FIC: Light of a Distant Sun (Smallville, Clark/Lex, PG-13) (7/9)
Title: Light of a Distant Sun (7/9)
Author: Regann
Pairing: Clark/Lex
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don't own anything; I just play with them.
Summary: At one point in time, there are any number of futures possible, no matter how improbable they may seem. With a little help, Clark and Lex might find a better destiny waiting for them than the ones they're heading toward. Goes AU with the events of S3's "Extinction," and features a special guest appearance from a character from Gene Roddenberry's "Andromeda." Complete in NINE parts, to be posted over the next week or so.
Past Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6
Warnings/Notes: I know it sounds crazy, but just go with it. Spoilers for everything in Seasons 1 through 3, but also Season 7's "Artic." Also, this would've never be finished without the crazy support and beta-reading of kaitou_lili!
Light of a Distant Sun, Chapter 7
With Lex's unconscious form slung over his shoulder, Clark ran.
He didn't have a destination in mind as he fled the estate at super speed, he only knew that he needed to put as much distance as possible between them, Edge's bullet-riddled body and the ominous black SUV that had been arriving just as they sped away. Clark knew he needed to find somewhere safe for Lex, but he had no idea where that could be. Every place he thought to turn would have them found or would put someone else he knew in danger, a risk he dared not take.
Clark couldn't live with himself if someone else ended up in the hospital like Lana.
By the time Clark finally stopped running, dusk was starting to seep into the bloody colors of the sunset, and they were in the middle of a field somewhere between Smallville and Metropolis, some anonymous stretch of corn as far as the eye could see. Lex was still unconscious and that worried Clark, so he settled his friend on the ground, one arm around his back to support him as he checked him over. Lex's breathing was fine, and nothing appeared damaged to his x-ray vision, but Clark didn't know what kind of drugs they had used on Lex or what effect being knocked out would have on his already-compromised health.
It wasn't the first time Clark had rendered Lex unconscious for the greater good, but he still didn't feel great about doing it. He also didn't know how Lex would behave once he was aware again. Clark wondered if Lex would still think that he was part of the plot to kill him when he woke up, or if the drug would be out of his system before then.
He consciously pushed those questions to the back of his mind. His first priority was to find somewhere safe -- then he could worry about the rest of the problems still plaguing them.
Clark was still ghosting his hands over Lex to make sure super speeding hadn't damaged a stray limb when he heard rustling in the corn stalks. He turned sharply toward the noise, shielding Lex with his body against whoever was approaching.
When Clark saw the familiar figure of the intruder, he blanched, unable to believe his eyes. "Trance?"
"Clark." The deepening twilight painted her skin a strange violet, like the lightest colors of a healing bruise. "I found you."
"How?" he asked.
"I had a feeling," she said. "I've come to help."
"You have a lot of 'feelings,' don't you?" Clark asked.
"You could say that," she said. "I know you have questions but now's not the time. You have Lex to worry about."
Clark thought of all the strange things Trance had said to him since they met, the things her words had made him think. He stood up, cradling Lex's limp form against him. "How do I know I can trust you?"
Instead of answering, she took a step forward and pressed something into Clark's hand -- a key. "This is for my shop. Go through the back door, up the stairs. No one will think to look for you there."
"Trance..."
"I promise, I'll explain," she said. "But not now."
"Trance --"
"Let's just say that you are not the only one who comes from very far away," Trance said. "Now, go. I'll meet you back there in a little while."
Clark wanted to do something -- protest, ask questions, demand answers -- but Trance was already gone, only the slight noise of her departure witness that she had ever been there. He felt the bite of the key still clutched in his free hand, and knew he didn't have much choice. There was no one else he could risk asking for help, and he doubted anyone would think to look for them there.
And Clark still wanted answers.
Night had fallen completely by the time Clark breezed into town. The alley behind Trance's shop was small and dark, and Clark barely slowed down enough to be seen by the naked eye. He didn't lapse back into normal human speed until he was inside, door locked tightly behind him. The first thing he noticed was the stairwell and, remembering Trance's directions, he carried Lex up until he reached a short hall that ended with a door. The door led to a sparsely furnished room, but it had a bed with sheets that looked fresh, and Clark gently laid Lex down on the mattress.
The room also had a window; once Clark pulled the heavy shade and drew the curtains tightly shut, he risked turning on the lamp that stood on a chest of drawers in one corner. Its bulb wasn't very bright but it threw off enough light that Clark could see Lex's form in its dim glow.
Now that they were safe -- at least for the moment -- the other questions Clark had had started to assert themselves once again. His first concerns were for Lex's health: what the drugs had done to him, how long they would be in his system, when he would wake up. He knew Lex needed a doctor but he wasn't sure if it was something they could risk. He thought about Toby, but he wasn't even sure how to get in touch with him, and he certainly didn't have a way to pay him.
