Crossroads - Chapter 2

by a campbell

Clark Kent/Lex Luthor, PG-13

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After a sleepless night, Clark dragged himself out of bed and peered out his bedroom window and down at the yard . Cold spring rain drizzled from a sky unrelentingly gray. Though he knew Mom’s kitchen garden needed it, it didn’t do much for his mood.

He stumbled down the hall to the bathroom, turned on the tap, splashed cold water on his face and, gasping, toweled it dry. Pale and bleary-eyes, he stared at himself in the mirror, awash with new, strange sensations, reminiscent of the way he’d felt that winter morning nearly three years ago after losing his virginity in the back seat of Lex’s most expensive car.

With a sigh, he trudged downstairs to the kitchen, smiling at the package of powdered-sugared doughnuts Mom had left on the dining table for him. Along with a note: Have a good day, Sweetie. Don’t forget the tractor. See you tonight.”

Clark reached for the box, then paused as visions of an uneasy future flashed through his tired mind. Mom and him here, alone, raising a baby. His. Would he have to go into hiding? Would they both? Would Mom have to give up her duties as senator? Would they have to pretend to the town, to the world, that the child was Martha’s, a parting legacy from Jonathan before death had claimed him so early? In the unlikely event it was even born, and healthy. In the unlikely event that both of them survived.

Would that be his life?

Just bizarre, all of it.

Clark’s stomach churned uneasily again, in dim and wretched echo from the evening before. He bit his lower lip and scowled, resolute. He would not be sick again.

He decided against the donuts and settled for a glass of apple juice from the refrigerator. Gulped, swallowed, sighed in satisfaction as the cold, sweet liquid soothed his riled stomach.

A quick swipe of his mouth with his sleeve as he set the glass down and squared his shoulders. Today, he had to muster what little energy he had and figure out what to do.

**

Four lonely hours of sitting Indian-style on the loft floor bouncing a tennis ball off the wall found Clark no closer to a solution.

He’d considered and discarded option after option during the solitary morning hours. None of his family or friends could help him in the slightest. What could Mom do? Give him a hug, maybe, but as far as a practical solution? As a senator, she might make a speech in Washington or vote on a bill, but she couldn’t begin to help her son figure out how to have a baby. Chloe knew about his powers and was more resourceful than just about anyone, but Clark knew this would be uncharted territory for her, too. Besides, Chloe was definitely not a kid person. Who else could he confide in? Lois? The very thought made him cringe.

Lex was the only one who might have a solution or the money to carry it out.

Clark reminded himself that he and Lex hadn’t been friends for quite a while. A couple of years.

And maybe it was a side effect of his present condition, but he didn’t feel as angry with Lex as he had over the past year or so. He often found himself dwelling on memories of their good times together. Maybe because the things they kept fighting about didn’t matter that much. Maybe because Lex was the father of the...thing...inside him and his programming and makeup dictated that hating the father would be biologically destructive. Oh, hell, he didn’t know.

All he did know was: he longed to see Lex’s eyes kindle with warmth and interest the way they used to whenever Clark stepped into the study, whenever they ran into each other on the street or in the Talon. Clark yearned for those glances that were like caresses, those charged, sleek whispers and shrugs. He ached to have Lex move in so close he could feel the warmth of his body, scan him up and down, just before...

He missed Lex way more than he hated him, now.

Not to mention that Lex had a right to know he was going to be a father.

Clark sighed, swore, and scrambled to his feet, determined to ignore the lightness in his head and the faint queasiness in his stomach.

He couldn’t put it off. Couldn’t keep chickening out. He had to summon what courage he had and quit obsessing over the stuff he couldn’t control.

He had to tell Lex.

**

Still not up to superspeed, Clark ambled across sodden fields instead of taking the road. The distance was less.

The bleak, dismal day wasn’t much like the sunny autumn afternoon he and Lex first met, collided, went spinning down the road to destiny that would end in each other’s arms. Heady excitement, bonding, friendship so much more lofty and intense than anything he’d known with Pete or anyone else. Even before the sex.

It had all been so great, before things had gone so finally, irrevocably bad.

Clark felt his cheeks redden with shamed fascination as he walked. Because even this last year or so, with the two of them pretty much declared enemies, they still couldn’t keep apart. They’d fight, and fuck, and make uneasy amends, then fight again, sometimes physically. All winter, it was as though something more powerful than he could control kept driving him back to Lex, even while he himself was still with Lana. For more quarrels, more lies, more sex. Sometimes, it was even better than back when they were friends, and lovers without the hate.

I guess someone, something, somewhere, really must have wanted this baby to be, he thought, incredulous, clenching his hands into fists and shoving them as far into his jacket pockets as they would go. Must be fate.

