Smallville BigBang - Being Born Luthor (Chapter 3)
Chapter 3
Lex was curled up on the window seat with Clark tucked into his side. They were both bigger than the first time they sat there so many years ago and the only way they both fit on the seat was with Lex settled, back to the window and legs hanging over the edge, and Clark coiled into a tight ball, folded in close to his side. From his position he could barely hear the murmured conversation being exchanged between Martha Kent and her husband. He knew he was the subject of the dialogue and it didn't matter because he knew what had to be done, never mind what adult advice the Kents would try to offer.
Lex still had a few more shocks for the Kents that would probably rival the near heart attack he had given Jonathan when he scrambled out from under the tarp. Although the truck was turned off and all that could be heard was the residual ticking as the engine cooled down, Lex waited until a childish voice yelled, "Dad, you're home."
The next shout of surprise was his name, "Yex!"
From his position in Jonathan's arms, Clark looked curiously over his father's shoulder as the black tarp was pushed back and he saw his bestest friend, even better'n Pete, come into view.
Shouting, "Yex!" while wriggling out of his dad's arms had no effect until his father turned around and saw the pale youngster clambering out of the bed of the truck.
"It's Lex squirt and I know you know that," the stowaway corrected mildly.
Almost vibrating as Lex approached, Clark launched himself out of his father's arms into Lex's.
"I like Yex better," he pouted and then grinned widely while wrapping his arms around his best friend's neck. "I missed you, Lex."
“Lex! What in the blazes are you doing here?” Gaze going from the tarp to the teenager standing before him hugging Clark, Jonathan queried harshly, “Are you insane? Riding back in my truck? Anything could have happened.”
“’m sorry Mr. Kent,” Lex mumbled, his voice muffled because his face was currently hidden in the curve of Clark’s neck.
Stopping himself before he uttered unforgiving words, Jonathan reminded himself that the slim, young boy standing in front of him was now an orphan. "Alexander…Lex…it’s me who should apologize. I'm so sorry about your mother. All I can say is that I was worried about the chances you might have taken to get to Smallville. You must never forget that you’re very wealthy and there’re unscrupulous people who’ll try to use you or kidnap you."
That statement was followed by Jonathan enfolding the pair in a long heartfelt hug where Clark was squished in the middle. Another round of hugs followed when Jonathan hurried Lex into the house.
Although Clark recognized his Yex was not happy, he knew that hugs from Mom and Dad helped. But his hugs were the best. Tugging Lex to their favorite spot by the window, he wasted no time wrapping his arms around his buddy and curling into him.
By mutual consent the Kents and Lex decided to shelve serious discussion until after dinner. Clark filled the silences admirably at the table a scant hour later by regaling Lex with all the details of his adventures since they last saw each other two years ago.
Lex had the honor of putting Clark to bed and reading his current favorite book, Swiss Family Robinson. Patting Clark gently, he was about to get up from the bed when the young man's eyes popped open. Holding his hand immobile, Clark stated, "Stay wif me. Don't go back to stinky 'trop'lis."
A wry smile crossed Lex's face, "I don't want to go back to Metropolis right now. But, Clark, I’ll have to go back sometime." Breathing in deeply, Lex tugged his hand from the younger boy's grip and stood. "I have demons to face there."
Knowing that he could put it off no longer, Lex slowly made his way downstairs where the Kents waited for him.
"Lex, I’m so sorry," Martha apologized. "What's going on? Why're you here? I just turned the television off but they are reporting that you’re missing-that you may have been kidnapped." The redhead’s expression was filled with concern.
Flipping open the black bag he'd detoured to fetch from the homey living room, Lex reached in and pulled out a transparent plastic bag. The bag was sealed and in one corner there were several tiny black circles in small amount of clear liquid.
"There’re eleven items in this bag. I put them in there, filled the bag with a tiny amount of water, and then slammed them with my shoe. I hope that shorted them out; I think they’re either listening devices or some sort of transmitter, or quite possibly both. One, I found in my mother's pillowcase, a clean, unused, pillowcase. Seven were sewn into the hem of her sheet. The others I found in the collars of her dress and blouses." Lex's voice wobbled as he concluded his recital. "Pamela drove her to kill herself. She as good as murdered my mother."