Clark didn't know how long he sat alone in that small room, watching Lex, before the closed door creaked open to reveal Trance. She had an obnoxiously sparkly bag over her shoulder which was at distinct odds with the concern of her face.
Clark automatically jumped to his feet. "Hey."
She nodded, then glanced at Lex. "How is he?"
"Still out," Clark admitted, frowning. "I'm worried."
Trance patted the bag hanging from her shoulder. "Let me see what I can do."
"You still haven't told me why I should trust you," he protested as Trance perched on the edge of the bed and started digging around in her bag.
"I'm your friend, Clark," she said. "I'm not sure there's much more I can say."
"Maybe you could start by telling me what you meant when you said I wasn't the only one who came from very far away."
"I meant exactly what you thought I did, Kal-El." She didn't look up from her search through her bag. "I wasn't born on Earth, either."
Clark had never imagined what it would be like to meet someone else who was an alien. "Are you from Kry...from the same place I am?"
Trance finally looked up. "No," she said softly. "I'm from a different place. Very, very far away."
"So how do you know about me? Know my name and everything?"
She reached into her bag once again and removed a syringe, still wrapped in its protective packaging. "I...know things. It's sort of my gift."
"You can see the future," Clark said. "That's how you knew about the solar flare before it happened and how you knew where I was today."
"I can see all futures," she explained. "Every possible possibility from wherever I'm at. So it's less like knowing the future and more like knowing how to make a really good guess."
"If you're from -- out there," Clark asked. "How did you get here?"
"That's complicated," Trance said. "And not really relevant. All you need to know is that I want to help you help your friend...if you'll let me?"
"Do I really have much choice at this point?"
Trance smiled a little. "Not really, but I promise you won't regret it."
Clark nodded toward the syringe she held. "What are you going to do with that?"
"I'm going to take a sample of his blood," she said, turning Lex's arm over to find a vein. "We need to see what they were giving him."
"Can you do something for him?"
"I've picked up a few things," Trance told him. "I'll see what I can do."
Clark watched while Trance efficiently drew the blood from Lex, noting that she really did seem to know what she was doing. She held the blood up to the light for a moment, as if she could analyze it by mere sight. For all he knew, she could.
Instead, she made her excuses and disappeared downstairs with the sample. Clark still didn't know what to do with himself, so when Trance re-appeared a few minutes later, he was standing uselessly in the middle of the room.
"Here," Trance said, thrusting a tray into his hands. "I thought you might be hungry." It contained a haphazard collection of food items, a few pieces of fruit, some crackers, a pitcher of juice. "I'll be back in a little while," she promised before she disappeared again.
Clark realized he was hungry once he was faced with something to eat, and he made short work of tray's contents between shooting apprehensive glances at Lex on the bed. After he finished, he found that the other door in the room led to a small bathroom which looked as antique as the furniture in the bedroom, right down to the claw-foot tub.
He splashed cold water on his face, then wet an extra wash cloth and carried it back into the bedroom. From their mad rush from Edge's mansion through the countryside, Lex had streaks of dirt on his face and neck. Clark cleaned them away before running the washcloth over Lex's hands, the only other part of him that had been exposed to the elements.
With nothing left to do but wait, Clark took the time to remove Lex's shoes and tuck his friend under the quilt laying at the end of the bed. He shrugged out of his flannel and threw it over the back of the chair, before he settled to wait.
Clark didn't realize he had fallen asleep until Trance crept back into the room, startling him back to wakefulness.
"Did you figure anything out?"
"Some things," she told him, casting a glance at Lex. "His body is burning off the drug quickly on its own, so it should be gone within a day or so." Trance produced a small glass bottle from her pocket and set it next to the lamp on the chest of drawers. "When he starts to wake up, give him this. It'll help."
Clark rose from the chair and settled on the edge of the bed, frowning down at its occupant. Even though Lex was still out, it finally looked more like sleep and less like unconsciousness, his eyes moving beneath the lowered lids. "Will he be okay?"
"I think so," Trance said. "From everything I've seen, Lex is tough. He'll survive this."
It made Clark think of what his father had said before this nightmare had started. He couldn't stop himself from touching his fingers to Lex's cheek. "I hope you're right."
Trance's hand was light on his shoulder. "You care about him a lot."
"He's my best friend."
"But it's more than that, isn't it?"
Clark kept his eyes on Lex's face, his voice both amused and resigned. "That obvious, huh?"
"Maybe not to everyone," she said, consolingly. "But I have my ways, you know?"
"Trance, are you alone in the universe? Like I am?"
She took the non sequitur in stride, tightening her friendly grip on his shoulder. "No," she told him. "But my people are...solitary by nature. I'm a lot like Lex that way."
