting on the bus, and it’s dark, all the other seats are empty. I can’t see the driver, but that doesn’t bother me, there must be a driver because we’re moving. As I’m thinking that, the bus slows, comes to a stop. The doors sigh open and someone gets on. They head right to me, gracing me with a wide smile and I see it’s the Boy, my friend. I’m so happy.
He sits next to me, and I have to smile too. This feeling I get—it’s huge and warm, like love. He’s so…good, this boy. He’s just such a good person you have to love him, reach out for him. I touch his shoulder and it’s so hot, it surprises me…
Hey. I missed you today, he says and I know it means we spend everyday together, closer than brothers. He’s my heart, and I’m his soul. I see it in his ocean green eyes, the curve of his red, red lips. I know I’ve known him my whole life, this magic Boy.
Let’s have fun—I want to show you something cool, the Boy says and the bus stops. We get off, and we’re in the bus depot. No one is here, no voices no sound…he takes my hand and we’re running, laughing…he’s so alive, so much fun. I want to be as free and happy, as beautiful as he is, and he says you are, dummy, of course you are. He stops and takes both my hands and for one awfulamazing second, I think he’s going to kiss me but he says, look up.
I look up and suddenly—we’re zooming into the sky and I’m screaming--no I’m laughing and I realize that I was *never* afraid of heights, I just wasn’t ready to fly yet. You see, he says, it’s so easy. Are you ready? I nod, yes! and he swings me around, laughing his wonderful laugh and he lets go of my hands and I zoom higher higher, I’m flying---
Clark woke up with his face wet, and no idea why—he wasn’t sure if his dream had been that terribly sad, or incredibly happy, he didn’t remember any of it—he just knew that he was crying. He glanced over at the TV muttering away on his dresser, had been all night long. He’d forgotten to set the sleep timer again and he was in for it if Dad heard.
He glanced at the screen.
Any rational thought crashed—the local news was high-lighting the departure of Lex Luthor and his father. They were boarding a helicopter, leaving Smallville again. He watched and felt like something was being taken from him. His vision blurred. He gulped air, and shook himself like a wet dog—told himself wake up for real this time, because the crying thing was freaky and weird.
He pulled himself out of bed, groaned when he glanced out the window at the sun beginning to crest the barn. Saturday. Fence maintenance today, yippee. Re-stapling and tightening the wire, checking the rails and posts for rot—so much joy. Thank goodness they didn’t have to do it often, but it was no fun on a chilly morning, thermos of hot cocoa or not.
He showered and dressed, and remembered to wear a pair of boot socks over his cotton socks--he hated when his feet got cold--and headed to the kitchen. He could smell breakfast, but his mom wasn’t eating, she had her hands over her mouth, barely muffling a pained moan. “Mom! What’s wrong?”
“Oh Clark,” she gasped. She was bent at the waist and hanging onto the counter for dear life. Her knuckles were white, her face just as pale. “Oh Clark--” She leaned over the garbage can and threw up. “Oh God,” she groaned, “sorry, sorry--”
“Mom, it’s okay!” He quickly ran a glass of water for her. “Here, rinse,” he said, and rubbed her back as she did. “You want some toast, or some crackers?”
She shook her head. “No…no.” She took a deep shaky breath, and sat at the table. Clark set the tea kettle on a burner, and waited for the water to heat. His dad was probably in the truck shed, loading the truck with the supplies they needed. He had time to make his mom a cup of tea, maybe make some toast anyway.
When the toast popped up, he sat a mug and a plate with toast in front of her, and she grabbed a slice without thinking, nibbled on it and Clark doubted she was even aware she was eating. “Oh dear…this isn’t the first time this has happened.” She nibbled a corner from the toast and stopped, staring at the slice in her hand with a mild expression of confusion. “Clark…” She laid the toast back on the plate and sighed. “I’m worried.”
Those two strangely calm words frightened the hell out of Clark. His mom was admitting to being scared? “Mom, call the doctor—make an appointment.” He handed her the phone. “Now. Make one now.”
She mock glared at him. “You’re so pushy. Just like your father.”
“I know you, Mom; you’ll never call unless I watch you. What’s Dad said about this?”
“He doesn’t know.”
“Mom. That’s crazy. Make your appointment and tell Dad, okay?”
She nodded, as she dialed. “See? Calling. Appointmenting.”
He smiled and headed out to start his chores.
****
“Clark.” Chloe tossed her books onto the table, and got a pointed look from the librarian. “Would you be surprised to know that almost any information about Earl Jenkins is gone? That the whole thing got reported as a hostage situation but nothing was mentioned about his condition? And there’s something else--you know that hermit out in the woods?”
Clark finally looked up from his notebook, confused by the abrupt turn into the woods. “Hermit? What hermit?”
“You know, that junk artist, the one that lives in a trailer out there in the woods. He killed somebody.” The librarian shushed her, and Chloe glared back as she dropped her book bag to the floor.
“What? I didn’t hear about a murder.”
“Hardly anyone has. He killed some real estate agent or something. And--he’s gone—I mean really gone, disappeared, left without a trace.”
“Well, that’s not really strange—if he killed the guy, he wouldn’t be sitting around waiting t o be caught.”
“Yeah, but would he burn down his trailer and practically wipe clean any trace of him ever living here? It’s the Spooks, Clark, I’m telling you.” Her look said don’t argue with me, and Clark shook his head.
“Chloe, for God’s sake…” For the last year, she’d been convinced that someone was collecting the oddities in Smallville. Artifacts, meteorites—people. People with strange...afflictions, like Sean, like Earl—they disappeared or died, people around them disappeared…he wanted to believe it was ridiculous. If such a thing were true, than she was putting herself in danger—and he might be in danger himself. “Chloe, you really shouldn’t be poking around where you’re not invited, it’s too risky.
“Oh, like you believe in the W.O.W. Clark. So, here by yourself? Where’s the boyfriend,” she whispered.
“He’s been kind of busy lately.” He dropped his eyes, and Chloe reached over and tilted his head back up. “You know he’s got a lot to do lately. I’m sure it’s nothing—besides, Her Royal Highness has been complaining lately that he’s not around much.”
“See,” he said, “that makes me feel better not at all, thank you.” But he smiled and she grinned back.
“Don’t worry, Clark—everything will be fine, and you and your special friend have the whole summer to spend together, right?
“Stop. What if he goes off to school and forgets all about me? What if I’m just a fling—an experiment?”
She rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically. “First off—Metropolis isn’t that far from here. Second—even if it *was* curiosity at first, you can’t honestly believe that’s the case now. That boy is hooked, leashed and branded.” She stopped a second and leered until Clark nudged her none too gently. “Besides, doesn’t he tell you all the time how much he cares?”
Clark blushed. “How did you know?”
“I didn’t until right now.” She grinned, and bounced to her feet. “Okay—back to class—I’ll see you after school.”
TBC
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