SV: The Lonely part 4/10
8/30/09 07:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxyTitle: The Lonely
Author: roxy
Pairings/Characters: Kal/Lex
Rating: over all--R
Word Count: 2467
Spoilers: none
Summary: Lex Luthor destroyed one world and crippled another for the sake of humanity. Of course humanity was incapable of understanding the gift he'd given them. Now he was sentenced to pay the price, a lifetime on his very own planet, without the company of other human beings….
Notes/Warnings: language, tantrums, sexual situations …I don’t even have to warn you about M/M sex, right?
This is my failed Big Bang attempt. It's most definitely a WIP. I'm hoping to come up to a good finish--*koff*. I promise there will be an ending—even if they just get on a bus and go to the seashore. In this part, Lex receives a strange and wonderful gift....
Luthor! Mr. Luthor!"
Lex heard a sound that woke him out of his nightmares and he was incredibly grateful to the sound when it came again.
"Luthor—Lex! We don’t have long to stay—there's—there's trouble now, we have to hurry."
Lex hissed, and dragged himself upright. He was shaky and nauseous, had slept like the dead in what turned out to be the creature's nest, a pile of branches and leaves it'd brought from somewhere….there'd been eggs in the nest, and he'd broken them. The smell of decomposing hatchlings clogged his throat, but the smell of the creature and its eggs seemed to keep the tiny lizard-things at bay…another thing to be grateful for, he supposed.
Lex pulled himself out of the shelter of the rocks, keeping weight off his healing leg as well as he could. Again the voice rang out—
"Gotta go—we'll be back, I'm sure. I just don’t know when—"
"No," Lex tried to shout, "wait! Wait…" Lex fell back against the cave wall, exhausted. His eyelids dropped against his will. His body craved sleep while it healed, sleep and food, and at the moment, he could only give it sleep….
~~oOo~~
It took three full days after the missed drop before Lex was able to walk, and when he could, the first thing he did was go back to his camp, and eat. He washed down energy bars with water, and ate right to the point of being too full. Experience taught him not to deny himself—he ate and ate until he couldn't bear the thought of food, and ate a bit past that. He slept again, the next time he woke, he made sure the wound was healing well. Without his abilities, he had no doubt, he would have died. He rose and walked his little camp, made sure everything was secure. The garden was dry but salvageable, and having nothing else to do, he attended to his plants.
It was late afternoon before he felt able to leave the camp, and he headed down to the drop site. There were a few small crates, food, probably, perhaps tools. And off to the side, a long narrow box. It looked disturbingly coffin sized….
He stood over the box. There was a message pod glued to the lid. He twisted it free and thumbed it on.
"Mr. Luthor. We've been invaded, the Commonwealth is at war and—and--well, this might be the last shipment in a long while—"
Lex slumped to the ground, and everything around him swam. He'd been looking forward to human contact and the disappointment, the warning that it might be longer than six months before he saw another person again, hit him hard. He blinked to clear his eyes, took a deep breath, and continued the recording. "—directions are inside the lid for the 'struct." The voice lowered, as if what came next was a secret. "Have no idea how this was managed—you have very loyal and influential friends, Lex. 'Til next time."
Lex resisted the temptation to replay the message. It could wait. All he had was time. He opened the smaller boxes first—more rations, more blankets, more paper books—empty notebooks for use as journals, he supposed, or to write reams of hate mail to his captors…he surprised himself by smiling.
After he'd sorted everything out carefully, made piles by type, and repacked the boxes to bring to Camp Luthor, he decided to open the biggest crate next. Was it a vehicle of some sort? That would be…interesting to assemble. Or maybe, a shower? A bucket and a rope made a sort of shower but he'd kill for a real one…he refused to hope too intensely, these were after all the people who included directions to build and maintain an outhouse.
He wrenched the top free, and slid it off the crate. Inside was something swathed in translucent plastic sheeting. He pulled the plastic back and jumped away with a curse.
There was a body inside the box.
~~oOo~~
2
"What the fuck…" Lex swallowed. Why would they…he looked closer. It was Clark. Clark was dead. They sent him a dead Clark—his hand flew up to cover his mouth and he gasped. Then horribly, giggled. He felt it popping in his chest like champagne, swirling around until it rose out of his throat and burst free. He giggled, until giggles turned to laughter, and laughter…just…would…not…stop….
