sv fic post: East of the Sun part 46
8/3/08 07:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxyTitle: East of the Sun
Author: roxy
Pairings/Characters: Lex/Clark
Rating:PG
Word Count:3638
Summary: Lex learns about trust and love from an unlikely source.
Notes/Warnings: AU, so very AU
Fair warning, dear readers—the mistakes here are all my own. Thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
danceswithgary for her encouragement and of course, the lovely cover!
Hark! There in the distance—a light shimmers in the darkness, a haunting whistle calls out in the night…it's the Wrap It Up Express, and she's trying to pull into the station. Godspeed little train, godspeed!
It took Alex a little longer than usual to come awake, and when he did, Wade was standing over him, running his fingers over his back. Alex felt the edge of a snagged finger nail scrape down his spine and tried to move away. "I never told anyone about what you can do. Not even Chauncey knows for sure…I made sure of that." Wade bent, and mouthed the hot skin under the curve of Alex's shoulders. It was terribly tender, and Alex remembered the searing pain of teeth tearing through the skin there last night. And today…Wade licked the tender knit skin. "There's not even a mark left."
Alex froze. Fuck.
Wade slapped his ass. "Relax. This thing is only between me and you. Promise." He got up, and smoothed his shirt down, checked his cuffs. He caught Alex's eyes in the mirror over the dresser as he smoothed oil into his thick black hair. "Say, remember that gift I was talkin' about? Get up, and I'll give it to you."
Alex came out to the sitting room, showered, dressed, because it's what Wade expected and it something he didn't even think about doing anymore. Wade guided him to the library and shut the door behind them. He spoke into a phone there, and after a bit, handed it to Alex. His expression gave nothing away, and Alex took it, his tone still puzzled when he spoke. "Hello?" There was silence on the other end and then, a faint gasp.
"Jules? Jules—"
Alex jerked—glared at Wade who stood by, expressionless. "Dad. It's me. Its—"
"Lex? Lex. What…what in the world…"
"Dad, I didn’t do it. I can't have you think I did it; I would never hurt Jules like that. Or…"
"Well of course, I know that, Lex. Lex. It's…" there was a long silence, long enough that Alex thought maybe he'd hung up, and then his dad's voice was back on the line. "…it's so good to hear your voice. Where are you son?"
"Dad, I am with Jules, looking out for him—"
"Are you saying--they have you too? No! Damn it, damn it. Listen, Lex…"
"What? Dad? What is it?"
"Son—"
Wade took the phone from Alex's unresisting hand, and hung it back on the handset. He pointed at a clock on the fireplace's marble mantle. "Lunch time." and just then, the door to the library opened and Jules poked his head in. "Lex? It's lunch time, ready to eat?"
"Sure. Say Jules, there's an indoor pool in the basement--what do you say we go swimming after lunch—I know, I know, an hour after lunch."
Jules laughter rang in the air as he ran off to be first at table, and Wade smiled at Lex.
"That was damn good." He looked proud. "You'd make a fuckin' good soldier…"
Alex shook his head. "I don't want anything to do with any of this, least of all Unc—Edge."
The look he gave Wade read or you. He just shrugged it off. "Every body's got to do what they got to do. Every body's got a place. Some folks are just…luckier than others."
It was warm enough to be comfortable without coats or hats, so Alex asked Jules if he'd like to take a walk while they waited, maybe explore the grounds a bit. He sighed heavily as Wallman got up and followed them to the door. The guard shrugged and said, "Boss wants it that way."
"Don't tail us too close, I'd like to have the illusion of freedom, at least."
"No sweat," he said, and peeled back his jacket. A gun sat in the holster snugged close to his ribs. "I can pick a fly off a horse's ass from a mile away and not ruffle a hair with this thing. You'll be safe." Alex smiled, bitterly amused that his jailor tried to disguise a threat as concern. Wallman nodded. "You never have to worry about being safe, not with me around, okay?"
Alex walked away, listening to Jules talk about a pond that was supposed to be on the property, but thinking about Wallman…maybe…it sounded as if he was reassuring him, not threatening. Was there something else going on here that he wasn't aware of? Had Wade lied to him about Jules safety? He couldn’t imagine that he had—he trusted Wade to tell him the truth. He always had so far.
The grounds the house sat on were surrounded by a stone wall, taller than head height, and topped with spikes—the place was practically a fortress. The garden was old world style, with carefully maintained trees giving the illusion of forest, and manicured grass paths wandering through the trees, one of them led to the pond Jules was so interested in.
