fic post:Mariposa

[roxy]

Title:Mariposa
Fandom: SV
Pairing: Clark/Lex
Rating:2
Summary: an AU version of the story we love.


The Previous Parts are here, wondering…What’s dustandroses doing tonight?




The Black Angel’s….


Lex was walking before he realized it, standing out side of Lucas’ door. He knocked. “Hey, I’m coming in.”

There he was, crouched in the middle of Lucas’ bed, red-faced, red eyed. He’d pulled the comforter off the bed and wrapped it around himself. “Don’t come in here,” he yelled. Lex ignored him and sat on the edge of the bed.

“Don’t,” Clark yelled, “Don’t touch me!”

“I won’t. I won’t, I promise. Just let me talk to you.”

“What about? There’s nothing to say—I’m shit. You know it and won’t touch me; Lucas knows it and treats me like—like…a whore.” Clark dropped his head. “All I want is someone to care—I feel like I’m going to die and no one will know, or care.”

“Oh Clark, that’s not true, it’s very much not true. You have so many people who care—and I know it might feel like it sometimes, but you can’t die of a broken heart.” Lex winced—a broken heart? Where the hell had that come from?

Clark shook his head. “You don’t understand. I *killed* Whitney, and I killed Buddy—I had to leave home, so I didn’t hurt my parents too or hurt the baby…

For one brief sharp moment Lex took Clark literally—he thought, ‘we can move to Canada, or Mexico, somewhere overseas’ …and logic told him, this kid was not a killer. Clark had lost friends, but he wasn’t personally responsible. “Clark… whatever happened; it couldn’t have been your fault.” That, he was sure of. He’d find out the full story later.

“It was my fault!” Clark cried. “If I’d been paying attention, if I hadn’t distracted Whitney--Whitney—I miss him so much. I miss him, Lex. And god, he’s been gone longer than we were together—how is that fair? How is that right?—I should have died, too.”

Lex pulled him close and held as much of Clark as he could with the bulk of the comforter in the way. “Don’t talk like that, he wouldn’t want that, he wants you to live, no one who loved you would want you to die.” He babbled something, anything just to keep up a constant stream of sound, trying to comfort Clark. Trying to distract himself from visions—flashbacks— of his own life—crying, wishing he was dead because he thought *love* had abandoned him. God, he hoped whoever the fuck Whitney was, he had actually loved Clark.

After a bit Clark calmed enough to talk. “Whit took care of me; he helped me so much…”

Lex patted his back, rubbed circles through the thick material of the comforter. “That blonde guy at the plant, the one whose stretcher you chased--was he your boyfriend?”

“Blonde guy…you…you remember that? You remember me? I thought you didn’t…you were kind of…”

“Clark, even fucked up as I was--both times—you’re hard to forget. You’re really hard to forget.”

Clark gave him a wobbly smile. “I’m not anything special. You should have known Whitney. He was amazing. He was so brave, tried so hard to be something for everyone.” Clark’s eyes clouded again. “He put others before himself, always. He was a hero, you know? He saved me more than once.”

“Hey…you’re a hero too, you saved me.” Lex could feel that Clark was calm again, and let him go, put some space between them.

Clark snorted. “Oh my god—saved you? That’s so funny.”

“Why is it funny? Because I’ll have you know, it’s been a favorite memory of mine for a long time—the time an unbelievably handsome guy stopped me from driving off a bridge, and then helped me pull my car out of a ditch. Good memory. I don’t have many good ones—or clear ones--from that time, you know.” Lex smiled at Clark, and Clark blushed.

“Yeah…well, everyone else saw it a little different. They didn’t think me waving my arms and yelling stop was that big a deal. Thanks for thinking it was, though.”

“My hero.” Clark smiled a little more genuinely at that, and Lex wondered if it was a sin to imagine that smile opening to take him in, wrap around his dick—he shook himself a little. ‘Pervert.’ “Can I get you to come out to the kitchen with me? Get something---some tea?” ‘I might need a tranquilizer’…

Clark nodded.

“Come on, then. Let’s not waste this beautiful day; we can sit in the sun and you can tell me all about him.”

******


The sun was setting, and it was getting cooler, and stars were beginning to dot the sky…Clark was still talking about Smallville, his parents, his friends, his Whitney. Lex listened, and wondered if Clark could ever feel anything for him like he felt for this apparently saintly jock. Clark talked and talked, and they still hadn’t gotten to what it was that made him run, what started him on this road. He seemed to be completely open and honest, but there was something Clark was keeping back. Lex could understand that, respect that—one should never give everything away, certainly not without the promise of something in return…but if he happened to find out what Clark wasn’t saying on his own, well...

“…then Lucas took me, and Van kept everything I had left. I managed to keep that jacket the whole time I was on the street, even that—that—Jake brought it to me, even he knew how important it was to me.”

“Guilt,” Lex said, and Clark nodded.

“And I guess Van must have realized how important it was, too. He took it but I kept this. All I have left of Whitney, and my--my life.” Clark held up his hand, and twirled the heavy ring on his finger, cheap and clunky looking, a cabochon cut piece of red glass or cheap stone winked in the dying light of the sun. Lex tried not to make a face at it—the ring was seriously ugly. The stone looked…weird. Odd. It was too ugly a thing; he almost wanted to say evil, to be a token of love. He reached out to touch it and Clark flinched back. “Oh, I’m sorry…you can touch it. If you want.” he held his hand out again, and a tremor ran through it. Lex carefully touched the ring, slid a finger over the stone—it was skin temperature from the warmth of Clarks hand…he lost control and let his finger glide over the smooth back of Clark’s hand, and Clark shuddered. “Lex…”

“Clark, I wish I could make everything better for you.”

Clark’s eyes seemed to flash red—he leaned over and grabbed Lex’s hand, stroked his thumb across the palm. “You can. Make me feel better.” He smiled, and that fantasy of Clark’s mouth and what it could do came back full force with a nearly painful jolt. The look Clark gave him was meant to be seductive…and it was. Clark looked like he’d offer anything, do anything…shit. It wasn’t hard to imagine what Clark knew how to do…

Damn it. “Clark.” He pulled his hand free, and grabbed his own knee. Hard.

Clark sighed. “All right, all right.” He twisted the ring on his finger, looking more and more lost, like all the progress he’d made was evaporating under the weight of sorrow. His eyes locked with Lex’s—Lex could see the change take place, watched pain morph into fury. His eyes gleamed red, anger made him look sharp and angular, ivory bone on fire inside.

“You know what? I’m fucking sick of whining and fucking sick of begging for this all to be over, and—just sick and tired of everything. I don’t want to remember what I’ve lost—I don’t want to remember *anything*!” He yanked off the ring and threw it—it sailed up and out over the balcony railing, winked a bright, bright red, and sailed out into space--

Clark screamed, a high pitched shriek of sound that froze Lex in place, a sound that beat painfully against his eardrums, stopped the breath in his throat and pierced his heart—Clark was running to the railing, hands grasping air, reaching out,

“Fuck!”

Lex scrambled after, tackled Clark hard and they both crashed to the ground, rolling painfully into the wall. Clark flailed wildly for a second, he screamed, “No no no!! I have to have it back, I have to have it!” and just as suddenly as he’d been gripped by fury, he collapsed.

Lex was straddling Clark; his eyes were blank—black. It scared the hell out of him. Clark looked gone, empty and shuttered. “Clark!” Lex shook him hard, shook him until Clark’s head wobbled on his shoulders, accidentally slammed his head into the concrete wall, and Clark yelled.

“Ow!”

“Clark! Jesus--”

Clark shuddered under Lex, looked at him out of huge stunned eyes. He blinked a time or two, and gasped. “Oh my god—what have I done? Oh my god…Lex.”

“Clark. Clark. Are you all right?” Lex had his fingers twisted tightly in the collar of Clark’s shirt, afraid to let go even as he climbed off, and pulled Clark up to sit. A little blood ran into his collar, and Lex winced. He’d really slammed him hard….

“All right? Hell no. I’m not all right at all. I’m so far from all right, it’s insane.” Clark stared around, murmured, “It’s gotta be a nightmare. This can’t be happening.”

Lex recognized Clark’s look, he used to get that look, too--when he’d been up for days in a row, fucking his way through what felt like the city, aided with the magic of alcohol and chemicals. The good old days. “Come inside, Clark, please. Please come with me.”

Clark readily agreed, hanging onto Lex’s arm, grabbing his hand, looking around as if it was the first time he’d seen the penthouse. “This is yours and Lucas’,” he muttered, “This is Metropolis, and I’ve been…” he looked at Lex, his eyes like coals in his too white face, even his lips were white. “I’ve been doing horrible things. Horrible things happened to me. Lex.” He grabbed Lex’s shoulder. “I need help.”

“I’ll help. I’ve been trying to. I have.”

Clark nodded. “I’m ready…I keep saying that to you, don’t I? He tried to smile, but it broke and slid away, and Lex tried to ignore the tears that fell.


Hurt. Hurthurt hurt. Hurt. Oh my god the hurt. The black tore a huge hole in me, it left me…Breathe, I’m trying to breathe and my chest feels like an elephant is standing on it and what’s happening? How did I get here? How did those things happen, how did I not care? I don’t understand—all the pain that I thought I left behind in Smallville was just cramped up inside me—I see it all again. All of it again. Whitney, and Buddy, Buddy. How did I get here? I want my mom, I want my dad.

I want to go home.

I want Whitney. I don’t want to be alone.

Blink my eyes and I’m above a huge sweep of grass, it’s snowing, the flakes hit my face and feel so good, cold--they melt instantly, run down my face like tears. The sun is high and red, and something is flying in the sky, dipping through pink and bronze clouds, a hawk or…something…with a long, long tail. The name is almost there, on the tip of my tongue. I know this bird. It’s—

A hand on my arm sends a warm shiver through me. The Boy is next to me, he’s so nice and warm, I lean into him and feel Home.

Arms wrap around me, and I’m flying, and he says, Kal, change is coming and it’s going to seem like the most awful thing ever, worse than this pain, worse than losing Whit, worse than losing Lex. But when it comes don’t run from it, run into it. Take it in. You won’t believe how good things will become. I’m so sorry for the pain that is coming. There’s the ghost of a kiss and I’m alone.

Hurt? It’s hurting now, it can’t get worse.

It hurts that I’m betraying Whit. It hurts that I made my parents suffer, it hurts that…Bobbie, Van…so much blood. Things happened and I didn’t move. I didn’t stop it. I watched and watched and I let them do terrible terrible things…

Whitney would never have done that.



TBC….

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