FIC: The Life You Need, Smallville, Jason/Lex, FRM - for sv_renaissance's King Challenge
Title: The Life You Need
Author: Andrea/silentflux
Fandom: Smallville
Pairing: Jason Teague/Lex Luthor
Rating: FRM more for the slashiness and the violence than anything else...
Warnings: Slash
Spoilers: None... well, vaguely for Nocturne, but it's so twisted I wouldn't even call it a spoiler...
A/N: This was written for sv_renaissance's King Challenge. I chose to write Rose Madder in the Smallville setting. It's obviously AU from the show's canon, and I twist and use characters as I like... I also borrowed Norman from the book... I just didn't see anyone in Smallville I wanted to slide into that character :) Plus? Norman terrifies me. Hopefully, I did this challenge justice. Just FYI - each break is like a slice into a longer period of time. I considered doing more scenes, but... this is what came out. Please let me know what you think!
Also, this fic was also written for my paliphrase challenge - hope.
Summary: Jason Teague is running from his past and toward something more, something safe.
~ * ~ * ~
He sat in the corner, hunched against the wall on the floor, trying to breathe. The air had disappeared from the room, the pain eating it up until there was nothing left for him. His body shook with it, and he knew he'd need a hospital. Again. He felt the drying liquid between his thighs and cringed as every movement sent a new shock of pain through his body. And the man who'd done this stared down at him, unrelenting, his stare cold, vicious and practically gleeful.
He blinked slowly, light in the room dimming as he tried to find something, something important. But it didn't matter so much as the flickers of memory teasing along the pain, mocking. Jason remembered what happened that day with perfect clarity. He'd come home from school for the holiday, dreading his mother more than life itself, and found him there. She'd invited him of course and knowing her son's preferences, he was perfect. Jason was only sixteen and had very limited experience. Norman was twenty and very persistent.
The first time Norman frightened him, he tried to tell her. She informed him that no son of hers would be so weak as to admit to being scared of someone as upstanding as Norman. He was an FBI agent in a special division. He was a lawyer. He was the dream guy and Jason would do well to remember.
So, he didn't tell her when this perfect guy held him down, cutting slices into the tender skin of his torso, and didn't stop until there was a pool of red. He didn't hide the bruises nor the slashes that became pink then white lines on his golden skin, but she never once asked about them. Her eyes took them in and gleamed always with something akin to satisfaction. And that scared Jason more than anything else. By the time he might have considered just leaving, the consuming fear and destructive habit had sunk into his bones until all that was left in the neverending days was what they saw fit to provide him with.
'Come here, sweetheart.' Those were the words for almost ten years of his life. The seemingly innocuous words that hung in the air, fetid and sharp. He didn't know how it had become so long. He didn't even really contemplate the possibility that one day, Norman might hit too hard, or strike him in just the right place. It didn't occur to him.
Until one morning, he shrugged into a crisp, white dress shirt. He didn't go out much anymore, but Norman preferred him to dress respectably around the house. As he buttoned up the shirt, he looked down and saw the perfect round crimson drop. He hadn't even known he was bleeding. Or maybe he wasn't. Reaching up, he found his nose dry. When did this happen? And the fact he realized he couldn't pinpoint when he might have bled on his shirt - there were too many possibilities - hit him hard.
Trembling, he eased himself down onto the bench at the end of their bed. Ten years of this. Jason studied the bruising on his wrists beneath the cuffs and realized fully that Norman could very well be the death of him. Taking a shaking breath, he froze as another thought struck him, dizzy with the sharpness of it, and a shock of terror shivered along his spine. What if Norman wasn't the death of him? And the years yawned in front of him, long and agonizing - unbearable.
~ * ~ * ~
He'd taken the money from the safe, dropping everything at least once, violently trembling. The money was his, left to him by his grandmother, but Norman had always claimed it as his own. Taking what Norman laid claimed to was never a good idea. After stashing the money in the only bag he'd taken with him next to a clean change of clothes and his journal, Jason walked out of the house. Pausing at the end of the lane, he turned right, stilted to a stop and turned back the opposite direction. Norman always told him that people's directionality tended to depend on whether or not they were right-handed or left. Jason refused to let him be right about this.
~ * ~ * ~
The crick in his back was a testament to the absence of any kind of comfort from the past 38 hours. From bus to bus to bus, he'd drifted, so scared that Norman would be around the next corner, at the next stop, that he didn't sleep and hardly ate. He'd forgotten exactly how much things cost anymore, and it was amazing how slow he was at counting out cash. Shaking his head to try and clear it, weariness seeping in with the chill of early morning in Kansas, Jason's eyes darted around the tiny town the bus had stopped in. Smallville, it was called.
The main street was lined with the kind of shops Jason had only seen in magazines. There wasn't a chain store in sight in this small town and he felt at once lost and almost comfortable. Keeping his head down and refusing eye contact, he began to walk, looking for a convenient place to grab something to eat or drink before the bus moved on. Spotting something called The Talon, he crossed the street and blinked as he moved from the sunshine to the cafe's cheery lights. A young girl was working behind the counter and smiled welcomingly. "Hi! Can I help you?"
The question always took Jason by surprise, a wistful feeling washing over him at the words. "Umm...yes." His voice was scratchy with disuse and stuttered along quietly as he ordered something plain to eat, but when he tried to decide on a drink, the girl suggested something.
"I just made myself one this morning. It's a mocha, but with chocolate and caramel and a bit of vanilla with two fresh strawberries and more fruit for nibbling as you drink. You'll love it," she bubbled, eyes sparkling. Jason watched her in awe as he nodded almost hesitantly. He didn't remember ever being this...happy.
