sv fic post: East of the Sun part 16
3/16/08 02:09 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-13
Word Count:1507
Summary: Lex learns about trust and love from an unlikely source.
Notes/Warnings:implied sexual abuse
Many, many thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
danceswithgary for beta duty, and the beautiful cover!
A wonderful feature of the boarding house was the small blue-and-white bathroom halfway down the hallway that featured a sink big enough to wash a calf in, as well as a toilet. Clark thought it was close to heaven and spent as long as he could in it. He brushed his teeth forever, and washed himself thoroughly from head to toe, leaving nothing out. He emptied the sink three times, refilled it with fresh water, and rejoiced in being clean again. He combed his hair straight back from his forehead, liking the effect a lot. He frowned at it. As always, the ends rebelled and tried to curl. Some kind of pomade, that's what he needed…what was that brand Whit used, it smelled so nice…he frowned even deeper and chased that thought away.
He sighed. Of course, thinking of Whit led to thinking of home, thinking of family. He wondered what Hannah was doing right now…most likely saying her prayers and tucking Beans under the covers. Tonight was Friday, so she'd probably listened to Doc Savage earlier. He smiled, remembering how she'd nicknamed the loft 'The Fortress of Solitude' after Doc Savage's hideout. He wondered how his mom and dad were getting along without his help. Dad's workload had doubled, that much was certain. He tried to quell his feeling of guilt by telling himself that they were better off without him. Without his appetite, without his needing things, maybe they were even saving money. He sure hoped so. They'd be able to get some nice gifts for each other this year…he wiped his eyes and felt silly, but Christmas without his parents…it was going to be a hard day to get through. At least he had Reggie.
@@@@@@
Back in their room, Clark emptied his bag, put what few items he had in the small dresser, and hung his and Reggie's jackets on the back of a chair. Reggie admitted that he was feeling under the weather, and Clark thought that he was looking paler than usual. His usually smooth voice sounded rough. After a brief argument, he got Reggie to accept the bed. He spread his sleeping bag on the floor and chatted with Reggie, as he got ready for bed.
"You should stay in tomorrow; this weather isn't helping you one bit. Maybe if you feel better later on, you can find out if the landlord has a hotplate to lend us—and don't forget to unpack. Make yourself comfortable." He smiled fondly at the older man. "I'll bring you some soup or something when I get home."
"Home," Reggie repeated. "Don't you like the sound of that, Clark?"
"I do, Reggie. Clark Kent and Reginald Harley, now at home to callers." He laughed lightly and Reggie chuckled. "Say, about unpacking, there's an empty drawer for you…oh, and there's a bakery at the corner, did you see? If you're not feeling too bad tomorrow morning, we can get breakfast there, and I'm thinking about writing my parents a letter to let them know I'm alive and well...."
Reggie chuckled. "Stop and breathe, Clark! But yes, writing your parents would be a fine thing to do. I know they must be desperate for word of you. We haven't spoken about them before, or your…circumstances," Reggie said carefully. "But I'm sure, whatever you think you did wrong can’t be so awful. I don't think it's possible that you could ever do anything really bad. Or…oh, no...." Reggie stopped and a horrified pity filled his eyes. "Could it be…your parents couldn’t accept that you're special?"
"No, no, they never hid from that part of me, not really. But to keep safe, we had to hide it from other people. We just—we had a lot of secrets in my family. I guess I just didn’t want for them to have more."
"More?"
"There was this boy…a friend of mine. I thought he was a friend. I was wrong. But…he made me feel…different. Not like. You know." He stared at Reggie, hoping he wouldn't make him say more—he must know what Clark was trying to say. "Don't get me wrong, I like girls. He just…confused me."
Reggie took a deep breath. "I--I understand that. Would it help if I say at your age, many young men are confused? They have momentary flashes of an uncomfortable feeling and worry when all along it means nothing. You shouldn't worry, Clark."
"Did you…are you." Clark stopped. He had no idea how to ask. "Are you unhappy?" he asked instead.
"Unhappy? I'm not unhappy. I…just am," he laughed. "I'm not certain it's a state to strive for. Now you go to sleep, and then tomorrow write your parents. You're going to do fine, Clark, you'll make good friends and good things will come to you, believe me. Your life is soon to become so much more interesting."
Clark snickered. "I don't know how interesting it's going to be in a hotel kitchen. At least, we get one good meal a day out of it."
Reggie reached out and turned of the light. "Pleasant dreams, my dear friend, may angels watch over you," he said, just as he had every night since Clark became his friend. A faint wash of red-and-blue colored the walls from a dancing neon sign farther down the street, and the faint sounds of traffic seemed to fall and rise in matching rhythm to the light. Rain against the windows made distant music and Clark could hear people talking, movement in the hall outside their room…he was being lulled to sleep by all these sounds, and then Reggie broke the silence.
"Atonement…" he murmured.
"What?" Clark blinked upwards, trying to focus on what Reggie was saying.
