sv fic post: East of the Sun part 14
3/8/08 12:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxyTitle: East of the Sun
Author: roxy
Pairings/Characters: Lex/people, eventually clex
Rating:PG
Word Count:2313
Summary: Lex learns about trust and love from an unlikely source.
Notes/Warnings: this is me putting the boys in my version of the swing era, just to see how pretty they look.
Many, many thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
danceswithgary for beta duty, and the beautiful cover!
Reggie took Clark under his wing, and Clark was glad. He was in no particular hurry to move on alone. The 'bo's life was a nomadic one—it wasn't often they spent more than one night in the same place, and to his own surprise, Clark took to the wandering life quickly. As for Reggie, he took his tutelage of Clark seriously—he taught him the type of places to go to get day work, where to go for food or clothes…he taught Clark to read the signs they left for each other. For Clark's part, what he'd done with Whit turned out to have practical application in his life now. From him, he'd learned to palm things and it was easy for Clark to glom a pack of cigarettes, a bag of coffee, or a can of milk. He always made sure to nick Reggie's favorite—Lifesavers, because he loved to see his eyes twinkle.
Days and nights came and went almost without his notice but, eventually, he realized winter was right around the corner, and Clark began to worry about Reggie. The cold had brought with it a persistent cough that shook Reggie harder and harder as time passed.
"I think, my young friend, that it's past time for me to move on. Perhaps Florida---or California—they say it never rains there, and the oranges grow big as your head and all you have to do is walk down the street and lift your hand to pluck one from the branches…."
"Really?" Clark asked, wide-eyed with wonder, picturing always sunny avenues lined with bowed trees, their branches thick with bright-orange fruit…
Reggie fixed him with an ice-gray stare. "*No*. Clark, Clark…have you learned nothing from me, my dear Antinous? 'If the sign says 'free lunch', put your hand over your wallet, because there's no such thing'." He took a deep, deep drink of a terribly sweet-smelling wine and sighed. "Ah…whatever seems free at first glance, will eventually cost you dearly, my boy. One way or another, we all pay."
Clark shrugged. That may be true, more than likely it was. He'd paid for thinking—hoping--that he had a friend in Whitney. He stared upwards, watching sparks from the fire fly up and dance against the velvet darkness. Like his hope, they sparked briefly and then disappeared, and then Reggie startled him by saying what he'd thought aloud. "Life, my dear boy—'although affliction cometh not forth of the dust, neither doth trouble spring out of the ground; yet man is born to trouble as the sparks fly up.' We err, we suffer, and pay the price…I have paid the price and paid the price and I fear it can never be enough…" He looked up and smiled at Clark. "Oh, don’t look so worried, my dear boy. I'm fine, I promise you."
Clark looked at the long, thin form stretched out on a doubled piece of canvas, as close to the fire as the older man could get...and not set himself aflame. He'd refused Clark's bag and coat, and shivers wracked him from time to time. "Tomorrow, Reggie, can we go into town, and maybe…maybe someone will let us sleep in a barn? It's too cold out here on the ground for me," he pouted, and Reggie laughed.
"Clark, Clark—you’re as transparent as glass, but yes, we'll look for a barn or garage tomorrow."
@@@@@@
Wind blew through the tall brown grass at the edge of the train tracks, made it bow around the two hiding there. At the sound of a warning whistle, Reggie reached out and tapped Clark's arm, and they scrambled up to stand tense and intent on the edge of the tracks.
"Now then, Clark, watch me—remember—do exactly as I do." The shriek of metal against metal filled their ears…the train was beginning to move, and the open boxcar Reggie pointed out moved slowly and ponderously towards them. Reggie tossed the bindle he carried—a canvas bag on a stick—into the open boxcar, grabbed onto the metal rungs on the side of the car and began loping along with it. With a loud grunt, he swung himself upwards, and landed with a thump inside the car. Clark ran alongside it, and Reggie yelled, "Quick, Clark, you won't be able to get aboard when it's close to speed!" He looked terribly worried, and something wicked inside Clark laughed and spread its wings.