After a moment, he realized he was on the ground, rolled into a ball, and his sides and throat were aching. God, he was falling to pieces, completely loosing control of himself. He pulled himself up right, leaned over the box and looked into the face of a serene, sleeping, Clark Kent. Or…no. Not Clark. This was a slightly younger version, more like the boy who'd rescued him, than the man who insisted he was the source of all evil in the world, pompous…alien…*bitch*.
"What is this? A—a clone?" he muttered to himself. He touched the hand, and the skin was cool, but not with the chill of death, the skin felt alive. He pressed a finger to the neck, but there was no pulse. Not a clone. A robot? From where, though? He had no knowledge of any society capable of constructing a robot so lifelike, but the voice on the recorder spoke as if it was a common thing, a 'struct'—short for construct? That seemed to indicate that it was common enough for the name to have become generic…like kleenex and band-aid and…and vaseline…Lex slowed his thoughts.
"You're stalling," he scolded himself. "You're afraid. Well, perhaps you should be. You get a corpse-like copy of Clark in a crate. Why…?" He shook his head, and glanced at his feet. Ah. The lid.
A product of Wayne Industries Constructs. There are constructs for every need, and you've chosen the companion construct. Wayne Constructs congratulates you, and welcomes you to the family.
Operating instructions couldn't be simpler! Turn on the construct, and be prepared for a short learning cycle. Your construct absorbs information from *you* and adjusts him/herself constantly in order to be a suitable companion to *you*. We guarantee satisfaction. All constructs are equipped with basic and necessary information, geared towards *you* and the environment he/she will be operating in.
To activate the construct, press the thumb (this construct will only operate with *your* print) against the left eye, remove, and wait two minutes for the construct to become active. Then, prepare to welcome your new companion!
This construct is a physically accurate model of a human being and capable of a full range of human activities. Please do not void the warranty by altering programming or parts. Aftermarket additions not provided and installed by WI may also void the warranty.
Lex gaped in horrified astonishment at the lid. Not only do they send him a—a—thing, a robot, android, what the hell, but they send him one made by Wayne Industries? Wayne, as in fucking Bruce Wayne? Was this payback for that 'I told you so'? He'd argued with Bruce for *years*, trying to get the man to work with him—plan for the moment when they'd be invaded—
And then Lex did get to say 'I told you so', when those hundreds of ships dropped into the earth's atmosphere…and so what if it turned out they wanted Earth to join their stupid council of planets? They *could* have been invaders. Hell, they might as well have been, they demolished Earth's culture….well, fine. They stopped wars and cured disease and tried to sell it as a good thing, instead of the end of human self-determination that it was. Flinging beads and baubles at the gullible natives…Lex flexed his hand, remembering the ugly plastic thing that had once been on the end of his wrist, and frowned, thinking…he shrugged and stared back at the construct, the puzzling construct. Back to the problem at hand, he thought, and choked briefly on a bitter laugh….
He was absolutely certain that not one of those cultures had ever had robots with such a--life-like appearance. And there was no fucking way Wayne came up with this technology…"It's just not possible," Lex snarled, pacing around the crate. If he hadn't been able to, than Wayne hadn't. They must have stolen it from some where. Some one--
Curiosity finally overcame anger--he tweaked soft golden skin, brushed his finger tips over the amazing, minute hairs covering its arms. The detail was mind-boggling--the hairs, tiny wrinkles in the skin, imperfections in color and smoothness—He found himself feeling for a pulse again, the god-damn thing was so life-like, it defied his logic. This thing was….
Was not in the slightest like his hand. His hand had been re-grown—it was his own flesh and blood, not a robotic reproduction. He pulled the plastic sheeting away from the still form until all of it was revealed, dressed in a soft grey uniform very reminiscent of hospital scrubs. Wonderful. The company apparently adopted Bruce's fashion sense.
A long moment unfolded in which Lex stared down at the still form in the crate, the only sound the slow, steady rasp of his breath, a hot breeze licked at his neck, a bead of sweat worked its way in a slithery tickle down the middle of his chest….
Lex flicked his tongue over his damp upper lip and shrugged. Lifted the waist of the trousers and looked.
"Hunh."
It was anatomically correct, yes. And from what he remembered of the one time Clark had nearly fallen…well, it hadn't exactly been Clark at the time, not really. He shivered as the memory, part pain, part pleasure, blew through his mind—yes, it seemed accurate for the subject. He pulled away from the memory, dismissed it.
