SV fic post: Transference part 5
6/27/07 11:32 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxyTitle: Transference
Fandom: SV
Pairing: please…
Rating: pg-13
The Previous Parts are here, snorting pepper and giggling….
Clark was back in his apartment; his determination to disappear tanked by his racing mind—he was looking up obituaries—specifically Lex's. He'd never even glanced at it at the time. He'd been at the funeral—of course. No matter what walls had grown between them, despite Lex's hatred of Superman, he'd had to come. He'd told Lois it was to be sure Lex was dead, but when they'd lowered him into the ground, when the first shovelful of soil hit that elaborate coffin, he'd felt such heart ache. It was like…the end of all chances, the proof of failure. The black marble obelisk that crowned Lex's grave pointed out to the world how badly Clark had failed.
He read the Planet's obit first. It was a thinly veiled version of "Good Riddance, You Bastard.' The obituaries in the Journal and the Inquisitor couldn't have been more different, Clark found himself snorting at how Lex's entire life had been skewed to look as though he'd been a selfless model citizen, a paragon of virtue. He felt an odd pang when he realized the laughter came not because the obituary was an incredible example of whitewashing become art, but because if Lex were right here standing next to him, he'd laugh too, and look at Clark with that little gleam in his grey eyes and that crooked little comma of a smile…"…what incredible bullshit, Clark."
Before he could look up newspaper accounts of the accident that had killed Lex, there was a knock at the door, and Lucas pushed it open, stopped in the doorway and smirked. "Damn, you're dressed."
Fantastic. His night was about to get even better.
Lucas walked into his space like he owned it. He passed Clark with a little wave and grin and went directly to the fridge where he grabbed a bottle of juice, opened it and drank right out of the bottle. Open-mouthed with astonishment, Clark suddenly, completely got what had irritated his mother so much when he'd used to do that at home. He watched outraged as Lucas proceeded to empty half the bottle before stopping.
Lucas wiped his thumb over his mouth and said, "So, we were talking about Miles, and how much you're not interested in talking to him. That's fine—give me the address and I'll go."
Clark snatched the juice from Lucas's hand without compensating for human skin—Lucas yelped and cursed. "Any one of your detectives could have found him in a heart beat, Luthor. Why me?" He upended the bottle into the sink.
"Because you know something no one else does. You have something no one else does." Lucas mumbled around the fingers in his mouth and sucked blistered skin pointedly. Clark stumbled a little and tore his eyes away. He let anger steady him.
"What? What is it, so I can give it to you and you can leave."
"Don’t be so impatient, Clark. What're you working on? The book?" He looked at the laptop screen and smiled at Clark. "Ah. I see." He looked awfully pleased and moved around the little apartment, watching Clark out of the corner of his eye. He picked up a book and said, "You know, Lex hated Big Blue, but he loved Clark Kent, the Clark he saw, anyway. It's a shame he didn’t really get to know you…understand what drives you."
"Oh, but you know?" Clark followed Lucas, took the book out of his hand and laid it back where it had been.
"Um. Maybe." Lucas grabbed a pen from Clark's desk and played with it until Clark took that away, too. "Remember how Lex always said he'd do anything for his friends? Well, he might have said it but you live it, all day, every day."
Clark walked away from Lucas, thought seriously about jumping out of a window…he could make it to Barcelona in under a half hour, probably.
"You really would do anything for a friend—anything legal." Lucas smiled. "If Lex had once—even once said, I don't want to do this anymore, you'd have come running to help. Hell, if he'd asked me, I'd have helped him. Because we both had his best interests in mind."
"Lucas, you're a liar. You'd never have stopped Lex; you'd never care enough to."
"Clark, I'm hurt." He turned away from Clark's desk and stared at him, his eyes were cold—not nearly as flat and cold and menacing as Lex's could be, but Lex probably had more practice than Lucas had had…"Not everyone thinks the same way your family does, or loves in the same way. What we had, we Luthors," and Lucas emphasized 'Luthor' with a sneer, "was family, just like yours. So we didn't act like the Cleavers. Dysfunctional or not, we loved each other. You can believe that or not as you choose. Anyway, like I said, give me the address, I'll talk to Miles myself."
