Second Part of Post

[allzugern]

Links to other chapters:

A Summer of Broken Hearts Chapters 1-4

A Summer of Broken Hearts Chapter 8

OoOoOo

Part I: A Summer of Broken Hearts

Clark/Lex
AU, Alien!Clark
R, will go NC-17 in future chapters

Chapter 5

When he heard heavy work boots echoing in the otherwise still house, Lex felt himself smile and his mood lighten. Though Lionel Luthor had always enjoyed taunting his son, berating him repeatedly for being over-emotional, Lex knew that his father's opinion of him was not true. Well, maybe his control wasn't up to his father's standards, but compared to everyone else, Lex was exceptionally well disciplined.

He continued to stare intently at the computer screen as he reflected on how his father could make him lose his composure by intentionally pushing all his buttons. Clark seemed to bypass his emotional lock down by his very presence. He shook his head bemusedly and flipped the laptop closed as he heard his friend enter the room. "Hey, Clark. I didn't expect you this early. So, how did it go?"

"Like a bad virus. It's out, now we just have to treat the symptoms and hope everyone survives." Clark stopped in the middle of the room instead of falling into one of the chairs by Lex's desk.

"Have you had dinner?"

"No, but I'm really not hungry. I just want to hang out and you know…talk about things." Clark moved toward the pool table, suddenly embarrassed, wondering exactly how to tell Lex what had triggered his parents' attempt to put obstacles in the way of their friendship. He felt the flush in his face and hoped Lex would either not notice his embarrassment or ignore it. "My parents have really gone out of their way to keep me busy and…well…"

"Away from me," Lex finished for him. "I'll make it easy for you, Clark. Your parents took the latest Smallville gossip to heart, and forbid you to hang around with the bi-sexual town pariah, lest you be contaminated."

"Well, not exactly," Clark said without meeting Lex's eyes. "My parents are more subtle than that. They actually didn't mention anything about the gossip, but they did ask me to spend more time with friends my own age…and…um…not to come out here so often." Clark continued to roll the balls over the table as Lex left his desk to join him. "I knew what they were up to, though. I actually heard the gossip before they did."

"Chloe." It was a statement and not a question.

"Yeah. Well, you know Chloe. She gets a scent and she's on it like a blood hound; I don't think she can help herself. She sort of broadsided me with questions about it one night."

Lex started racking the balls and motioned for Clark to pick out a cue. "Well, that's our little reporter. So, what did you tell her?"

"The truth. That I had no idea and it was none of anyone's business anyway," Clark said as he watched Lex scatter the colored balls over the table with one, powerful break. "We actually had a really big fight over it."

"Well," Lex said casually, as he moved with his usual grace around the table to line up another shot. "Aren't you going to ask me?"

"Ask you what?"

"If it's true." Another ball rolled with precision towards the gaping target.

"Is it?" Clark asked quietly, not sure he needed to know, but pretty sure that Lex needed to tell him.

"Yes," Lex answered. He turned to face Clark, his clear, blue eyes pinning him to the spot.

Clark simply shrugged. "Okay."

Lex continued to watch him in silence, with the same intensity Clark recognized from hours spent watching him work.

"Do you seriously want me to believe that I haven't just offended your all-American, Apple Pie sensibilities?"

"Don't! Don't do that to me!" Clark shouted, suddenly angry.

Lex was taken back by the vehemence in Clark's voice and the unmistakable shine of tears in his eyes. What the fuck?

"Do what, Clark," he asked quietly.

"Don't put that image of me in your head! Don't expect me to be that way - you'll end up being bitterly disappointed." Clark laid the cue on the pool table and closed his eyes, taking time to locate and absorb the calm that always radiated from Lex. He let it wash over him and soothe the emotions that were increasingly unstable, and so close to the surface lately. "I didn't mean to shout at you, Lex. I need to sit down."

Lex followed Clark to the seating arrangement in front of the hearth and watched as his friend dropped himself into a leather arm chair.

"Look, Lex, I can relax here, be myself. This is the one place where I don't feel like I need to live up to someone's hand-picked image of me…like some paragon of…I don't know what. I just don't want you having an absurdly skewed perception of me in your head that I can't live up to. I am so far removed from being the typical Midwest teenager, you don't even want to know."

"Clark, are you going to tell me what's really going on? You're upset now because I admire your values? You're edgy, tense - you even had a fight with your dad in front of me today. I have never seen you lose control like that."

"Now you sound like my parents, Lex, and you weren't admiring my values just now. You were insinuating that I had made a negative value judgment about you, and that I was hiding it."

"I sound like someone who is concerned about you…and I'm sorry if I jumped to conclusions." Lex ran a hand over his scalp as he sat himself down on the ottoman facing Clark. "Are you going to tell me what's wrong? I haven't seen you this out of sorts since I found you on my back steps, in the middle of the night, this past winter."

"It's everything, Lex. I'm angry at myself for allowing my parents to control my life based on their well-meaning, but false concept of who I am, and what I need. I was so concerned with being the 'good son' and not making any waves, that I failed to see I was actually making things worse. I guess most of it is just the age-old child/parent conflict, but being adopted complicates things somewhat."

"How?" Lex asked, surprised. Although everyone knew he was adopted, it wasn't a subject Clark himself ever broached.

"Feeling that you always have to make things right to make up for not really being theirs; not wanting to turn into someone they will regret having adopted," Clark sighed and leaned his head back against the chair. "Sometimes I wonder what my birth parents were like, and if I'm like them…if despite how I was raised I'll turn out to be like them. Jesus, Lex. What kind of people would abandon a small child? They had no idea if I would live or die when they left me."

"I really don't know, Clark. Have you ever tried to find them, to maybe get some of the answers to your questions?" Lex asked gently.

"They're both dead."

"So, you found them?"

"No. Someone who knew them found me. My mom and dad didn't want me to meet him, but I wanted to hear what he knew. I walked away that day with more questions than answers."

Clark sat up wondering what he was doing babbling about his birth parents. Lex was still sitting, elbows propped on his long legs, and his hands under his chin, watching him with a look that made Clark think about the past four weeks. He had missed Lex, and in that look he recognized that Lex had missed him as well. Clark knew there were issues he had to resolve. He would have to find out what the changes in him were about, and why Lex's energy worked to neutralize the negative effects of that change. For right now, though, he just wanted to make things right with him.

"Lex, I want you to know that it doesn't matter to me who you sleep with. Not just because you're my friend, but because I really don't have any problem with the same-sex relationship issue. I've never understood why people get all hung up about it in the first place."

"I didn't think you would, but I wasn't sure. I just don't ever want you to be uncomfortable around me, Clark."

"Fat chance," Clark snorted. "What's for dinner?"

Chapter 6

Lex crawled onto his four-poster bed, collapsing on his stomach, as he grabbed a large, down pillow from the pile against the headboard. Clutching the pillow between his arms and chest - a habit carried over from childhood - Lex sighed contentedly when he felt his body relax for the first time that day. He resided in the rest of the mansion, but this space, this three-room suite, was his home. Here he was free from observation by eyes and ears, both human and electronic; he had made sure of that. Knowing his Father held nothing sacred, not even private sleeping quarters, Lex had covertly purchased a small fortune in high-tech security and then installed it himself. Nothing and no one could gain access to these rooms without his knowledge. The lesson had been bitter, but he had learned it well. Not having to worry if someone would catch him off his guard, Lex felt free from the paranoia that often plagued him. Here he could afford to give his mind the rest it required from Lexcorp business, as well as the never-ending personal and corporate intrigue his Father insisted they engage in.

Lex turned on his hip, raising one knee slightly and allowed his thoughts to wander. They didn't go far. Clark. The name seemed to reverberate in his head, and he suddenly felt as uneasy as Clark had looked when he arrived tonight. It was as though whatever was to blame for his friend's behavior had influenced his own mood. Lex had tried, more often than he cared to admit, to find an answer to the seemingly simple question of why he felt so drawn to Clark.

He had never had a friend, and had never imagined he would come to a point in his life where he either wanted or needed one. In truth, he never believed himself capable of opening up enough to another person to actually make any semblance of friendship work. Clark was different - so different that he fit Lex like an oddly shaped puzzle piece. His very presence dragged the better part of Lex's nature into the open, and caused him to behave less…Luthor-like. He was still surprised at times to hear himself revealing to Clark personal feelings, or discussing important events in his life that he had not yet shared with another person. In the beginning, the sharing had felt awkward, but knowing intuitively that Clark would not betray his trust, he began to speak more freely. Being able to open himself up in such a way was oddly comforting, and pivotal in forming the connection he felt between them.

Lex shifted and slid up to sit against the massive, mahogany headboard. He absently reached out for his unfinished glass of Macallan as his thoughts continued to center on Clark. At times it seemed incomprehensible that they could be friends. As he sat here in his silk pajamas, in a climate controlled room, drinking 30-year-old scotch, Clark was most likely sitting in his barn loft, in the summer heat, drinking a glass of lemonade. It really was absurd…well, on the surface anyway.

There had been a time shortly before the tornadoes struck, though, when Lex had become frustrated by the number of weak excuses and blatant lies Clark shielded himself with, no matter how many opportunities Lex had offered Clark to confide in him. If Clark thought he could brush over an impossible situation with a simple 'I must have been lucky' or a 'I don't know, Lex' over and over again, he was mistaken. Lies, Lex could deal with, but being played for a fool was something else. He had decided it would be best to slowly put an end to what, at times, felt like a one-sided friendship.

That decision was overturned the day Clark brought Ryan to him from Sommerholt; another of the incredibly bizarre situations that Clark constantly seemed to get tangled up in. He knew it would have been nearly impossible for a normal teen-aged boy to free Ryan from such a clinic without being stopped. When he asked Clark how he had managed it, Lex had seen, for an instant, a look that told him Clark was about to offer some feeble excuse - one that usually made Lex want to slap him. A breath later, the expression in his friend's eyes had changed and those lips that he was sure had been about to inflict another absurdity upon him, fell open in a quiet sigh. Clark had looked through the doorway at Ryan and then turned back to him with an open, intense expression. "Please don't ask, Lex. I don't want to lie to you, but I can't explain either. Please just accept that I did it," Clark had quietly replied. In this request was admission, and in admission an understanding grew between them. It was enough for now that Clark had acknowledged that things were not as they appeared. Lord knew, Lex had his own share of secrets, and though he had rarely ever outright lied to Clark, he was guilty himself of hiding among shades of truth. In unspoken agreement they had begun a 'don't ask, don't tell' policy.

Usually, when he looked at his friend, Lex saw what everyone else did - a tall, good-looking, though sometimes awkward, teenager. Other times, when he least expected it, he caught glimpses of a man infinitely older than the sixteen-year-old Clark appeared to be. That man was extremely intense and intelligent, full of mystery, and radiating something that dissipated like smoke when Lex tried to grasp it. It was as frustrating as it was compelling. In those moments, Lex was captivated. He felt immobilized by a longing so deep, for something so beyond his reach, he knew he would do what ever was necessary to possess everything about Clark he understood, and those things he didn't. There were moments he wanted so desperately that he thought he would die for lack of it - though he could never rationally define what it was he wanted.

So what the fuck was this all about? Did he want Clark? Was this some kind of repressed sexual desire that manifested itself as restless longing? He knew he had never consciously entertained secret sexual fantasies about his friend when he closed his eyes at night, but just how did he feel about him? Lex sipped his drink, his right arm tightly clutching his pillow against his body, while he considered carefully, taking into account all of the sex partners he had enjoyed both male and female. No, he didn't believe there was any hidden sexual agenda. The want that he was desperate to identify didn't have the same feel to it as the sort of desire that flooded him when he saw a hard cock pressing against tight jeans, or a creamy, supple breast pushing up out of a low-cut top. He could not reconcile that sexual desire with what he was chasing - that was deeper and more intense than any sexual gratification he had ever experienced.

Lex closed his eyes against the uneasy feeling that was building inside him, and shifted his thoughts to the odd interaction between Clark and his father earlier today. Clark's behavior was bizarre enough on any given day, even if one took into account the rampaging teenage hormones, but Jonathan Kent, well, that was a different story. He had been angry certainly, but there had also been an under-current of fear there. Lex had no idea what to make of that. Surely he wasn't afraid of Clark physically attacking him? He knew that his friend was strong, but even when confronted by an angry Clark, Lex had never been afraid of him. Maybe Jonathan had been afraid of what his son's strange behavior might have implied? It certainly wasn't as if this was the first time that Jonathan had witnessed Clark behaving strangely.

Lex's lips unconsciously formed a small smile as he remembered how Clark had shown up at the mansion last fall. He had been full of attitude, wearing expensive clothes, and then had proceeded to cajole the Ferrari keys from him. When Clark showed up at the mansion again the next day, ready to throw in his lot with Lex in Metropolis, Lex had gone to Jonathan to find out what was going on. A lot of good that had done. Before sundown, Clark had returned the Ferrari amid humble apologies, and bumbling explanations for his actions. Maybe Jonathan was afraid that Clark might be using drugs. Lex couldn't imagine it.

Shaking his head Lex put his empty glass on the night table, swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. Trying to sort out his feelings for Clark was a bit like wandering around a strange room in total darkness. When he least expected it he would stumble on to something. In the mean time, a hot shower would hopefully relax him, and if he was lucky he would sleep, despite the unfamiliar restlessness that had taken hold of him tonight.

Chapter 7

When he approached the barn, Clark knew his mom would be waiting in the loft. The pale yellow light coming from the open kitchen door was a dead give-away. His father would not be awake at this time of night, well morning, Clark thought as he glanced at his watch. He felt a pang of guilt as he remembered how tired his father had looked yesterday, and that he had not returned to help him with the evening chores. He figured that his mother had either never gone to bed, or she had gone to bed and waited for his father to fall asleep before coming down to wait for him.

Clark stood in suspended motion between the house and the barn, wondering if it wouldn't be better to make a 'quick dash' to the house and the security of his own room. Since he was about twelve, his parents had diligently respected his privacy. Once he closed his bedroom door they would knock and speak through it, but they never entered unless Clark himself opened the door for them. He always thought they went a bit overboard with the privacy thing, but right now his room seemed like the perfect haven. Clark sighed, and headed for the loft. If he didn't talk to her now she would just corner him tomorrow, and that somehow seemed worse. Besides, she needed her sleep as well, and if he snuck into the house she would spend the rest of the night out here waiting and worrying.

"Mom?" Clark quietly called as he gazed down on his mother. She had fallen asleep sitting on the couch, the dark green bathrobe he had bought for her last birthday was wrapped tightly around her slim body. "Mom?" he gently called again as he sat next to her and lightly touched her shoulder.

"Clark," Martha slowly opened her eyes, "what time is it?"

"One in the morning, Mom. You should be in bed," Clark said as he tenderly brushed stray hair from her face. "You look really tired."

"Clark, I wouldn't be here getting a crick in my neck if I weren't up waiting for you," Martha said, suddenly fully awake. "I was really worried when you ran out like you did."

"Sorry, Mom," Clark looked down at his hands "I'm just not myself lately."

"No, you're not, are you?" she said softly.

"I just needed to get out all of a sudden, I just needed..." Clark's voice trailed off.

"I know what you needed, Clark, the question is why?" There was a soft pleading tone to her voice, and her eyes were filled with concern.

Clark shook his head and leaned back against the sofa as he felt a sudden, irrational surge of panic hit him. "I'm not really sure, Mom. How did you know?"

Martha snorted. "I am your mother, the quiet, intuitive one in this family, remember? I noticed something was off in late February and I began to watch you more carefully," she said and took her son's large hand in her smaller one, amazed as always how smooth it was compared to her husband's. "I started to worry when I realized that you were staying up all night prowling around, God only knows where. When I finally had made up my mind to discuss it with your father you…changed again. Things seemed to be straightening themselves out and I kept my mouth shut, not wanting to make a mountain out of a molehill."

"But how did you know, Mom…I mean…you know, that it connects to Lex?" Clark asked as his free hand nervously picked at the denim covering his legs.

"I didn't, Clark. Not really," she smiled at Clark's groan. "A couple of weeks ago I noticed that you were experiencing the same symptoms you had this past winter. You became increasingly withdrawn, and as much as I wanted to write it off to teenage hormones, I knew something was wrong. I tried to account for all the different aspects of your day-to-day life - work, school, diet, friends - trying to find something that would link your behavior this past winter, to your behavior this summer. I kept coming up with a blank. Nothing seemed to be so drastically altered in your routine, except that you were spending more time working on the farm…"

"And I wasn't allowed to hang-out with Lex," Clark cut in.

"That's the only thing that was really different, yes," Martha released her son's hand as she stood up and began to slowly pace the floor stretching her legs. "Still, it was more like a far-fetched idea and not a real consideration. That was until this afternoon when I started to bring it up and you…"

"Flipped out," Clark finished for her. "Mom, I can't have Dad know about this until I find out what's going on. He'll blame it on Lex, or worse, because of the rumors this summer, he'll think it's something it's not. You know how he gets. Please, Mom, promise me you won't say anything yet."

Martha felt a twinge at the near panic she heard in Clark's voice. It wasn't often she was reminded that her invulnerable son could be hurt. "Clark, you know I don't like to keep secrets from your father," she said as she walked back to the sofa and sat down again. "Especially when they concern you, but I think in this case I have to agree with you." The relief was visible on her son's face. "But it can't go on like this, Clark. We need to find out what is happening to you." Not sure she really wanted to hear the answer, but knowing the question was unavoidable she asked, "What exactly is the connection to Lex?"

"When I'm around Lex, I feel better." Clark said simply and shrugged. "The panic, the noise in my head, the insomnia, they all start to let up. They never fade completely, but over time they become bearable." Clark felt his mood lighten at being able to share his burden with his mother, despite the unnatural panic he always experienced when trying to talk about how he felt.

"Why, Clark? How can he affect you this way?" Martha was racking her brains for an answer to this question, but found nothing she considered plausible.