He just nodded and felt her hand slide away. "Why don't you try to rest?" she suggested. Trance turned off the lamp as she moved to leave, throwing the room into darkness.
Clark settled himself on the floor next to the bed, prepared to keep his vigil through the night. As he leaned his head back against the mattress, Trance's voice floated to him from somewhere near the door.
"Just because we're solitary doesn't mean we don't get lonely," she said. There was an unmistakable ache in her voice that made Clark's throat close up. "Or that we don't want to find someone to be solitary with."
After that, the only sound in the room was Lex's soft breathing, unconsciously in sync with Clark's.
**
Despite the fact that Lex's last thought had been that he was about to be murdered, screaming back into consciousness was not a welcome sensation. Thanks to his exposure to meteor rocks, Lex had not been sick one day in the past fourteen years and, given how he felt, he was pathetically grateful for that fact.
Lex felt like he was on fire, burning up from the inside out. His blood, his lungs, his nerves -- it felt like they were boiling under his skin, and every breath was more laborious than the last. His head was filled with fever-dreams, disjointed scenes of terror and confusion, reels of memories best never remembered. He couldn't escape the torment; between his body's revolt against whatever disease had him in its throes, and his mind's torturous memory loop, Lex was caught in hell.
But somewhere amid all the pain, there was Clark.
His hands were warm against Lex's already-feverish skin, but they were soothing, first moving bare over Lex's sweat-slick face, then dragging the cool relief of a wet cloth. Lex wanted to thank him but speech seemed like too complicated a task, forcing his brain, then his throat and voice and lungs into usefulness. He might have murmured his gratitude because he felt the soothing warmth return, fingers on his cheek, his lips.
"Hang in there, Lex." Clark's voice was as soft as his touch and just as calming. "Okay? It'll be better soon."
He knew he was supposed to be angry at Clark for some reason, but Lex couldn't dredge up the specifics of it and, at the moment, he didn't care. He only cared that Clark brought comfort when nothing else did.
At one point, Lex felt himself pulled upright and some liquid poured down his throat. It had a sharp, herbal taste that wasn't unpleasant as much as it was unexpected, but it was followed by cool water that cleansed away its echoes.
Everything went numb after that, until even the pain itself dimmed. Without the fire coursing through him, Lex felt himself dragged back down into oblivion, a blessed darkness where none of the memories could follow.
He didn't know how long he was out, but when Lex opened his eyes again, the world was finally righted. There was no pain or fever, and his mind was his own, no paranoia creeping at its edges. It was the first time in days Lex felt like himself instead of a demented, carnival-mirror caricature of who Lex Luthor was supposed to be.
With sanity came a calm he also hadn't experienced in a while, maybe in months, and with that calm came the curiosity that was his second nature. He didn't know where he was or how he had gotten there, and it was something he needed to remedy.
The room was small, lit only by the dying rays of the sun coming through a window on an opposite wall. There wasn't much to it other than the bed on which Lex lay -- a clothes chest with a lamp, an empty chair pulled into the middle of the room, angled toward him. He shifted a little under the quilt that had been laid over him, an act that made him aware that although the pain had passed, his body still remembered it in his shaky, watery limbs.
Ignoring his body's protest, Lex turned on his side and finally saw the most interesting thing the room had to offer.
Clark.
He was asleep where he sat on the floor, broad back against the sturdy wood frame of the bed. His head was tilted back, resting on the top of the mattress, and his dark hair was just within Lex's reach. Before he could stop himself, Lex laid a weary hand on that dark head, fingers curling into the wild strands.
"Lex?" Clark's voice was sleepy but he moved quickly, twisting up to look into Lex's face.
"Clark," he said in answer, experiencing another kind of warmth at the sight of Clark's sudden, illuminative smile.
Lex watched as Clark scrambled up to sit on the edge of the bed, one hand ghosting over Lex's shoulder. "How are you feeling?"
"Better than I did a little awhile ago," he admitted. "But that's not saying much. What happened?"
A shadow crossed Clark's face, the kind that Lex associated with the lies Clark so often told. "What's the last thing you remember?"
Lex thought about it for a moment, following the line of memory back past the fever-dreams into the reality that had spawned them. "I remember...getting Edge's address from my father. Finding Edge. I remember..." You're in on this, too, Clark? "...things not going as I had expected."
Clark moved off the bed and pulled the chair closer as he sank into it. His face remained shadowed, serious. "Do you still think I'm in league with your father and Morgan Edge?"
"No." Lex could admit to himself that it had been one of his more unlikely conclusions while under the drugs' effect, but it didn't change the fact Clark had secrets from him that had to do with Morgan Edge. He pulled himself up so that he was sitting, propped against the headboard. "But I am curious as to how Edge knew about you."
"It happened over the summer," Clark sighed. "In Metropolis, I made some bad decisions and got mixed up with Edge. He found out about the meteor rocks on his own and he almost killed me."
"Was my father connected that time, too?"
"Yes," Clark admitted, then lifted his chin stubbornly. "But it can wait. I'm not going into all of this right now."
"Why not?"
"Because there are more important things on my mind," he told him. "Like you. Are you sure you're all right?"
"I'm sane, if that's what you're hinting about," Lex said. "I'm no longer convinced that everyone is out to get me, just the people that are."
Clark almost smiled at that, an old joke between them. "That's an improvement -- I think." He pulled his chair closer until his knees were touching the mattress. "The drugs should be out of your system by now. It was the scotch, you know. That they drugged."
"That'll teach me to rely on alcohol, won't it?" Lex shook his head. "Clark, not to change the subject from my all-important mental health, but where are we?"
"Oh." Clark glanced around, as if just noticing they were in a strange place. "We're at Trance's, above her store."
"Why is it that Ms. Gemini seems to turn up at the most interesting moments?"
"We can trust her," Clark assured him. "And if she'd wanted to turn us over to your dad, she's had more than enough time. It's been about a day since I brought you here."
"So we've just been hiding out?"
Clark nodded. "I didn't know what else to do, really," he said, then reached out to squeeze Lex's hand in his for one brief second. "And I was worried. You kept getting worse."
"We can't hide here forever," Lex sighed, his mind already awhirl with plans. "I've got to figure out what I'm going to do about my father."
"Lionel can wait, at least until you've had a chance to rest," Clark argued, giving him one of those motherly looks he learned from Martha Kent. "Your dad's not going to look for us here. He probably thinks you're hiding out somewhere in Metropolis. It's not like there's some kind of connection between you and Trance."
Lex couldn't argue with the logic, but he could only hide out so long before his father would get impatient. "My father also probably believes you're helping me. That's dangerous, for you and your parents."
"My parents can handle your dad," Clark said. "Stop worrying." He frowned. "Just so you know, though, the next time you tell me it's "just business," don't expect me to believe you."
If Lex had any remorse about the secrets he kept, he might've been affected by the reproach in Clark's voice. "I didn't want you involved," he said.
"And how many times has that backfired?" Clark asked, rolling his eyes.
"Point," he said.
"Any more questions?" Clark asked.
"Dozens." Lex smiled a little and got an answering grin for his trouble. "But none that can't wait a little longer."
"Then you should probably rest some more," Clark advised, pushing back the chair as he stood.
Lex refused to admit to the fatigue still heavy in his body. "If you insist."
"I do."
Clark pointed him in the direction of the room's tiny bathroom and Lex made use of the facilities. He noted in the small mirror hung above the sink that his face said what he had not wanted to, a ravaged visage of ashen skin, bruised circles, and glassy eyes that told Clark more about how he felt than any words he might say.
When he emerged from the bathroom, Clark had produced a metal pitcher full of ice-cold water that Lex gratefully drank down before he let his friend corral him back to the bed where crisp, new sheets waited. "I wasn't in the bathroom that long," he pointed out.
Clark smiled. "Fast, remember?"
"One day I plan on finding just how fast," Lex warned him.
"One day, sure," Clark said in his annoying, mothering voice as he watched Lex settle on the bed. The sun had finally disappeared from the window and the room was awash in the cool indigo of twilight. As he listened to the sounds of Clark puttering around, Lex could feel the pull of sleep on his mind, playing a tug of war with his desire to think about all the things he needed to figure out.
Lex could only just make out Clark's form as he kneeled beside the bed and touched a warm hand to his forehead. "Stop thinking, Lex," he said, as if he could read his mind. "Your dad will still be evil in the morning."
"What about you?"
"My dad will still be stubborn as hell."
The laugh was unexpected, but Lex didn't fight it. "That's not what I meant."
"I know." Clark's grin glowed white in the falling dark. "I'm gonna go back to my nap."
"On the floor?" Lex asked, turning on his side to where he could watch as Clark resumed his position at the side of the bed. "That can't be comfortable."
"Alien, remember?" Clark said, giving him one more glance over his shoulder before he leaned his head on the mattress and closed his eyes. "Don't worry about me."
"Easier said than done," Lex admitted quietly.
There was silence, and then -- "I know what you mean."
Lex didn't know how to turn off the part of his brain that wanted to scheme and plan, even when he knew he needed the rest. But Clark was there, a beautiful distraction, and Lex didn't fight the urge that came over him to ghost his fingers through the hair so easily within his reach.
Clark didn't seemed to mind, and Lex had been too stripped bare by the past few days to care about what it meant to reveal such a weakness. The contact quieted his mind and, on the comfort it brought him, Lex drifted off to sleep.
