(no subject)
I haven’t been LJ-ing in, um... months due to RL stuff, but hopefully I’ve got everything under control.
Now that I’m back in LJ, I decided to hold off a few days and try something I’ve always wanted to do - try my hand at writing a piece of fanfiction for each of my fandoms. I singularly failed to come up with anything for PotC, and have decided to leave it to the experts , while I stand on the sidelines waving and cheering them on.
* Tangled and forced *
FANDOM: Smallville
RATING: 15
SPOILERS: S3
PAIRING: Lex/Lana
God knows, we’ve said so little, I’d go so far as to call you a friend.
She sits on the pavement by the west door of Notre Dame eating her sorbet and watching the tourists, having wandered over from the Île de Saint Louis. The sorbet is melting faster than she can eat, and she wishes Lex were here to share it and stop it spilling over the back of her hand, like the last time.
She wishes Lex was here, full stop.
It was a surprise, a pleasant one at that, when he called her first to say he wanted to meet up with her.
When they met up, she was tongue-tied. The Talon was gone and truthfully, she didn’t want to know what was in its place. She couldn’t bring herself to ask about Clark.
She began to tell him about her days in Paris, about her misadventures with the language, schoolwork and her hopes of getting into L’ecole des Beaux-Arts in September. He understood her implication that she did not intend to return to Kansas.
He took her to a cafe just off place St-Sulpice, got her drunk on expensive wine and fed her outlandish stories about over ambitious investors.
The visits became a highlight in her diary. His parting hugs have each time become more lingering, and she herself tends to hold on just that bit too long.
Clark is rarely mentioned now. His e-mails were be vague to the point of insulting, and never matched up with Chloe’s account of events. When Lex confesses that he almost never speaks to Clark now, she’s is ashamed to find that she’s relieved, pushing down this selfish desire to have Lex to herself.
She kissed him the last time. Impulsively. And when she saw the look of shock on his face, turned to flee. But he was too quick and his hand on her arm pulled her back into him.
“This is a bad idea,” he said, staring at her intently, trying to find something in her expression.
She remembers nodding her agreement, before he pulled her close and kissed her
She kissed back. For once, she wasn’t afraid to lose. She sees the lies and accepts them. At least he doesn’t excuse his lies. She lets the half-truths slide because he does not seek to mask them as truths.
She can’t go home now; that much is certain. She’s grown up since moving away from Smallville, but she knew she’d passed the point of no return in his hotel bed rocking into him, his tongue sliding down her neck, with open-mouth kisses against her pulse.
Afterwards, she dressed facing him, terrified and exhilarated at having betrayed their mutual, lying friend, a continent away yet as present in the room as she or Lex. Entangled by this third party, forced to act..
She stands up, checking for sorbet stains on her dress. She’ll e-mail Lex. No, call him tonight and ask him to visit soon. Living alone has made her bold.
They’ve both suffered enough at Clark’s hands to find comfort in each other. She knows that neither them are what the other wants, but they come close enough to what each of them need.
* Month’s Mind *
FANDOM: Harry Potter
RATING: PG
SPOILERS: up to OoTP.
PAIRING: Gen, Sirius/Remus (hinted)
It’s Remus’s non-Wizard appearance that gets him in the door. He’s wearing a quite respectable Muggle suit, seemingly new. Harry wonders where the money came from. Aunt Petunia gives him the one over when he introduces himself, saying, ‘At least you look halfway normal.’
Remus smiles wryly, one hand rubbing the side of his neck, where Harry can just make out the shadow of a old wound.
‘Yes,’ he says, still smiling, still polite, ‘Quite.’
They’re ushered into the kitchen at the back., with Petunia glancing out to see if the neighbours have seen him.
‘Ten minutes,’ she states firmly, turning to look at them both, ‘And none of your... nonsense.’
She leaves them, and they can hear the blare of the six o’clock news from the lounge.
Harry puts on the kettle and makes a tea for them both, hunts for biscuits. After a few inane comments, they sit in silence over tea. All that can be heard in the kitchen is the hum of the fridge. Remus stares distractedly at the kitchen table, tracing the grain of the wood with his fingertips.
‘Are you here on Order business?’ Harry asks finally, tired of the stretch of silence as they finish their tea.
‘No, no.’
‘For Dumbledore?’
‘No, I - - just wanted to see how you were doing.’ Remus puts down his mug and his smile has echoes of a grimace. ‘It’s been a long summer.’
