sv fic post: East of the Sun part 48
8/22/08 09:19 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-13
Word Count:1964
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!
Alex had tried several times to get into the study alone, tried to use the phone, but Wallman was on him like a tick on a dog. If it wasn't the guard, it was Jules, following him, asking him questions, begging him to play a game, go for a walk, listen to music...he couldn't refuse him, and he couldn't really avoid him and it was a bit of work on his part not to worry Jules.
At the moment, Jules was at the pond, setting some of Edge's no doubt terribly expensive miniature ships free. It was a thought that made Alex smile…he wandered around the house, noting that most rooms had sealed windows or doors that locked from the outside only. He knew there were no phones in any of the rooms of course, just the one in the library and the room that held a switchboard and operator…the room he couldn’t find. He felt a little dry tickle of thirst, and thought he'd get a drink from the kitchen instead of calling a servant to the sitting room and then having to wait for it to be brought to him…the thought crossed his mind that the kitchen had to have a phone. Yeah, surely they had a phone….
He walked quickly down the hallway, to the double staircase that split the house in two, one side lead to the public spaces and living areas, the other side led towards the kitchen and the servants' quarters. He walked faster, faster until he was almost running, dashed into the kitchen. Heat and noise assailed him for a moment. He hesitated, and all eyes turned to him, puzzled to see one of the houses guests standing in the kitchen.
"Help you, sir?" one of the cooks asked.
Nerves made his mouth dry, his voice low and harsh. He forced it to be heard over the din. "Is there a phone here?" Alex asked.
"Yes sir, but it don't work unless the switchboard operator makes the connection and Mr. Mahaney said no one makes a call without him saying so, him or that giant trails him all the time--" The man seemed to suddenly realize he was gossiping about his betters to one of his betters, and flushing red, stammered an apology and hurried away.
Alex asked for and got a bottle of beer and an opener and went out through the rear doors, out onto the grounds.
There just had to be some way possible to get a phone call out…he walked in the opposite direction of the pond and found a wrought iron bench hidden in a carefully manicured spot of the garden. He sat and pulled the bottle out of his pocket. He'd have to figure a way, and soon. He popped the cap off and tucked it and the opener into his vest pocket, took a long, long drink. He wiped his lips with his thumb and thought hard. He thought about Wallman, who had the authority to use the phone, Wallman who watched him walk, who stared coldly at Wade when he gave Alex a rough time. Who swallowed hard when Alex licked his lips….
Alex set the empty bottle on the stones between his feet, reached in his pocket for the mother-of-pearl inlaid cigarette case Wade had given him…looked like a match to that lighter he always carried….
He lit a cigarette, emptied the rest into his pocket and threw the case as hard and as far as he could. He watched it shatter into pieces against a tree.
"Clark," he yelled, "Clark god damn it, where the hell are you—come save Jules!" He grit his teeth together, pushed with his thumb at the bridge of his nose until he saw stars. He whispered harshly, "Fuck, come stop me before I do something I'll regret—if I get the time to…"
He stretched across the bench, smoking, thinking, weighing his decision. He decided that saving Jules was all that mattered, whatever it took. Wallman…Charles, Chuck…Wade had called him something with a chuh, had eyes for him. He wasn't blind. He knew C. Wallman had it bad…maybe bad enough to let himself be used.
@@@@@@
Clark watched the sun rise over the neighboring rooftops, and waited. In the last couple of days they'd been working together, it's become a bit of a game with him, and he suspected with Bruce as well. Clark held his breath and waited, searching--and there he was. No matter how hard he listened, no matter how closely he watched, the empty rooftop gave up no secrets. One minute he was alone and the next--Bruce was just—there. It was a little aggravating, a little scary and sometimes he had to admit, a little…sexy.
Bruce whipped the scarf away and shoved it into an overcoat pocket, peeled off the gloves and stuck them in pockets too.
Clark looked him over thoughtfully and said, "Do you mind if I ask you something?"
Bruce smirked back, threw back his coattails and stuck his hands deep into his pants pockets. "Go ahead. Ask away."
"Well…it's hot as heck in Metropolis in the summer. What are you going to be wearing then? I mean, scarf, overcoat, gloves—in ninety degree weather? Seems a little—"
"Oh shut up," Bruce said, and Clark smirked as the blush washed over Bruce's cheeks. "I'll…think of something. Besides, this isn't the best get-up anyway," he mused. "Not enough pockets, and that scarf is beginning to drive me nuts… by the way, I've got good news, important news--"
Clark gasped. Excitement spiked so hard it was almost painful. "Finally! What have you got for me?" He held his hand out for a leather folder Bruce pulled from under his coat. Bruce brushed by his outstretched hand and strode over to the building's edge, laid the case on the chest-high wall surrounding it. He removed a map and smoothed it flat. "These are all the safe-houses owned by the Gentlemen. Some of these are known, by dirty cops or politicians who need a little get-away from time to time, rich mugs who want something that they can't get at home or don’t want getting out to their set, but there a few nobody knows about but the *inner*-inner circle." He smiled. "Luckily, some people will say anything after an orgasm…so; Lex and his brother will be in one of these, the unknowns. I also asked around about who's missing and only Mahaney and his bodyguard are out of town. That means Edge is playing this damn close to the vest—and if he sent his lapdog to watch them neither of the Luthors are meant to come back to town. Edge probably means to take the money and keep Julian as his newest…" he hesitated, glanced at Clark. "A pet." He nodded at Clark's gasp of horrified disbelief.