**
Continue...
Author: Regann
Pairing: Clark/Lex
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don't own anything; I just play with them.
Summary: At one point in time, there are any number of futures possible, no matter how improbable they may seem. With a little help, Clark and Lex might find a better destiny waiting for them than the ones they're heading toward. Goes AU with the events of S3's "Extinction," and features a special guest appearance from a character from Gene Roddenberry's "Andromeda." Complete in NINE parts, to be posted over the next week or so.
Past Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6
Warnings/Notes: I know it sounds crazy, but just go with it. Spoilers for everything in Seasons 1 through 3, but also Season 7's "Artic." Also, this would've never be finished without the crazy support and beta-reading of kaitou_lili!
Light of a Distant Sun, Chapter 7
With Lex's unconscious form slung over his shoulder, Clark ran.
He didn't have a destination in mind as he fled the estate at super speed, he only knew that he needed to put as much distance as possible between them, Edge's bullet-riddled body and the ominous black SUV that had been arriving just as they sped away. Clark knew he needed to find somewhere safe for Lex, but he had no idea where that could be. Every place he thought to turn would have them found or would put someone else he knew in danger, a risk he dared not take.
Clark couldn't live with himself if someone else ended up in the hospital like Lana.
By the time Clark finally stopped running, dusk was starting to seep into the bloody colors of the sunset, and they were in the middle of a field somewhere between Smallville and Metropolis, some anonymous stretch of corn as far as the eye could see. Lex was still unconscious and that worried Clark, so he settled his friend on the ground, one arm around his back to support him as he checked him over. Lex's breathing was fine, and nothing appeared damaged to his x-ray vision, but Clark didn't know what kind of drugs they had used on Lex or what effect being knocked out would have on his already-compromised health.
It wasn't the first time Clark had rendered Lex unconscious for the greater good, but he still didn't feel great about doing it. He also didn't know how Lex would behave once he was aware again. Clark wondered if Lex would still think that he was part of the plot to kill him when he woke up, or if the drug would be out of his system before then.
He consciously pushed those questions to the back of his mind. His first priority was to find somewhere safe -- then he could worry about the rest of the problems still plaguing them.
Clark was still ghosting his hands over Lex to make sure super speeding hadn't damaged a stray limb when he heard rustling in the corn stalks. He turned sharply toward the noise, shielding Lex with his body against whoever was approaching.
When Clark saw the familiar figure of the intruder, he blanched, unable to believe his eyes. "Trance?"
"Clark." The deepening twilight painted her skin a strange violet, like the lightest colors of a healing bruise. "I found you."
"How?" he asked.
"I had a feeling," she said. "I've come to help."
"You have a lot of 'feelings,' don't you?" Clark asked.
"You could say that," she said. "I know you have questions but now's not the time. You have Lex to worry about."
Clark thought of all the strange things Trance had said to him since they met, the things her words had made him think. He stood up, cradling Lex's limp form against him. "How do I know I can trust you?"
Instead of answering, she took a step forward and pressed something into Clark's hand -- a key. "This is for my shop. Go through the back door, up the stairs. No one will think to look for you there."
"Trance..."
"I promise, I'll explain," she said. "But not now."
"Trance --"
"Let's just say that you are not the only one who comes from very far away," Trance said. "Now, go. I'll meet you back there in a little while."
Clark wanted to do something -- protest, ask questions, demand answers -- but Trance was already gone, only the slight noise of her departure witness that she had ever been there. He felt the bite of the key still clutched in his free hand, and knew he didn't have much choice. There was no one else he could risk asking for help, and he doubted anyone would think to look for them there.
And Clark still wanted answers.
Night had fallen completely by the time Clark breezed into town. The alley behind Trance's shop was small and dark, and Clark barely slowed down enough to be seen by the naked eye. He didn't lapse back into normal human speed until he was inside, door locked tightly behind him. The first thing he noticed was the stairwell and, remembering Trance's directions, he carried Lex up until he reached a short hall that ended with a door. The door led to a sparsely furnished room, but it had a bed with sheets that looked fresh, and Clark gently laid Lex down on the mattress.
The room also had a window; once Clark pulled the heavy shade and drew the curtains tightly shut, he risked turning on the lamp that stood on a chest of drawers in one corner. Its bulb wasn't very bright but it threw off enough light that Clark could see Lex's form in its dim glow.
Now that they were safe -- at least for the moment -- the other questions Clark had had started to assert themselves once again. His first concerns were for Lex's health: what the drugs had done to him, how long they would be in his system, when he would wake up. He knew Lex needed a doctor but he wasn't sure if it was something they could risk. He thought about Toby, but he wasn't even sure how to get in touch with him, and he certainly didn't have a way to pay him.