They came in sight of it and Jules ran out ahead to see. "Ha! This is perfect—I hoped it might be deep enough and it is!" He turned to Alex with a grin. "There are all these model ships in the room, and I wanted to know if the pond was deep enough to float them—race them really."
"I see," Alex smiled. Jules busied himself at the shore, collecting rocks, apparently a very exacting thing. After a bit, he had a pile of smooth, flattish stones. Alex wandered over to him, watched him select one and skip it expertly across the pond surface.
"Wow. That was good."
Jules blushed lightly. "Thanks. I'm trying to get it all the way across the pond."
"You will," Alex said decisively. "Say, Jules…does Dad ever mention me? At all?"
Jules looked at him from the corner of his eye, carefully selected another stone and tossed. "No, not really."
Alex took a breath to even out the little bloom of pain under his breastbone. "Does he talk about why I left?"
"No…well…yes. I used to ask him, a lot, why you left us. There was one time he said…he said you were too sad. That it was too sad for you to stay. I didn't get it then, but when I got older… he talking about Mom, wasn't he?"
"In a way. I was, though. I was really sad." He smiled down at Jules. "But that was a long time ago. I'm better now."
Jules stared at the smooth black stone on his hand, frowned a little. "Are you sure? 'Cause sometimes, you still look sad."
"Do I?" He laughed, took the stone from Jules hand and skipped, a respectable three skips before it sank without a ripple. "I'm not, love. I'm really not."
Wade came home that late evening, quickly bypassing Alex and Jules in the sitting room. They were playing a board game, listening to the radio…Wallman glanced at his boss and stayed where he was, sprawled in a chair in front of the fire.
"Alex," they heard, and he jumped. Jules looked at Alex with wide eyes, tinged with an edge of fear, and Alex cursed himself for letting his reaction to the curt summons show. Damn it, he was supposed to be protecting Julian, not scaring him….
Wallman rumbled "You better go. He must have been working." Alex looked puzzled, and Wallman shrugged. "Sometimes he feels like talking after…you just gotta listen, he'll come out of it."
He went to the room adjoining his, Wade's room. He was pacing, cursing…he stopped and shook himself, tossed his head to throw back the hair that had fallen in his face. He looked disheveled, and he was…dirty, for Wade, he was dirty. Alex was shaken to see him this way. Something pretty bad must have happened, and he immediately thought of Pete.
Wade finally seemed to notice him, gestured briskly, "You. C'mere.
Alex edged over to him, wary of this strange new creature. "What—damn."
Up close, Wade smelled like a basement, like wet dirt, and…blood. He looked in Alex face, eyes thoughtful. You're good friends with the jig in the band, right? You told him, didn’t you?
What?
Wade shrugged irritably. Those fucking smokes. They're packing iron like a god damn army, and they're fighting like one too. They beat the shit out of us--*us!* Morgan is just gonna have ta go out front on this one.
Morgan? Did you tell him I told? Is he coming here?
Wade looked at him like he was stupid. "Morgan ain't coming here—he's never coming *here.* not as long as your brother's here anyway. And I didn't tell him. No one knows but you and me. No one will know but you and me, okay? Ever."
Alex nodded, feeling as old as Jules. Wade held too many of his secrets. How was he ever going to get them out of this mess? "Clark," he muttered. "Find me—I know you're looking for me, I know it."
@@@@@@
Clark swept the floor—it took him a few minutes. And then he dusted the room, including the tops of everything, door, windowsill…he washed the window and tutted over how black the water was, decided he needed to wash the floor he'd swept. He pushed his bed from one end of the room, pushed it back when he realized he'd have to jump over it to get out the door, rifled through the boxes doing duty as bookshelves and organized his books by author, re-did it by genre, thought about doing it by the color of the spines….
He plopped down at the table, opened a deck of cards and amused himself by cheating outrageously at solitaire. Finally he just sat at the table, ready to admit he was so worried he was about to go bugs. He sighed. All right. Something was wrong and he'd have to find out what it was. Lex wasn't off playing hooky, he was *missing*, Pete was missing...Pete's family was gone. He'd checked at his house and the potted flowers on the steps were fried by heat and lack of water and Mrs. Ross wasn't about to let things go to pot like that, any more than his own mom would. He remembered Pete telling Lex about aunts in Jersey…and Wade was mentioned and anything that had to do with that—that--*goon* was never any good
He needed a plan. He'd divide the city into sections and search, carefully. By foot, at normal speed, it'd take him days, but using *his* speed—he frowned. It might still take him all night. He might have to ditch rehearsal...he sighed. There he went again, thinking he was responsible for everyone. The band wasn't going to implode because he missed one rehearsal, heck, it was pointless to pretend there even *was* a point at the moment, what with both Alex and Pete gone…and what the hell happened to that guy, the one who claimed to be Lex's friend? That was another person he couldn't find--Clark clenched his hands and accidentally crushed the cards in frustration.
"Damn it!" He threw mangled cardboard into the trash. He was done being an idiot. Lex wouldn't take off anywhere without telling him unless there was terrible trouble. Enough of parking his butt and—he waved his hand in frustration--sticking his head in the sand. Something to that effect. At any rate, it was getting darker now, and in the night, he could use his abilities without problem.
There was a clatter on the stairs, and the thump of running feet in the hallway. He jumped to the door, and opened it to find Pete there, mouth open, fist raised and about to pound on the door. He had his brother Simon with him, their arms looped around each other and blood, it looked like, everywhere.
"Pete! Pete—get in! Oh my God, what—"
Pete staggered in and Clark could see that he was supporting Simon more than Simon was supporting him. He grabbed him from Pete's grip and helped ease Simon into one of the chairs.
Pete looked terrified; Simon just looked resigned, when he wasn't grimacing in pain. "Clark," Pete stammered, "I--shit. Sorry, this was the closest safe place I could think of. We just need…Simon needs a second to get his wind back, is all. We'll be outa here soon as he does." He smiled, and it wobbled dangerously.
The blood that seemed to be everywhere wasn't Pete's. Clark scanned him quickly, but Pete seemed unharmed. "Sure, Pete, no sweat. Simon, let me see. I know a little first aid--on the farm, stuff happens, you know…" He pulled Simon's jacket back, and his shirt was black with blood.
"Shit," he hissed, twisted away and groaned when Clark unbuttoned his shirt. Clark gently ignored Simon's squirming, gently pulled the blood soaked jacket the rest of the way off.
"Pete," Clark asked, trying to stay matter-of-fact, "Can you take the teapot and fill it with water, bathroom's down the hall. And toss me those towels on top of the dresser, please?
He waited until Pete walked out the room before ripping the shirt off Simon, who yelled curses and moaned in pain. "Mother--fucking gray, do you know--how much—I paid for that—that—" he began panting harshly as Clark probed at his shoulder. "God, oh God, that really hurts…" Simon weaved in and out of full awareness, and Clark let his eyes go unfocused, thought about looking deeper into Simon's shoulder and then he could look into flesh, muscle and bone. "Okay," he muttered…he got a knife out of his tiny pantry, took a deep breath and started to lever out the bullet, which was sitting mostly right beneath the skin. It'd gone in, glanced off bone and luckily for Simon, hadn't lodged very deeply.
"Fuck, fuck, boy, stop…" a weak, shaky hand lifted and dropped on his wrist."My jacket—flask, pocket."
Clark immediately fished a flat silver flask out of the inside pocket of the jacket, and Simon took it gratefully, drank deeply. "God…how long you been cutting, half hour, longer?"
"'bouta minute," Clark muttered, keeping his eye on the spot.
"Shit…gun's in my pocket too, if I start crying, take it out and shoot me."
Clark snorted a surprised laugh, just as Pete came in the door with the water. He took the blood soaked towels from Clark and wrapped them in newspaper. "I'll dump these on the way out," and Clark nodded. So much for his towels…
He got the bullet out, and cleaned and bandaged the wound as best he could. "I don't have anything, no alcohol or peroxide. You better clean it out good when you get the chance. Pete, he's going to have to go to a doctor, you know."
Pete gave his brother a careful one–armed hug and Simon choked for a second. "Yeah…King will take care of the doctor for me…I gotta get back there." Pete looked away and nodded.
"Listen, Pete," he said, "I'm sorry, real sorry, but when Morgan's men moved on us, we didn't have a choice. I didn’t want to get you involved, but…I'm glad everyone left Metropolis. Thanks for coming to tell me. Too bad the timing wasn't better."
Pete told Clark about going to Royal's club, to tell Simon the family had gone to visit the aunts until the trouble was over, and practically walking into a shoot out between Edge's and Royal's gangs. Pete sighed deeply, watching Simon nod on and off at the kitchen table. "I thought I was a goner man…I really did. And when Simon started bleeding like that…shit. I was scared, son."
Clark hugged Pete. "Well, you're safe now, okay?" He glanced to the window. It was full dark now. He should go looking…but Pete was worn to a nub, and Simon was gray with blood loss and exhaustion—there was simply no way he could make it to the front door, let alone Pete' room, or Royal's club….
"You guys lay down," Clark said. "You'll have to share the bed and that'll be tough with Simon's shoulder but nobody is going anywhere tonight. Please."
