Crossroads - Chapter 23

by a campbell

Clark Kent/Lex Luthor, PG-13

____________________

"Hi."

"Hi".

"You okay? And the kid?"

"Yeah, we’re fine."

"Just making sure."

"Long time no see. Seems like all we do is talk on the phone these days."

"You were sleeping last night when I got back from Missouri and you’re always still asleep in the mornings now when I leave for work."

"Sorry. Just tired, I guess. And I miss you.”

"I’m on the road. My dad collared me after the board meeting today, and wants me to meet him in the city. I’ll be home, but late."

"Lex, be careful. I know he’s your dad, but you can’t trust him."

"Tell me something I don’t know, Clark. Don’t worry: I’m used to it. Whatever his game is tonight, I can beat him."

"Maybe you should stay over in the city. Those country roads are dangerous after dark. And the way you drive---"

"I’m more careful these days with people depending on me. You...Alexander--"

"DAVID!"

"Alexander. Alexander David, maybe, if you’re good."

"David Alexander. Maybe. If you’re good.

"Anyway, Clark, I’ll be home late, but I'll be home."

"Okay. But, Lex, be careful. Don’t let him--"

"Don’t worry. The days of his getting the better of me are over."

"I hope so. Love you.""

"Back at you. Now get some sleep."

**

Lex snapped his cell shut and glanced at his watch. 7:20 p.m. as he hit the midway point on the highway to Metropolis.

The invitation--invitation, not summons--had arrived that morning. His father’s crisp, soft voice on the answering machine: bidding him come to White's, Lionel’s private club that evening for drinks and "a few words of caution."

Hard to refuse a message like that. Because it was Lionel, and no matter how many reasons he had to excise his father from his life, he was yet a valuable source of information, as long as a judicious filter was applied. After all these years, Lex was wise to his array of tricks.

But yet their contact, the games and their intricacies, were like drugs. And while he knew it imperative he keep Lionel away from Clark, he was honest enough to admit that he was addicted to his father’s attentions, however twisted. After all, it was the sole attention he received. As hard as Lex might wish to extricate himself, there was work yet to do.

He knew better than to suppose this was a simple request for some bonding time. He tried to avoid being too far away from Clark these days, but neither could he resist knowing what his father had to divulge. Always better to have at least some notion of what scheme he might have in the works. Even though Lionel knew him well enough to bank on his curiosity.

Friends close, enemies closer. Protecting Clark from Lionel, keeping the web from ensnaring the fly, was the most important task. Despite Clark’s initial objections, Toby was now installed in the mansion, payment beyond his utmost dreams duly promised. Lex had relegated Clark, with his consent, to rooms and areas of the mansion that had been scoured meticulously well before his knapsack was unpacked, and were maintained and checked daily. Short of confining Clark to the mansion completely, which he had elected not to do (especially as Clark had grumbled at being "held prisoner," as he called it, before), this was the best he could do to shield Clark from Lionel’s prying eyes. And grasp.

And he would succeed. Lex smiled in satisfaction. Lionel was smart, but he himself was smarter. This would work. All they had to do was make it to the end of Clark’s gestation period and then declare to the world that this was his own biological child, born to an unnamed surrogate mother. Neither Lionel nor the world would know more than that.

It would work. It must.

**

As he drove, his mind wandered back over the past few months, past the time when Clark had come back to him, back to their vicious fight last winter when Victor Stone escaped from the lab.

Clark not only ignored his clipped directive to leave the mansion, but came running after him as he strode down the hall, so swiftly Lex hadn’t even heard the thud of footsteps on the stone floor. He could still feel the grasp of Clark’s fingers as they gripped the collar of his sweater and dragged him back into the study. Lex remembered being slammed against the wall near the window and Clark’s mouth crushing into his, Clark’s big hands ripping at his clothes.

As usual, his splendid security team was on break. Not that he would have called them anyway.

He’d been enjoying it too much.

The memory was making him hard even now. He thinned his lips and shifted in his seat, unable to resist gliding fingers over his cloth-covered cock as leather creaked beneath him.