The part of him that sometimes felt a real joy in what he could do rose and elbowed him…there's nothing to stop you now, no cross…no disappointed looks, no one to scold you…He ran faster, faster, flung his bag into the car just as the train swept around a curve and took him out of Reggie's sight—he heard the man's shout of dismay. Clark watched it for a bit, smirking, letting it gain more and more speed before sprinting after it, running faster and faster until he felt he was running even faster than the night he'd left Smallville. He was at the open door, caught sight of Reggie's truly sad expression…and he leapt onto the boxcar with a boom, the car vibrating with the force of his impact.
"Jesus!" Reggie went from sorrowful to frightened—he went the color of milk, and fell against the wall of the car. Even over the noise of the train, and the shriek of the wind, Clark could hear Reggie's heart stutter. He fell to his knees, and held out a hand. Reggie's lips were blue from shock, and his breath came short and sharp—but he reached out and grabbed Clark's shaking hand. That Reggie touched him—allowed him to touch—made Clark feel just a tiny bit better. "Reggie, I'm so sorry—please don’t hate me!"
"Clark—Clark—how—how did you d—do that? You…" the color slowly returned to his cheeks, he licked his lips…" You're…," Clark closed his eyes and waited, feeling dead inside. Waited for Reggie to call him a freak. "…an angel, aren't you?"
"*What*? Reggie…I'm nothing *like* an angel! Far from it!" Clark could barely grasp that Reggie wasn't terrified of him.
"Fine—then you're an ancient god, a messenger from Zeus' court, you're a kinsman of Oberon—whatever it is, you're magic." Reggie stared at him in awe. "Maybe…maybe I'm forgiven, after all."
"Reggie—I'm just me, same as always. Just me." Clark dropped his head. What a stupid thing he'd done…what a horribly stupid thing. He felt a tentative touch to his head, a barely felt stroke of his hair, and slowly leaned into it. The stroking hesitated, and continued, stronger.
"My boy. I know that. Nothing has changed. But maybe what I've hoped for has come to pass, at last." Reggie wouldn't explain, and didn’t speak again about what Clark had done, but he seemed a little more…at peace.
@@@@@@
By late afternoon, Clark and Reggie were walking into the outskirts of Metropolis. They passed a place Clark thought was likely, a large barn, where city people stabled their horses and ponies. There was a symbol chalked on the wooden gate in the wire fence, it depicted three slanted lines of equal length. Clark started to head for the open gate and Reggie stopped him. "Remember this sign, Clark? It's unsafe for us here, let us wander on a bit, and perhaps we'll find a safe harbor."
As they strolled along the alleys and small streets, Clark pointed out the various signs and Reggie quizzed him on what they meant, and when Clark found a doorway that had a symbol chalked on the frame, a child-like drawing of a cat, he bowed low and indicated the mark with a flourish. Reggie smiled and winked at Clark, and returned the bow. "Ah. 'Here lives a kind woman'. My dear boy, our luck has taken a bright new turn. We'll get a meal, and maybe a place to sleep."
He knocked at the door, and when a woman answered, he took off his hat and looked so saint-like that Clark waited for a halo to light on his head, and angels to sing. He tried to hold back a giggle.
"Missus, a fine day to you. Is it at all possible that you'd need any work done? We’re quite eager to work, in exchange for a meal…."
The lady blushed a bit. "You and your brother need a meal?" The two men looked at each other, surprised at her assumption. "Well, I've got a shed needs emptying. If you can do that, I'm sure there'll be a hot meal in it for you." Reggie twinkled at her, and got another blush, and soon they both sat comfortably on the back stoop, steaming mugs of hot tea in their hands.