"How? Why? Your mother adored Pamela," Martha chided. "Lillian and I didn't see each other often. You know the conditions we set up for your protection and that of Clark’s." Her voice trailed off as she looked at her husband. They had not seen Lillian since a scant month before Alexander’s eleventh birthday. Her descent into madness, however, had been chronicled by unforgiving gossip columnists on the staff of the Inquisitor and the Daily Planet, Metropolis’ competing newspapers.
Jonathan face was a mask of worry, "I thought your mother killed herself because she was unstable."
"Don't you understand?" Lex asked angrily, "These transmitters were used relentlessly so that my mother heard voices. It weakened her mind and eventually drove her to suicide to stop the voices."
Delving into his carry all again, Lex pulled out another plastic bag. This one contained differently sized tablets in various shapes and colors. Each was affixed to a neat square of white paper; there was tiny, precise writing on the right side of the tablet. "Once I discovered the transmitters, I began to wonder about the prescription tablets my mother had been given. Every time I returned to the mansion on a break from school she had slipped away some more. Maybe Pamela had also tampered with her medicine."
Sighing tiredly, Lex scrubbed his forehead with his clenched fists. "My mother’s room was already clean and the drugs were gone. I suspected Pamela had them, but when I did a quick search of her room while she was downstairs eating dinner, I didn’t find anything."
Catching Martha’s intent gaze, he said firmly, "It was Frank. In hindsight, there was something about the way he and Pamela stood too close together at the funeral." Lex laughed hollowly, a bitter, sarcastic sound, and then continued speaking, "It might also be that I’ve never liked him since the day he was hired to drive my mother to her appointments. In any case, I sent him on an errand to deliver personally a few small tokens to a number of the high profile mourners who’d come to the funeral. I hated to do it. My mother would have hated that I had to pander to those people. But the end justified the means." Drawing in a deep breath, Lex finished, "I found my mother’s drugs in a box under his bed. I took one tablet from each cylinder and I memorized the names of the tablets and the dosages."
"Why in the world would Pamela-?" Jonathan started angrily before Lex interrupted him speaking with forced calm.
"As soon as I could, I made a list of the drugs’ names and doses. That was a day ago."
The three people at the table looked at the innocuous plastic bags Lex had placed in front of him. "My mother wasn't imagining she was hearing voices. She *was* really hearing them. Pamela put them there. She’s the only person who was allowed to handle my mother's things. She’s the only one who had access to all the items of clothing. The sheets where I found these had only been used once. The pillowcase was new. It had been recently washed. I felt the cushions of Mother’s favorite chair where she would lay her head. Once I knew what I was trying to find, I could feel little hard circles under the material when I pressed down." Rubbing his eyes with his knuckles, Lex finished tiredly, "I trusted her."
Continuing in a stronger voice, Lex said calmly, "I found the first of them in a dress that Mother loved to wear. I went into her room...after...y'know...after…and I pulled the dress down because it smelled of her and I started crying and when I rubbed my face with her dress I felt something."
Martha could stand no more. She changed seats and dragged her chair closer to Lex's, leaned across the small space and pulled him close. "Oh, honey!"
"I don’t know what triggered the transmitter but suddenly I was hearing whispers, endless whispering saying, ‘You killed me,’ and that was followed by Julian crying. That’s what Mother heard all the time, wherever these transmitters were. Is it any wonder she hung herself?”
Lex ground his teeth and underneath the table his hands clenched into tight fists as he battled his anger. He had fled Metropolis, not because he was weak, but because he wasn’t ready. He was a Luthor, or as the press had dubbed him, the Lone Luthor. One salient fact he had learned from his parents was to have plans within plans and bide his time. His father had taught him about long range strategy, which from his eight-and-a-half-year-old perspective before his father died, had meant waiting…waiting to meet investors…waiting to close deals. His mother had created such wonderful visions for the future when…when she was better…when he was older…when they would be free to live without fear. No, he would wait and when he was ready he would make Pamela and whomever she worked for pay for driving his mother to suicide.