If he and Clark hadn’t decided 'what the hell,' and celebrated Valentine’s Day one last time on the polished library floor, things would now be different. Clark would be gone from his life. Nor would he now be on the brink of becoming a father himself.

Lex glanced at his speedometer, then out the window. His car was flying like a bullet through the countryside at ninety-two miles an hour. The burnt-orange sun glowed just above the horizon, light filtered through a layer of mist floating low over the harvested fields.

Early September, tag end of a brutally hot summer, brutal especially for Clark. Only about two months to wait, now, provided Clark’s "project" was on the same schedule as a normal earth pregnancy.

Lex smiled. The child was growing stronger daily, cementing the bond between them. Small face now visible in the ultrasound scans: eyes closed, curled up, head down, thumb in mouth. Before long, the three of them would be getting acquainted in person.

Clark would be fine. He simply wouldn’t let himself consider otherwise.

Lex thinned his lips as he pressed his foot on the gas pedal.

Fatherhood. Once something he’d never envisioned being part of his destiny. Unwanted, even to be feared. Something he’d certainly never thought to share with Clark. But even though unexpected, even though incredible, there was now no room in his heart for regret.

His change in attitude astounded even himself. He seemed driven to this.
Not for nothing had he decreed, years ago, that he and Clark had a future together.

And I don’t want anything to stand in the way of our friendship.

Now---

He’d only been half-kidding about the possibility of more children, that day they’d decorated the nursery. If it could happen once, and Clark survived (and he would survive, Lex vowed, gripping the steering wheel harder.) How desperately he’d wanted, as a boy, to be part of a family, a desire he’d sublimated after the tragedy that happened back when he was twelve. Sublimated, but ultimately not abandoned. Reborn with, and from, his love for Clark.

They’d lay the past to rest and move forward. He wouldn’t be alone any longer. He would never be alone again. This son would be born, then perhaps another, and then--

His lips settled into a thin line. But reaching even further back in his past than his relationship of Clark was his relationship with his father. Tantalizing. Inescapable. Though he was as confident now as could be that he could withstand any enticements, no matter how complex the relationship Lionel was and would doubtless continue.

Bound by blood. Forever. As he and Clark would be bound by the blood of their child. Or children.

A bond that would withstand anything. Everything.

He drove on into the late-summer dusk, toward the northern horizon and the lights of Metropolis.

**

"Lex," Lionel rose slightly from his seat as the head waiter escorted Lex to the table. "Son, what will you have?"

"Brandy. Grande." Lex took his seat, then leaned forward and crossed his arms on the table in front of him. "So, Dad, what’s on your mind?"

"Now, Lex," Lionel’s voice was a golden purr. "What’s the hurry? Surely you can spare your father a pleasantry or two and perhaps some chit-chat about the weather."

Lex dignified the request with a slight roll of his eyes. "Come on, Dad. It’s three hours here and three hours back to Smallville. Let’s cut to the chase. Why did you want to see me?"

"Back to Smallville. Ah." The pale light from the candle on the table illumined Lionel’s countenance as he lifted his own tumbler to his lips, sipped, then smiled. "Things involving, I am assuming, your current significant other?"

"My private life is none of your concern, Dad. As a grown man, I’m no longer under your control. Even if it’s taken my entire life to drag myself out from under it. Even if I nearly lost my life in doing it."

Lionel shook his head, and Lex could hear the faint *tsk* under his breath. "Do you recall what I once told you, my son? 'You will always, always need me.’”

"Dad, there’s been a lot of water under the bridge since then. I've grown strong, just as you always wanted. Strong, and out from under you. Things have changed."

"An understatement, with you and young Mr. Kent now sharing a bed. And your lives."

Lex shifted uncomfortably, hoping his father didn't notice. The bedroom was bug-free. He was sure of it. He set down his glass and did his best to maintain a bland, blank expression, one of the few effective defenses against his father’s skills.

"Surely you didn’t think you could keep it from me."