@@@@@@
They began their cleaning of the old shed, crammed with what looked like generations of cast-offs of every kind. Reggie sat on an overturned crate, humming as he watched Clark work. Clark smiled. When he'd reminded Reggie he really didn’t need help, and that their only problem here was Clark remembering not to work too fast, the man was more than content to sit and watch Clark work and spin tales. Clark looked at him from time to time, surreptitiously examining him. He saw something he hadn't seen before. Reggie wasn't as old as he'd first thought. Do away with all the dust of the road and the exhaustion of life without support, and he looked to be maybe ten years older than Clark--maybe less. Under the brim of his hat, grey eyes sparkled with humor, he was shaved as well as possible, and a small scar twisted up the corner of what was otherwise kind of a beautiful mouth. Clark felt funny noticing, but it was true—he looked like one of those Greek busts the art teacher had pictures of, only with straight hair, and really a lot of grime…Clark grinned to himself. What had brought him out to this life, gentleman that he was? Clark wondered if he should dare to ask.
They were allowed to spend the night in the shed. The homeowner even let them have a small kerosene heater, and it was pretty comfortable Clark thought. Reggie was burrowed under a horse blanket, and his ever-present flask was at his side. They were chatting about nothing important, and Reggie seemed to be quite a bit drunk. His eyes were glazed and his vision was fixed on some distant spot in the past. "Once, I attended a presidential ball…it was…God, so boring," he laughed. "But Mrs. Harley looked fine in her navy gown, and she sparkled like a jewel. I cared very much for her, dear boy—I think she was the best part of me. We danced all night and then…." He stopped, took another sip and went on, "What was I…my son…my son was a beautiful boy."
Clark kept silent, not sure if he should speak or not. Reggie sighed and focused on Clark. He took a deep pull of his flask and breathed out, "Clark, this life is not for you, son. You were meant for better than this—"
"But I like this, Reggie—I mean--I like traveling with you. Talking to you. You're so interesting—I've never heard of some of the things you talk about—history and art and music…we never talked about that in school."
"School." Reggie closed his eyes and smiled, but not before Clark could see the great well of pain in his eyes. It made him hurt too, but he had no idea what he could say, how he could offer comfort.
"Did…did she die, your wife? I'm sorry, but…you seem so sad."
Reggie looked surprised. "Die? No, no, circumstances, things happened that brought me to…" he sighed, laughed a little and spread his hands. "...to this. But I have a grand companion, and the sacred waters of Lethe, and…a song, perhaps?" He twinkled at Clark and Clark laughed, knowing full well Reggie was changing the subject, but he sang for him anyway. Reggie leaned back, wincing hard, but tucked his arms behind his head and closed his eyes to listen, hum along.
…I was blue, just as blue as I could be
Every day was a cloudy day for me
Then good luck came a-knocking at my door
Skies were gray but they're not gray anymore
Blue skies
Smiling at me
Nothing but blue skies
Do I see…
It was an old song, one his mom had liked too, so it made him feel a weird combination of good and bad to sing it, but he really liked how bright Reggie looked when he did. Reggie joined in and Clark loved his light voice, loved how it blended with his—and mostly loved that it meant Reggie wasn't as drunk as he first thought, and that meant a much better morning for the man….
Bluebirds
Singing a song
Nothing but bluebirds
All day long
Never saw the sun shining so bright
Never saw things going so right
Noticing the days hurrying by
When you're in love, my how they fly… Blue Skies by Irving Berlin
He was singing by himself again, Reggie must be asleep, but when he looked, his eyes were wide open, fixed on the past again, and he was crying. Silently, tears ran over his cheeks. He spoke, so quietly that Clark thought it would be hard to hear him without his power of hearing.
"Professor Harley and his lovely wife, beautiful son. I had everything once, and threw it all away. Ah, Ganymede, if only I hadn't fallen so far, perhaps I could have saved us both…."