They protested, but not too much, and when they hit the little bed, they were both out like lights. Clark grabbed an extra blanket and went out to the roof. He could lie down and think, and still be close enough to Pete and his brother if they needed anything.
Around midnight he woke with a start--someone was on the roof with him. He looked up, around, and there they were, sitting of to the left in the shadow of the chimneys. Whoever it was knew immediately that Clark was awake. "Hey, Angel." He crouched in the shadow, the black silk mask he'd been wearing the last time he'd met him in the dark was twisted in his fingers. That silent misery still filled his eyes; his lips were twisted in a smile.
"You! Where the hell have you been?" Clark felt a perfect wash of rage sweep over him—he felt like his skin was on fire, he was so angry. "Where's Alex?"
The long black coat dragged through the dust and gravel of the rooftop as Bruce unfolded and came toward him. The sound it made slithering over the stone reminded Clark of rattlers in the grass…"I don’t know where. Not yet. But I know why. And who."
"You know! You know! If you know so much, why don’t you know where he is? Or do you have something to do with this?"
Bruce flinched and the mask dropped to the ground. "Look Angel—you're right to be scared for Lex, but don’t forget who your friends are—I'd never hurt Lex."
"You're lying!" Clark got to his feet and Bruce blinked hard when it seemed as if Clark had disappeared and reappeared in front of him. "I see it, hear it--you're lying," he growled.
"I—I know Morgan Edge took him—and his brother. The way these hoods work, Lex'll be held in a safe house somewhere. These goons prepare for everything. It's going to be some place that looks legit, the cops won’t know about it. They're going to go for ransom. And when Luthor pays, he's going to get skunked. Jules will live, but the old man might not get him back. If Lex isn’t dead yet— there's bad blood there, between the old man and Edge. My feeling, Lex isn’t going to make it out—ow!"
Clark had him pressed against a wall. "If Lex is dies—you're dead too. You could have come with this earlier---why'd you wait?"
"Because I had to make sure my suspicions were correct. He's okay, it's only been—"
"Three days. Long enough. Too long." He held Bruce against the wall, lifted him until his toes barely touched the ground, and his fingers scrabbled at Clark's wrist. Clark felt the wash of his hot breath across his knuckles, and tightened his grip on Bruce's collar, struggled not to tighten too much—not yet.
"Look, look, look, I'm sorry—I just…" His eyes were closed so tight, long lines wrinkled the corners. His lips were pulled up in a not quite smile, not quite grimace. "God," he breathed. "I'm so fucking jealous of him."
Clark started—Bruce dropped off his toes as Clark's grip loosened. "You—"
"*Jealous* damn it, yes. Look at me—look what they made me into. Sure, it is what it is and my father was a useless man." He laughed. "So, I turned it inside out but it took so much…work to get here. And Lex…fucking Lex, God, who thinks he was hated and discarded but who got the greatest gift his father could give him, freedom—and he got you. And sometimes I want to throw up because of the things I do, and some times just because…because I have *nothing*, and he has you!"
Clark let Bruce go, backed away from him, from his blazing sapphire eyes, and white white face, bitten lips almost as red as his burning cheeks…Bruce spit his words out like poison, but his eyes were wet, and he hid his face behind black gloved hands for a moment, shook all over.
When he dropped his hands again, his eyes were hard. He threw himself away from Clark and dashed to the edge of the roof.
Clark froze for an instant--"No!"-- he ran faster, reached the edge before Bruce did, and swept him up into his arms. The pain he radiated filled Clark, made him desperately wish he could help him somehow, give him something…but right now he had nothing to give but strength, everything else was Lex's.
Bruce cursed, and fought against the line that was tangled now around Clark and himself, the black iron grapple on the end clanged against the knee high brick ledge. "Clark, what the fuck is wrong with—oh for crying out loud, I wasn't trying to kill myself, you oaf—and look out for my line, do you know how much that stuff costs—"
Clark dropped him so suddenly to his feet he staggered. "You know, I'm fed up to here with people complaining about how much stuff cost. Lives are priceless—money is nothing."
"You only feel that way because you don't have any," Bruce snapped, and untangled his line carefully. Clark watched him, surprised again by his beauty and grace. He was almost as sexy as Lex…he blushed when Bruce met his eyes.
Bruce blushed too. I'm…Fuck. I didn't mean that. I understand and I agree, really. Lives are precious." He looked down at the neatly coiled line in his hand. He shrugged, and a half smile like a wolf's showed white, white teeth. "Most, anyway. We're going to find him, Angel, and everything will be all right, I promise."
part 47
TBC
Author: roxy
Pairings/Characters: Lex/Clark
Rating:PG
Word Count:3638
Summary: Lex learns about trust and love from an unlikely source.