He was up on one elbow, turned towards Clark. A human wouldn't have been able to see him in the dark, wouldn't have seen the expression of pain on his face, but the dark was nothing to Clark. "Atonement, amends, penance…redemption. Do you believe that good works can bring salvation? I don't. No, that's a lie. Sometimes I do. I hope. I helped you, didn't I? And didn’t hurt you? I love you Clark, you're such a good person, a good soul. I wasn't exaggerating when I called you an angel, you know. When I saw what you could do, I really did think it was over. I was relieved. But every night I went to sleep and still, every morning, woke again. Oh my God, when will it be over?"
Reggie's voice rose and fell, his thoughts seemed to ramble and twist and Clark tried to make sense of them. "Why are you saying that? Do you think you need punishment—that's what you're talking about?" Clark was upset, and Reggie was frightening him. "You're not a bad person, Reggie, you can't be."
"The surface gives no real clue to what's underneath. You should remember that." He swallowed and went on. "There is a beginning, a middle, and an end to everything. In the beginning, I was a teacher. I taught history at a private school. I fell in love with a student."
"So you fell in love…that…doesn't seem so bad."
"It doesn't, does it? Words with no context. Surface. The boy was…he was younger than you. It was bad and ended badly. Of course."
Boy? Clark felt shock and something like betrayal. "Younger than me? But not much younger, right? Right, Reggie?" The Reggie he knew couldn't…wouldn't do anything bad. Clark didn't *want* him to be able to. Horror seeped in, chilling his soul. "Did the boy understand? Did he know, or was he confused…." Like me, he almost said. Reggie was quiet for a long time before Clark realized Reggie going to do the same that he did at times--wasn't going to answer, but he had to know. "Reggie, please. What happened—?"
"…the middle of the story." Reggie shook his head and touched the side of his mouth. "His father was beyond rage when he found out." Clark watched him trace the slim C-shaped scar. "I think he was going for my eyes, or perhaps my tongue…." he spoke so low, Clark wasn't certain he was talking to him anymore. Reggie was silent for a long moment. "Go home, Clark...go home." He turned his face to the wall and was silent.
Morning came, and Reggie was still in bed, still facing the wall. Clark called his name but he didn't answer. He went to his bedside and shook his shoulder gently. "Reggie?"
"I'm awake, Clark...just tired, so tired. Do you mind going on without me, my friend?"
He turned a bit, looked up into Clark's face and winced. "Ah. When you get home, we'll talk about the rest...the end of the story."
Clark went to pet his arm, and stopped, smoothed the bedcovers instead. "Sure. We'll talk when I get home. I'll bring dinner." He wanted to smile but, looking at Reggie's expression, he couldn't. He left the room and headed out to his new job.
part 17
TBC
Author: roxy
Pairings/Characters: Lex/people, eventually clex
Rating:PG-13
Word Count:1507
Summary: Lex learns about trust and love from an unlikely source.
Notes/Warnings:implied sexual abuse
Many, many thanks to
danceswithgary for beta duty, and the beautiful cover!A wonderful feature of the boarding house was the small blue-and-white bathroom halfway down the hallway that featured a sink big enough to wash a calf in, as well as a toilet. Clark thought it was close to heaven and spent as long as he could in it. He brushed his teeth forever, and washed himself thoroughly from head to toe, leaving nothing out. He emptied the sink three times, refilled it with fresh water, and rejoiced in being clean again. He combed his hair straight back from his forehead, liking the effect a lot. He frowned at it. As always, the ends rebelled and tried to curl. Some kind of pomade, that's what he needed…what was that brand Whit used, it smelled so nice…he frowned even deeper and chased that thought away.
He sighed. Of course, thinking of Whit led to thinking of home, thinking of family. He wondered what Hannah was doing right now…most likely saying her prayers and tucking Beans under the covers. Tonight was Friday, so she'd probably listened to Doc Savage earlier. He smiled, remembering how she'd nicknamed the loft 'The Fortress of Solitude' after Doc Savage's hideout. He wondered how his mom and dad were getting along without his help. Dad's workload had doubled, that much was certain. He tried to quell his feeling of guilt by telling himself that they were better off without him. Without his appetite, without his needing things, maybe they were even saving money. He sure hoped so. They'd be able to get some nice gifts for each other this year…he wiped his eyes and felt silly, but Christmas without his parents…it was going to be a hard day to get through. At least he had Reggie.
@@@@@@
Back in their room, Clark emptied his bag, put what few items he had in the small dresser, and hung his and Reggie's jackets on the back of a chair. Reggie admitted that he was feeling under the weather, and Clark thought that he was looking paler than usual. His usually smooth voice sounded rough. After a brief argument, he got Reggie to accept the bed. He spread his sleeping bag on the floor and chatted with Reggie, as he got ready for bed.
"You should stay in tomorrow; this weather isn't helping you one bit. Maybe if you feel better later on, you can find out if the landlord has a hotplate to lend us—and don't forget to unpack. Make yourself comfortable." He smiled fondly at the older man. "I'll bring you some soup or something when I get home."
"Home," Reggie repeated. "Don't you like the sound of that, Clark?"