"She'll send you into sugar shock with that," a dark-haired boy sitting at the counter shared with him. The girl sent him a mock glare as he laughed. "I'm just kidding, Lana." Jason twitched when the boy offered him his hand. "Clark Kent."
"Jason Teague," he answered, fear clamoring in his chest as he reached out and shook that big hand.
"Welcome to Smallville," Clark greeted, flashing him a blindingly gorgeous smile that the older man couldn't help but return.
"Thanks, but I'm just passing through." His fingers tapped nervously against his thigh as he settled on to one of the empty stools at the counter.
The effort of making polite and almost sharp smalltalk tired Jason greatly, but Clark and Lana didn't seem to mind his bluntness nor his inability to rattle on. They just smiled and told him about their town and The Talon. Their voices flowed around him as he slowly put away the first solid meal he'd had in two days and sipped on a truly decadent drink.
He didn't even register the sound at first, but when he got up and looked out the window, the silver bus that had borne him into this peaceful town had gone. Breaths coming uneven and fast, Jason stared, fingers tightening until nails drew blood from his palms. What would he do now?
~ * ~ * ~
A few minutes or hours go by and he's still sitting in The Talon, drinking water now instead of coffee, trying to figure out what to do. He supposedSmallville was as good a place as any to stop, but after deciding that, he had no idea what to do. Where would he live? How would he make money? The money he'd taken would last him a while, but he should save. Just in case.
He looked up and saw Lana and a blond girl conversing at the counter, soft brown and shrewd blue gazes making him nervous. Maybe it was time to go. Before he could gather his journal and his bag, the tiny blond was standing in front of him. He blinked up at her almost stupidly before she asked, "Are you okay?"
A bitter laugh escaped him, almost hysterical and he bit his lip hard to stop it, the slight pain reeling him in. "I..." And what could he say? She studied him closely and seemed to come to some kind of conclusion even as he tried to figure out how to answer her question.
"Need help?" she asked him softly, a sincere kindness gentling her sharp regard.
"Yes. Please." The wishful tone of just two words shamed him even as she nodded.
~ * ~ * ~
Jason was tried not to show how jumpy he was, but he wasn't sure it worked. Mr Kent was very cautious around him while Mrs Kent felt the need to cook for him. A lot. He'd eaten more in the past three weeks than he had his entire life. Soon Jason was fascinated with how she made such wonderful, mouthwatering food. He'd taken to watching her in the kitchen, studying how she mixed and chopped and baked. The first time she touched him casually on the small of his back as she walked by, he jumped and practically yelped as he twisted the bruises still present on his torso in an effort to get away from the startling touch. Her eyes saddened as she slowly stepped back. From then on, she may have hovered some, but she didn't touch him unless he saw her moving. The warmth kindled in him from that small consideration settled somewhere inside that had always before been cold, and he treasured it.
Clark was another matter all together. He was a huge kid - a teenager who'd obviously hit his growth spurt early - but it didn't take long for Jason to get over that. The big green eyes were so amazingly open and innocent, his energy was almost puppy-like, that soon Jason was more relaxed around him and theKents than he'd been in years.
His work on the farm with Mr Kent - Jonathan - kept him tired and happy. He was used to work, and even though some of the lifting bothered his back, he ignored it. He was used to that pain, after all. The results of living with a kidney man. Some men liked legs or ass. Norman liked kidneys. The soft helpless sounds Jason made when he took a beating there.
One day, not long into his stay at the Kent farm, he saw Jonathan studying him with concern. He'd flinched under the gaze, even though the other man had been nothing but kind. And that flinch was observed and the older man frowned at the implications. Jason never talked about it and Jonathan never asked. But the elder Kent also didn't allow him to lift anything until ten days later. Something near to pride swelled inside him as he thought of the care and concern and respect he'd been given as each action by theKents spoke of their kindness and consideration. It made him almost believe he was worthy.
~ * ~ * ~
Jason was working in the barn, trying to change the oil on the tractor by himself so that Jonathan wouldn't have to when he heard footsteps. "Clark?" he called out, pulling the cloth out of his back pocket and wiping his hands as he straightened and turned. Freezing, he was caught by an intelligent blue gaze and could think of nothing else to say.
"Hi." There was a pause as the man obviously expected Jason to say something, but when he didn't, that smooth voice continued. "I'm Lex. I was looking for Clark?"
"Jason. And I'm not sure. Probably out helping his dad with the fencing." The smooth head nodded, eyes intense and the presence of the other man made him want to take a step back.
"Mind if I wait here?" Jason shook his head, letting his eyes drop away, unsure of how long he'd been staring. The prickle of awareness along his skin was unexpected but not unpleasant. He offered the couch in Clark's room up in the loft, but it was declined which somehow pleased him. The rest of the afternoon was kept in quiet company with occasional questions and answers, but otherwise just the sounds of Jason's work to keep them company.
~ * ~ * ~
That night after listening to Clark and Lex converse and bicker and laugh, Jason took a slow walk. He'd seen Lana in the cemetery sometimes, but he didn't like to disturb her. He always made sure to come later. Tonight, though, he had company. "Hello?" he managed, fist clenching in fear at the young man who hid behind his hair. "Can I -"
"No," came the almost sharp reply. "But could you give this to her?" A small note was left on the grave of Lana's mother. "I will repay you the kindness." Jason studied what he could see, and there was nothing there that appeared able to harm Lana.
"I can. But there's no need to repay," he answered quietly.
"No! I'll repay," the boy responded, looking up and Jason gasped, stepping back. If he'd thought Lex was intense, this boy was agonizingly so. It was perhaps amazing and frightening at the same time. Nodding, he watched the careful movements as the curious boy disappeared into the darkness. It was a simple enough thing to give the letter to Lana the next day. Sighing softly, Jason turned back toward the Kent farm. