Crossroads - Chapter 29

by a campbell

Clark Kent/Lex Luthor, PG-13

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 It was a sensation of which Lionel Luthor never tired: satisfaction at a well-wrought and successful plan. That, and prey in his hands, to dance at his command to whatever tune he ordered. Even this early on a Sunday morning, even a bare twelve hours after his last conversation with young Mr. Kent.

Lionel paused again before the observation screen and pressed the button to raise the panel. It wouldn’t do to enter before apprising himself of the particulars this morning.

Clark Kent lay curled on the camp bed, asleep. Lionel, gazing through the two-way glass, observed how his chest rose and fell with the deep, slow breathing of his slumber. The boy’s lower body was covered with a light thermal blanket; his secret burden hidden from view. But it was there.

Here, now, and in his hands. Clark Kent and the alien child he carried, a child not only of a distant race but blood of his own blood as well. The enthusiasm coursing through his veins could barely be contained. He yearned to shout through the deserted halls in triumph that he’d won. He’d won. At last.

Lex might be his son, but this child would achieve far more. Lacking the weaknesses his full-blood issue displayed with regularity, this child would stride like a Colossus, subdue the Earth, and he, Lionel, would guide him, shape him, mold him, remain at his right hand until claimed by death. Even then, his legacy would outlive him indefinitely, perhaps for centuries. Lex’s brilliance, Clark Kent’s strength--oh, the Kent boy would not walk from this facility without granting any and all rights to his child to Lionel. If he refused, well--he would not leave at all.

As the doctors exited the lab, Lionel stepped in front of them. "Gentlemen. What have you to report?"

Doctor Ramani stepped back again, then said in slightly accented English, "In reasonably good health, but agitated. Thanks to Brahman he’s finally fallen into a doze, however fitful."

"Well," Lionel crooned, pushing past him to grasp the metal handle of the door. "We must see what we can do to calm him."

Ramani’s face darkened with concern. "Mr. Luthor, that might--"

But Lionel, paying no heed, stepped briskly inside.

**

Clark, seeming to sense Lionel’s presence at the side of the cot, opened his eyes, then closed them again, voice a bitter grumble. "Is this viewing time at the zoo or something?"

Lionel, looking down at him, made a soothing sound, but couldn’t suppress a chuckle. "Now, my boy, don’t be ridiculous." He leaned down and fingered the edge of the blanket intending to pull it down, but Clark snatched it back from his grasping hand. "My, we are testy this morning."

As Clark dragged himself to a sitting position, Lionel noted how the white hospital garments set off his rosy lips and fair complexion. More handsome than ever, but his beauty would avail him nothing today.

"I trust you’re enjoying your accommodations." Lionel sat down on the edge of the cot as Clark drew closer to the wall. He reached out to ruffle the dark curls, and smiled as Clark jerked away.

"Let me out of here."

"You and I need to have a conversation before we even begin to discuss that." The cot creaked as he shifted. "I want you to listen to me carefully, Clark, and consider fully what I have to say. Will you do that?"

Clark tossed his head, like a restless young stallion, thought Lionel, watching those exquisite full lips settle into a grim line. "You’ve always wanted to get hold of me. You've done your best to destroy Lex, and now I'm next on the list."

"I suppose my son told you that?" Lionel affected the most theatrical sigh he could manage. "Ah, Lex, such a bright boy, yet always mistaking my motives. Just as you are, Clark." He placed a hand companionably, deliberately on Clark’s cotton-clad thigh, keeping his enunciation precise and clear. "Clark. I just want to make sure you know that I have only your best interests at heart."

Clark reached for Lionel’s hand, lifted it and placed it on the bedcover between them. "I know you. And I know whose interests you care about. Your own."

"Clark," Lionel continued with exaggerated patience as though lecturing a wayward child. "I suggest that you hold your comments until you’ve listened to what I’ve come to say to you today."

Clark bowed his head, clasping and unclasping his hands. Rather than begin, Lionel waited.

When Clark finally spoke again, his bleak voice was faint. "What are you going to do to me?"

Lionel raised his eyebrows. "You think I intend you harm? Far from it. I only ask that you agree to one or two conditions, and then you’ll be free to go."

Clark drew a deep breath, pushed back the blanket and swung long legs over the edge of the cot. He gave Lionel’s arm a little shove and Lionel, after a moment’s hesitation, moved over a bare inch. "What are they?"

"I want you to promise me--"

Clark shook his head. "I’m not promising you anything. I want to talk to Lex."

"Clark, Clark," Lionel tsked as Clark glared, marveling at how closely the strong young man could resemble a pouty child. "You must remain calm. Think of the valuable treasure you carry."

Lionel noted with what rapidity the blood drained from Clark’s cheeks. He smiled in enjoyment of the game as Clark’s searching gaze studied his face. "How much did they tell you?"