Crawling into a corner of Lillian Luthor’s closet was quite possibly the smartest thing he had done, Lex thought bitterly. It was too bad he had not done it before. In this case ignorance was not bliss. Lex had awakened the night after his mother’s body had been removed from the mansion. Transitioning from sleep to waking, he had forgotten for an instant that his mother had ended her life in the early hours the morning prior. He strained to hear her footsteps pattering down the hallway between their rooms before he remembered she would no longer be around to do that.
Suddenly bereft, Lex had climbed out of bed and darted down the corridor making a beeline for his mother’s room. Clutching his mother’s favorite dress, hanger and all, he put his head on his bent knees and cried. Then he heard the whispering. A silent scream remained stillborn in his throat because his heart had risen out of his chest and lodged in his throat.
Fingers frozen with fear made unclamping them from the hanger difficult. Fortuitously though, in his haste to get out of the closet, somehow an conductive circuit was formed between the metallic, curved neck of the hanger, the transmitter in his mother’s dress presently soaked with his tears, and his fingers clumsily pawing at the neck of the dress.
The whispering stopped abruptly and he became privy to one side of a conversation. In tones he had never heard before, Pamela was demanding the next third of her payment for completing the job. Too surprised to move, Lex inadvertently kept the circuit intact and his cherished opinion of his former nanny, turned friend and caretaker to his mother, shattered as she laughed coarsely and recounted how she had conveniently guided Lillian to find the flexible luggage ties which she used to hang herself. It was only when Pamela said that she would collect the final payment one week after the funeral that Lex realized he had less than seven days to get out of the mansion alive.
Sniffling quietly for a moment, Lex enjoyed the warmth of Martha's embrace. "There was an incident just after the funeral." Although Lex's voice was muffled, both Kents still heard him. "I slipped out before the service was finished. I saw Pamela talking to Heike and the chauffeur."
"Heike?" Jonathan asked.
"That's my fencing coach. I was suspicious. It was how they were standing and how they looked at me. I had to get away as soon as possible." Lex knew that Pamela had not acted alone but he had no clues pointing to her conspirators. It was wise to be suspicious of everyone.
Leaving the comfort of Martha's embrace, Lex sat upright. "We're going to follow the plan."
"Lex," Martha remonstrated, "That's just something your mother and I joked about. It wasn't meant to be taken seriously."
Shrugging, Lex brushed off her words, "My mother obviously thought that you would follow through. Even Pamela doesn't know about you guys. The lengths my Mom went to so that I could escape if something happened to her tells me that she knew that she was in danger and so am I."
Looking first at Martha and then at Jonathan, Lex declared, "I was born a Luthor, but that’s the past. For the future, I have to become a Kent."
Lex spent the day making lists. Listing tasks relaxed him. Knowing he had to stay upstairs and out of sight brought home the reality of his confinement. Casting a practiced eye around the attic, Lex measured his jail. Earlier that morning Jonathan had fetched Clark on the pretext of doing chores. Clark stepped over his supine form as Lex feigned sleep on the trundle bed in Clark’s bedroom. Lex heard muted scraping sounds a few minutes later. He knew that Clark had been pressed into service. When Martha ushered them both upstairs with a breakfast tray, the lofty room had already been swept and the trunks now lined the walls. Lillian and Lex had read the Diary of Anne Frank together a couple of years ago. Lex knew his mother had used the plot as an object lesson. That was when she lightheartedly took Lex through ‘What If’ exercises. Smiling wryly, he promised himself there would be no diary written by him.
Martha sent Clark to school that morning ignoring his protests that he wanted to stay and play with Yex. The youngster was slightly more enthusiastic when his mother told him about the pretend game he had to play at school. Kneeling down, Lex whispered softly in his ear that he would be there that afternoon and they would spend hours and hours together playing games.