Notes/Warnings: AU, so very AU
Fair warning, dear readers—the mistakes here are all my own. Thanks to
danceswithgary for her encouragement and of course, the lovely cover!Hark! There in the distance—a light shimmers in the darkness, a haunting whistle calls out in the night…it's the Wrap It Up Express, and she's trying to pull into the station. Godspeed little train, godspeed!
It took Alex a little longer than usual to come awake, and when he did, Wade was standing over him, running his fingers over his back. Alex felt the edge of a snagged finger nail scrape down his spine and tried to move away. "I never told anyone about what you can do. Not even Chauncey knows for sure…I made sure of that." Wade bent, and mouthed the hot skin under the curve of Alex's shoulders. It was terribly tender, and Alex remembered the searing pain of teeth tearing through the skin there last night. And today…Wade licked the tender knit skin. "There's not even a mark left."
Alex froze. Fuck.
Wade slapped his ass. "Relax. This thing is only between me and you. Promise." He got up, and smoothed his shirt down, checked his cuffs. He caught Alex's eyes in the mirror over the dresser as he smoothed oil into his thick black hair. "Say, remember that gift I was talkin' about? Get up, and I'll give it to you."
Alex came out to the sitting room, showered, dressed, because it's what Wade expected and it something he didn't even think about doing anymore. Wade guided him to the library and shut the door behind them. He spoke into a phone there, and after a bit, handed it to Alex. His expression gave nothing away, and Alex took it, his tone still puzzled when he spoke. "Hello?" There was silence on the other end and then, a faint gasp.
"Jules? Jules—"
Alex jerked—glared at Wade who stood by, expressionless. "Dad. It's me. Its—"
"Lex? Lex. What…what in the world…"
"Dad, I didn’t do it. I can't have you think I did it; I would never hurt Jules like that. Or…"
"Well of course, I know that, Lex. Lex. It's…" there was a long silence, long enough that Alex thought maybe he'd hung up, and then his dad's voice was back on the line. "…it's so good to hear your voice. Where are you son?"
"Dad, I am with Jules, looking out for him—"
"Are you saying--they have you too? No! Damn it, damn it. Listen, Lex…"
"What? Dad? What is it?"
"Son—"
Wade took the phone from Alex's unresisting hand, and hung it back on the handset. He pointed at a clock on the fireplace's marble mantle. "Lunch time." and just then, the door to the library opened and Jules poked his head in. "Lex? It's lunch time, ready to eat?"
"Sure. Say Jules, there's an indoor pool in the basement--what do you say we go swimming after lunch—I know, I know, an hour after lunch."
Jules laughter rang in the air as he ran off to be first at table, and Wade smiled at Lex.
"That was damn good." He looked proud. "You'd make a fuckin' good soldier…"
Alex shook his head. "I don't want anything to do with any of this, least of all Unc—Edge."
The look he gave Wade read or you. He just shrugged it off. "Every body's got to do what they got to do. Every body's got a place. Some folks are just…luckier than others."
It was warm enough to be comfortable without coats or hats, so Alex asked Jules if he'd like to take a walk while they waited, maybe explore the grounds a bit. He sighed heavily as Wallman got up and followed them to the door. The guard shrugged and said, "Boss wants it that way."
"Don't tail us too close, I'd like to have the illusion of freedom, at least."
"No sweat," he said, and peeled back his jacket. A gun sat in the holster snugged close to his ribs. "I can pick a fly off a horse's ass from a mile away and not ruffle a hair with this thing. You'll be safe." Alex smiled, bitterly amused that his jailor tried to disguise a threat as concern. Wallman nodded. "You never have to worry about being safe, not with me around, okay?"
Alex walked away, listening to Jules talk about a pond that was supposed to be on the property, but thinking about Wallman…maybe…it sounded as if he was reassuring him, not threatening. Was there something else going on here that he wasn't aware of? Had Wade lied to him about Jules safety? He couldn’t imagine that he had—he trusted Wade to tell him the truth. He always had so far.
The grounds the house sat on were surrounded by a stone wall, taller than head height, and topped with spikes—the place was practically a fortress. The garden was old world style, with carefully maintained trees giving the illusion of forest, and manicured grass paths wandering through the trees, one of them led to the pond Jules was so interested in.
They came in sight of it and Jules ran out ahead to see. "Ha! This is perfect—I hoped it might be deep enough and it is!" He turned to Alex with a grin. "There are all these model ships in the room, and I wanted to know if the pond was deep enough to float them—race them really."