"But…but he knows Julian—he's been to their home, he's given him birthday gifts and—they call him uncle—"
Bruce shrugged, as if what Clark was saying meant too little to be acknowledged. "I called him Uncle too. And then spent two years in his…house." He wrapped his hand around Clark's wrist when he growled; if he'd been looking at Clark he'd have seen his eyes glow briefly red. "Losing your grip won’t help Lex, okay?" He went on, "Not much Lionel can do if that's what the goon wants, not with the dirt Edge has on him. Lionel would have to be willing to give everything up to get both of them back. Can't see that happening—"
"Wait, wait, wait—you're saying you *know* Edge is going to kill Lex? What the—how can you be so damn calm about it?"
Bruce looked surprised. "Because it's not going to happen, okay? Do me a favor and don’t choke me this time, okay? We'll get him out, I promise. Besides, Morgan made a mistake counting on Mahaney to kill Lex. I hope so anyway. I've…I've seen him with Lex. I think…Wade's not as uninvolved as Morgan expects."
Clark glowered. "I know that palooka thinks Lex belongs to him or something. But he's wrong—dead wrong."
Bruce nodded and folded the map. "All we have to do now is find him."
@@@@@@
Clark convinced Bruce—now all he had to do was convince himself. Deep down, he thought the idea was ridiculous. He couldn't believe that he'd led Bruce to believe it was possible…but Bruce had kind of needed to believe it was, almost as much as Clark needed to believe it was possible. He glanced over at Bruce's tight, set expression…maybe more.
There was no way he'd tell him that he'd never really done it before. Really—how was he supposed to tell which heartbeat was the right one, out of hundreds?
He'd had to bully Bruce a little all night long—first to make him believe in his hearing abilities, than to let himself be carried to the outskirts of Metropolis—at least he'd had sense enough to stay still once Clark hit full speed. He'd stopped on a hillside not far from where the map directed them—Clark had to admit, this side of Metropolis was grand--the skies seemed filled with stars with no smoke or soot to hide them, and the hills were covered with budding green, the breeze brought the scent of growing things instead of burning coal and garbage— for a brief second he felt terribly homesick.
There were lots of big houses hidden by huge walls and the remnants of forest, houses that were fancier than the Bessolo Boulevard district, or the Centennial Park area by far…most of the smaller roads branching from the main road were private. A few even had liveried men at their gates.
Bruce sat in the grass, trying to regain his equilibrium. Clark had checked to make sure he was psychically okay and then forgot him—he was concentrating with all his being on one impossible thing, and it was all he could spare thought for.
"Whew—can’t say I care much for that mode of travel," Bruce muttered. A little louder he said, "Hey. Some day, I'm going to want explanations for—all of this, you understand? But right now, how about doing that thing you claim you can do?"
"Yeah." Clark swallowed hard. "I—I'm trying...well, here goes." He shut his eyes, and thought hard about wanting to hear—everything. He thought about dismantling all the barriers he'd learned to place between himself and the world--all the protection he'd erected against the barrage he'd experienced in childhood slowly gave way. Bit by bit, he left himself more open than he'd ever been before. He braced himself for the sensation of sound rushing at him like a run-away train…"Okay."
Bruce's heart thundered like a bass drum next to him, so loud and deep Clark felt it in his blood. He concentrated and managed to ignore it…all around him sounds were identified and dismissed and still he doubted he'd be able to find one man's heartbeat out of so many…and then a sound--a *feeling* swept over him, and in his mind, his head was resting on Lex's chest and he could feel the warmth, the steady beat under his cheek and then he could hear it…was hearing it…he turned his head toward it, eyes still closed, searching for the soft thump-thump that signified Lex. He pictured lying next to Lex, feeling the beat, let it fill him and murmured, "I have it."
Bruce whispered, "Good—I'll just—"
"Shhh! Come on, we need to get there in a hurry."