Clark didn't know how long he sat alone in that small room, watching Lex, before the closed door creaked open to reveal Trance. She had an obnoxiously sparkly bag over her shoulder which was at distinct odds with the concern of her face.
Clark automatically jumped to his feet. "Hey."
She nodded, then glanced at Lex. "How is he?"
"Still out," Clark admitted, frowning. "I'm worried."
Trance patted the bag hanging from her shoulder. "Let me see what I can do."
"You still haven't told me why I should trust you," he protested as Trance perched on the edge of the bed and started digging around in her bag.
"I'm your friend, Clark," she said. "I'm not sure there's much more I can say."
"Maybe you could start by telling me what you meant when you said I wasn't the only one who came from very far away."
"I meant exactly what you thought I did, Kal-El." She didn't look up from her search through her bag. "I wasn't born on Earth, either."
Clark had never imagined what it would be like to meet someone else who was an alien. "Are you from Kry...from the same place I am?"
Trance finally looked up. "No," she said softly. "I'm from a different place. Very, very far away."
"So how do you know about me? Know my name and everything?"
She reached into her bag once again and removed a syringe, still wrapped in its protective packaging. "I...know things. It's sort of my gift."
"You can see the future," Clark said. "That's how you knew about the solar flare before it happened and how you knew where I was today."
"I can see all futures," she explained. "Every possible possibility from wherever I'm at. So it's less like knowing the future and more like knowing how to make a really good guess."
"If you're from -- out there," Clark asked. "How did you get here?"
"That's complicated," Trance said. "And not really relevant. All you need to know is that I want to help you help your friend...if you'll let me?"
"Do I really have much choice at this point?"
Trance smiled a little. "Not really, but I promise you won't regret it."
Clark nodded toward the syringe she held. "What are you going to do with that?"
"I'm going to take a sample of his blood," she said, turning Lex's arm over to find a vein. "We need to see what they were giving him."
"Can you do something for him?"
"I've picked up a few things," Trance told him. "I'll see what I can do."
Clark watched while Trance efficiently drew the blood from Lex, noting that she really did seem to know what she was doing. She held the blood up to the light for a moment, as if she could analyze it by mere sight. For all he knew, she could.
Instead, she made her excuses and disappeared downstairs with the sample. Clark still didn't know what to do with himself, so when Trance re-appeared a few minutes later, he was standing uselessly in the middle of the room.
"Here," Trance said, thrusting a tray into his hands. "I thought you might be hungry." It contained a haphazard collection of food items, a few pieces of fruit, some crackers, a pitcher of juice. "I'll be back in a little while," she promised before she disappeared again.
Clark realized he was hungry once he was faced with something to eat, and he made short work of tray's contents between shooting apprehensive glances at Lex on the bed. After he finished, he found that the other door in the room led to a small bathroom which looked as antique as the furniture in the bedroom, right down to the claw-foot tub.
He splashed cold water on his face, then wet an extra wash cloth and carried it back into the bedroom. From their mad rush from Edge's mansion through the countryside, Lex had streaks of dirt on his face and neck. Clark cleaned them away before running the washcloth over Lex's hands, the only other part of him that had been exposed to the elements.
With nothing left to do but wait, Clark took the time to remove Lex's shoes and tuck his friend under the quilt laying at the end of the bed. He shrugged out of his flannel and threw it over the back of the chair, before he settled to wait.
Clark didn't realize he had fallen asleep until Trance crept back into the room, startling him back to wakefulness.
"Did you figure anything out?"
"Some things," she told him, casting a glance at Lex. "His body is burning off the drug quickly on its own, so it should be gone within a day or so." Trance produced a small glass bottle from her pocket and set it next to the lamp on the chest of drawers. "When he starts to wake up, give him this. It'll help."
Clark rose from the chair and settled on the edge of the bed, frowning down at its occupant. Even though Lex was still out, it finally looked more like sleep and less like unconsciousness, his eyes moving beneath the lowered lids. "Will he be okay?"
"I think so," Trance said. "From everything I've seen, Lex is tough. He'll survive this."
It made Clark think of what his father had said before this nightmare had started. He couldn't stop himself from touching his fingers to Lex's cheek. "I hope you're right."
Trance's hand was light on his shoulder. "You care about him a lot."
"He's my best friend."
"But it's more than that, isn't it?"
Clark kept his eyes on Lex's face, his voice both amused and resigned. "That obvious, huh?"
"Maybe not to everyone," she said, consolingly. "But I have my ways, you know?"
"Trance, are you alone in the universe? Like I am?"
She took the non sequitur in stride, tightening her friendly grip on his shoulder. "No," she told him. "But my people are...solitary by nature. I'm a lot like Lex that way."