Harry nods, and swallows the lump in his throat.
~ + ~
They go for a walk after their tea, walking up to the park, past the laneway where Harry and Dudley met the dementors last year. Remus sits down on a park bench and motions Harry to sit down beside him. They watch the kids play five-a-side. Harry recognises one of them as a boy around his age who lives three doors down from him. The boy turns, noticing him, and gives him a brief nod of hello. Harry ignores this.
Harry wants to say something, anything, about Sirius, but there’s something about Remus, the way he seems to be withdrawn, even from his own body, as if he’s shut down somewhat.
But Harry’s fifteen, and even prone to sulks, will always say something.
‘I don’t care what Dumbledore says, I’m going to get Kreacher.’
He gets a flash of a grin from Remus who then begins examining his hands intently.
‘I’m afraid Kreacher had a bit of an accident, the day Tonks returned from St. Mungo’s. You know how clumsy she can be.’
‘Oh,’ Harry gets the feeling the Remus is now purposefully not looking at him.
‘Yes, she tripped on the first floor corridor and had to grab something to block her fall. Ornamental or not, I’ve always said that axe was in a dangerous place.’ The smile in Remus’ voice is feral and nasty, and it warms Harry.
‘I’m sure Dumbledore wasn’t happy.’
‘Hmm, what?’ Remus is apparently watching the footballers with keen interest. ‘No, not at all. But Kingsley, Fred and I happened to be on that corridor and have vouched for Tonks’s innocent accident. In fact, I myself rushed to block her fall with a Holding spell, but for some strange reason it went slightly wrong and held Kreacher down.’
‘Can Tonks fall into Sirius’s Mum’s portrait?’ Harry asks darkly.
‘We’re looking into that.’
Remus stands up to walk Harry home. At the gate, he pauses, remembering something.
‘Sirius left Grimmauld Place for you. There are a couple of riders...’ At this, Remus breaks off, looking away. When he turns back, there’s a brief but terrible grief-stricken look on his face before a purposefully blank look appears. ‘Dumbledore can fill you in.’
With that he turns away and walks down Privet Drive to the main road.
He stares at his retreating figure, sheltered from absolute examination in the half-light of dusk and understands. Not everything, but enough.
Harry realises for the first time that he may not be the only one to be collapsing inside from Sirius’s death, that Remus might share this awful, paralysing weight of love and loss that he’s carried around all summer.
Harry can’t help it. He runs after him.
‘Professor Lupin, the veil - why can’t we get Sirius back? Please, please, is there no way? It was an accident, it shouldn’t have happened. Surely there’s some magic, some spell to get him...’
His babbling trails off. He can’t help it. He’s suddenly crying and it feels like each single drop is stripping and tearing from his heart, each sob is wrenched from his body.
He doesn’t realise that Remus is holding him upright till he hears him whisper, almost savagely, his quiet demeanour in his ear, ‘Don’t you think if I knew the way, I would? There is nobody, including you, who misses him more that me.’
This Remus, wild and fierce and ferocious in his grief, is almost frightening to Harry. For the first time, he thinks he can see the Werewolf in his refined and tame professor. Remus catches himself, too. They back away from each other, tear-stained and blotchy cheeked.
‘I’d best be off. Dumbledore doesn’t know I’m visit-’ Remus begins.
Harry’s suddenly grateful that there is at least one other person who knows how he feels.
‘Thanks for coming. It means a lot to me, especially now...’
But Remus has already disapparated.
TITLE: ?
FANDOM: Smallvile
PAIRING: Gen, Clark/Lex, hinted
RATING: 15, for language.
Of course, Lex knows on an intellectual level that none of this is the social worker's fault. Still, he gets a certain amount of comfort from her jumping when he slams down the glass.
The call came through on Wednesday. Lucas found dead in an apartment of a friend who now cannot be traced. Police were treating it as suspicious. Then again, every event connected with Lucas should be treated with suspicion, Lex thinks meanly, glancing up at one Sarah Cook. Not often social workers come to talk to him. She's dressed in off the rack, with low, sensible court shoes and frizzy hair. Nothing there to tempt him, nothing at all. Quiet monotone, a unique mix of concern and professional distance.
He fades out of her conversation, recalling the first phone call "…the embassy would normally fly the body home, but someone would need to accompany the child… "
Lucas, that sly bastard. Lex always knew he was out to get him.