Jonathan spent the day outside only returning at lunch for a quick meal before taking the truck, packed with Martha's baked goods and fruit baskets, to make deliveries that afternoon. That evening Martha relented about her, 'No food upstairs rule,’ and set out a picnic in the attic.
The Kent Farm was as far as it was possible to be outside of the Smallville limits and still have a Smallville address. Their nearest neighbor was Nell Potter, who had inherited her sister and brother-in-law's farm after they were killed in the meteor shower. She had also been saddled with the responsibility of their only daughter, Lana.
Knowing that Nell sent Lana to visit the farmhouse almost daily, Martha kept a weather eye on the clock. As soon as Clark came barreling through the door, making a beeline for the stairs leading to the attic, she picked up the phone.
"The Pottery Flower Shop, Nell Potter speaking."
Martha closed her eyes and proceeded to lie as if her life depended on it. Frankly, she thought to herself, that wasn't too far from the truth. Her family, which now included Lex, was depending on her.
"Ahh, Nell, would you mind if I take a rain check on Lana coming to visit tonight?"
The other woman asked baldly, "Why?"
Pinching the soft skin on the inside of her elbow ruthlessly made her eyes water and it also had the virtue of making her voice wobble. "Clark hasn't been feeling well all day. Right now he's running a fever and I wouldn't want Lana to catch whatever he's getting."
"Oh, don't worry about that, Lana never gets sick." Nell said heartily.
Translating the subtext meant that Nell had a date tonight and wanted Lana out of the way.
Dropping her voice almost to a whisper, Martha uttered hesitantly, "I saw a spot."
"Pox? Chicken Pox?" Nell exclaimed.
Playing on Nell's vanity, Martha said, "Tina had it almost nineteen days ago and she and Clark had a play date..." Her voice trailed off letting Nell do the math.
"Of course, of course. But, Clark and Lana have played together since then," Nell tried persuasively.
"You want Lana to get Chicken Pox?" Martha questioned, letting amazement color her tone.
Nell backpedaled immediately, "No. Err, no, I don't want that. I'll call Bobbie Turner and find out if she can watch Lana tonight.
Her words confirmed Martha's guess.
"It'll be at least ten to fourteen days before she can visit." Martha stated firmly. "We'll have to wait until the scabs start healing."
"Uh..."
Cutting across whatever the other woman was planning to say, which might have been that the two children suffer through Chicken Pox in the Kent’s home, Martha said politely, "Thanks so much for understanding, Nell. It may be a couple of weeks before we surface because I'll have my hands full with a sick youngster. Bye."
She replaced the receiver gently and exhaled quietly-another lie. The lies had begun so long ago. What was one more?
Sitting cross-legged on a cushion, Martha smiled. Lex, she still thought of him as Alexander sometimes because Lillian had done so, was using his fork to illustrate how the attic could be made more habitable. In his other hand the young boy held a sheaf of pages that he consulted frequently. Jonathan nodded in agreement as Lex laid out his plans. Martha observed the three men seated around the assorted empty flatware from their dinner. Her husband was dressed in a plaid shirt with worn jeans; Lex was neatly clothed in a lavender shirt, which was tucked into an old style ‘Sunday best’ pants that had belonged to a young Jonathan, while Clark was already dressed in his pajamas.
The only person who wasn’t responding to Lex’s outrageous plans was Clark. In fact the seven-and-a-half-year-old was rubbing his ears and picking at his food listlessly. For an irrational moment Martha wondered if Clark had really contracted Chicken Pox. It was true that Tina and Clark had spent some time together while Martha visited with Judy Greer. Judy had been taking care of Tina while they both recovered from the illness. Martha had felt it was safe to visit because Clark had never had a sniffle or any other illness since he had found them.
Before she could lean forward to check on her son, he looked up at her pitifully. Rubbing both his ears, he said fretting, “It hurts, Mamma.”
“When did your ears start hurting?”
“Ears not hurting, noise hurts.”
Arrested in mid-speech by Clark’s complaint, Lex asked, “What noise, Clark?”