"I see," Alex smiled. Jules busied himself at the shore, collecting rocks, apparently a very exacting thing. After a bit, he had a pile of smooth, flattish stones. Alex wandered over to him, watched him select one and skip it expertly across the pond surface.
"Wow. That was good."
Jules blushed lightly. "Thanks. I'm trying to get it all the way across the pond."
"You will," Alex said decisively. "Say, Jules…does Dad ever mention me? At all?"
Jules looked at him from the corner of his eye, carefully selected another stone and tossed. "No, not really."
Alex took a breath to even out the little bloom of pain under his breastbone. "Does he talk about why I left?"
"No…well…yes. I used to ask him, a lot, why you left us. There was one time he said…he said you were too sad. That it was too sad for you to stay. I didn't get it then, but when I got older… he talking about Mom, wasn't he?"
"In a way. I was, though. I was really sad." He smiled down at Jules. "But that was a long time ago. I'm better now."
Jules stared at the smooth black stone on his hand, frowned a little. "Are you sure? 'Cause sometimes, you still look sad."
"Do I?" He laughed, took the stone from Jules hand and skipped, a respectable three skips before it sank without a ripple. "I'm not, love. I'm really not."
Wade came home that late evening, quickly bypassing Alex and Jules in the sitting room. They were playing a board game, listening to the radio…Wallman glanced at his boss and stayed where he was, sprawled in a chair in front of the fire.
"Alex," they heard, and he jumped. Jules looked at Alex with wide eyes, tinged with an edge of fear, and Alex cursed himself for letting his reaction to the curt summons show. Damn it, he was supposed to be protecting Julian, not scaring him….
Wallman rumbled "You better go. He must have been working." Alex looked puzzled, and Wallman shrugged. "Sometimes he feels like talking after…you just gotta listen, he'll come out of it."
He went to the room adjoining his, Wade's room. He was pacing, cursing…he stopped and shook himself, tossed his head to throw back the hair that had fallen in his face. He looked disheveled, and he was…dirty, for Wade, he was dirty. Alex was shaken to see him this way. Something pretty bad must have happened, and he immediately thought of Pete.
Wade finally seemed to notice him, gestured briskly, "You. C'mere.
Alex edged over to him, wary of this strange new creature. "What—damn."
Up close, Wade smelled like a basement, like wet dirt, and…blood. He looked in Alex face, eyes thoughtful. You're good friends with the jig in the band, right? You told him, didn’t you?
What?
Wade shrugged irritably. Those fucking smokes. They're packing iron like a god damn army, and they're fighting like one too. They beat the shit out of us--*us!* Morgan is just gonna have ta go out front on this one.
Morgan? Did you tell him I told? Is he coming here?
Wade looked at him like he was stupid. "Morgan ain't coming here—he's never coming *here.* not as long as your brother's here anyway. And I didn't tell him. No one knows but you and me. No one will know but you and me, okay? Ever."
Alex nodded, feeling as old as Jules. Wade held too many of his secrets. How was he ever going to get them out of this mess? "Clark," he muttered. "Find me—I know you're looking for me, I know it."
@@@@@@
Clark swept the floor—it took him a few minutes. And then he dusted the room, including the tops of everything, door, windowsill…he washed the window and tutted over how black the water was, decided he needed to wash the floor he'd swept. He pushed his bed from one end of the room, pushed it back when he realized he'd have to jump over it to get out the door, rifled through the boxes doing duty as bookshelves and organized his books by author, re-did it by genre, thought about doing it by the color of the spines….
He plopped down at the table, opened a deck of cards and amused himself by cheating outrageously at solitaire. Finally he just sat at the table, ready to admit he was so worried he was about to go bugs. He sighed. All right. Something was wrong and he'd have to find out what it was. Lex wasn't off playing hooky, he was *missing*, Pete was missing...Pete's family was gone. He'd checked at his house and the potted flowers on the steps were fried by heat and lack of water and Mrs. Ross wasn't about to let things go to pot like that, any more than his own mom would. He remembered Pete telling Lex about aunts in Jersey…and Wade was mentioned and anything that had to do with that—that--*goon* was never any good
He needed a plan. He'd divide the city into sections and search, carefully. By foot, at normal speed, it'd take him days, but using *his* speed—he frowned. It might still take him all night. He might have to ditch rehearsal...he sighed. There he went again, thinking he was responsible for everyone. The band wasn't going to implode because he missed one rehearsal, heck, it was pointless to pretend there even *was* a point at the moment, what with both Alex and Pete gone…and what the hell happened to that guy, the one who claimed to be Lex's friend? That was another person he couldn't find--Clark clenched his hands and accidentally crushed the cards in frustration.
