Channeling

by a campbell

Smallville, Clark Kent/Lex Luthor, R

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Spoilers for "Memoria"

Thanks to oxoniensis for providing fine beta skills.

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Clark tried to work himself up to a slow simmer of righteous anger. But the pain still lingered, even though the bleak pleasure of telling Lex off had felt sort of good. Even though he knew in his heart that Lex was right. He had been a jerk to go to Lionel, who, however whacked in the head, had been right, too. He'd been out for himself, not trying to help Lex. But something wouldn't let him own up to it, not even to his best friend.

The more you two go at each other, the more like him you become. And the more people get hurt.

He'd made his comments as hurtful as he could. He'd seen Lex's throat tighten, seen him swallow hard as he always did when something hit a nerve. And then he'd just let him leave. "Good riddance," Clark muttered, but instead found himself wondering what the hell was wrong with him. Lex was supposed to be his friend, even though things between them had been weird for a while. Clark pushed away memories of the expression on Lex's face when his last question hit home.

He took a deep breath of the damp springtime air, rich with the aroma of tilled earth fresh even in the interior of the barn. His stomach gave a slight, unpleasant lurch. Maybe the weakness, the sickness that lingered from the afternoon had made him testier than usual. At supper a couple of hours ago, his mother had tried her best to coax him with pepper steak and mashed potatoes, but he'd laid down his fork almost at once, and pretty much abandoned her, despite knowing that she was lonely, not to mention worried, with Jonathan in the hospital. Trembling with relief, too, at having her son safely home. But he really needed to be alone. He just hadn't been in the mood for visitors, which is why he'd...

Maybe he should go across to the house and eat something now, and he and Mom could talk... Hesitating, he decided against it. He felt even less hungry after the visit from Lex, which had left his senses charged, as always, despite how poorly it had gone.

Clark had been surprised by the anger and despair that knifed through him when Lex arrived that evening. He'd had a few hours to recover from the ordeal at Summerholt, and, after all, Lex said he had come to see if he was all right. But Clark, tears burning the back of his aching throat, didn't want any reminders of what happened at the Institute that afternoon. He thought back over the conversation in dismay. He'd tried to convince Lex that it was only concern for him that had sent him up to Metropolis that day. But his words sounded paltry, phony even to himself, and he could tell right away that Lex wasn't buying it. And then he made the mistake of mentioning Lionel, and things had just gone downhill from there. The more afraid he grew that Lex would learn the truth, the more cold and hateful the words that had spilled from his mouth.

But he'd been scared. Flayed, vulnerable, beyond terrified. When he saw fascination warring with horror in Lex's gaze as he peered through the shattered glass of the tank, he was more frightened than when he'd leapt from the top floor of the Planet and crashed through glass into the Luthorcorp building. All these months, no years, he'd told himself just as passionately as he told everyone else that Lex was a good person, trustworthy, kind, generous. But that look said it all. Any affection Lex had for him paled beside that nagging, no, consuming need he had to know everything. Something terrifying had been set in motion. He was afraid for both himself and Lex, so why was he being such a prick?

"I will never become my father. I would never sacrifice you or anybody I cared about to bring him down". Lex had to have been telling the truth when he said that, or else he was the world's best liar. He sure had a lot more dignity than Clark in that conversation.

And Clark was surprised by how much he wanted to believe him. So how come the next, and last thing to come out of his mouth was, "Why does your father hate you so much?" Unforgivable, but he just couldn't help himself. Though it wasn't as though he didn't know what a bastard Lionel was, what a liar, wasn't as though he didn't bitterly regret the major mistake of going to him for help.

It was like someone else was speaking through him. Someone who was a stranger.

Jor-el? He shoved the thought away in mental panic.

Despite what he'd been through himself, his heart ached for Lex. Unbidden thoughts came to his mind of all they'd been to each other over the past three years. All they'd shared, good and bad. Was it all over, now?

He had no answers, only questions. The kind of person he was when he was with Lex was an eternal puzzle to him, anyway. When Lex was around, Clark felt that, paradoxically, he was both the best and worst he'd ever be.

He wasn't quite sure how things had gotten this bad, though. They'd still been hanging out together, though not as much, the sex ten times better with a little tension and anger thrown in. But with all the stuff that had been going down since last fall, he was about ready to cave and admit that his dad was right and he should forget trying to be friends with Lex. Hadn't Lex proven himself untrustworthy over and over?

Hadn't he?

Hadn't he?

Not like his dad knew about the sex, though. Sometimes, Clark hated himself for it, but he couldn't stay away.

Still, if it had to be.... Things were just getting worse and worse. When he thought back over some of the things he'd said to Lex, he was ashamed.

Maybe he should just stop thinking. Go for a walk or something.

Clark stopped short and squinted into the gloom. Someone was on the stairs. Lex. Not moving, just standing there on the landing.

Clark caught his breath, bit back another semi-caustic retort, then hesitated. Lex looked so vulnerable there alone in the gloom, and Clark's heart gave an unwelcome twist. He moistened his lips but his throat was still dry as he spoke. "Lex?" he began. "Are you okay?"

Lex seemed to shake himself back to awareness "Yeah, I'm fine." He lurched, almost losing his footing for a minute, then righted himself. He turned to descend the stairs, and Clark felt a stab of anguish that faded into all-encompassing desolation. He spoke from his heart before his mind, or anyone, anything else, could step in and talk him out of it.

"Wait," Clark was dismayed at how hoarse and needy his voice sounded as he bounded down the steps, skipping a couple and nearly falling on his face. Breathless, he grabbed Lex's arm. The dark cloth of his jacket felt soft under his trembling fingers.

"Never mind, Clark." Lex tried to free himself, muttering something else under his breath that Clark couldn't quite make out.

Clark choked back a sob and held fast. "Please," and Lex turned to look at him, the anger and annoyance in his expression fading to concern.

"What is it?" His voice was barely above a whisper as his gaze met Clark's through the shadows.

"Come back upstairs. We need to talk."

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Conversation came after the mind-blowing sex, of course.

When he could think and speak again, Clark opened his eyes, gaze focusing on where Lex lay drowsing on his chest, nuzzling Clark's broad fingers with half-open lips. Shirt open, half the buttons ripped off.

Oh, God, mused Clark, half-dismayed, feeling his lips curl into a smile in spite of himself. It had been like this for a while, now. The more at odds they were about everything else, the better the sex seemed to be. Guess all that angry energy had to go somewhere. His breathing slowed as he glided a palm over Lex's scalp, smiling at the dampness under his touch. Lex's caressing hands tightened briefly on his hips as though reluctant to let go.

"Lex." His voice came out much more soft and vulnerable than he wanted it to. Lex shifted a little in response, but said nothing.

"What's going on with us? Sometimes we don't even feel like friends anymore, and still...we can't..." Clark broke off, suddenly, inexplicably shy.

"I know." Lex's silky murmur picked up the thread. "We can't keep away from each other. Don't waste time in analysis, Clark. Just go with it."

Clark knew his tone was way too defensive, but he couldn't help it. "Look who's talking. 'Let's not analyze it'. Mr. Scientific, Mr. 'there's no such thing as too much information.' Are you listening to yourself?"

"Yeah," said Lex, straightening, gliding his hands under Clark's blue sweater and up his sides, and stretching up to kiss his cheek. "Are you?"

Clark shook his head. "No." He had to chuckle at that for some inexplicable reason. Or maybe it was just the tickle of Lex's touch on his bare skin.

Lex sat back and reached for Clark to tuck him back in. Clark grinned, sleepy, satisfied, and laid one hand over Lex's as he fingered the zipper, then moved his hand so Lex could zip him up. He pulled Clark's sweater back down over his stomach, and straightened it efficiently. Clark dragged himself to a sitting position on the couch and brushed off his pants, and Lex smiled at him, but the smile stopped short of his eyes.

Clark moistened bruised lips with a tongue that had suddenly gone dry. "Thanks," He pulled himself up and turned to glance out the loft window at the last fading gleam of daylight on the horizon, felt the pall of sadness, following the fading bliss of orgasm, gradually envelop him.

Lex's nod was so slight that Clark thought he might have imagined it. "Rest assured, we'll be at odds with each other again tomorrow." Lex reached out to run a palm through Clark's hair; it caught on a tangle, and Clark grabbed at his hand as Lex pulled it away and got to his feet.

"Don't go yet," Clark begged. He dreaded facing the loneliness after Lex had gone. "Please. We have to talk."

"Talking doesn't seem to be working for us lately. Maybe we should just stick to sex."

"Lex." Lex didn't seem to be listening, and Clark wrestled with unreasoning desperation "Can't we try to work this out?"

Lex shrugged and reached to retrieve his keys from the floor. And before Clark could stop himself, he was babbling desperately in that phantom voice again, words tumbling over each other.

"You didn't like that I kept pursuing the Summerholt thing, Lex. Well, how many times have I asked you to drop stuff and you didn't? It really gives me the creeps sometimes. It's like you think I'm a specimen or something. I'm not. I'm just your friend."

Lex straightened up and stared at Clark as though Clark were speaking some strange language he'd never heard before. Clark waited again for Lex to answer, wondering if he was going to disagree, say, well, we were friends, once, but now--

What he said was different.

"I just want to know, Clark. Ignorance has never gotten me anywhere."

"It's just that, Lex, if only you would be a friend I could be proud of all the time. You're so great. You just...don't always have the best judgment." Well, that was true enough, and sounded okay. Clark almost panted with relief.

"Well, Clark, the same could be said about both of us."

Clark sighed. He never felt more clearly how dear Lex was to him than when he said things that made him grieve or wonder, or even feel ashamed. Like what he'd said before when he'd accused him of pushing it. He'd been right on target. And he had to make amends for his behavior somehow.

"Lex, what I said about your father. I didn't mean it. I knew as soon as I said it that it was wrong. Your dad's so messed up it isn't even funny. He seems to hate you, but I think deep down, he really loves you."

Clark was proud of himself for that remark, but he had to wait for an answer, hope of a response nearly dwindling to despair by the time Lex spoke.

"At one time hearing that would have meant something to me. But now, Clark? I don't fucking care. It's too late."

Clark shook his head in desperation. "You're just trying to convince yourself, Lex. You care so much--"

Lex cut him off. "Not any more." And Clark decided he'd better stop, because he was right back to pushing it, and there was a new coldness in Lex's voice that he'd never heard before. "Enough conversation for tonight, Clark."

Please, Clark thought, but didn't say.

"You have your secrets, I have mine."

Those seven weeks, thought Clark. How much are they worth? What would happen if I just told him everything?

He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again as his brief flash of courage deserted him.

Lex regarded him for a long moment, then turned without saying anything further. At the stairs, he halted. His voice was clear as he spoke. "So, you keep your secrets, I'll keep mine." And it was as though a shutter came down over his eyes, his pale face.

"Come back tomorrow?" Clark just hoped he didn't sound TOO needy, even as he couldn't help levelling the big-eyed gaze that worked on Lex every time.

At least, that used to. Lex had already left him, even though he still stood by the stairs. In a moment, he was gone.

Clark ran breathlessly to the rail. "So we can't be friends any more?" he hollered into the darkness, cursing himself for the way his voice rose, quavered on the word, "friends."

Lex's voice drifted up coolly from the darkness below.

"Maybe we can. Who knows?"

"Then why are you leaving?"

"To see my father." And for once, Clark fully believed what Lex said. But he still kept on talking. He couldn't seem to stop.

"You know, sometimes you make me sick. Do you always abandon the people who care about you? You weren't even there when your mother died! And Julian? It's a good thing he died when he did, or you'd have let him down, too."

Clark would have gasped at the words that came out of his mouth, but he couldn't seem to stop.

"Think Lillian would be proud of some of the underhanded stuff you've been..."

And he trained his x-ray vision down into the dark interior of the barn, to where Lex stood at the bottom of the steps. He'd been pale to begin with, but Clark could see any remaining color draining from Lex's face as the hateful words reached his ears.

It was weird, because Lex shouldn't have been able to see him through the darkness. But he was staring up, right at him as though he were a stranger. Then he turned his head as though Clark's words were blows that could glance off him. "Clark," said Lex quietly. "That lead box I gave you once. I need it back."

Clark gasped. The box, he thought dully. He felt as though a lead weight had settled in his stomach himself. "I don't have it," he stammered. "I gave it away."

And he hadn't meant to say that quite that way, either, so bluntly and unconcerned. Despite super-hearing he strained to hear Lex's answer. And heard nothing.

Clark stumbled to the window, nearly tripping in his haste. A pale sickle moon was now high in the sky over short stalks of new corn, and fireflies winked on and off among prairie grasses in the adjoining field. He looked down to see Lex punching the power lock on his remote. Willed him to look up to where he half-hung out of the window, but in vain.

"Lex," Clark gripped the ledge as he tried to call, but the name came out only in sort of a scratchy whisper. He watched as the engine revved and the car jolted, spewing gravel as the tires spun. Wheels screeched as the Porsche rounded the corner at the end of the drive and sped off down the road into the darkness between the farm and Smallville.

It was dead quiet, now. Clark pulled the chain on the bedside lamp, and flicked a fingernail to scrape over a dried spot of what must have been come on the surface of the couch: his or Lex's, he wasn't sure. Then he sank back down on the couch and buried his face in the warm quilt that still held the scent of Lex's perspiration and cologne.

What the hell was wrong with him?

His cheeks were wet when he sat up again. I want mom, he thought.

The phantom voice resonated in his head, his heart. Then go to her.

Mother, he mused. Which one does it mean?

Go to the one who's here, another voice said. It didn't sound like Jor-el's.

Clark sighed, in the grip of desolation even worse than before. Was there any hope for him and Lex? They just couldn't seem to stop hurting each other.

I didn't mean it, Lex.

Both voices were silent.

Even though cold never really bothered him, Clark shivered. And even though he had to get up two hours early tomorrow for the extra farm chores, he didn't think he'd be able to sleep tonight.

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