“Clark, let’s check your temperature. Maybe you’re getting sick, dearest. Jonathan, would you fetch the thermometer from the bathroom cabinet downstairs?” Martha directed.
“’m not sick, Mamma. I played sick like you told me to at school.” With that statement Clark left his spot and crawled to Lex, “Make it stop, Yex.”
Looking bewildered Lex turned to Martha. “He wasn’t sick before when we were playing.”
Martha reserved judgment as she waited, tracking her husband’s progress as he clomped down the steps to the landing, rummaged in the bathroom and climbed the short flight of stairs back to the windowless attic.
“Take his temp under his arm, Jonathan.” Martha knelt upright and began to collect the remains of their dinner while she monitored her husband’s actions. Lex lifted Clark’s tee shirt and the older man deftly reached under and slipped the thermometer into position.
A short tense while later, Jonathan said calmly, “It’s normal-for Clark.” Walking the few steps around the checkered tablecloth spread out on the floor separating the boys from his wife, Jonathan went down on one knee and handed the instrument to his wife.
“Mmmm, you’re right,” she agreed, “Hot for us, but normal for our son.”
Suddenly Clark’s body went rigid and his face scrunched in misery, two fat tears escaping his tightly closed eyes.
“Jonathan, something’s wrong.” Martha protested.
“What’s he hearing that we’re not? Something’s hurting him.” Lex was frantic. “He can hear it but we can’t, a noise pitched at a range we can’t hear. I can almost make it out when I hold him close. Kinda like how I used to understand him when he couldn’t speak yet.” Looking up at the couple Lex asked them, “Whatever’s hurting him is making him cry; what is it?”
Sighing heavily, Jonathan answered, “We’re not sure what’s happening? We don’t know what to do and we can’t take him to the doctor.”
“My poor baby,” Martha reached over and took Clark from Lex. Reluctantly, Lex released his hold.
Just then Clark opened his eyes sightlessly and moaned, “It’s calling me.” Struggling in Martha's embrace, his body flailed and he almost slipped from her hold.
Moving forward, Lex wrapped his hand around Clark's clenched fist with his grip ending at his friend’s wrist. Looking up into Martha's eyes, he enunciated clearly demanding, "What’s calling him?"
Tearing her gaze from Lex, Martha looked at Jonathan helplessly. “There’s only one thing that might be calling him.”
"If Lex stays here, he'll know eventually," Jonathan shrugged helplessly.
Firming her shoulders and tightening her grasp on her son, Martha said heavily, "Let's go then."
Lex had made it down both sets of stairs and was walking through the kitchen heading to the back door when he asked the man who was shepherding the group out of the house.
"Go? Go where?"
It was not until the four people were standing before a padlocked set of metallic double doors set in the ground, positioned to blend in with the slightly raised mounds of earth on either side, that Jonathan answered him.
"The storm cellar."
Lex had not lost his clasp on Clark's hand. He refused to let go even as Martha maneuvered awkwardly down the short flight of steps holding her son; he followed almost abreast. Jonathan pulled the doors shut behind them. Pitch black surrounded them for an instant before light flared suddenly from two sources: a pale flash that came from a lantern Jonathan Kent flicked on behind them and ahead, a wash of bright light shining through a shrouded form on the other side of the cellar.
Lex knew the moment Clark changed his position in Martha's arms. The light blazed brighter and bathed them all leaving a soft impression in its wake. Although the room didn’t darken, Lex felt as if the intensity of the light lessened. Sparing a quick glance around the room, Lex catalogued farm implements leaning against one wall, rows of canned jars arranged on shelves against another wall and what appeared to be an odd collection of gallon paint cans on the ground beneath the shelves. There was not a hint of breeze in the room, yet the covering shielding the ball of light in front of them fluttered.
Heart in his throat, Lex felt a frisson of anticipation crawl up his spine. He had only felt like this twice before in his life, one time he barely remembered, the other was when Martha Kent had opened her door the day of his father's funeral and a black haired tornado jumped into his arms.
As if pulled off by an unseen hand, the heavy canvas veil flowed off the spherical, lighted configuration to reveal a dull grey, teardrop-shaped form hovering about 24 inches off the hard packed ground, it’s point angling away from them. Lights blinked along the perimeter of the shape in a strangely hypnotic pattern. Lex absorbed the spectacle and recognized that what was in front of him had not been engineered by human hands.
Pulling his gaze away, Lex focused on Clark who was trying to slide down from his perch.
"Lemme go," he protested when his mother tried to hold him.
Thrashing about Clark fought to get out of his mother's embrace even as he held his fist enclosed by Lex still and tried not to lose his connection to his friend. Suddenly Clark reversed his strategy and launched himself up and out of Martha's tight hold. Anticipating the jump because he felt the jerk as Clark pulled himself up, Lex found his arms filled with the escapee.
The unexpected jump surprised Martha. Lex, who was not being restrained by anyone, held Clark close to him and walked towards the lighted shape.
Martha made an aborted lunge to stop them but the light in the cellar grew brighter and focused on the older couple. Risking a glance behind him, Lex realized that Martha and Jonathan were frozen in place.
Running his eyes over the ship, Lex knew, soul-deep knew, that he and his best friend, Clark Kent, were in no danger from the form floating before them.
"Greetings Kal-El and Al-Ex-Ander."
Lex felt the pressure of the words beat against his temple.
He felt the words booming inside of his skull. For Clark it was a different matter. Clapping his free hand to his ears, he tried to weld himself to Lex burrowing into his friend's side. He whimpered piteously, "Yex."
"I am the artificial interactive-"
"STOP!" Lex roared, "You're hurting him!" Every word that Lex heard reverberating in his head seemed to have a stronger effect on Clark, who cringed at each sound.
Undiluted, pure silence filled the room as his shout died away and the lights glowing from the floating form danced rapidly across the surface. If Lex could have described it, he would say that the lights were having a furious discussion with each other.
With the silence, Clark peeped out from where he had hidden his face and turned toward the light source. A pinprick of light illuminated a point midway between where Lex and Clark stood and the device. Slowly it elongated until it was a cylindrical column of light about 6 feet tall and 18 inches in diameter. Condensing out of the misty light were two figures. The cylindrical column of light brightened to painful intensity and Lex squeezed his eyes closed. When he opened them again a man and a woman of indeterminate age dressed in simple white unitards stood where the column had been.
"I am sorry, my son." The woman spoke in clear tones. "We did not realize our call would hurt you and your consort."
"Who’re you?" Lex hefted Clark into his arms though the younger boy was just a shade too heavy and too tall to do it easily.
This time it was the man who answered. "We are realistic holographic constructs of Jor-El and Lara-El, father and mother to Kal-El, whom you call Clark. Our planet, Krypton, was destroyed when its red sun exploded. Kal-El was saved because Jor-El and Lara-El constructed this life pod to take him safely to the third planet from Sol. We are powered by an artificial intelligence interactive core."
"You mean Clark...?" Words failed him and Lex looked at his burden in amazement. "He looks human."
"We will explain further. It is your choice whether MarthaKent and JonathanKent hear our words."
"Huh?" Lex replayed the words and realized that the construct had blended the first and last names of the Kent couple and speaking of the Kents, he turned his head and saw that they were still frozen in place. Though rigid, Lex could see the strain on their faces as they fought silently against invisible shackles.
When Lex swung to look behind him, so did Clark and when the younger boy saw his mother he cried out, "Mamma."
Martha Kent did not move and Clark tried again, "Mamma?"
Looking back at the hologram, Clark tilted his head in confusion.
"I am sorry Kal-El and Al-Ex-Ander, if you want us to free the humans we will."
"Huh?" Lex was somewhat annoyed with himself. His vocabulary had decreased to monosyllables and not even interesting ones at that.
"Decisions and actions which affect you both must be made by you both. You and your consort must be unanimous in agreement."
"Hu..." Lex snapped his mouth shut. He was not saying another word until he made sense.
Hugging Clark, or Kal-El, according to those replicants, closely, he gathered his thoughts and made a mental list before speaking again.