"Damn it!" He threw mangled cardboard into the trash. He was done being an idiot. Lex wouldn't take off anywhere without telling him unless there was terrible trouble. Enough of parking his butt and—he waved his hand in frustration--sticking his head in the sand. Something to that effect. At any rate, it was getting darker now, and in the night, he could use his abilities without problem.
There was a clatter on the stairs, and the thump of running feet in the hallway. He jumped to the door, and opened it to find Pete there, mouth open, fist raised and about to pound on the door. He had his brother Simon with him, their arms looped around each other and blood, it looked like, everywhere.
"Pete! Pete—get in! Oh my God, what—"
Pete staggered in and Clark could see that he was supporting Simon more than Simon was supporting him. He grabbed him from Pete's grip and helped ease Simon into one of the chairs.
Pete looked terrified; Simon just looked resigned, when he wasn't grimacing in pain. "Clark," Pete stammered, "I--shit. Sorry, this was the closest safe place I could think of. We just need…Simon needs a second to get his wind back, is all. We'll be outa here soon as he does." He smiled, and it wobbled dangerously.
The blood that seemed to be everywhere wasn't Pete's. Clark scanned him quickly, but Pete seemed unharmed. "Sure, Pete, no sweat. Simon, let me see. I know a little first aid--on the farm, stuff happens, you know…" He pulled Simon's jacket back, and his shirt was black with blood.
"Shit," he hissed, twisted away and groaned when Clark unbuttoned his shirt. Clark gently ignored Simon's squirming, gently pulled the blood soaked jacket the rest of the way off.
"Pete," Clark asked, trying to stay matter-of-fact, "Can you take the teapot and fill it with water, bathroom's down the hall. And toss me those towels on top of the dresser, please?
He waited until Pete walked out the room before ripping the shirt off Simon, who yelled curses and moaned in pain. "Mother--fucking gray, do you know--how much—I paid for that—that—" he began panting harshly as Clark probed at his shoulder. "God, oh God, that really hurts…" Simon weaved in and out of full awareness, and Clark let his eyes go unfocused, thought about looking deeper into Simon's shoulder and then he could look into flesh, muscle and bone. "Okay," he muttered…he got a knife out of his tiny pantry, took a deep breath and started to lever out the bullet, which was sitting mostly right beneath the skin. It'd gone in, glanced off bone and luckily for Simon, hadn't lodged very deeply.
"Fuck, fuck, boy, stop…" a weak, shaky hand lifted and dropped on his wrist."My jacket—flask, pocket."
Clark immediately fished a flat silver flask out of the inside pocket of the jacket, and Simon took it gratefully, drank deeply. "God…how long you been cutting, half hour, longer?"
"'bouta minute," Clark muttered, keeping his eye on the spot.
"Shit…gun's in my pocket too, if I start crying, take it out and shoot me."
Clark snorted a surprised laugh, just as Pete came in the door with the water. He took the blood soaked towels from Clark and wrapped them in newspaper. "I'll dump these on the way out," and Clark nodded. So much for his towels…
He got the bullet out, and cleaned and bandaged the wound as best he could. "I don't have anything, no alcohol or peroxide. You better clean it out good when you get the chance. Pete, he's going to have to go to a doctor, you know."
Pete gave his brother a careful one–armed hug and Simon choked for a second. "Yeah…King will take care of the doctor for me…I gotta get back there." Pete looked away and nodded.
"Listen, Pete," he said, "I'm sorry, real sorry, but when Morgan's men moved on us, we didn't have a choice. I didn’t want to get you involved, but…I'm glad everyone left Metropolis. Thanks for coming to tell me. Too bad the timing wasn't better."
Pete told Clark about going to Royal's club, to tell Simon the family had gone to visit the aunts until the trouble was over, and practically walking into a shoot out between Edge's and Royal's gangs. Pete sighed deeply, watching Simon nod on and off at the kitchen table. "I thought I was a goner man…I really did. And when Simon started bleeding like that…shit. I was scared, son."
Clark hugged Pete. "Well, you're safe now, okay?" He glanced to the window. It was full dark now. He should go looking…but Pete was worn to a nub, and Simon was gray with blood loss and exhaustion—there was simply no way he could make it to the front door, let alone Pete' room, or Royal's club….
"You guys lay down," Clark said. "You'll have to share the bed and that'll be tough with Simon's shoulder but nobody is going anywhere tonight. Please."