Suddenly Clark didn't want Lucas anywhere near Liam Miles. "No, no. I'll talk to him—I'm telling you Lucas, you don’t have anything to worry about--"
"Okay. Record your conversations."
"What? No!"
Lucas made a swooshing sound and flew his hand through the air. "Zoom. How fast do you think Superman can fly—fast enough to be in two places at once—say, Smallville and Metropolis?"
"You sonofa bitch! You keep away from Mom and Dad!"
Lucas stood there wearing a cocky smile and his hands were in his pants pockets and his head tilted and the whole pose was copied directly from Lex, Clark was willing to bet…he debated snapping his neck…
"Clark…do you really, really think I'd hurt your *parents*? You think I'm capable of that? Didn't you just hear me say family was important? Now that I know how little you think of me…" Lucas shook his head. "Hurts, man. It really does."
Clark swallowed, and the impulse to murder faded away, leaving him feeling queasy. "Can you keep the Luthor games for your cousin? I didn't miss them one little bit." He was trying to figure out how to get Lucas out of his apartment when the man suddenly spun and headed for the door.
"I'll leave Miles to you." Lucas stopped in the doorway and said, "Listen—the pictures I gave you really were all I had. I destroyed anything there was about you—because I respect what you do. I wouldn’t jeopardize that." He shrugged and grinned. "I was counting on you believing the worst. But as for playing Luthor games…too late." He grinned. "You're way too much fun. You're like…the family pet." He chuckled when Clark yelled, "Hey!"
"Come on, Clark--if Lex had wanted you dead, he would have made it happen. If he really wanted to hurt you, he would have gone after what was important to you."
Clark stared at the door a long time after Lucas left. He felt incapable of moving. Of coherent thought….
The enormous gall—the nerve—"The brass effing *balls*!"
He was paralyzed with fury—he'd just been compared to a—a—Golden Retriever, his girlfriend had been threatened—and now Lucas was counting on him being too curious to walk away, and it made Clark furious that the little slime ball was right. Damn it. Was he really that fucking transparent or was Lucas that damn good?
*****
Liam managed to get rid of Ed, and thought of a long hot shower longingly. He threw away the food Ed had insisted he bring home, and went into the bedroom. He opened a window, and stripped the linens from the bed, remade the bed with fresh sheets and a clean blanket. He let the water run while he did that—by the time the bed was made, the shower was steaming…he dropped his clothes into a hamper, and climbed into the shower. He washed methodically, every bit of himself, washed every trace of Ed away--any trace of saliva, semen, any faint smell of him. He washed his hair. A few strands washed loose and circled the drain with the suds…Ed had a tendency to yank hard during sex.
The evening wasn't supposed to go this way—the dissatisfaction he'd begun to feel this evening with Ed was worse now…ever since he'd seen the reporter, the feeling had escalated. Unease grew the more he thought of the man. If he was here, he was willing to bet Lucas Luthor was looking for him. He drew his fingers through his hair one last time and got out of the shower. His skin glowed red from the heat of the water, and the temperature change made him momentarily dizzy—he heard Clark Kent's voice again…"Excuse me—don’t I know you?" He shivered, grabbed his towel from the rack and rubbed his skin--hard.
In the living room, wrapped in a thick robe and a glass of wine in his hand, he felt a little more human again. He'd have to deal with Ed. End it. He was tired of being someone's dirty little secret anyway. This thing with Ed brought him no satisfaction. He was good in bed and that was pretty much it. He took a sip and sighed. And Aaron…he might chance letting Aaron know he was gay and totally uninterested in the girls he threw his way.