"So…they've sent me a giant self-powered dildo? Well, I'm on board for that. Unless—" Maybe the penis was just for show? "Oh for fuck's sake," he snapped. "What the hell is *wrong* with you?" he snarled. He had a miracle of machinery here, so much he could learn from it, and here he was thinking with his dick. "Lex, Lex, Lex. Always has been your problem, thinking with your dick, (heart, a voice deep inside whispered) instead of your brain."
He pushed the construct's eyelid up, revealing a clear, ocean-green iris, complete with a ring of gold surrounding a pinpoint pupil. Jesus, he thought, that's Clark—Clark's eye. He took a deep breath and pressed his thumb against the eye even though his body protested it. He pulled it away, wiped it on his pants leg. It felt…uncomfortable, the eye was moist, and gave faintly under the pressure of his thumb. Lex counted two minutes down….
Nothing. No movement, no breath, not a thing. He reached out and gently shook the thing. "Hey. Wake up and entertain me," Lex muttered. "Hey—SHIT."
He jumped back. The thing opened both eyes and gasped. It blinked rapidly, its face going through different expressions and Lex was unsettled to see that for a second it looked terrified before it just looked…mildly surprised. It sat up, and looked at Lex. "Hello"
Lex murmured, "Ha--ppy birthday," and it quirked an eyebrow at him.
"Happy birthday. It is a celebration of birth. Birthday. It is a happy occasion, happy birthday." It smiled, and Lex felt his heart clench.
"Stop that! I'm not stupid, Clark. What the hell is this charade for? Some new way to laugh at me, you bastard?"
"I am…is Clark my name? Everything has a name. Will you name me?" It looked hopeful; it looked horribly like a puppy eager to please. Much too sweet and innocent—doubt flooded him. Clark had never been *that* innocent. It must be just what the crate named it—a Wayne Industries construct. Well, *good*.
"Clark…Clark…no, I don't think that's a name that suits you. Maybe…Kal?" He stepped forward and the construct watched him move closer, smiling sweetly.
"Kal," it said, rolling the name in its mouth like it tasted it. "Yes, I like it. Thank you. May I move?"
Lex nodded and it climbed clumsily out of the box, and staggered when its feet touched ground, but it was looking around, eyes wide and fascinated. "I've never walked before. The floor—ground—is very." It stopped and thought. "Nice. Comforting. Nice to step down and have solid beneath my feet."
Lex nodded, not really knowing what to say to it. Him.
He staggered forward a bit, but by the time he reached Lex, he was walking perfectly fine. "I belong to you. I exist to help you in whatever way you choose." he hesitated, as if he was thinking. "My name is Kal. May I know your name?
"I'm…Lex. Lex Luthor."
The construct smiled wide, blindingly beautiful. As always. "Lex Luthor—ah! I know who you are."
Lex steeped back, and glared at him. "Oh really?"
"You are famous--wealthy, brilliant, an inventor and innovator and," he blushed and Lex bit the inside of his cheek—"very pretty."
"What!" Lex stepped back in shock, and rapidly escalating anger. "Pretty? What the hell?"
Kal blushed harder. "That was not a pleasing observation? I'm sorry. I'm still learning."
How the fuck does it blush? Why the fuck--"It's…its okay. Let's get back to camp. I mean, follow me." Lex ordered, started to walk away, and stumbled. He couldn't contain a hiss of pain as a spear of fire stabbed through his calf.
Kal was at his side in a second. He knelt and felt Lex's ankle, his leg. He frowned at the place where the dragon had torn at him. "Hmm. This wound is very recently healed. There was a fracture. You should not be applying weight to it." He stood.
Lex gaped at him. "Can you--you understand about wounds—physical damage?" Lex's eyes narrowed with a growing suspicion. "Can you…see the damage?"
"Yes," Kal nodded. "I can." He swept his arms under Lex and carried him as effortlessly as Lex would carry a kitten.
Lex fought against the hold for a moment before giving in. "You--you're super strong."
"I am very strong. I'm not sure about super, though," he chuckled. Lex closed his eyes. It was ridiculous, the resemblance, the attitude, it was too close. This had to be Clark. Why was he pretending to be a…a construct? Maybe so that he could spy on Lex? Amuse himself watching Lex scrabble a life out of this rock, torture himself? Lex closed his eyes tight, the pressure forcing a fat, hot, tear out of the corner of his eye.
"Shhh, Lex. It's okay. I'm here now. I can watch out for you now."
~~oOo~~
Part five
Author: roxy
Pairings/Characters: Kal/Lex
Rating: over all--R
Word Count: 2467
Spoilers: none
Summary: Lex Luthor destroyed one world and crippled another for the sake of humanity. Of course humanity was incapable of understanding the gift he'd given them. Now he was sentenced to pay the price, a lifetime on his very own planet, without the company of other human beings….
Notes/Warnings: language, tantrums, sexual situations …I don’t even have to warn you about M/M sex, right?
This is my failed Big Bang attempt. It's most definitely a WIP. I'm hoping to come up to a good finish--*koff*. I promise there will be an ending—even if they just get on a bus and go to the seashore. In this part, Lex receives a strange and wonderful gift....
Luthor! Mr. Luthor!"
Lex heard a sound that woke him out of his nightmares and he was incredibly grateful to the sound when it came again.
"Luthor—Lex! We don’t have long to stay—there's—there's trouble now, we have to hurry."
Lex hissed, and dragged himself upright. He was shaky and nauseous, had slept like the dead in what turned out to be the creature's nest, a pile of branches and leaves it'd brought from somewhere….there'd been eggs in the nest, and he'd broken them. The smell of decomposing hatchlings clogged his throat, but the smell of the creature and its eggs seemed to keep the tiny lizard-things at bay…another thing to be grateful for, he supposed.
Lex pulled himself out of the shelter of the rocks, keeping weight off his healing leg as well as he could. Again the voice rang out—
"Gotta go—we'll be back, I'm sure. I just don’t know when—"
"No," Lex tried to shout, "wait! Wait…" Lex fell back against the cave wall, exhausted. His eyelids dropped against his will. His body craved sleep while it healed, sleep and food, and at the moment, he could only give it sleep….
It took three full days after the missed drop before Lex was able to walk, and when he could, the first thing he did was go back to his camp, and eat. He washed down energy bars with water, and ate right to the point of being too full. Experience taught him not to deny himself—he ate and ate until he couldn't bear the thought of food, and ate a bit past that. He slept again, the next time he woke, he made sure the wound was healing well. Without his abilities, he had no doubt, he would have died. He rose and walked his little camp, made sure everything was secure. The garden was dry but salvageable, and having nothing else to do, he attended to his plants.
It was late afternoon before he felt able to leave the camp, and he headed down to the drop site. There were a few small crates, food, probably, perhaps tools. And off to the side, a long narrow box. It looked disturbingly coffin sized….
He stood over the box. There was a message pod glued to the lid. He twisted it free and thumbed it on.
"Mr. Luthor. We've been invaded, the Commonwealth is at war and—and--well, this might be the last shipment in a long while—"
Lex slumped to the ground, and everything around him swam. He'd been looking forward to human contact and the disappointment, the warning that it might be longer than six months before he saw another person again, hit him hard. He blinked to clear his eyes, took a deep breath, and continued the recording. "—directions are inside the lid for the 'struct." The voice lowered, as if what came next was a secret. "Have no idea how this was managed—you have very loyal and influential friends, Lex. 'Til next time."
Lex resisted the temptation to replay the message. It could wait. All he had was time. He opened the smaller boxes first—more rations, more blankets, more paper books—empty notebooks for use as journals, he supposed, or to write reams of hate mail to his captors…he surprised himself by smiling.
After he'd sorted everything out carefully, made piles by type, and repacked the boxes to bring to Camp Luthor, he decided to open the biggest crate next. Was it a vehicle of some sort? That would be…interesting to assemble. Or maybe, a shower? A bucket and a rope made a sort of shower but he'd kill for a real one…he refused to hope too intensely, these were after all the people who included directions to build and maintain an outhouse.
He wrenched the top free, and slid it off the crate. Inside was something swathed in translucent plastic sheeting. He pulled the plastic back and jumped away with a curse.
There was a body inside the box.
2
"What the fuck…" Lex swallowed. Why would they…he looked closer. It was Clark. Clark was dead. They sent him a dead Clark—his hand flew up to cover his mouth and he gasped. Then horribly, giggled. He felt it popping in his chest like champagne, swirling around until it rose out of his throat and burst free. He giggled, until giggles turned to laughter, and laughter…just…would…not…stop….