"I do, Reggie. Clark Kent and Reginald Harley, now at home to callers." He laughed lightly and Reggie chuckled. "Say, about unpacking, there's an empty drawer for you…oh, and there's a bakery at the corner, did you see? If you're not feeling too bad tomorrow morning, we can get breakfast there, and I'm thinking about writing my parents a letter to let them know I'm alive and well...."
Reggie chuckled. "Stop and breathe, Clark! But yes, writing your parents would be a fine thing to do. I know they must be desperate for word of you. We haven't spoken about them before, or your…circumstances," Reggie said carefully. "But I'm sure, whatever you think you did wrong can’t be so awful. I don't think it's possible that you could ever do anything really bad. Or…oh, no...." Reggie stopped and a horrified pity filled his eyes. "Could it be…your parents couldn’t accept that you're special?"
"No, no, they never hid from that part of me, not really. But to keep safe, we had to hide it from other people. We just—we had a lot of secrets in my family. I guess I just didn’t want for them to have more."
"More?"
"There was this boy…a friend of mine. I thought he was a friend. I was wrong. But…he made me feel…different. Not like. You know." He stared at Reggie, hoping he wouldn't make him say more—he must know what Clark was trying to say. "Don't get me wrong, I like girls. He just…confused me."
Reggie took a deep breath. "I--I understand that. Would it help if I say at your age, many young men are confused? They have momentary flashes of an uncomfortable feeling and worry when all along it means nothing. You shouldn't worry, Clark."
"Did you…are you." Clark stopped. He had no idea how to ask. "Are you unhappy?" he asked instead.
"Unhappy? I'm not unhappy. I…just am," he laughed. "I'm not certain it's a state to strive for. Now you go to sleep, and then tomorrow write your parents. You're going to do fine, Clark, you'll make good friends and good things will come to you, believe me. Your life is soon to become so much more interesting."
Clark snickered. "I don't know how interesting it's going to be in a hotel kitchen. At least, we get one good meal a day out of it."
Reggie reached out and turned of the light. "Pleasant dreams, my dear friend, may angels watch over you," he said, just as he had every night since Clark became his friend. A faint wash of red-and-blue colored the walls from a dancing neon sign farther down the street, and the faint sounds of traffic seemed to fall and rise in matching rhythm to the light. Rain against the windows made distant music and Clark could hear people talking, movement in the hall outside their room…he was being lulled to sleep by all these sounds, and then Reggie broke the silence.
"Atonement…" he murmured.
"What?" Clark blinked upwards, trying to focus on what Reggie was saying.
He was up on one elbow, turned towards Clark. A human wouldn't have been able to see him in the dark, wouldn't have seen the expression of pain on his face, but the dark was nothing to Clark. "Atonement, amends, penance…redemption. Do you believe that good works can bring salvation? I don't. No, that's a lie. Sometimes I do. I hope. I helped you, didn't I? And didn’t hurt you? I love you Clark, you're such a good person, a good soul. I wasn't exaggerating when I called you an angel, you know. When I saw what you could do, I really did think it was over. I was relieved. But every night I went to sleep and still, every morning, woke again. Oh my God, when will it be over?"
Reggie's voice rose and fell, his thoughts seemed to ramble and twist and Clark tried to make sense of them. "Why are you saying that? Do you think you need punishment—that's what you're talking about?" Clark was upset, and Reggie was frightening him. "You're not a bad person, Reggie, you can't be."
"The surface gives no real clue to what's underneath. You should remember that." He swallowed and went on. "There is a beginning, a middle, and an end to everything. In the beginning, I was a teacher. I taught history at a private school. I fell in love with a student."
"So you fell in love…that…doesn't seem so bad."
"It doesn't, does it? Words with no context. Surface. The boy was…he was younger than you. It was bad and ended badly. Of course."
Boy? Clark felt shock and something like betrayal. "Younger than me? But not much younger, right? Right, Reggie?" The Reggie he knew couldn't…wouldn't do anything bad. Clark didn't *want* him to be able to. Horror seeped in, chilling his soul. "Did the boy understand? Did he know, or was he confused…." Like me, he almost said. Reggie was quiet for a long time before Clark realized Reggie going to do the same that he did at times--wasn't going to answer, but he had to know. "Reggie, please. What happened—?"
"…the middle of the story." Reggie shook his head and touched the side of his mouth. "His father was beyond rage when he found out." Clark watched him trace the slim C-shaped scar. "I think he was going for my eyes, or perhaps my tongue…." he spoke so low, Clark wasn't certain he was talking to him anymore. Reggie was silent for a long moment. "Go home, Clark...go home." He turned his face to the wall and was silent.
Morning came, and Reggie was still in bed, still facing the wall. Clark called his name but he didn't answer. He went to his bedside and shook his shoulder gently. "Reggie?"
"I'm awake, Clark...just tired, so tired. Do you mind going on without me, my friend?"
He turned a bit, looked up into Clark's face and winced. "Ah. When you get home, we'll talk about the rest...the end of the story."
Clark went to pet his arm, and stopped, smoothed the bedcovers instead. "Sure. We'll talk when I get home. I'll bring dinner." He wanted to smile but, looking at Reggie's expression, he couldn't. He left the room and headed out to his new job.
part 17
TBC
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3/17/08 03:12 am (UTC)