Lex chickened out at the last moment and sent his p.a. instead, claiming he needed to sort things out. Which is why he's now sitting with the lovely Ms. Cook, distracted by the ominously thick file on her lap.
"We have an idea of your brother's wishes, you can take her in, or arrange for her to be fostered with a trust fund"
Well fuck, there's a gun to my head, thinks Lex, 'here bro, care to abandon my child?'
"Where's the mother?" God, knowing Lucas, 'what's the mother?' might be more appropriate.
"She died of an overdose nearly two years ago. It's all in the file. We were called in when the child went to a neighbour, claiming she couldn't wake her mother."
He winces, feeling utterly shitty for all those nasty thoughts. Still, he doubts Lucas ever bothered much with this offspring, if all he wanted was Lex to put her into care and set up a fund.
"Your brother had in fact asked that you specifically take guardianship, rather than her grandfather. He seemed quite adamant at this."
Lucas, that sly bastard, asking Lex to save his daughter from their father. He clears his throat.
"What's she like?"
The weak smile is not encouraging. "Oh, I'm sure she'll be fine once she settles in, Mr. Luthor."
She stops smiling at Lex's glare.
* * *
He flicks through the file Sarah's given him after she leaves. It's the raw guts of the life of one Holli Luthor, formerly Dunleavy, formerly Jacobs, all sensitive names and information blanked out. Born in Edge City to two runaway teenagers, Holli was kept under social workers' eye from birth. Her mother ran away from her parents where there had been accusations of domestic abuse. Lex was only too familiar with Lucas' case history. A runaway family with no money or seeming prospects and only the promise of some kind of love to sustain them when the system failed them. Holli herself had spent time in care in Gotham.
Holli. No Greek or Roman pretensions from Lucas, then.
Lex doesn't sleep that night. He picks up the phone three times to call the Kent's, to ask them why they took in Clark, and then Ryan, and would they like to adopt another child? He'd feel better knowing she went to a safe and loving home rather than staying with him.
Holli isn't quite how he expected. She arrives with one tiny rucksack, a cheap pink plastic affair that doesn’t bode well for what's inside. She's dressed as if a rainbow attacked her. It would be almost cute, were it not for the sheer hideousness of the outfit and the runny nose, which she repeatedly wipes with a grubby sleeve.
Lex shudders.
*~*~*~*
She clings to her rucksack, like Lex might steal it any minute. He walks towards her to say 'hello', but stops when she takes a step back, edging towards the door. It occurs to him that the file never stated where she was when Lucas died. With her luck, she was probably in the apartment. He squats down, to the amusement of Sarah and Anya, his Luthorcorp executive assistant.
"Heya Holli."
Silence.
She looks around at the three of them and Lex realises how frightened she must be. She turns her attention back to him and he recognises an edge of defiance when she holds his gaze.
"Hi." It's almost a goad, the way she throws it back at him, willing him to do his worse. "Are you Lex?" This is all said a decibel above polite.
"Yeah, I'm your uncle. I'm your daddy's brother." Uncle, ugh. Lex feels weird even saying it. He runs his hand over his scalp. He is now officially Uncle Fester. "I'm going to look after you."
The look she gives him leaves him in no doubt of her relation to Lionel. It's oddly reassuring and puts him back on balance. No way is this little wildcat niece going to get the better of him.
He straightens, turning his attention to the two women.
"I'm sure she'll be fine once she settles in. Holli, I'm sure you're hungry from the flight and the trip from Metropolis, so I'll go get you something. The remote for the television is on the table, make yourself at home."
And that does the trick. It seems Holli takes what she can get. She scurries towards to entertainment centre, clambering up on the sofa with the remote in one hand and her rucksack in the other. The way to her heart is through cartoons and offers of food. Lex can handle that. He goes to the kitchen himself, rather than phoning down. It gives him a chance to escape from her, to think. What the fuck is he doing? It was different with Ryan, he was a thirteen-year-old comic fanboy waiting till it was safe to go to the Kent's. She's with him for the next fourteen years, at least. He's starting to really see the appeal of boarding schools. He feels guilty at this, but comforts himself that she won't be tortured there like he was. She looks normal, pretty even. He wonders what's the earliest age they accept, and then wonders what he's supposed to do with her till then. Fuck, childcare. He rests his forehead against the cold metal of the refrigerator. These past few days just seemed to be soundtracked by a litany of 'fuck's.