"You must free the Kents. You must explain more to us. You cannot hurt Clark anymore. My name is not Al pause Ex pause Ander. I’m not a consort." What had started out as a logical, reasoned list in Lex's mind were statements that increased in volume as he spoke. Breathing out gustily, he said absentmindedly, "I need to sit and think."
Clark patted his cheek sympathetically and echoed, "Sit, too."
The female construct waved her left hand upward, an action that was mirrored by the right hand of the male hologram.
"An apparatus awaits your use," Lara-El stated.
"MarthaKent and JonathanKent have been released." Jor-El finished.
"Huh?" Lex felt the press of fabric against his back of his knees. Wildly he looked around vowing yet again never to use moronic utterances-ever. A deep, comfortable sofa, exactly like the one in the Kents' living room was behind him. Lex sat; Clark went with him, awkwardly landing on Lex's thighs, elbow pressing into his stomach and driving air from his lungs. He barely drew a breath before he and Clark were surrounded protectively by Jonathan and Martha Kent.
Maybe it was a calculated move designed to relax the humans but when Clark repositioned himself so that he was sprawled over three laps, Lex observed that the holograms were seated on a matched sofa across from theirs.
Unexpectedly, it was Clark who broke the tension. "His name's Yex." A sturdy thumb poked Lex's chest for emphasis as the youngster squirmed out from Martha's tight hold.
"It's really Alexander Joseph Luthor." Lex corrected mildly, "Or Lex."
"We know your name Al-Ex-Ander. But we will add the names Lex and Yex to our memory archive."
"It's Alexander. One word." Lex was slightly more forceful.
"As Kal-El's consort, we have adopted a similar naming practice as is the custom on Krypton. When bonding occurs, your honorific will be Al Ex Ander El."
"What do you mean by bonding?" Jonathan's inquired harshly. "It sounds as if you're telling me that our boy will...will be with-"
"-They're consorts?" Martha's voice rose above Jonathan's.
The holograms were expressionless and did not answer.
"What's con sort mean?" Clark did not look at the constructs but directed the question to Lex.
"Yeah, what does that mean exactly?" Lex looked at the holograms.
The female construct answered, "Lara-El wanted her offspring to have a life as similar as possible to what he would have had on Krypton. Hence, Clark was imprinted on his mate when he emerged from our pod. On Krypton his imprinting would have occurred before."
"Clark imprinted on me?" Lex's eyes rounded. "Why me?"
"Your DNA and cellular matrices were mutagenically altered prior to the lifepod coming to rest, as were other human life forms within the area as specified by Lara-El."
Lex felt a trill of fear once he heard that something had altered his DNA.
"Oh my word," Martha said faintly. "You altered Lex for Clark." As a mother she was outraged that something tampered with her kin. "What gave you the right to do this?"
Once again the constructs did not answer and remained silent.
"Why don't you answer her?" Jonathan was angry. "Your Lara-El did something to Lex and who knows whom else in Smallville. What gave her that right?"
The tension level which had never fully abated ratcheted up as the constructs continued to stare at the group with blank features.
Replaying bits of the preceding exchange, Lex soon realized why the constructs were not answering Jonathan or Martha,' Oh right, decisions and actions..."
Lex stated politely, "Constructs, Clark and I request that you answer questions from the Kents as if they were from us." Rubbing Clark's knee he encouraged the younger boy, "Say you agree, Clark."
"I 'gree, Yex." Clark shouted enthusiastically coming to life for a moment, "Yex and me always 'gree on ev'rything."
"As you will it, Yex." Both constructs spoke together.
"No! No. Do NOT call me Yex. That's Clark's-. Look, just call me Lex. Al-space-Ex-space-Ander sounds just as strange. And while we're asking questions: how did you get the couch from the living room? I know your's is a holographic projection, but what about this one?"
The male construct looked puzzled before his expression smoothed, "Our scanners showed us that the device beneath you was a place where you and Kal-El sat. We created the seat from the space around you, using the atoms not employed for other purposes."