Bruce muttered, "Shit." Held his arms up with a deep sigh, waiting for Clark to whisk him up again.
part 49
TBC
Author: roxy
Pairings/Characters: Lex/Clark
Rating:PG-13
Word Count:1964
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!Alex had tried several times to get into the study alone, tried to use the phone, but Wallman was on him like a tick on a dog. If it wasn't the guard, it was Jules, following him, asking him questions, begging him to play a game, go for a walk, listen to music...he couldn't refuse him, and he couldn't really avoid him and it was a bit of work on his part not to worry Jules.
At the moment, Jules was at the pond, setting some of Edge's no doubt terribly expensive miniature ships free. It was a thought that made Alex smile…he wandered around the house, noting that most rooms had sealed windows or doors that locked from the outside only. He knew there were no phones in any of the rooms of course, just the one in the library and the room that held a switchboard and operator…the room he couldn’t find. He felt a little dry tickle of thirst, and thought he'd get a drink from the kitchen instead of calling a servant to the sitting room and then having to wait for it to be brought to him…the thought crossed his mind that the kitchen had to have a phone. Yeah, surely they had a phone….
He walked quickly down the hallway, to the double staircase that split the house in two, one side lead to the public spaces and living areas, the other side led towards the kitchen and the servants' quarters. He walked faster, faster until he was almost running, dashed into the kitchen. Heat and noise assailed him for a moment. He hesitated, and all eyes turned to him, puzzled to see one of the houses guests standing in the kitchen.
"Help you, sir?" one of the cooks asked.
Nerves made his mouth dry, his voice low and harsh. He forced it to be heard over the din. "Is there a phone here?" Alex asked.
"Yes sir, but it don't work unless the switchboard operator makes the connection and Mr. Mahaney said no one makes a call without him saying so, him or that giant trails him all the time--" The man seemed to suddenly realize he was gossiping about his betters to one of his betters, and flushing red, stammered an apology and hurried away.
Alex asked for and got a bottle of beer and an opener and went out through the rear doors, out onto the grounds.
There just had to be some way possible to get a phone call out…he walked in the opposite direction of the pond and found a wrought iron bench hidden in a carefully manicured spot of the garden. He sat and pulled the bottle out of his pocket. He'd have to figure a way, and soon. He popped the cap off and tucked it and the opener into his vest pocket, took a long, long drink. He wiped his lips with his thumb and thought hard. He thought about Wallman, who had the authority to use the phone, Wallman who watched him walk, who stared coldly at Wade when he gave Alex a rough time. Who swallowed hard when Alex licked his lips….
Alex set the empty bottle on the stones between his feet, reached in his pocket for the mother-of-pearl inlaid cigarette case Wade had given him…looked like a match to that lighter he always carried….
He lit a cigarette, emptied the rest into his pocket and threw the case as hard and as far as he could. He watched it shatter into pieces against a tree.
"Clark," he yelled, "Clark god damn it, where the hell are you—come save Jules!" He grit his teeth together, pushed with his thumb at the bridge of his nose until he saw stars. He whispered harshly, "Fuck, come stop me before I do something I'll regret—if I get the time to…"
He stretched across the bench, smoking, thinking, weighing his decision. He decided that saving Jules was all that mattered, whatever it took. Wallman…Charles, Chuck…Wade had called him something with a chuh, had eyes for him. He wasn't blind. He knew C. Wallman had it bad…maybe bad enough to let himself be used.
@@@@@@
Clark watched the sun rise over the neighboring rooftops, and waited. In the last couple of days they'd been working together, it's become a bit of a game with him, and he suspected with Bruce as well. Clark held his breath and waited, searching--and there he was. No matter how hard he listened, no matter how closely he watched, the empty rooftop gave up no secrets. One minute he was alone and the next--Bruce was just—there. It was a little aggravating, a little scary and sometimes he had to admit, a little…sexy.
Bruce whipped the scarf away and shoved it into an overcoat pocket, peeled off the gloves and stuck them in pockets too.
Clark looked him over thoughtfully and said, "Do you mind if I ask you something?"
Bruce smirked back, threw back his coattails and stuck his hands deep into his pants pockets. "Go ahead. Ask away."
"Well…it's hot as heck in Metropolis in the summer. What are you going to be wearing then? I mean, scarf, overcoat, gloves—in ninety degree weather? Seems a little—"
"Oh shut up," Bruce said, and Clark smirked as the blush washed over Bruce's cheeks. "I'll…think of something. Besides, this isn't the best get-up anyway," he mused. "Not enough pockets, and that scarf is beginning to drive me nuts… by the way, I've got good news, important news--"
Clark gasped. Excitement spiked so hard it was almost painful. "Finally! What have you got for me?" He held his hand out for a leather folder Bruce pulled from under his coat. Bruce brushed by his outstretched hand and strode over to the building's edge, laid the case on the chest-high wall surrounding it. He removed a map and smoothed it flat. "These are all the safe-houses owned by the Gentlemen. Some of these are known, by dirty cops or politicians who need a little get-away from time to time, rich mugs who want something that they can't get at home or don’t want getting out to their set, but there a few nobody knows about but the *inner*-inner circle." He smiled. "Luckily, some people will say anything after an orgasm…so; Lex and his brother will be in one of these, the unknowns. I also asked around about who's missing and only Mahaney and his bodyguard are out of town. That means Edge is playing this damn close to the vest—and if he sent his lapdog to watch them neither of the Luthors are meant to come back to town. Edge probably means to take the money and keep Julian as his newest…" he hesitated, glanced at Clark. "A pet." He nodded at Clark's gasp of horrified disbelief.