"Lex?"
Of course there's always respite in a storm, and Clark's voice is full of warmth and humanity and compassion. There's a hint of worry, too and it makes Lex look up and smile, to wipe away any traces of it.
"I just came with the delivery. And y'know, to give our sympathies about your brother." His head is ducked down, and he's worrying the cuff of his sleeve. Lex remembers how Clark didn't like Lucas, and senses that hint of guilt in Clark's tone. It's oddly reassuring.
"It's ok, I haven't really had time to process - hey, you want to meet my niece?"
Clark looks up, surprised. It's a good look on him, but Lex refuses to think anymore about that. Food. For Child.
Clark's weighted down with goodies as Lex writes a note for the staff and outlines his new role as guardian, leaving out all the 'fucking no' parts. 'Dinner - something suitable for a child', he writes. He feels the warmth of Clark leaning over, trying to read the note, and can barely concentrate on shaping the letters. And when exactly did he start feeling like a heroine in a Romance Novel. Oh yeah, right, when he moved to Smallville, was nearly murdered by two wives, didn't have much sex, and fell in love with the farmer's son. He supposes these events might have an effect.
"Y'know," Clark's voice is low and silky, tinged with warm humour, "Can I call you Daddy Warbucks now?"
Of course, he's not so much in love that he can't smack Clark in the head. Clark will know what to do with the girl. Everybody likes Clark.
-*-*-*-
Days pass, and Lex feels himself into some sort of routine. Holli trails after him mostly, from study to kitchen. None of this Lex takes as a compliment. It’s obvious from her sullen glance that this is not a case of hero worship. Rather, she doesn’t trust him enough to let him out of her sight. She’ll let the housekeeper bath her and dress alone, but he will always hear the shuffle of feet minutes later as she comes to check on where he is. At night, when he sends her to bed, she looks at him suspiciously, as if he’ll do a runner in the night. If he thinks about it, he feels pity for a child so young and so mistrustful of the world. But mostly he’s just irritated having her under his feet all day. He feels like the victim, being stalked by a child, who manages to have constantly grubby hands. On especially bad days, he mentally refers to her as Damien.
She’s loitering around his desk in this fashion on a Wednesday when Martha Kent visits, ostensibly with the produce delivery and bill. He knows this is a cover because the first thing she does is envelop him in a motherly embrace, whispering, “I heard. How are you coping?”
It almost makes him cry with relief. He squeezes her quickly in silent thanks and turns to his desk to introduce her to Holli, but Holli is already by his side, staring up at Mrs Kent, one hand about to grip his pants leg, eyes big from staring at their guest.
Martha reaches down to softly pat Holli’s cheek. Where Clark and his sunny smiles failed, Mrs Kent has succeeded. Holli is enraptured, and for the first time since arriving in Smallville, plays cute. She hides behind Lex’s leg, peeking out to smile at Martha. Martha beams back, but there’s a shadow behind her expression, and Lex is suddenly painfully aware of a spectre of a memory of a much-wanted pregnancy.
“What an adorable little lady, Lex.” coos Martha.
Well, that’s the first time his charge has ever been called anything in the vicinity of praise. Lex feels inordinately proud for no good reason.
“I hope you’re going to visit us sometime on the farm.” Martha continues, “Wouldn’t you like to see a farm, with cows and fields?
Holli tightens her sticky grip on Lex’s pants. Lex understands these pants are a now a lost cause. He catches her shaking her head and gesturing Martha closer to say something.
“Why, of course Lex will be with you, honey!” Martha glances up from their tete a tete to smile at him.
‘Yes, of course,’ thinks Lex, ‘I will never escape this child.’ And then glances down at the child smiling back at Mrs Kent and feels guilty and ashamed of himself.
He sends Holli off on some goose chase to get coffee or cookies, and turns to Mrs Kent.
“I have no idea what I’m doing, Mrs Kent,” he admits, preparing himself to beg for parental advice, “and I really need to start going into work soon. I don’t know what to do with her.”
“She’s doing that whole follow you around thing? Yeah, Clark did that at first. She just needs you, Lex. You’re probably the only person she trusts after a very unsettled life.”
Trust. Ha fucking ha. Holli’s judgement must be as bad as Lex’s. Lex doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
[Okay, this isn’t quite finished!]
Anyway, I hope what I have come up with is okay. Hopefully, practice will make, if not perfect, better
Now that I’m back in LJ, I decided to hold off a few days and try something I’ve always wanted to do - try my hand at writing a piece of fanfiction for each of my fandoms. I singularly failed to come up with anything for PotC, and have decided to leave it to the experts , while I stand on the sidelines waving and cheering them on.
* Tangled and forced *
FANDOM: Smallville
RATING: 15
SPOILERS: S3
PAIRING: Lex/Lana
God knows, we’ve said so little, I’d go so far as to call you a friend.
She sits on the pavement by the west door of Notre Dame eating her sorbet and watching the tourists, having wandered over from the Île de Saint Louis. The sorbet is melting faster than she can eat, and she wishes Lex were here to share it and stop it spilling over the back of her hand, like the last time.
She wishes Lex was here, full stop.
It was a surprise, a pleasant one at that, when he called her first to say he wanted to meet up with her.
When they met up, she was tongue-tied. The Talon was gone and truthfully, she didn’t want to know what was in its place. She couldn’t bring herself to ask about Clark.
She began to tell him about her days in Paris, about her misadventures with the language, schoolwork and her hopes of getting into L’ecole des Beaux-Arts in September. He understood her implication that she did not intend to return to Kansas.
He took her to a cafe just off place St-Sulpice, got her drunk on expensive wine and fed her outlandish stories about over ambitious investors.
The visits became a highlight in her diary. His parting hugs have each time become more lingering, and she herself tends to hold on just that bit too long.
Clark is rarely mentioned now. His e-mails were be vague to the point of insulting, and never matched up with Chloe’s account of events. When Lex confesses that he almost never speaks to Clark now, she’s is ashamed to find that she’s relieved, pushing down this selfish desire to have Lex to herself.
She kissed him the last time. Impulsively. And when she saw the look of shock on his face, turned to flee. But he was too quick and his hand on her arm pulled her back into him.
“This is a bad idea,” he said, staring at her intently, trying to find something in her expression.
She remembers nodding her agreement, before he pulled her close and kissed her
She kissed back. For once, she wasn’t afraid to lose. She sees the lies and accepts them. At least he doesn’t excuse his lies. She lets the half-truths slide because he does not seek to mask them as truths.
She can’t go home now; that much is certain. She’s grown up since moving away from Smallville, but she knew she’d passed the point of no return in his hotel bed rocking into him, his tongue sliding down her neck, with open-mouth kisses against her pulse.
Afterwards, she dressed facing him, terrified and exhilarated at having betrayed their mutual, lying friend, a continent away yet as present in the room as she or Lex. Entangled by this third party, forced to act..
She stands up, checking for sorbet stains on her dress. She’ll e-mail Lex. No, call him tonight and ask him to visit soon. Living alone has made her bold.
They’ve both suffered enough at Clark’s hands to find comfort in each other. She knows that neither them are what the other wants, but they come close enough to what each of them need.
* Month’s Mind *
FANDOM: Harry Potter
RATING: PG
SPOILERS: up to OoTP.
PAIRING: Gen, Sirius/Remus (hinted)
It’s Remus’s non-Wizard appearance that gets him in the door. He’s wearing a quite respectable Muggle suit, seemingly new. Harry wonders where the money came from. Aunt Petunia gives him the one over when he introduces himself, saying, ‘At least you look halfway normal.’
Remus smiles wryly, one hand rubbing the side of his neck, where Harry can just make out the shadow of a old wound.
‘Yes,’ he says, still smiling, still polite, ‘Quite.’
They’re ushered into the kitchen at the back., with Petunia glancing out to see if the neighbours have seen him.
‘Ten minutes,’ she states firmly, turning to look at them both, ‘And none of your... nonsense.’
She leaves them, and they can hear the blare of the six o’clock news from the lounge.
Harry puts on the kettle and makes a tea for them both, hunts for biscuits. After a few inane comments, they sit in silence over tea. All that can be heard in the kitchen is the hum of the fridge. Remus stares distractedly at the kitchen table, tracing the grain of the wood with his fingertips.
‘Are you here on Order business?’ Harry asks finally, tired of the stretch of silence as they finish their tea.
‘No, no.’
‘For Dumbledore?’
‘No, I - - just wanted to see how you were doing.’ Remus puts down his mug and his smile has echoes of a grimace. ‘It’s been a long summer.’