He just nodded and felt her hand slide away. "Why don't you try to rest?" she suggested. Trance turned off the lamp as she moved to leave, throwing the room into darkness.
Clark settled himself on the floor next to the bed, prepared to keep his vigil through the night. As he leaned his head back against the mattress, Trance's voice floated to him from somewhere near the door.
"Just because we're solitary doesn't mean we don't get lonely," she said. There was an unmistakable ache in her voice that made Clark's throat close up. "Or that we don't want to find someone to be solitary with."
After that, the only sound in the room was Lex's soft breathing, unconsciously in sync with Clark's.
**
Despite the fact that Lex's last thought had been that he was about to be murdered, screaming back into consciousness was not a welcome sensation. Thanks to his exposure to meteor rocks, Lex had not been sick one day in the past fourteen years and, given how he felt, he was pathetically grateful for that fact.
Lex felt like he was on fire, burning up from the inside out. His blood, his lungs, his nerves -- it felt like they were boiling under his skin, and every breath was more laborious than the last. His head was filled with fever-dreams, disjointed scenes of terror and confusion, reels of memories best never remembered. He couldn't escape the torment; between his body's revolt against whatever disease had him in its throes, and his mind's torturous memory loop, Lex was caught in hell.
But somewhere amid all the pain, there was Clark.
His hands were warm against Lex's already-feverish skin, but they were soothing, first moving bare over Lex's sweat-slick face, then dragging the cool relief of a wet cloth. Lex wanted to thank him but speech seemed like too complicated a task, forcing his brain, then his throat and voice and lungs into usefulness. He might have murmured his gratitude because he felt the soothing warmth return, fingers on his cheek, his lips.
"Hang in there, Lex." Clark's voice was as soft as his touch and just as calming. "Okay? It'll be better soon."
He knew he was supposed to be angry at Clark for some reason, but Lex couldn't dredge up the specifics of it and, at the moment, he didn't care. He only cared that Clark brought comfort when nothing else did.
At one point, Lex felt himself pulled upright and some liquid poured down his throat. It had a sharp, herbal taste that wasn't unpleasant as much as it was unexpected, but it was followed by cool water that cleansed away its echoes.
Everything went numb after that, until even the pain itself dimmed. Without the fire coursing through him, Lex felt himself dragged back down into oblivion, a blessed darkness where none of the memories could follow.
He didn't know how long he was out, but when Lex opened his eyes again, the world was finally righted. There was no pain or fever, and his mind was his own, no paranoia creeping at its edges. It was the first time in days Lex felt like himself instead of a demented, carnival-mirror caricature of who Lex Luthor was supposed to be.
With sanity came a calm he also hadn't experienced in a while, maybe in months, and with that calm came the curiosity that was his second nature. He didn't know where he was or how he had gotten there, and it was something he needed to remedy.
The room was small, lit only by the dying rays of the sun coming through a window on an opposite wall. There wasn't much to it other than the bed on which Lex lay -- a clothes chest with a lamp, an empty chair pulled into the middle of the room, angled toward him. He shifted a little under the quilt that had been laid over him, an act that made him aware that although the pain had passed, his body still remembered it in his shaky, watery limbs.
Ignoring his body's protest, Lex turned on his side and finally saw the most interesting thing the room had to offer.
Clark.
He was asleep where he sat on the floor, broad back against the sturdy wood frame of the bed. His head was tilted back, resting on the top of the mattress, and his dark hair was just within Lex's reach. Before he could stop himself, Lex laid a weary hand on that dark head, fingers curling into the wild strands.
"Lex?" Clark's voice was sleepy but he moved quickly, twisting up to look into Lex's face.
"Clark," he said in answer, experiencing another kind of warmth at the sight of Clark's sudden, illuminative smile.
Lex watched as Clark scrambled up to sit on the edge of the bed, one hand ghosting over Lex's shoulder. "How are you feeling?"
"Better than I did a little awhile ago," he admitted. "But that's not saying much. What happened?"
A shadow crossed Clark's face, the kind that Lex associated with the lies Clark so often told. "What's the last thing you remember?"
Lex thought about it for a moment, following the line of memory back past the fever-dreams into the reality that had spawned them. "I remember...getting Edge's address from my father. Finding Edge. I remember..." You're in on this, too, Clark? "...things not going as I had expected."
Clark moved off the bed and pulled the chair closer as he sank into it. His face remained shadowed, serious. "Do you still think I'm in league with your father and Morgan Edge?"
"No." Lex could admit to himself that it had been one of his more unlikely conclusions while under the drugs' effect, but it didn't change the fact Clark had secrets from him that had to do with Morgan Edge. He pulled himself up so that he was sitting, propped against the headboard. "But I am curious as to how Edge knew about you."