"But…but he knows Julian—he's been to their home, he's given him birthday gifts and—they call him uncle—"
Bruce shrugged, as if what Clark was saying meant too little to be acknowledged. "I called him Uncle too. And then spent two years in his…house." He wrapped his hand around Clark's wrist when he growled; if he'd been looking at Clark he'd have seen his eyes glow briefly red. "Losing your grip won’t help Lex, okay?" He went on, "Not much Lionel can do if that's what the goon wants, not with the dirt Edge has on him. Lionel would have to be willing to give everything up to get both of them back. Can't see that happening—"
"Wait, wait, wait—you're saying you *know* Edge is going to kill Lex? What the—how can you be so damn calm about it?"
Bruce looked surprised. "Because it's not going to happen, okay? Do me a favor and don’t choke me this time, okay? We'll get him out, I promise. Besides, Morgan made a mistake counting on Mahaney to kill Lex. I hope so anyway. I've…I've seen him with Lex. I think…Wade's not as uninvolved as Morgan expects."
Clark glowered. "I know that palooka thinks Lex belongs to him or something. But he's wrong—dead wrong."
Bruce nodded and folded the map. "All we have to do now is find him."
@@@@@@
Clark convinced Bruce—now all he had to do was convince himself. Deep down, he thought the idea was ridiculous. He couldn't believe that he'd led Bruce to believe it was possible…but Bruce had kind of needed to believe it was, almost as much as Clark needed to believe it was possible. He glanced over at Bruce's tight, set expression…maybe more.
There was no way he'd tell him that he'd never really done it before. Really—how was he supposed to tell which heartbeat was the right one, out of hundreds?
He'd had to bully Bruce a little all night long—first to make him believe in his hearing abilities, than to let himself be carried to the outskirts of Metropolis—at least he'd had sense enough to stay still once Clark hit full speed. He'd stopped on a hillside not far from where the map directed them—Clark had to admit, this side of Metropolis was grand--the skies seemed filled with stars with no smoke or soot to hide them, and the hills were covered with budding green, the breeze brought the scent of growing things instead of burning coal and garbage— for a brief second he felt terribly homesick.
There were lots of big houses hidden by huge walls and the remnants of forest, houses that were fancier than the Bessolo Boulevard district, or the Centennial Park area by far…most of the smaller roads branching from the main road were private. A few even had liveried men at their gates.
Bruce sat in the grass, trying to regain his equilibrium. Clark had checked to make sure he was psychically okay and then forgot him—he was concentrating with all his being on one impossible thing, and it was all he could spare thought for.
"Whew—can’t say I care much for that mode of travel," Bruce muttered. A little louder he said, "Hey. Some day, I'm going to want explanations for—all of this, you understand? But right now, how about doing that thing you claim you can do?"
"Yeah." Clark swallowed hard. "I—I'm trying...well, here goes." He shut his eyes, and thought hard about wanting to hear—everything. He thought about dismantling all the barriers he'd learned to place between himself and the world--all the protection he'd erected against the barrage he'd experienced in childhood slowly gave way. Bit by bit, he left himself more open than he'd ever been before. He braced himself for the sensation of sound rushing at him like a run-away train…"Okay."
Bruce's heart thundered like a bass drum next to him, so loud and deep Clark felt it in his blood. He concentrated and managed to ignore it…all around him sounds were identified and dismissed and still he doubted he'd be able to find one man's heartbeat out of so many…and then a sound--a *feeling* swept over him, and in his mind, his head was resting on Lex's chest and he could feel the warmth, the steady beat under his cheek and then he could hear it…was hearing it…he turned his head toward it, eyes still closed, searching for the soft thump-thump that signified Lex. He pictured lying next to Lex, feeling the beat, let it fill him and murmured, "I have it."
Bruce whispered, "Good—I'll just—"
"Shhh! Come on, we need to get there in a hurry."
Bruce muttered, "Shit." Held his arms up with a deep sigh, waiting for Clark to whisk him up again.
part 49
TBC
Tags:
(no subject)
8/23/08 08:40 pm (UTC)*jitters in nervous panic*
Duuuuuuuuuude!!
*bounce*
Yes, Clark and Bruce together will Save the Day! They will!!
*clings to you*
(no subject)
8/25/08 02:45 am (UTC)