"I was thinking about that tonight on my way home." Clark sighed and rubbed his eyes before continuing. "Lex told me a long time ago, that when the first meteor hit in Smallville, he was out in a cornfield and was engulfed by the aftermath of that blast. Ever since then he's been bald, has had an extremely high white blood cell count, but never gets sick."

"Clark, what has that got to do with anything?"

"Mom, we know that exposure to meteor rocks can change human cell structure. What if the changes in Lex are what affect me? I mean, we know green and red meteor rocks alter my body and my mood…"

"Honey, do you think this might just be a coincidence? If the changes that are taking place in you are natural for your people, well, there wouldn't be any Lex on Krypton to help alleviate the problem."

"But what if it's not natural? What if this is happening to me because I'm being raised on Earth? I mean, what are the chances that Krypton had the same environmental elements as Earth? What if this is like some kind of alien virus or something?"

"Oh, I don't know Clark. There are just too many variables here," Martha said quietly trying not to let the weariness show in her voice.

"I know, Mom, but it's the only thing that seems to make sense, the only possible connection Lex could have to my…" Clark sighed hating the word more and more, "alien problems."

"Sweetheart, maybe you should consider looking to your ship for answers," Martha rested her hand on her son's leg when she saw the closed expression fall over his face at the suggestion. "Look, I know how wary you are, considering the message you found there last time, but your birth parents knew you were being sent to Earth without any other connection to Krypton. I know if I had to send my child away under the same circumstances, I would do everything and anything to send him off with all the information he would need for a life-time. They obviously had the technology to do so. Maybe now is the time to find out. You have the key and you can read the symbols."

"It's not a matter of whether or not I'm able to retrieve the information, Mom. I'm just not sure that I'm ready to open that Pandora's Box. It kind of scares me," Clark admitted, the panic he had been fighting to keep at bay, now creeping into his voice.

"Oh, Clark," Martha reached out and pulled her son into her arms, "I understand how foreign and frightening it must all seem, but the information in that ship was meant for you. You can't shut yourself off from the facts of your heritage forever," Martha soothed, trying to be as fair and impartial as she could. A silent war had been raging in her head ever since Clark had told them he understood not only the language of his people, but had learned how to access the ship's data bank. Martha would be grateful till the day she died to the parents that had sent this amazing child to Earth and into her arms. It couldn't be denied though, that she sometimes wished that the ship had never been found. It's presence was like a storm cloud threatening her family's happiness. It was almost as if she feared that Clark's birth parents would someday try to reclaim him from the grave; that they would somehow try to take away her son. On the other side of her fear, was the selfless love she had for Clark, who would never be whole without being able to understand where he came from and who he was.

"I know," said Clark as he breathed deeply the clean, light vanilla scent of his mother's hair. In the last week he had come to feel what could only be described as revulsion, when people touched him. Still, after the initial desire to pull away, he felt comforted by his mother's embrace. "I'm just too out of sorts right now to be able to deal with anymore strangeness in my life."

"Maybe, Clark," Martha whispered as she rested her chin against his head and stroked her son's soft, dark hair, "it would be a good start for you to stop thinking about all of this in terms of strangeness, or alien oddities. All of these things are a part of who you are, sweetheart. Distancing yourself from them only causes you to lose touch with who you are."

"I suppose so," said Clark gently easing himself out of the embrace. The early morning hours usually brought cooler air, but he could see small beads of sweat forming on his mother's brow. July was threatening to bring record-breaking heat, if the forecasters could be believed. "Right now I just need to concentrate on feeling better, then I can go on from there."

"Alright, Clark," Martha said as she kissed her son's cheek and stood up. "But I need you to promise that you will let me know if things don't get better soon, or if there should be any new changes. You won't be able to hide this from your father for long either. Now that he knows something is amiss, he is bound to be keeping an eye on the situation too."

"I promise, Mom, really," Clark said standing up next to his mother. "I'm going to stay out here tonight, so go ahead and I'll close the lights behind you."

"Will you sleep, Clark?" his mother asked as she turned to go.

"I don't know. It will probably take a while 'til I'm back on any kind of regular schedule. Don't worry, I promise not to go wandering around tonight," he gave his mother the patented good-son-smile.

"I love you, Clark."

"I love you too, Mom," Clark called as he watched her descend the stairs and leave the barn. When he heard the kitchen door close, he shut down the barn lights. In the shine of the half moon, Clark walked to his hammock and dropped into it knowing he would not sleep. He did the best he could to ignore the noise in his head as he gazed out at the stars in the clear night sky.

OoOoO