Kryptonian fate, though Jor-el had never said anything about Kal-el having to get pregnant to be a part of the grand scheme.

Earth fate. His fate.

Lex’s fate. There had to be a reason Lex was chosen as well.

Rain water dripped from Clark’s bangs into his eyes. He blinked them away and picked up his pace, panting with nervousness.

He thought of that terrible afternoon last fall when his Mom and Dad were missing and he’d tensed, grinned, and lied to Lex once too often. When things went really downhill. Even when he finally hooked up with Lana., he would have given the world to mend things with Lex. He kept hoping, futilely, for a miracle, even as Lana kept demanding love and devotion he just couldn’t give, even as he spent way too much time wrestling with his own pride and fear. Even though he’d resolved not to weaken, he was mortified to recall his eagerness the other day to believe that Lex, not Graham, had been the one to gift him with the expensive plasma system. To believe the past wasn’t dead and that maybe there was still a chance to salvage their damaged friendship. And love: strong, powerful, miraculous enough to create a child where life was technically impossible.

He’d seen how wrong he was when he’d arrived at Lex’s and found Lex and Lana together.

The only thing left to do was level with him. Tell him everything. What did he have to lose? Besides, Lex had a right to know. He had a stake in this...pregnancy...as much as Clark did.

Clark swallowed hard, again resisting the recurring flicker of fear.

He was going to do it today. He wouldn’t spend another night like last night, even to have the planet Krypton back again and at his command. Having Lex know couldn’t be as bad as being in this alone. Maybe Lex was chosen because he could save Clark’s life. He was a scientific genius. Even if he didn’t know immediately how to handle this mess, he’d at least know where to start. He always found answers.

He was going to do it.

Even if it meant missing Graham’s stupid party.

**

Instead of bursting in hollering this time, he rang. He checked in with security and had himself announced, not letting himself worry about the possibility that Lex might refuse to see him. Lex had never barred him before, no matter how bad things were between them. He always let him in, accompanied or alone, listened calmly to whatever diatribe Clark had for him that day. If Clark was the sole visitor, after the insults, the accusations, the arrogance on both their parts, sometimes even blows, it would end with sex. In Lex’s bed, on the floor, wherever.

Clark waited in the library for five minutes, ten, dripping water on the waxed floor, forcing himself to stay calm. If Lex wanted to try to get the upper hand this way—let him. Clark tried not to notice the small, telltale signs that Lex was no longer living alone: empty Chinese food containers, too many for Lex’s light appetite. Lana’s beloved irises in vases around the room. A pair of Lana’s sandals slid half-under the sofa. Other little touches, here and there, that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Touches that told him she must have moved in.

He fingered one of the iris stems briefly and paced to the window, where he waited, looking out at the dead, early spring garden.

“Well, well.” Lex must have come up behind him, quite close, undetected despite super-hearing. Clark turned with a start.

Lex was wearing dark slacks and the burgundy shirt Clark had always loved to unbutton slowly and slide caressing hands under to stroke Lex’s smooth skin. Just before leaning in for a kiss. He tried to smile. “Lex,” he began.

Lex’s voice dropped to mock-serious, almost a whisper. He moved closer to Clark than a casual acquaintance would. “The ‘special boy,” himself. What brings you here today, Clark? You’re soaked.” Lex stepped over to the bar and, picking up a towel, sent it Clark’s way with a careless toss. Clark mopped his face and brow obediently, glad of the few seconds’ delay.

“After our adventure of the other night, I didn’t expect to see you for awhile. At least until you or Chloe needed strings pulled again. How’s Martha after her ordeal?”

Clark flinched and swallowed hard. “She’s fine. A few bruises. Lex.” His hand seemed to reach out toward Lex all by itself, almost close enough to touch the dark-red fabric of his sleeve.

Lex glanced down at the hand, then back up, leveling a flat, cold gaze at its owner. He stepped out of reach, then strolled to his desk and reached for the decanter of brandy. “You did leave the Luthorcorp building kind of abruptly the other night, you know. But then again, you’ve been a stranger to pleasantries for awhile, now, haven’t you?”

“Stop it, Lex,” Clark snapped, more curtly than he intended. “We need to talk.”

This was starting out all wrong. Stay calm, he admonished himself.

Lex sipped and considered, not looking at Clark, clearly in no hurry to respond. “We’ve talked so much. It always ends badly. What more could we possibly have to say to each other?”

There must be something, Clark thought with a sharp pang of desolation. Lex used to share so much with him, treated him as though he were as mature and important as his business associates from overseas. Lex was never at a loss in those days for an anecdote or a piece of advice. Now, every word was guarded.

But, yeah, there was definitely something they had to discuss today. “Lex, I haven’t been honest with you. Ever.” Not the best beginning, he thought, but certainly the truth.

“News flash,” was Lex’s dry comment.

Clark swallowed again and beat down a tremor of fear. No way was this going to be easy. Lex had given him lots of chances, but he’d pushed it pretty far.

He opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again. Lex waited a moment and then set down his glass. “Well, not to be inhospitable, but I do have an appointment in Metropolis—“

Clark stepped closer. “Please,” he begged. “Reschedule it. If you ever cared about our friendship, Lex, just hear me out.”

Lex didn’t order him to leave. Instead, Clark detected a quiet gleam of interest in his gaze. He refilled his glass, then took a seat on the couch. Clark remained standing.

Lex folded his hands. And waited.

**

There was no point in further delay. Clark summoned his courage and began.

“Lex, things haven’t been great between us for awhile. In fact, they’ve been pretty bad.”

After a long moment, Lex shrugged. “Nothing like opening by stating the obvious.”

Clark took a quick breath and held Lex’s gaze with his own. “Then let me start by saying: I know about you and Lana.”

A quick, barely-detectable instant of surprise before the mask was back in place. Clark tried vainly to decipher whether the twitch of Lex’s lips betrayed anger or amusement. He’d never known quite how to read Lex, and he was even more clueless, now.

“And I suppose that means you’re here to throw me across the room. Maybe I should call my security team.” Lex made as if to rise to his feet.

“No,” said Clark quickly, moving closer. “Don’t call anyone. Lex, this isn’t about you and Lana. It’s about you and me. “I’m not trying to break you guys up, but there are some things you need to know.

Lex’s brows lifted. Clark reflected with grim amusement that Lex never could bear not knowing everything he possibly could.

Lex settled back in his seat and looked up at him, forehead furrowing. “Well, you have my attention.”

“First off, I know you know I’m not like most of the people around here. The normal Smallville people, I mean. You’ve known it for a long time, and you know I know you know. We’ve been dancing around it for more than four years.”

Lex said nothing. Clark, confident that he now had him fully engaged, licked his lips and spoke again.

“You’ve seen a lot of the meteor mutants around here, and so you know that there’s some weird stuff going on. Well, I’m part of that, too. I’m affected. But then, you’ve probably known that for a long time.”

“I’ve had my suspicions,” said Lex finally, rising to his feet and moving closer. He peered at Clark as though he were a coveted, long-sought specimen in that secret lab of his.

Clark was sensible of his heart thudding in his chest. Not giving himself time to fear, he kept talking. “Well, I’m more than just strong, and fast. I’m really different. Lex, I’m not just a meteor freak.” He thinned his lips. “I’m from another planet.”

Some people might have guffawed in his face at that one. Not Lex. It cemented his attention, though. He took a small step back, not taking his gaze from Clark’s face.

Clark hesitated, then continued. “The planet was destroyed when I was a baby. Those green meteor rocks that are all around are parts of the planet from when it exploded. Before it did, my parents sent me here. In a little rocket ship all the way through space.” He knew he was babbling, talking too fast, but he was so nervous he couldn’t slow down. “I landed the day of the first meteor shower back in ’89.”

Lex was gazing at him with focused intensity. His lips twitched, and for a minute, he looked as though he wanted to laugh, but then he sobered. Sure, thought Clark. The sensible part of Lex wanted to scoff and tell Clark he was crazy, but Clark knew him well enough to know that the other part, the part that was always examining, weighing, on missions of discovery, was intrigued enough to want to hear more.

“Where is the ship now?” Lex’s voice was low, almost casual. But Clark knew him well enough to peg this as an attempt to mask his keen interest.

“Gone. I destroyed it.”

Lex just stared at him as though he’d grown a second head, and Clark remembered Lex’s fondness for displays, artifacts, shrines. Lex was a collector, a billionaire packrat. He probably couldn’t imagine ever wanting to destroy a space ship if he had one. Or needing to.

Clark took a deep breath, and went on. “Mom and Dad—my adopted mom and dad-- always told me to keep my abilities secret, and warned me that if people found out, they’d throw me in a lab and do all sorts of experiments on me. Or at least that I’d live life under a microscope and never be normal. I really wanted to tell you a long time ago. I’m not proud of the fact that I didn’t. But they just kept saying I couldn’t let anyone find out. And I was too scared, anyway.”

“Afraid of me?” Lex was close to him now, so Clark could almost feel the warm of breath on his skin. Clark leaned a bit closer in spite of his unease, near-mesmerized. Lex thinned his lips, dropped his gaze and looked away with the slight flinch that Clark knew signaled a bruise of his usually well-masked feelings.

“You, and your father. Mostly him. Do you think we could ever have stopped him once he knew? But, you too. You’ve always scared me, Lex, even back when we were first friends. Even when you cared about me without hating me, too, you always had this need to know—everything—no matter who might get hurt if you pressed too hard. And you weren’t always honest, either. So maybe we’re not exactly even, but it’s not as if it’s all my fault.”

Lex stepped back and walked slowly to the window. He was pale, and gnawed his lower lip as he stared out at the rain-soaked garden and Clark waited for him to speak. When he did, his voice was cool and clipped. “So how long has my father known?” He said my father as though it were some particularly grotesque variety of bug. Lex grasped the drape as he spoke, knuckles whitening.

Clark looked down at the floor. “A few months. Not that long.”

A small shrug, and slight crick of the neck that plunged Clark back to dismal memories of long ago, of other times when he hadn’t been honest with Lex and lived to regret it.

“But he knows now.” Lex turned around and leveled a piercing stare, so intense that Clark’s heart clutched in his chest. “Can you tell me why he knew before I did?”

Clark words came out in a stammer. “I--I didn’t tell him. You’ve got to believe that. He found out on his own. And there’s more. He’s possessed.” Clark hesitated, because Lex was looking at him now as though he thought Clark had lost every last marble he had. But he kept talking; he couldn’t do anything else. “By the spirit of my biological father.”

Lex let that sink in. In a moment, and finally began to chuckle. He kept on, his laughter getting gradually louder until tears gathered in his eyes and coursed down his cheeks. He swiped them away with the side of his palm.

Clark took a step towards him in alarm, reached out a hand, then stopped. “You don’t believe me,” he said dully.

Lex shook his head as his laughter subsided. He sobered so suddenly Clark was startled.

“Clark, the time for honesty is past. All those times I asked you for answers and you lied to my face. I’d have done anything for you, but you always made it sound as though I was the villain for wanting to know.”

Wasn’t as though you didn’t lie, too, Clark couldn’t help thinking. All those questions answered with questions. Hot words threatened to burst from his lips, but he held them back. Anger was a luxury he couldn’t afford right now.

Lex was just staring at him, and Lex didn’t look incredulous very often, but he did, now. Clark flashed back to that awful day when he blocked Morgan Edge’s runaway car from striking Lex and Lex saw him do it. He had the exact same expression on his face then. “You’ve been working with my father, confiding in him. He’s been confiding in you. Despite the legion of lies, my father thinks of you as his son,” The light faded from Lex's eyes as he turned away. “The son of whom he could be proud.”

He’s angry and hurt, Clark thought in desperation. And jealous--of me. He still wants Lionel to love him, in spite of everything. “I’ll never be his son,” Clark insisted. “My father is dead. Both my fathers are dead.”

“No, you’ve escaped that fate. It’s left to me to deal with mine.” Lex took a deep breath. Clark waited.

“And the most incredible thing is: until now, despite all the lies, the deception, the anger, the accusations, the blows--I still thought of you as my friend. Until today.” He exhaled a short, sharp breath. “God, I must be crazy.”

Clark wanted desperately to argue, to say I am your friend. Even if you kick me out of here today and never speak to me again. I’ll always be your friend. No matter what.

“Get out, Clark. Go home. We have nothing left to say to each other.”

“Lex, come on, please—“

“It’s too late.”

“But, Lex—“

“Go!” Lex shouted. He turned back to the bar and slammed his glass on the counter, sloshing amber liquid over the side. His shoulders trembled under the burgundy fabric as Clark took a couple of steps toward him, then turned away in anguish.

**

Clark stood dazed in the mansion drive, not quite knowing how he got there. He turned back to the mansion and x-rayed through the stone walls into the library. To see Lex knocking books from the walls, breaking glass and art objects, smashing yet another expensive computer. Superhearing detected the muttered, then barked, curses and near-sobs that caught in Lex’s throat as he raged.

Oh, no, no, thought Clark in anguish, yearning desperately to halt the rampage yet powerless to do so. He knew going back inside wouldn’t help; he had to leave Lex alone for now, to come down from this on his own. Trying to stop him would only make things worse. He watched, grieved, as Lex hurled himself on the sofa, glass in hand, to drown his rage in the oblivion of alcohol once again.

Lex hadn’t really said a thing about him being from another galaxy. About being an alien. But he remembered the lies.

The lies were all that mattered.

Clark shivered, heedless of the rain beating down again on his already-sodden clothes once again as he headed toward home, wracked with ten times more guilt and worry than before.

What was he going to do now?

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