"Like magic, but not." Lex's attention was captured, "What else can you do? How is it you’re speaking English? What sort of information do you have in your memory archives?" Lex fired his questions at the constructs.
Firmly, Martha put an end to that conversational side trip Lex and the holograms were about to take. "Why was Clark in pain?"
"MarthaKent, we were not aware that our high frequency call to Kal-El and Lex would hurt him. We did not take into account the lighter densities of this planet."
"Answer my question about the bonding stuff," Jonathan said belligerently.
The male construct answered unemotionally, "Kal-El and Lex imprinted each other 2,890,854 minutes prior to this moment, using your planet's units of measuring time. As would have happened on Krypton, they have come together for-" The construct stopped speaking as he appeared to be thinking deeply or accessing his data archive.
"There is no exact translation from our language, but from our observations of your planet's customs, you would call it dating. As the less advanced partner, it is only when Kal-El transits to manhood that he and Lex will bond…" There was another distinct break.
"Marry is the closest approximation we find in our database of your planet's customs," the female hologram interrupted, "their bonding is a merging at their cellular levels."
Lex, who had been silent through the discourse, suddenly exclaimed. "If I understand your explanation for the couch, you have the power to change anything so you can reconfigure this." His arms spread wide to indicate the confines of the cellar.
"There are limitations. These restrictions depend on distance and external fissionable particles," the female hologram switched focus smoothly, "Nevertheless, we can task the molecules to whatever your needs are. We were able to affect the traffic signals while you were riding within the wheeled apparatus so that you would reach Kal El in a shorter period of time."
A heady lightness stole through Lex; an entire world of possibilities, tangents and courses of action raced through his brain too quickly for him to grasp. But one fact remained uppermost in his mind. There would be no attics in his future. It had been the one flaw in his mother’s arrangement that had caused him concern.
Seeking refuge at the Kent’s farmhouse, in and of itself, was a good plan. Jonathan and Martha were an unknown bolt hole. Martha and Lillian did not circulate at the same levels of Metropolis society. That society might purchase produce with the Kent brand was acceptable, but nobody expected the wealthy owner of LuthorCorp to be acquainted with farmers. Even if someone rediscovered the friendship between Lillian Berger and Martha Clark, it would be obvious that the friendship was currently defunct. Furthermore, William Clark, Martha’s father, performed no legal transactions for LuthorCorp. Martha visited him twice yearly and did not participate in any high profile events while there. Thus, while Lex knew the Kents represented safety, the logistics of how he would accomplish remaining hidden at the farmhouse for years had represented a stumbling block. Utilizing the artificial intelligence he would have them ‘task’ many molecules to create a home for him underground.
He pushed away the as-yet-unanswered questions pertaining to how his DNA had been altered, and how the alteration had affected him. Would there be tentacles or even a third eye growing out of his navel in the future? And finally, what was entailed in bonding at a cellular level? Did it mean that he and Clark would dissolve into an alien puddle of goo? Consigning those questions to be answered later…a lot later if he had his way, taking into account that no one-least of all himself-wanted to find out about future bonding ooze…he brought himself back to the moment. He was absolutely certain that the artificial intelligence would answer any question about the coming merge in minute and fully descriptive detail if asked. Right now, he preferred to ignore biology in favor of being dazzled by physics.
Beaming, Lex nudged the center of Clark's chest, "Clark, or Kal-El of Krypton, I don't care where you came from or what your mother did to me. I’ve not had an asthma attack since the meteor shower and I’m happy about that. But, now, you and I have things to do."
"What, Yex?" Clark slid off his mother and stood in front of Lex.
"We're going to create my new home underground. Pamela and her cronies will never find me. I’ll use your spaceship’s ‘puter to figure out exactly what she used on my mother. There’s stuff I’ll need to learn and that artificial intelligence thingy is very advanced. We’ll need to look at the database and-"
Lex tugged his bondmate’s hand and walked toward the constructs busily planning aloud; Clark skipped along beside him, while Jonathan and Martha exchanged dismayed looks behind them.
Life was definitely about to change.
The End…for now.