Clark kept silent and let Reggie think he'd fallen asleep. After a while, Reggie's breathing was deep and even—Clark fell asleep listening to it.
more hobo signs
songs in this section
Blue Skies lyrics by Irving Berlin
part 15
TBC
Author: roxy
Pairings/Characters: Lex/people, eventually clex
Rating:PG
Word Count:2313
Summary: Lex learns about trust and love from an unlikely source.
Notes/Warnings: this is me putting the boys in my version of the swing era, just to see how pretty they look.
Many, many thanks to
danceswithgary for beta duty, and the beautiful cover!Reggie took Clark under his wing, and Clark was glad. He was in no particular hurry to move on alone. The 'bo's life was a nomadic one—it wasn't often they spent more than one night in the same place, and to his own surprise, Clark took to the wandering life quickly. As for Reggie, he took his tutelage of Clark seriously—he taught him the type of places to go to get day work, where to go for food or clothes…he taught Clark to read the signs they left for each other. For Clark's part, what he'd done with Whit turned out to have practical application in his life now. From him, he'd learned to palm things and it was easy for Clark to glom a pack of cigarettes, a bag of coffee, or a can of milk. He always made sure to nick Reggie's favorite—Lifesavers, because he loved to see his eyes twinkle.
Days and nights came and went almost without his notice but, eventually, he realized winter was right around the corner, and Clark began to worry about Reggie. The cold had brought with it a persistent cough that shook Reggie harder and harder as time passed.
"I think, my young friend, that it's past time for me to move on. Perhaps Florida---or California—they say it never rains there, and the oranges grow big as your head and all you have to do is walk down the street and lift your hand to pluck one from the branches…."
"Really?" Clark asked, wide-eyed with wonder, picturing always sunny avenues lined with bowed trees, their branches thick with bright-orange fruit…
Reggie fixed him with an ice-gray stare. "*No*. Clark, Clark…have you learned nothing from me, my dear Antinous? 'If the sign says 'free lunch', put your hand over your wallet, because there's no such thing'." He took a deep, deep drink of a terribly sweet-smelling wine and sighed. "Ah…whatever seems free at first glance, will eventually cost you dearly, my boy. One way or another, we all pay."
Clark shrugged. That may be true, more than likely it was. He'd paid for thinking—hoping--that he had a friend in Whitney. He stared upwards, watching sparks from the fire fly up and dance against the velvet darkness. Like his hope, they sparked briefly and then disappeared, and then Reggie startled him by saying what he'd thought aloud. "Life, my dear boy—'although affliction cometh not forth of the dust, neither doth trouble spring out of the ground; yet man is born to trouble as the sparks fly up.' We err, we suffer, and pay the price…I have paid the price and paid the price and I fear it can never be enough…" He looked up and smiled at Clark. "Oh, don’t look so worried, my dear boy. I'm fine, I promise you."
Clark looked at the long, thin form stretched out on a doubled piece of canvas, as close to the fire as the older man could get...and not set himself aflame. He'd refused Clark's bag and coat, and shivers wracked him from time to time. "Tomorrow, Reggie, can we go into town, and maybe…maybe someone will let us sleep in a barn? It's too cold out here on the ground for me," he pouted, and Reggie laughed.
"Clark, Clark—you’re as transparent as glass, but yes, we'll look for a barn or garage tomorrow."
@@@@@@
Wind blew through the tall brown grass at the edge of the train tracks, made it bow around the two hiding there. At the sound of a warning whistle, Reggie reached out and tapped Clark's arm, and they scrambled up to stand tense and intent on the edge of the tracks.
"Now then, Clark, watch me—remember—do exactly as I do." The shriek of metal against metal filled their ears…the train was beginning to move, and the open boxcar Reggie pointed out moved slowly and ponderously towards them. Reggie tossed the bindle he carried—a canvas bag on a stick—into the open boxcar, grabbed onto the metal rungs on the side of the car and began loping along with it. With a loud grunt, he swung himself upwards, and landed with a thump inside the car. Clark ran alongside it, and Reggie yelled, "Quick, Clark, you won't be able to get aboard when it's close to speed!" He looked terribly worried, and something wicked inside Clark laughed and spread its wings.