"Of course not, Dad." Lex sat back in his chair, pushing himself back from the table. "With your fascination with, and unstoppable use of, bugs? I always knew it was only a matter of time." He took a deep breath. "I also know that you’re far from naïve in your own sexual preferences, so--"

"I’m not making any moral judgments here, Lex. As always, I have only your good at heart. You’re my son. Whose happiness--wherever you might find it, and with whomever--I desire above all."

Lex suppressed a derisive snort. Always amazing how Dad genuinely seemed to believe his lies.

"So, it’s for your protection that I’ve been having Ms. Lana Lang," and Lionel made sure to enunciate the Lang with crisp emphasis, "tracked these past few weeks. I’m aware that the dissolution of your...'friendship' was a bit less than pleasant."

"It’s over." Lex drummed fingers lightly on the table. "And, Dad, I don’t have time for this. If this is all you wanted--" He pushed back his chair and began to rise from the table.

"Sit down, Son. Stay for just a bit. I think you’ll be glad you did."

Lex looked pointedly at his wristwatch and then glanced up and over at the door. "I refuse to listen to you sling mud. At Lana, at Clark--" But he sat back down. He could continue the pretense of disinterest, while at least hearing what his father had to say.

"Son, I have only your best interests at heart. When will you realize that this is so?"

With nothing he could possibly say in response to that, Lex said nothing. He rested one arm on the white linen tablecloth, not meeting Lionel’s eyes.

Lionel lowered his voice. "Are you aware that Ms. Lang has been meeting Mr. Kent?”

Lex's gaze went sharply to his father’s face, to find Lionel fixing him with a gaze of such cobra-like intensity that Lex couldn’t look away. He could tell that Lionel’s keen eyes detected the small flinch that, try as he might, he couldn’t conceal.

"Ah," Lionel exhaled slowly, swirling the amber liquid in his tumbler. "I see not."

Lex took a deep breath. I'm not letting him get to me, he vowed. "Clark and Lana were friends."

"And lovers, too, once upon a time, if I remember correctly. Do you think it’s wise, or acceptable, for them to be tete a tete on evenings when you are absent on business?"

"It’s been over between them for a long time."

"I see." Lionel placed his hands on the table and pushed back his chair an inch, only to reach into his pocket and lean forward, one elbow on the table. With the other hand, he tossed a handful of photographs onto the tablecloth in front of Lex’s startled gaze.

"Love triangles can be titillating. Exciting. Dangerous and entertaining. Perhaps Ms. Lang and Mr. Kent enjoy deceiving you."

Lex reached for the photos, picked them up, fanned them in his hand.

"Taken last night at 7:10, 7:15, 7:22 respectively."

Clark and Lana in The Beanery. Lana smiling at him over coffee. Clark with a plastic cup, sipping through a straw and watching her as she spoke, then leaning close in another shot with a warm, companionable smile.

Lex drained his brandy in a big gulp and rose to his feet. "Dad, I have no buttons left to push. Clark is the most important thing in my life. I trust him. I won’t listen to slander. Or lies. Those days are over. I’ll never let you have that power over me again."

Lionel’s eyes dropped half-closed as he flagged the waiter. "Just keep telling yourself that, my boy. And don’t say I didn’t warn you."

**

On the endless drive home, Lex gnawed his lip.

He’d told Clark to ignore Lana and any overtures she might make. Clark had agreed, and the very day after, was meeting with her at The Beanery Talon while he himself was out of town?

Despite Clark’s long history of deception, he’d not expected this.

The speedometer crept up to 95 as the car sped through the night, whipping through one of the one-traffic light towns scattered along the road. The lone fluorescent lights of the gas station/minimart were swallowed up at once in the gloom, already gone by the time he glanced up at the rear-view mirror.

He must remain calm. No advantage was to be gained by allowing emotion to take over. Dad was right in that, at least.

Too much was at stake. Clark and the child, his. His. They were bound, pledged to one another, now and for the future. He had so little to fear it was negligible.

In the morning, when he’d vanquished the nocturnal chimeras plaguing him on this nightmare ride and regained his common sense, they would talk. Clark would level with him, have a sensible explanation for the coffee-date with Lana. Surely there would be an explanation.

There had to be.

_________________

Feedback is welcome at amoss53@yahoo.com

Return to homepage