After a moment, he realized he was on the ground, rolled into a ball, and his sides and throat were aching. God, he was falling to pieces, completely loosing control of himself. He pulled himself up right, leaned over the box and looked into the face of a serene, sleeping, Clark Kent. Or…no. Not Clark. This was a slightly younger version, more like the boy who'd rescued him, than the man who insisted he was the source of all evil in the world, pompous…alien…*bitch*.
"What is this? A—a clone?" he muttered to himself. He touched the hand, and the skin was cool, but not with the chill of death, the skin felt alive. He pressed a finger to the neck, but there was no pulse. Not a clone. A robot? From where, though? He had no knowledge of any society capable of constructing a robot so lifelike, but the voice on the recorder spoke as if it was a common thing, a 'struct'—short for construct? That seemed to indicate that it was common enough for the name to have become generic…like kleenex and band-aid and…and vaseline…Lex slowed his thoughts.
"You're stalling," he scolded himself. "You're afraid. Well, perhaps you should be. You get a corpse-like copy of Clark in a crate. Why…?" He shook his head, and glanced at his feet. Ah. The lid.
A product of Wayne Industries Constructs. There are constructs for every need, and you've chosen the companion construct. Wayne Constructs congratulates you, and welcomes you to the family.
Operating instructions couldn't be simpler! Turn on the construct, and be prepared for a short learning cycle. Your construct absorbs information from *you* and adjusts him/herself constantly in order to be a suitable companion to *you*. We guarantee satisfaction. All constructs are equipped with basic and necessary information, geared towards *you* and the environment he/she will be operating in.
To activate the construct, press the thumb (this construct will only operate with *your* print) against the left eye, remove, and wait two minutes for the construct to become active. Then, prepare to welcome your new companion!
This construct is a physically accurate model of a human being and capable of a full range of human activities. Please do not void the warranty by altering programming or parts. Aftermarket additions not provided and installed by WI may also void the warranty.
Lex gaped in horrified astonishment at the lid. Not only do they send him a—a—thing, a robot, android, what the hell, but they send him one made by Wayne Industries? Wayne, as in fucking Bruce Wayne? Was this payback for that 'I told you so'? He'd argued with Bruce for *years*, trying to get the man to work with him—plan for the moment when they'd be invaded—
And then Lex did get to say 'I told you so', when those hundreds of ships dropped into the earth's atmosphere…and so what if it turned out they wanted Earth to join their stupid council of planets? They *could* have been invaders. Hell, they might as well have been, they demolished Earth's culture….well, fine. They stopped wars and cured disease and tried to sell it as a good thing, instead of the end of human self-determination that it was. Flinging beads and baubles at the gullible natives…Lex flexed his hand, remembering the ugly plastic thing that had once been on the end of his wrist, and frowned, thinking…he shrugged and stared back at the construct, the puzzling construct. Back to the problem at hand, he thought, and choked briefly on a bitter laugh….
He was absolutely certain that not one of those cultures had ever had robots with such a--life-like appearance. And there was no fucking way Wayne came up with this technology…"It's just not possible," Lex snarled, pacing around the crate. If he hadn't been able to, than Wayne hadn't. They must have stolen it from some where. Some one--
Curiosity finally overcame anger--he tweaked soft golden skin, brushed his finger tips over the amazing, minute hairs covering its arms. The detail was mind-boggling--the hairs, tiny wrinkles in the skin, imperfections in color and smoothness—He found himself feeling for a pulse again, the god-damn thing was so life-like, it defied his logic. This thing was….
Was not in the slightest like his hand. His hand had been re-grown—it was his own flesh and blood, not a robotic reproduction. He pulled the plastic sheeting away from the still form until all of it was revealed, dressed in a soft grey uniform very reminiscent of hospital scrubs. Wonderful. The company apparently adopted Bruce's fashion sense.
A long moment unfolded in which Lex stared down at the still form in the crate, the only sound the slow, steady rasp of his breath, a hot breeze licked at his neck, a bead of sweat worked its way in a slithery tickle down the middle of his chest….
Lex flicked his tongue over his damp upper lip and shrugged. Lifted the waist of the trousers and looked.
"Hunh."
It was anatomically correct, yes. And from what he remembered of the one time Clark had nearly fallen…well, it hadn't exactly been Clark at the time, not really. He shivered as the memory, part pain, part pleasure, blew through his mind—yes, it seemed accurate for the subject. He pulled away from the memory, dismissed it.
"So…they've sent me a giant self-powered dildo? Well, I'm on board for that. Unless—" Maybe the penis was just for show? "Oh for fuck's sake," he snapped. "What the hell is *wrong* with you?" he snarled. He had a miracle of machinery here, so much he could learn from it, and here he was thinking with his dick. "Lex, Lex, Lex. Always has been your problem, thinking with your dick, (heart, a voice deep inside whispered) instead of your brain."
He pushed the construct's eyelid up, revealing a clear, ocean-green iris, complete with a ring of gold surrounding a pinpoint pupil. Jesus, he thought, that's Clark—Clark's eye. He took a deep breath and pressed his thumb against the eye even though his body protested it. He pulled it away, wiped it on his pants leg. It felt…uncomfortable, the eye was moist, and gave faintly under the pressure of his thumb. Lex counted two minutes down….
Nothing. No movement, no breath, not a thing. He reached out and gently shook the thing. "Hey. Wake up and entertain me," Lex muttered. "Hey—SHIT."
He jumped back. The thing opened both eyes and gasped. It blinked rapidly, its face going through different expressions and Lex was unsettled to see that for a second it looked terrified before it just looked…mildly surprised. It sat up, and looked at Lex. "Hello"
Lex murmured, "Ha--ppy birthday," and it quirked an eyebrow at him.
"Happy birthday. It is a celebration of birth. Birthday. It is a happy occasion, happy birthday." It smiled, and Lex felt his heart clench.
"Stop that! I'm not stupid, Clark. What the hell is this charade for? Some new way to laugh at me, you bastard?"
"I am…is Clark my name? Everything has a name. Will you name me?" It looked hopeful; it looked horribly like a puppy eager to please. Much too sweet and innocent—doubt flooded him. Clark had never been *that* innocent. It must be just what the crate named it—a Wayne Industries construct. Well, *good*.
"Clark…Clark…no, I don't think that's a name that suits you. Maybe…Kal?" He stepped forward and the construct watched him move closer, smiling sweetly.
"Kal," it said, rolling the name in its mouth like it tasted it. "Yes, I like it. Thank you. May I move?"
Lex nodded and it climbed clumsily out of the box, and staggered when its feet touched ground, but it was looking around, eyes wide and fascinated. "I've never walked before. The floor—ground—is very." It stopped and thought. "Nice. Comforting. Nice to step down and have solid beneath my feet."
Lex nodded, not really knowing what to say to it. Him.
He staggered forward a bit, but by the time he reached Lex, he was walking perfectly fine. "I belong to you. I exist to help you in whatever way you choose." he hesitated, as if he was thinking. "My name is Kal. May I know your name?
"I'm…Lex. Lex Luthor."
The construct smiled wide, blindingly beautiful. As always. "Lex Luthor—ah! I know who you are."
Lex steeped back, and glared at him. "Oh really?"
"You are famous--wealthy, brilliant, an inventor and innovator and," he blushed and Lex bit the inside of his cheek—"very pretty."
"What!" Lex stepped back in shock, and rapidly escalating anger. "Pretty? What the hell?"
Kal blushed harder. "That was not a pleasing observation? I'm sorry. I'm still learning."
How the fuck does it blush? Why the fuck--"It's…its okay. Let's get back to camp. I mean, follow me." Lex ordered, started to walk away, and stumbled. He couldn't contain a hiss of pain as a spear of fire stabbed through his calf.
Kal was at his side in a second. He knelt and felt Lex's ankle, his leg. He frowned at the place where the dragon had torn at him. "Hmm. This wound is very recently healed. There was a fracture. You should not be applying weight to it." He stood.
Lex gaped at him. "Can you--you understand about wounds—physical damage?" Lex's eyes narrowed with a growing suspicion. "Can you…see the damage?"
"Yes," Kal nodded. "I can." He swept his arms under Lex and carried him as effortlessly as Lex would carry a kitten.
Lex fought against the hold for a moment before giving in. "You--you're super strong."
"I am very strong. I'm not sure about super, though," he chuckled. Lex closed his eyes. It was ridiculous, the resemblance, the attitude, it was too close. This had to be Clark. Why was he pretending to be a…a construct? Maybe so that he could spy on Lex? Amuse himself watching Lex scrabble a life out of this rock, torture himself? Lex closed his eyes tight, the pressure forcing a fat, hot, tear out of the corner of his eye.
"Shhh, Lex. It's okay. I'm here now. I can watch out for you now."
Part five
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8/31/09 12:01 am (UTC)you are so good to me!!!!!!