"Enough. Of course, I’ve been aware of your condition for some time." Lionel aimed a pointed glance at Clark’s midsection. "Almost as long as you have, I daresay. Yes, indeed, I know far more than you would expect. Not only do I know about the child, but I know that my son is your lover, and the father as well." With relish, he noted the deep blush that crept back up Clark’s neck to his jaw. "And I know about you. Your background, your origins. My son, sire of a master race--do you sincerely think that I would abdicate my responsibilities as both guardian and grandfather?"

Clark opened his mouth to speak, closed it, then opened it again-- but still said nothing. Lionel dropped his voice to a velvet whisper.

"So my proposal for you, my boy, is that you agree to hand your child over to me, without argument, as soon as it is born. I’ll ensure that you have the best medical care; as you see, the same team that was treating you in the beginning is here now and in my employ. With so many unknowns in the equation, you must admit that your safety is, at best, tenuous, and the involvement and utilization of the most knowledgeable medical personnel available is paramount. In exchange for your cooperation, your safety will be ensured--nor will I interfere further in your personal life."

Clark said nothing, but Lionel noted his hard swallow.

"I know the word of Clark Kent to be good and solid. Experience has taught me. Promise me this, and you’ll be allowed to walk out of here a free man. To rejoin my son, or Miss Lang, or any bed partner of your choosing."

Clark’s gaze flashed with what Lionel diagnosed as a combination of rage and shame.

"Just give me the child. That’s all you have to do."

Clark shook his head, and when he opened his mouth to speak, his voice was barely a whisper. "No.

Lionel sighed. "Now, Clark, listen to me. I know if you give some thought to what I’ve said, you’ll realize that what I ask is the only reasonable solution to an embarrassing and difficult situation. Lex will never be able to achieve the goals he has set for himself with a young male lover and a child at his side. He must marry a beautiful and elegant woman who knows all the social niceties and will photograph well with him for the newspapers," and Lionel savored Clark’s flinch as he looked away. "If you cling to him, well--you’d be holding him back from a brilliant career. Nor would you be able to care for a child effectively on your own. Your compliance would be wise. Because, you see--" and Lionel stroked his beard with his slim fingers, then leaned closer to the screen. "If you don’t, I’m afraid I’ll be forced to keep you in here indefinitely, and you’ll never see Lex again. Or your mother, or your friends."

"Lex wouldn’t let that happen."

"Lex might not have that much to say about it. He owes me too much, and it’s nigh time for me to begin collecting."

Clark rose to his feet and walked over to the sealed door, then stopped and turned. "You can’t have the baby," he murmured in a daze. Lionel watched him coast a palm over his now-sizable belly. "I’m not giving him to you." His voice rose, frantic. "I’m never giving him to you. You can go to hell!"

"Now, Clark, calm yourself. If you but cooperate, things could be very nice indeed. You’ll continue to get the best medical care from the fine doctors in my employ," and Lionel emphasized the last three words ever so slightly, "and when you recover from the birth, you can return to your secret life with my son. Why, I may even let you see him--my grandson-- now and then. Whereas--if you resist, well-- things could get complicated. And perhaps a little painful for you, Clark. I’m asking nicely at this point. Cross me, and things could take an unpleasant turn.

"I know how you love your mother. And young Miss Lang, and even my son. I’m sure you--good son, good friend, and one who loves so deeply, would never do anything to put them in any kind of danger."

Clark shook his head slowly. "No. I wouldn’t. I’d--"

"It’s up to you, my son. I’ll have him anyway, no matter what you decide."

Clark’s fingers flexed as though they itched to close around Lionel’s neck. "I could kill you now--right now, even without my powers. Even if I can’t get out of here, I could do that. Do the rest of the world a big favor."

"Ah, but you won’t. The lives of too many of your friends and family hinge on your decision. Think again of those you love most: Lex, Miss Sullivan, your mother, Miss Lang...were I to die, each of them would have barely half an hour of life left." Lionel made sure to temper his suddenly lethal tone toward the close of the sentence and punctuate his statement with a crisp chuckle.

Clark rose to his feet and glared down at him for a moment before turning away. "You’re a monster. I always knew--"

"I’m tipping my hand to you, Son, because I trust you to make the right decision. I have complete faith that you will." Lionel rose and strode over to the door, barking into the intercom. "Open this door."

As the door swung open and he prepared to step into the hall, Lionel turned back, though deliberately avoiding eye contact. "Think about what I've said. Think hard, and well. But--I would decide quickly, if I were you. Who knows how much time you have?"

Clark sank back down on the cot, and Lionel could almost feel his beseeching gaze burning into his back as the door closed behind him.

First the child, then the parent. He would control them both.

**
Lana drew back from the glass, lifted a hand to her mouth and touched her lips with ice-cold fingers.

Everyone you love. Lex, Miss Sullivan, your mother, Miss Lang..."

How dare he. Even if it was but an empty threat. In a flash, it all came clear, despite her attempts across the past weeks to deny it. She was no less a pawn than all the rest.

Lionel had never loved her, never really wanted her.

He was evil.

And she couldn’t let him win.

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