The part of him that sometimes felt a real joy in what he could do rose and elbowed him…there's nothing to stop you now, no cross…no disappointed looks, no one to scold you…He ran faster, faster, flung his bag into the car just as the train swept around a curve and took him out of Reggie's sight—he heard the man's shout of dismay. Clark watched it for a bit, smirking, letting it gain more and more speed before sprinting after it, running faster and faster until he felt he was running even faster than the night he'd left Smallville. He was at the open door, caught sight of Reggie's truly sad expression…and he leapt onto the boxcar with a boom, the car vibrating with the force of his impact.
"Jesus!" Reggie went from sorrowful to frightened—he went the color of milk, and fell against the wall of the car. Even over the noise of the train, and the shriek of the wind, Clark could hear Reggie's heart stutter. He fell to his knees, and held out a hand. Reggie's lips were blue from shock, and his breath came short and sharp—but he reached out and grabbed Clark's shaking hand. That Reggie touched him—allowed him to touch—made Clark feel just a tiny bit better. "Reggie, I'm so sorry—please don’t hate me!"
"Clark—Clark—how—how did you d—do that? You…" the color slowly returned to his cheeks, he licked his lips…" You're…," Clark closed his eyes and waited, feeling dead inside. Waited for Reggie to call him a freak. "…an angel, aren't you?"
"*What*? Reggie…I'm nothing *like* an angel! Far from it!" Clark could barely grasp that Reggie wasn't terrified of him.
"Fine—then you're an ancient god, a messenger from Zeus' court, you're a kinsman of Oberon—whatever it is, you're magic." Reggie stared at him in awe. "Maybe…maybe I'm forgiven, after all."
"Reggie—I'm just me, same as always. Just me." Clark dropped his head. What a stupid thing he'd done…what a horribly stupid thing. He felt a tentative touch to his head, a barely felt stroke of his hair, and slowly leaned into it. The stroking hesitated, and continued, stronger.
"My boy. I know that. Nothing has changed. But maybe what I've hoped for has come to pass, at last." Reggie wouldn't explain, and didn’t speak again about what Clark had done, but he seemed a little more…at peace.
@@@@@@
By late afternoon, Clark and Reggie were walking into the outskirts of Metropolis. They passed a place Clark thought was likely, a large barn, where city people stabled their horses and ponies. There was a symbol chalked on the wooden gate in the wire fence, it depicted three slanted lines of equal length. Clark started to head for the open gate and Reggie stopped him. "Remember this sign, Clark? It's unsafe for us here, let us wander on a bit, and perhaps we'll find a safe harbor."
As they strolled along the alleys and small streets, Clark pointed out the various signs and Reggie quizzed him on what they meant, and when Clark found a doorway that had a symbol chalked on the frame, a child-like drawing of a cat, he bowed low and indicated the mark with a flourish. Reggie smiled and winked at Clark, and returned the bow. "Ah. 'Here lives a kind woman'. My dear boy, our luck has taken a bright new turn. We'll get a meal, and maybe a place to sleep."
He knocked at the door, and when a woman answered, he took off his hat and looked so saint-like that Clark waited for a halo to light on his head, and angels to sing. He tried to hold back a giggle.
"Missus, a fine day to you. Is it at all possible that you'd need any work done? We’re quite eager to work, in exchange for a meal…."
The lady blushed a bit. "You and your brother need a meal?" The two men looked at each other, surprised at her assumption. "Well, I've got a shed needs emptying. If you can do that, I'm sure there'll be a hot meal in it for you." Reggie twinkled at her, and got another blush, and soon they both sat comfortably on the back stoop, steaming mugs of hot tea in their hands.