What Liam wanted again was quiet, privacy…what he'd originally came to Turnersville for. His mistake was letting Jerry get close, and thinking that he could have friends and they wouldn't become a complication. He should have known better—all his life, his so-called friends had brought him nothing but pain. Some things, he thought with a sigh, never changed, not for him.
It was Clark Kent. He was making him feel that way. Maybe Clark Kent and his stupid questions all over town were bringing up a lot of issues he thought he'd buried with the other trash in his life…Lucas was about to come after him, of that he had no doubt, and if he did…Liam wasn't sure he had sufficient defenses against him. He set his glass down on the coffee table, and searched for the remote—turned on the TV when he found it. There was an old, old film on, old already when he'd been young, but it was one of his favorites. He watched the actor glide effortlessly around an art deco stage, hummed along to the music…Liam remembered that he'd briefly wanted to be a dancer, but his—he grew out of the wish. He matured. His goals became much, much greater than that…
Liam leaned his head back against the plush couch, closed his eyes, and wished for peace again…
//// He was standing behind an aircraft carrier sized desk. He was furious, but he knew his expression only reflected scorn…time after time, he'd dealt with—his enemy—the only way he understood, and now he had the gall to invade his space—again. He turned around and walked to the tall windows behind him. He twitched aside gold velvet drapes that fell from the ceiling to puddle on the floor. More light poured in, making the white walls glow. Lex smiled and smoothed the lapels of his white suit. Now…now he could face it again. He turned back to the desk, and asked him to sit, indicating an over stuffed wingchair in front of the desk, slightly lower than the desk. The hand he gestured with was encased in leather…the invader winced at the sight.
Even seated in the low chair, those damn *blue* eyes were on level with his. Bastard. Alien fuck.
"How can I help you, Clark? Oh, pardon me—Super…man.
The being's eyes flashed a brilliant icy blue, his mouth pressed into a thin line. "I've come to warn you—stop what you're doing or you will force me into taking action."
"Stop what you're doing? Now, that's a sweeping statement. A general sort of threat to cover every occasion. Very efficient, *Superman*."
It stood abruptly and backed away. "I wish…I wish."
"Yes? You wish? Do you want to know what I wish?" He came out from his desk, until he was inches from it—him. The alien. He leaned forward, slowly, crowding him against the chair back. "I wish for one moment, just once, you'd have been honest with me. Once."
"Once? Nothing would have been enough for you, Lex. I would have told you, and you'd have wanted more anyway. You wouldn’t have been satisfied until you had me spilt open, until there was nothing left of me."
The eyes on him were a deep sea green, and Lex laughed, and moved closer, until his lips were at the alien's ear. "You're right. But I would have given just as much back." He snaked his tongue out and touched the tip of his ear. "Now, there's nothing left but this and this—is good enough for me…" He dropped his hand into Clark's crotch and squeezed. Clark was already hard—and in the next instant, against the door.
"What—what are you doing?"
"Come on Clark. You know you always wondered. *I* always wondered…" he was unbuttoning his shirt, opening and dropping his pants, pulling his clothes off… "I always wondered why you wouldn't admit that we were more than friends…" it seemed the most natural thing in the world, to take be naked in front of Clark. Clark who looked frightened, aroused…
Clark shook his head, gasped, "I never—you don’t know what it is to be a friend. You don’t know how to have friends do you? I almost feel sorry for you." The inhumanely beautiful features crumbled, and tears stood in his eyes.
"Don't you dare, don't you dare," he screamed, and grabbed the vase of sunflowers, threw it hard as he could at Clark's head, knowing it was pointless…
Glass shattered and flew, flowers and water sprayed the door, the carpet--Clark was gone and he was alone, naked on the wood floor, pieces of his suit under his knees. He was all alone, naked, pathetic and wishing he was dead. He dropped his head and took deep breaths, deep calming breaths. This was good. This needed to happen. His resolve was strengthened, his purpose clear. Clark *had* to die. For the sake of humanity…///
Liam woke up all at once, staring at the ceiling. Fuck. That dream…so real…it reminded him of something from his past, something he'd almost forgotten. These dreams…his subconscious was working over time.