Harry nods, and swallows the lump in his throat.
~ + ~
They go for a walk after their tea, walking up to the park, past the laneway where Harry and Dudley met the dementors last year. Remus sits down on a park bench and motions Harry to sit down beside him. They watch the kids play five-a-side. Harry recognises one of them as a boy around his age who lives three doors down from him. The boy turns, noticing him, and gives him a brief nod of hello. Harry ignores this.
Harry wants to say something, anything, about Sirius, but there’s something about Remus, the way he seems to be withdrawn, even from his own body, as if he’s shut down somewhat.
But Harry’s fifteen, and even prone to sulks, will always say something.
‘I don’t care what Dumbledore says, I’m going to get Kreacher.’
He gets a flash of a grin from Remus who then begins examining his hands intently.
‘I’m afraid Kreacher had a bit of an accident, the day Tonks returned from St. Mungo’s. You know how clumsy she can be.’
‘Oh,’ Harry gets the feeling the Remus is now purposefully not looking at him.
‘Yes, she tripped on the first floor corridor and had to grab something to block her fall. Ornamental or not, I’ve always said that axe was in a dangerous place.’ The smile in Remus’ voice is feral and nasty, and it warms Harry.
‘I’m sure Dumbledore wasn’t happy.’
‘Hmm, what?’ Remus is apparently watching the footballers with keen interest. ‘No, not at all. But Kingsley, Fred and I happened to be on that corridor and have vouched for Tonks’s innocent accident. In fact, I myself rushed to block her fall with a Holding spell, but for some strange reason it went slightly wrong and held Kreacher down.’
‘Can Tonks fall into Sirius’s Mum’s portrait?’ Harry asks darkly.
‘We’re looking into that.’
Remus stands up to walk Harry home. At the gate, he pauses, remembering something.
‘Sirius left Grimmauld Place for you. There are a couple of riders...’ At this, Remus breaks off, looking away. When he turns back, there’s a brief but terrible grief-stricken look on his face before a purposefully blank look appears. ‘Dumbledore can fill you in.’
With that he turns away and walks down Privet Drive to the main road.
He stares at his retreating figure, sheltered from absolute examination in the half-light of dusk and understands. Not everything, but enough.
Harry realises for the first time that he may not be the only one to be collapsing inside from Sirius’s death, that Remus might share this awful, paralysing weight of love and loss that he’s carried around all summer.
Harry can’t help it. He runs after him.
‘Professor Lupin, the veil - why can’t we get Sirius back? Please, please, is there no way? It was an accident, it shouldn’t have happened. Surely there’s some magic, some spell to get him...’
His babbling trails off. He can’t help it. He’s suddenly crying and it feels like each single drop is stripping and tearing from his heart, each sob is wrenched from his body.
He doesn’t realise that Remus is holding him upright till he hears him whisper, almost savagely, his quiet demeanour in his ear, ‘Don’t you think if I knew the way, I would? There is nobody, including you, who misses him more that me.’
This Remus, wild and fierce and ferocious in his grief, is almost frightening to Harry. For the first time, he thinks he can see the Werewolf in his refined and tame professor. Remus catches himself, too. They back away from each other, tear-stained and blotchy cheeked.
‘I’d best be off. Dumbledore doesn’t know I’m visit-’ Remus begins.
Harry’s suddenly grateful that there is at least one other person who knows how he feels.
‘Thanks for coming. It means a lot to me, especially now...’
But Remus has already disapparated.
TITLE: ?
FANDOM: Smallvile
PAIRING: Gen, Clark/Lex, hinted
RATING: 15, for language.
Of course, Lex knows on an intellectual level that none of this is the social worker's fault. Still, he gets a certain amount of comfort from her jumping when he slams down the glass.
The call came through on Wednesday. Lucas found dead in an apartment of a friend who now cannot be traced. Police were treating it as suspicious. Then again, every event connected with Lucas should be treated with suspicion, Lex thinks meanly, glancing up at one Sarah Cook. Not often social workers come to talk to him. She's dressed in off the rack, with low, sensible court shoes and frizzy hair. Nothing there to tempt him, nothing at all. Quiet monotone, a unique mix of concern and professional distance.
He fades out of her conversation, recalling the first phone call "…the embassy would normally fly the body home, but someone would need to accompany the child… "
Lucas, that sly bastard. Lex always knew he was out to get him.
Lex chickened out at the last moment and sent his p.a. instead, claiming he needed to sort things out. Which is why he's now sitting with the lovely Ms. Cook, distracted by the ominously thick file on her lap.
"We have an idea of your brother's wishes, you can take her in, or arrange for her to be fostered with a trust fund"
Well fuck, there's a gun to my head, thinks Lex, 'here bro, care to abandon my child?'
"Where's the mother?" God, knowing Lucas, 'what's the mother?' might be more appropriate.
"She died of an overdose nearly two years ago. It's all in the file. We were called in when the child went to a neighbour, claiming she couldn't wake her mother."
He winces, feeling utterly shitty for all those nasty thoughts. Still, he doubts Lucas ever bothered much with this offspring, if all he wanted was Lex to put her into care and set up a fund.
"Your brother had in fact asked that you specifically take guardianship, rather than her grandfather. He seemed quite adamant at this."
Lucas, that sly bastard, asking Lex to save his daughter from their father. He clears his throat.
"What's she like?"
The weak smile is not encouraging. "Oh, I'm sure she'll be fine once she settles in, Mr. Luthor."
She stops smiling at Lex's glare.
* * *
He flicks through the file Sarah's given him after she leaves. It's the raw guts of the life of one Holli Luthor, formerly Dunleavy, formerly Jacobs, all sensitive names and information blanked out. Born in Edge City to two runaway teenagers, Holli was kept under social workers' eye from birth. Her mother ran away from her parents where there had been accusations of domestic abuse. Lex was only too familiar with Lucas' case history. A runaway family with no money or seeming prospects and only the promise of some kind of love to sustain them when the system failed them. Holli herself had spent time in care in Gotham.
Holli. No Greek or Roman pretensions from Lucas, then.
Lex doesn't sleep that night. He picks up the phone three times to call the Kent's, to ask them why they took in Clark, and then Ryan, and would they like to adopt another child? He'd feel better knowing she went to a safe and loving home rather than staying with him.
Holli isn't quite how he expected. She arrives with one tiny rucksack, a cheap pink plastic affair that doesn’t bode well for what's inside. She's dressed as if a rainbow attacked her. It would be almost cute, were it not for the sheer hideousness of the outfit and the runny nose, which she repeatedly wipes with a grubby sleeve.
Lex shudders.
*~*~*~*
She clings to her rucksack, like Lex might steal it any minute. He walks towards her to say 'hello', but stops when she takes a step back, edging towards the door. It occurs to him that the file never stated where she was when Lucas died. With her luck, she was probably in the apartment. He squats down, to the amusement of Sarah and Anya, his Luthorcorp executive assistant.
"Heya Holli."
Silence.
She looks around at the three of them and Lex realises how frightened she must be. She turns her attention back to him and he recognises an edge of defiance when she holds his gaze.
"Hi." It's almost a goad, the way she throws it back at him, willing him to do his worse. "Are you Lex?" This is all said a decibel above polite.
"Yeah, I'm your uncle. I'm your daddy's brother." Uncle, ugh. Lex feels weird even saying it. He runs his hand over his scalp. He is now officially Uncle Fester. "I'm going to look after you."
The look she gives him leaves him in no doubt of her relation to Lionel. It's oddly reassuring and puts him back on balance. No way is this little wildcat niece going to get the better of him.
He straightens, turning his attention to the two women.
"I'm sure she'll be fine once she settles in. Holli, I'm sure you're hungry from the flight and the trip from Metropolis, so I'll go get you something. The remote for the television is on the table, make yourself at home."
And that does the trick. It seems Holli takes what she can get. She scurries towards to entertainment centre, clambering up on the sofa with the remote in one hand and her rucksack in the other. The way to her heart is through cartoons and offers of food. Lex can handle that. He goes to the kitchen himself, rather than phoning down. It gives him a chance to escape from her, to think. What the fuck is he doing? It was different with Ryan, he was a thirteen-year-old comic fanboy waiting till it was safe to go to the Kent's. She's with him for the next fourteen years, at least. He's starting to really see the appeal of boarding schools. He feels guilty at this, but comforts himself that she won't be tortured there like he was. She looks normal, pretty even. He wonders what's the earliest age they accept, and then wonders what he's supposed to do with her till then. Fuck, childcare. He rests his forehead against the cold metal of the refrigerator. These past few days just seemed to be soundtracked by a litany of 'fuck's.
"Lex?"
Of course there's always respite in a storm, and Clark's voice is full of warmth and humanity and compassion. There's a hint of worry, too and it makes Lex look up and smile, to wipe away any traces of it.
"I just came with the delivery. And y'know, to give our sympathies about your brother." His head is ducked down, and he's worrying the cuff of his sleeve. Lex remembers how Clark didn't like Lucas, and senses that hint of guilt in Clark's tone. It's oddly reassuring.
"It's ok, I haven't really had time to process - hey, you want to meet my niece?"
Clark looks up, surprised. It's a good look on him, but Lex refuses to think anymore about that. Food. For Child.
Clark's weighted down with goodies as Lex writes a note for the staff and outlines his new role as guardian, leaving out all the 'fucking no' parts. 'Dinner - something suitable for a child', he writes. He feels the warmth of Clark leaning over, trying to read the note, and can barely concentrate on shaping the letters. And when exactly did he start feeling like a heroine in a Romance Novel. Oh yeah, right, when he moved to Smallville, was nearly murdered by two wives, didn't have much sex, and fell in love with the farmer's son. He supposes these events might have an effect.
"Y'know," Clark's voice is low and silky, tinged with warm humour, "Can I call you Daddy Warbucks now?"
Of course, he's not so much in love that he can't smack Clark in the head. Clark will know what to do with the girl. Everybody likes Clark.
-*-*-*-
Days pass, and Lex feels himself into some sort of routine. Holli trails after him mostly, from study to kitchen. None of this Lex takes as a compliment. It’s obvious from her sullen glance that this is not a case of hero worship. Rather, she doesn’t trust him enough to let him out of her sight. She’ll let the housekeeper bath her and dress alone, but he will always hear the shuffle of feet minutes later as she comes to check on where he is. At night, when he sends her to bed, she looks at him suspiciously, as if he’ll do a runner in the night. If he thinks about it, he feels pity for a child so young and so mistrustful of the world. But mostly he’s just irritated having her under his feet all day. He feels like the victim, being stalked by a child, who manages to have constantly grubby hands. On especially bad days, he mentally refers to her as Damien.
She’s loitering around his desk in this fashion on a Wednesday when Martha Kent visits, ostensibly with the produce delivery and bill. He knows this is a cover because the first thing she does is envelop him in a motherly embrace, whispering, “I heard. How are you coping?”
It almost makes him cry with relief. He squeezes her quickly in silent thanks and turns to his desk to introduce her to Holli, but Holli is already by his side, staring up at Mrs Kent, one hand about to grip his pants leg, eyes big from staring at their guest.
Martha reaches down to softly pat Holli’s cheek. Where Clark and his sunny smiles failed, Mrs Kent has succeeded. Holli is enraptured, and for the first time since arriving in Smallville, plays cute. She hides behind Lex’s leg, peeking out to smile at Martha. Martha beams back, but there’s a shadow behind her expression, and Lex is suddenly painfully aware of a spectre of a memory of a much-wanted pregnancy.
“What an adorable little lady, Lex.” coos Martha.
Well, that’s the first time his charge has ever been called anything in the vicinity of praise. Lex feels inordinately proud for no good reason.
“I hope you’re going to visit us sometime on the farm.” Martha continues, “Wouldn’t you like to see a farm, with cows and fields?
Holli tightens her sticky grip on Lex’s pants. Lex understands these pants are a now a lost cause. He catches her shaking her head and gesturing Martha closer to say something.
“Why, of course Lex will be with you, honey!” Martha glances up from their tete a tete to smile at him.
‘Yes, of course,’ thinks Lex, ‘I will never escape this child.’ And then glances down at the child smiling back at Mrs Kent and feels guilty and ashamed of himself.
He sends Holli off on some goose chase to get coffee or cookies, and turns to Mrs Kent.
“I have no idea what I’m doing, Mrs Kent,” he admits, preparing himself to beg for parental advice, “and I really need to start going into work soon. I don’t know what to do with her.”
“She’s doing that whole follow you around thing? Yeah, Clark did that at first. She just needs you, Lex. You’re probably the only person she trusts after a very unsettled life.”
Trust. Ha fucking ha. Holli’s judgement must be as bad as Lex’s. Lex doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
[Okay, this isn’t quite finished!]
Anyway, I hope what I have come up with is okay. Hopefully, practice will make, if not perfect, better