"It happened over the summer," Clark sighed. "In Metropolis, I made some bad decisions and got mixed up with Edge. He found out about the meteor rocks on his own and he almost killed me."
"Was my father connected that time, too?"
"Yes," Clark admitted, then lifted his chin stubbornly. "But it can wait. I'm not going into all of this right now."
"Why not?"
"Because there are more important things on my mind," he told him. "Like you. Are you sure you're all right?"
"I'm sane, if that's what you're hinting about," Lex said. "I'm no longer convinced that everyone is out to get me, just the people that are."
Clark almost smiled at that, an old joke between them. "That's an improvement -- I think." He pulled his chair closer until his knees were touching the mattress. "The drugs should be out of your system by now. It was the scotch, you know. That they drugged."
"That'll teach me to rely on alcohol, won't it?" Lex shook his head. "Clark, not to change the subject from my all-important mental health, but where are we?"
"Oh." Clark glanced around, as if just noticing they were in a strange place. "We're at Trance's, above her store."
"Why is it that Ms. Gemini seems to turn up at the most interesting moments?"
"We can trust her," Clark assured him. "And if she'd wanted to turn us over to your dad, she's had more than enough time. It's been about a day since I brought you here."
"So we've just been hiding out?"
Clark nodded. "I didn't know what else to do, really," he said, then reached out to squeeze Lex's hand in his for one brief second. "And I was worried. You kept getting worse."
"We can't hide here forever," Lex sighed, his mind already awhirl with plans. "I've got to figure out what I'm going to do about my father."
"Lionel can wait, at least until you've had a chance to rest," Clark argued, giving him one of those motherly looks he learned from Martha Kent. "Your dad's not going to look for us here. He probably thinks you're hiding out somewhere in Metropolis. It's not like there's some kind of connection between you and Trance."
Lex couldn't argue with the logic, but he could only hide out so long before his father would get impatient. "My father also probably believes you're helping me. That's dangerous, for you and your parents."
"My parents can handle your dad," Clark said. "Stop worrying." He frowned. "Just so you know, though, the next time you tell me it's "just business," don't expect me to believe you."
If Lex had any remorse about the secrets he kept, he might've been affected by the reproach in Clark's voice. "I didn't want you involved," he said.
"And how many times has that backfired?" Clark asked, rolling his eyes.
"Point," he said.
"Any more questions?" Clark asked.
"Dozens." Lex smiled a little and got an answering grin for his trouble. "But none that can't wait a little longer."
"Then you should probably rest some more," Clark advised, pushing back the chair as he stood.
Lex refused to admit to the fatigue still heavy in his body. "If you insist."
"I do."
Clark pointed him in the direction of the room's tiny bathroom and Lex made use of the facilities. He noted in the small mirror hung above the sink that his face said what he had not wanted to, a ravaged visage of ashen skin, bruised circles, and glassy eyes that told Clark more about how he felt than any words he might say.
When he emerged from the bathroom, Clark had produced a metal pitcher full of ice-cold water that Lex gratefully drank down before he let his friend corral him back to the bed where crisp, new sheets waited. "I wasn't in the bathroom that long," he pointed out.
Clark smiled. "Fast, remember?"
"One day I plan on finding just how fast," Lex warned him.
"One day, sure," Clark said in his annoying, mothering voice as he watched Lex settle on the bed. The sun had finally disappeared from the window and the room was awash in the cool indigo of twilight. As he listened to the sounds of Clark puttering around, Lex could feel the pull of sleep on his mind, playing a tug of war with his desire to think about all the things he needed to figure out.
Lex could only just make out Clark's form as he kneeled beside the bed and touched a warm hand to his forehead. "Stop thinking, Lex," he said, as if he could read his mind. "Your dad will still be evil in the morning."
"What about you?"
"My dad will still be stubborn as hell."
The laugh was unexpected, but Lex didn't fight it. "That's not what I meant."
"I know." Clark's grin glowed white in the falling dark. "I'm gonna go back to my nap."
"On the floor?" Lex asked, turning on his side to where he could watch as Clark resumed his position at the side of the bed. "That can't be comfortable."
"Alien, remember?" Clark said, giving him one more glance over his shoulder before he leaned his head on the mattress and closed his eyes. "Don't worry about me."
"Easier said than done," Lex admitted quietly.
There was silence, and then -- "I know what you mean."
Lex didn't know how to turn off the part of his brain that wanted to scheme and plan, even when he knew he needed the rest. But Clark was there, a beautiful distraction, and Lex didn't fight the urge that came over him to ghost his fingers through the hair so easily within his reach.
Clark didn't seemed to mind, and Lex had been too stripped bare by the past few days to care about what it meant to reveal such a weakness. The contact quieted his mind and, on the comfort it brought him, Lex drifted off to sleep.
**
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