@@@@@@
They began their cleaning of the old shed, crammed with what looked like generations of cast-offs of every kind. Reggie sat on an overturned crate, humming as he watched Clark work. Clark smiled. When he'd reminded Reggie he really didn’t need help, and that their only problem here was Clark remembering not to work too fast, the man was more than content to sit and watch Clark work and spin tales. Clark looked at him from time to time, surreptitiously examining him. He saw something he hadn't seen before. Reggie wasn't as old as he'd first thought. Do away with all the dust of the road and the exhaustion of life without support, and he looked to be maybe ten years older than Clark--maybe less. Under the brim of his hat, grey eyes sparkled with humor, he was shaved as well as possible, and a small scar twisted up the corner of what was otherwise kind of a beautiful mouth. Clark felt funny noticing, but it was true—he looked like one of those Greek busts the art teacher had pictures of, only with straight hair, and really a lot of grime…Clark grinned to himself. What had brought him out to this life, gentleman that he was? Clark wondered if he should dare to ask.
They were allowed to spend the night in the shed. The homeowner even let them have a small kerosene heater, and it was pretty comfortable Clark thought. Reggie was burrowed under a horse blanket, and his ever-present flask was at his side. They were chatting about nothing important, and Reggie seemed to be quite a bit drunk. His eyes were glazed and his vision was fixed on some distant spot in the past. "Once, I attended a presidential ball…it was…God, so boring," he laughed. "But Mrs. Harley looked fine in her navy gown, and she sparkled like a jewel. I cared very much for her, dear boy—I think she was the best part of me. We danced all night and then…." He stopped, took another sip and went on, "What was I…my son…my son was a beautiful boy."
Clark kept silent, not sure if he should speak or not. Reggie sighed and focused on Clark. He took a deep pull of his flask and breathed out, "Clark, this life is not for you, son. You were meant for better than this—"
"But I like this, Reggie—I mean--I like traveling with you. Talking to you. You're so interesting—I've never heard of some of the things you talk about—history and art and music…we never talked about that in school."
"School." Reggie closed his eyes and smiled, but not before Clark could see the great well of pain in his eyes. It made him hurt too, but he had no idea what he could say, how he could offer comfort.
"Did…did she die, your wife? I'm sorry, but…you seem so sad."
Reggie looked surprised. "Die? No, no, circumstances, things happened that brought me to…" he sighed, laughed a little and spread his hands. "...to this. But I have a grand companion, and the sacred waters of Lethe, and…a song, perhaps?" He twinkled at Clark and Clark laughed, knowing full well Reggie was changing the subject, but he sang for him anyway. Reggie leaned back, wincing hard, but tucked his arms behind his head and closed his eyes to listen, hum along.
…I was blue, just as blue as I could be
Every day was a cloudy day for me
Then good luck came a-knocking at my door
Skies were gray but they're not gray anymore
Blue skies
Smiling at me
Nothing but blue skies
Do I see…
It was an old song, one his mom had liked too, so it made him feel a weird combination of good and bad to sing it, but he really liked how bright Reggie looked when he did. Reggie joined in and Clark loved his light voice, loved how it blended with his—and mostly loved that it meant Reggie wasn't as drunk as he first thought, and that meant a much better morning for the man….
Bluebirds
Singing a song
Nothing but bluebirds
All day long
Never saw the sun shining so bright
Never saw things going so right
Noticing the days hurrying by
When you're in love, my how they fly… Blue Skies by Irving Berlin
He was singing by himself again, Reggie must be asleep, but when he looked, his eyes were wide open, fixed on the past again, and he was crying. Silently, tears ran over his cheeks. He spoke, so quietly that Clark thought it would be hard to hear him without his power of hearing.
"Professor Harley and his lovely wife, beautiful son. I had everything once, and threw it all away. Ah, Ganymede, if only I hadn't fallen so far, perhaps I could have saved us both…."
Clark kept silent and let Reggie think he'd fallen asleep. After a while, Reggie's breathing was deep and even—Clark fell asleep listening to it.
more hobo signs
songs in this section
Blue Skies lyrics by Irving Berlin
part 15
TBC
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