*****
///…Clark was gone and he was alone, naked on the wood floor, pieces of his suit under his knees. He was all alone, naked, pathetic and wishing he was dead. He dropped his head and took deep breaths, deep calming breaths. This was good. This needed to happen. Now he knew for certain. His resolve was strengthened, his purpose clear. Clark *had* to die. For the good of humanity…..///
Clark woke up, gasping for breath, hot tears running down his face and a huge hollow ache in his middle. Damn it—why did this keep happening to him? It was like going insane in his sleep. For once, he was wide awake, so he got out of bed and headed out to the living room and the laptop. Might as well do some work…
Work on the book didn't progress as well as he'd hoped. He worked for some time on one of the main characters in his book, changing and refining his speech patterns before he was satisfied with it—only to delete all of his work when he realized whose voice the character had.
Lex.
Lex had been a bastard, a pathetic bastard and he didn't want to think about him, or feel sorry for him, he didn’t want to remember good times, or when he'd felt like Lex was the only one who understood him. He didn’t want to see a Lex whose eyes were warm and full of…of love and not the man whose eyes flashed with ice-cold hatred….and more and more lately thoughts of Lex turned his mind to thoughts of that Miles guy.
Miles, who looked so scarily like a young version of Lex, like the Lex of Smallville, before he dedicated himself to out-Lioneling Lionel. He'd really expected a scar, and it threw him when it wasn't there--his upper lip was smooth, a perfect bow…he never got to touch that scar…ah.
Clark shook his head. He had no idea what he meant by that. He did know Liam Miles was something more than a cousin to the Luthors, had to be. And he had the feeling Lucas suspected that also. Another son, maybe? A son would have a firmer basis for a claim on LuthorCorp, Clark thought, and that explained Lucas' interest. More than that, Miles made Lucas nervous, nervous enough to try blackmailing Superman…and anything that made a Luthor nervous bore watching.
TBC
Fandom: SV
Pairing: please…
Rating: pg-13
The Previous Parts are here, snorting pepper and giggling….
Clark was back in his apartment; his determination to disappear tanked by his racing mind—he was looking up obituaries—specifically Lex's. He'd never even glanced at it at the time. He'd been at the funeral—of course. No matter what walls had grown between them, despite Lex's hatred of Superman, he'd had to come. He'd told Lois it was to be sure Lex was dead, but when they'd lowered him into the ground, when the first shovelful of soil hit that elaborate coffin, he'd felt such heart ache. It was like…the end of all chances, the proof of failure. The black marble obelisk that crowned Lex's grave pointed out to the world how badly Clark had failed.
He read the Planet's obit first. It was a thinly veiled version of "Good Riddance, You Bastard.' The obituaries in the Journal and the Inquisitor couldn't have been more different, Clark found himself snorting at how Lex's entire life had been skewed to look as though he'd been a selfless model citizen, a paragon of virtue. He felt an odd pang when he realized the laughter came not because the obituary was an incredible example of whitewashing become art, but because if Lex were right here standing next to him, he'd laugh too, and look at Clark with that little gleam in his grey eyes and that crooked little comma of a smile…"…what incredible bullshit, Clark."
Before he could look up newspaper accounts of the accident that had killed Lex, there was a knock at the door, and Lucas pushed it open, stopped in the doorway and smirked. "Damn, you're dressed."
Fantastic. His night was about to get even better.
Lucas walked into his space like he owned it. He passed Clark with a little wave and grin and went directly to the fridge where he grabbed a bottle of juice, opened it and drank right out of the bottle. Open-mouthed with astonishment, Clark suddenly, completely got what had irritated his mother so much when he'd used to do that at home. He watched outraged as Lucas proceeded to empty half the bottle before stopping.
Lucas wiped his thumb over his mouth and said, "So, we were talking about Miles, and how much you're not interested in talking to him. That's fine—give me the address and I'll go."
Clark snatched the juice from Lucas's hand without compensating for human skin—Lucas yelped and cursed. "Any one of your detectives could have found him in a heart beat, Luthor. Why me?" He upended the bottle into the sink.
"Because you know something no one else does. You have something no one else does." Lucas mumbled around the fingers in his mouth and sucked blistered skin pointedly. Clark stumbled a little and tore his eyes away. He let anger steady him.
"What? What is it, so I can give it to you and you can leave."
"Don’t be so impatient, Clark. What're you working on? The book?" He looked at the laptop screen and smiled at Clark. "Ah. I see." He looked awfully pleased and moved around the little apartment, watching Clark out of the corner of his eye. He picked up a book and said, "You know, Lex hated Big Blue, but he loved Clark Kent, the Clark he saw, anyway. It's a shame he didn’t really get to know you…understand what drives you."
"Oh, but you know?" Clark followed Lucas, took the book out of his hand and laid it back where it had been.
"Um. Maybe." Lucas grabbed a pen from Clark's desk and played with it until Clark took that away, too. "Remember how Lex always said he'd do anything for his friends? Well, he might have said it but you live it, all day, every day."
Clark walked away from Lucas, thought seriously about jumping out of a window…he could make it to Barcelona in under a half hour, probably.
"You really would do anything for a friend—anything legal." Lucas smiled. "If Lex had once—even once said, I don't want to do this anymore, you'd have come running to help. Hell, if he'd asked me, I'd have helped him. Because we both had his best interests in mind."
"Lucas, you're a liar. You'd never have stopped Lex; you'd never care enough to."
"Clark, I'm hurt." He turned away from Clark's desk and stared at him, his eyes were cold—not nearly as flat and cold and menacing as Lex's could be, but Lex probably had more practice than Lucas had had…"Not everyone thinks the same way your family does, or loves in the same way. What we had, we Luthors," and Lucas emphasized 'Luthor' with a sneer, "was family, just like yours. So we didn't act like the Cleavers. Dysfunctional or not, we loved each other. You can believe that or not as you choose. Anyway, like I said, give me the address, I'll talk to Miles myself."
Suddenly Clark didn't want Lucas anywhere near Liam Miles. "No, no. I'll talk to him—I'm telling you Lucas, you don’t have anything to worry about--"
"Okay. Record your conversations."
"What? No!"
Lucas made a swooshing sound and flew his hand through the air. "Zoom. How fast do you think Superman can fly—fast enough to be in two places at once—say, Smallville and Metropolis?"
"You sonofa bitch! You keep away from Mom and Dad!"
Lucas stood there wearing a cocky smile and his hands were in his pants pockets and his head tilted and the whole pose was copied directly from Lex, Clark was willing to bet…he debated snapping his neck…
"Clark…do you really, really think I'd hurt your *parents*? You think I'm capable of that? Didn't you just hear me say family was important? Now that I know how little you think of me…" Lucas shook his head. "Hurts, man. It really does."
Clark swallowed, and the impulse to murder faded away, leaving him feeling queasy. "Can you keep the Luthor games for your cousin? I didn't miss them one little bit." He was trying to figure out how to get Lucas out of his apartment when the man suddenly spun and headed for the door.
"I'll leave Miles to you." Lucas stopped in the doorway and said, "Listen—the pictures I gave you really were all I had. I destroyed anything there was about you—because I respect what you do. I wouldn’t jeopardize that." He shrugged and grinned. "I was counting on you believing the worst. But as for playing Luthor games…too late." He grinned. "You're way too much fun. You're like…the family pet." He chuckled when Clark yelled, "Hey!"
"Come on, Clark--if Lex had wanted you dead, he would have made it happen. If he really wanted to hurt you, he would have gone after what was important to you."
Clark stared at the door a long time after Lucas left. He felt incapable of moving. Of coherent thought….
The enormous gall—the nerve—"The brass effing *balls*!"
He was paralyzed with fury—he'd just been compared to a—a—Golden Retriever, his girlfriend had been threatened—and now Lucas was counting on him being too curious to walk away, and it made Clark furious that the little slime ball was right. Damn it. Was he really that fucking transparent or was Lucas that damn good?
*****
Liam managed to get rid of Ed, and thought of a long hot shower longingly. He threw away the food Ed had insisted he bring home, and went into the bedroom. He opened a window, and stripped the linens from the bed, remade the bed with fresh sheets and a clean blanket. He let the water run while he did that—by the time the bed was made, the shower was steaming…he dropped his clothes into a hamper, and climbed into the shower. He washed methodically, every bit of himself, washed every trace of Ed away--any trace of saliva, semen, any faint smell of him. He washed his hair. A few strands washed loose and circled the drain with the suds…Ed had a tendency to yank hard during sex.
The evening wasn't supposed to go this way—the dissatisfaction he'd begun to feel this evening with Ed was worse now…ever since he'd seen the reporter, the feeling had escalated. Unease grew the more he thought of the man. If he was here, he was willing to bet Lucas Luthor was looking for him. He drew his fingers through his hair one last time and got out of the shower. His skin glowed red from the heat of the water, and the temperature change made him momentarily dizzy—he heard Clark Kent's voice again…"Excuse me—don’t I know you?" He shivered, grabbed his towel from the rack and rubbed his skin--hard.
In the living room, wrapped in a thick robe and a glass of wine in his hand, he felt a little more human again. He'd have to deal with Ed. End it. He was tired of being someone's dirty little secret anyway. This thing with Ed brought him no satisfaction. He was good in bed and that was pretty much it. He took a sip and sighed. And Aaron…he might chance letting Aaron know he was gay and totally uninterested in the girls he threw his way.
What Liam wanted again was quiet, privacy…what he'd originally came to Turnersville for. His mistake was letting Jerry get close, and thinking that he could have friends and they wouldn't become a complication. He should have known better—all his life, his so-called friends had brought him nothing but pain. Some things, he thought with a sigh, never changed, not for him.
It was Clark Kent. He was making him feel that way. Maybe Clark Kent and his stupid questions all over town were bringing up a lot of issues he thought he'd buried with the other trash in his life…Lucas was about to come after him, of that he had no doubt, and if he did…Liam wasn't sure he had sufficient defenses against him. He set his glass down on the coffee table, and searched for the remote—turned on the TV when he found it. There was an old, old film on, old already when he'd been young, but it was one of his favorites. He watched the actor glide effortlessly around an art deco stage, hummed along to the music…Liam remembered that he'd briefly wanted to be a dancer, but his—he grew out of the wish. He matured. His goals became much, much greater than that…
Liam leaned his head back against the plush couch, closed his eyes, and wished for peace again…
//// He was standing behind an aircraft carrier sized desk. He was furious, but he knew his expression only reflected scorn…time after time, he'd dealt with—his enemy—the only way he understood, and now he had the gall to invade his space—again. He turned around and walked to the tall windows behind him. He twitched aside gold velvet drapes that fell from the ceiling to puddle on the floor. More light poured in, making the white walls glow. Lex smiled and smoothed the lapels of his white suit. Now…now he could face it again. He turned back to the desk, and asked him to sit, indicating an over stuffed wingchair in front of the desk, slightly lower than the desk. The hand he gestured with was encased in leather…the invader winced at the sight.
Even seated in the low chair, those damn *blue* eyes were on level with his. Bastard. Alien fuck.
"How can I help you, Clark? Oh, pardon me—Super…man.
The being's eyes flashed a brilliant icy blue, his mouth pressed into a thin line. "I've come to warn you—stop what you're doing or you will force me into taking action."
"Stop what you're doing? Now, that's a sweeping statement. A general sort of threat to cover every occasion. Very efficient, *Superman*."
It stood abruptly and backed away. "I wish…I wish."
"Yes? You wish? Do you want to know what I wish?" He came out from his desk, until he was inches from it—him. The alien. He leaned forward, slowly, crowding him against the chair back. "I wish for one moment, just once, you'd have been honest with me. Once."
"Once? Nothing would have been enough for you, Lex. I would have told you, and you'd have wanted more anyway. You wouldn’t have been satisfied until you had me spilt open, until there was nothing left of me."
The eyes on him were a deep sea green, and Lex laughed, and moved closer, until his lips were at the alien's ear. "You're right. But I would have given just as much back." He snaked his tongue out and touched the tip of his ear. "Now, there's nothing left but this and this—is good enough for me…" He dropped his hand into Clark's crotch and squeezed. Clark was already hard—and in the next instant, against the door.
"What—what are you doing?"
"Come on Clark. You know you always wondered. *I* always wondered…" he was unbuttoning his shirt, opening and dropping his pants, pulling his clothes off… "I always wondered why you wouldn't admit that we were more than friends…" it seemed the most natural thing in the world, to take be naked in front of Clark. Clark who looked frightened, aroused…
Clark shook his head, gasped, "I never—you don’t know what it is to be a friend. You don’t know how to have friends do you? I almost feel sorry for you." The inhumanely beautiful features crumbled, and tears stood in his eyes.
"Don't you dare, don't you dare," he screamed, and grabbed the vase of sunflowers, threw it hard as he could at Clark's head, knowing it was pointless…
Glass shattered and flew, flowers and water sprayed the door, the carpet--Clark was gone and he was alone, naked on the wood floor, pieces of his suit under his knees. He was all alone, naked, pathetic and wishing he was dead. He dropped his head and took deep breaths, deep calming breaths. This was good. This needed to happen. His resolve was strengthened, his purpose clear. Clark *had* to die. For the sake of humanity…///
Liam woke up all at once, staring at the ceiling. Fuck. That dream…so real…it reminded him of something from his past, something he'd almost forgotten. These dreams…his subconscious was working over time.
*****
///…Clark was gone and he was alone, naked on the wood floor, pieces of his suit under his knees. He was all alone, naked, pathetic and wishing he was dead. He dropped his head and took deep breaths, deep calming breaths. This was good. This needed to happen. Now he knew for certain. His resolve was strengthened, his purpose clear. Clark *had* to die. For the good of humanity…..///
Clark woke up, gasping for breath, hot tears running down his face and a huge hollow ache in his middle. Damn it—why did this keep happening to him? It was like going insane in his sleep. For once, he was wide awake, so he got out of bed and headed out to the living room and the laptop. Might as well do some work…
Work on the book didn't progress as well as he'd hoped. He worked for some time on one of the main characters in his book, changing and refining his speech patterns before he was satisfied with it—only to delete all of his work when he realized whose voice the character had.
Lex.
Lex had been a bastard, a pathetic bastard and he didn't want to think about him, or feel sorry for him, he didn’t want to remember good times, or when he'd felt like Lex was the only one who understood him. He didn’t want to see a Lex whose eyes were warm and full of…of love and not the man whose eyes flashed with ice-cold hatred….and more and more lately thoughts of Lex turned his mind to thoughts of that Miles guy.
Miles, who looked so scarily like a young version of Lex, like the Lex of Smallville, before he dedicated himself to out-Lioneling Lionel. He'd really expected a scar, and it threw him when it wasn't there--his upper lip was smooth, a perfect bow…he never got to touch that scar…ah.
Clark shook his head. He had no idea what he meant by that. He did know Liam Miles was something more than a cousin to the Luthors, had to be. And he had the feeling Lucas suspected that also. Another son, maybe? A son would have a firmer basis for a claim on LuthorCorp, Clark thought, and that explained Lucas' interest. More than that, Miles made Lucas nervous, nervous enough to try blackmailing Superman…and anything that made a Luthor nervous bore watching.
TBC
Tags:
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
6/27/07 04:15 pm (UTC)(no subject)
6/27/07 04:28 pm (UTC)(no subject)
6/27/07 06:01 pm (UTC)Maybe i'm getting a clue now! Or not! I don't know!!!
Arrrrrrrgh!!
:)
Um.
Teeny thing, though...He brushed his teeth and stared at the man in the mirror. This wasn't the way the evening was supposed to go—the dissatisfaction he'd begun to feel this evening with Ed was worse now…ever since he'd seen the reporter, the feeling had escalated. Unease grew the more he thought of the man. If he was here, he was willing to bet Lucas Luthor was looking for him. He drew his fingers through his hair one last time and got out of the shower.
He's looking in the mirror, he's still in the shower?
(no subject)
6/27/07 06:38 pm (UTC)(no subject)
6/27/07 07:21 pm (UTC)I'm totally fascinated.
(no subject)
6/27/07 08:06 pm (UTC)(no subject)
6/27/07 08:12 pm (UTC)(no subject)
6/27/07 09:42 pm (UTC)Lucas is delightfully awesome. And hot. I love how annoying and ambiguous he is in this. He'd make a fantastic foil for Superman :D
(no subject)
6/27/07 10:09 pm (UTC)(no subject)
6/27/07 10:19 pm (UTC)(no subject)
6/27/07 11:12 pm (UTC)I have no idea, and no excuse....*dies of blushing*
(no subject)
6/27/07 11:21 pm (UTC)*pet pet pet*
It's okay!
Happens to the best of us.
(no subject)
6/27/07 11:46 pm (UTC)These dreams keep leading to more and more questions. I feel bad for both Liam and Clark with having them.
As much as I want to find out everything about Liam, I'm really enjoying the pace of this. :)
(no subject)
6/28/07 02:22 am (UTC)(no subject)
6/28/07 03:13 am (UTC)*snooooooooooooooooooorrff*
wipes nose on your sleeve*
Thank yeeew.
(no subject)
6/28/07 03:14 am (UTC)Heee! Pretty much, sorta kinda, yep.
(no subject)
6/28/07 03:15 am (UTC)(no subject)
6/28/07 03:16 am (UTC)Don't you just love the smell of fresh updates?
(no subject)
6/28/07 03:17 am (UTC)(no subject)
6/28/07 03:18 am (UTC)(no subject)
6/28/07 03:21 am (UTC)Yeeeeesssss....
(no subject)
6/28/07 05:02 am (UTC)*stares in horror*
*runs to wash...everything*
Dude. Bodily fluids!!
:)
(no subject)
6/28/07 10:17 pm (UTC)(no subject)
6/28/07 10:17 pm (UTC)(no subject)
6/28/07 10:18 pm (UTC)(no subject)
6/28/07 10:19 pm (UTC)(no subject)
6/28/07 10:20 pm (UTC)Oh good! I'm always afraid I'm moving too slowly, and then I speed things up and rush to the end...even if it doesn't seem like it...*G*
(no subject)
6/28/07 10:22 pm (UTC)*pets poor sweet put upon little Lucas*
(no subject)
6/29/07 08:45 am (UTC)(no subject)
6/30/07 11:48 pm (UTC)Liam...I'll put in another vote for Lex!clone - younger, no scar, full head of red hair...I'm wondering how much of his dreams that he remembers since he's now met Clark but hasn't (as far as we know) tied him to the Clark in his dreams.
And poor Clark, having been genuinely hurt by Lex's transformation, to see everything again from Lex's POV, nightmarish and going off into events that never happened (although I'm guessing that the last dream is verbatim from their lives).
I'll put in the sole vote for not hating Lucas. He's much too fun. *g*
(no subject)
7/1/07 12:58 am (UTC)(no subject)
7/1/07 01:02 am (UTC)You're right, all the dreams are skewed events from their lives--it's kind of a mental tearing down, in order to rebuild--that's the game plan, anyway. My typing fingers are evil and capricious....
(no subject)
7/1/07 03:50 am (UTC)(no subject)
7/1/07 05:49 am (UTC)