They protested, but not too much, and when they hit the little bed, they were both out like lights. Clark grabbed an extra blanket and went out to the roof. He could lie down and think, and still be close enough to Pete and his brother if they needed anything.
Around midnight he woke with a start--someone was on the roof with him. He looked up, around, and there they were, sitting of to the left in the shadow of the chimneys. Whoever it was knew immediately that Clark was awake. "Hey, Angel." He crouched in the shadow, the black silk mask he'd been wearing the last time he'd met him in the dark was twisted in his fingers. That silent misery still filled his eyes; his lips were twisted in a smile.
"You! Where the hell have you been?" Clark felt a perfect wash of rage sweep over him—he felt like his skin was on fire, he was so angry. "Where's Alex?"
The long black coat dragged through the dust and gravel of the rooftop as Bruce unfolded and came toward him. The sound it made slithering over the stone reminded Clark of rattlers in the grass…"I don’t know where. Not yet. But I know why. And who."
"You know! You know! If you know so much, why don’t you know where he is? Or do you have something to do with this?"
Bruce flinched and the mask dropped to the ground. "Look Angel—you're right to be scared for Lex, but don’t forget who your friends are—I'd never hurt Lex."
"You're lying!" Clark got to his feet and Bruce blinked hard when it seemed as if Clark had disappeared and reappeared in front of him. "I see it, hear it--you're lying," he growled.
"I—I know Morgan Edge took him—and his brother. The way these hoods work, Lex'll be held in a safe house somewhere. These goons prepare for everything. It's going to be some place that looks legit, the cops won’t know about it. They're going to go for ransom. And when Luthor pays, he's going to get skunked. Jules will live, but the old man might not get him back. If Lex isn’t dead yet— there's bad blood there, between the old man and Edge. My feeling, Lex isn’t going to make it out—ow!"
Clark had him pressed against a wall. "If Lex is dies—you're dead too. You could have come with this earlier---why'd you wait?"
"Because I had to make sure my suspicions were correct. He's okay, it's only been—"
"Three days. Long enough. Too long." He held Bruce against the wall, lifted him until his toes barely touched the ground, and his fingers scrabbled at Clark's wrist. Clark felt the wash of his hot breath across his knuckles, and tightened his grip on Bruce's collar, struggled not to tighten too much—not yet.
"Look, look, look, I'm sorry—I just…" His eyes were closed so tight, long lines wrinkled the corners. His lips were pulled up in a not quite smile, not quite grimace. "God," he breathed. "I'm so fucking jealous of him."
Clark started—Bruce dropped off his toes as Clark's grip loosened. "You—"
"*Jealous* damn it, yes. Look at me—look what they made me into. Sure, it is what it is and my father was a useless man." He laughed. "So, I turned it inside out but it took so much…work to get here. And Lex…fucking Lex, God, who thinks he was hated and discarded but who got the greatest gift his father could give him, freedom—and he got you. And sometimes I want to throw up because of the things I do, and some times just because…because I have *nothing*, and he has you!"
Clark let Bruce go, backed away from him, from his blazing sapphire eyes, and white white face, bitten lips almost as red as his burning cheeks…Bruce spit his words out like poison, but his eyes were wet, and he hid his face behind black gloved hands for a moment, shook all over.
When he dropped his hands again, his eyes were hard. He threw himself away from Clark and dashed to the edge of the roof.
Clark froze for an instant--"No!"-- he ran faster, reached the edge before Bruce did, and swept him up into his arms. The pain he radiated filled Clark, made him desperately wish he could help him somehow, give him something…but right now he had nothing to give but strength, everything else was Lex's.
Bruce cursed, and fought against the line that was tangled now around Clark and himself, the black iron grapple on the end clanged against the knee high brick ledge. "Clark, what the fuck is wrong with—oh for crying out loud, I wasn't trying to kill myself, you oaf—and look out for my line, do you know how much that stuff costs—"
Clark dropped him so suddenly to his feet he staggered. "You know, I'm fed up to here with people complaining about how much stuff cost. Lives are priceless—money is nothing."
"You only feel that way because you don't have any," Bruce snapped, and untangled his line carefully. Clark watched him, surprised again by his beauty and grace. He was almost as sexy as Lex…he blushed when Bruce met his eyes.
Bruce blushed too. I'm…Fuck. I didn't mean that. I understand and I agree, really. Lives are precious." He looked down at the neatly coiled line in his hand. He shrugged, and a half smile like a wolf's showed white, white teeth. "Most, anyway. We're going to find him, Angel, and everything will be all right, I promise."
part 47
TBC
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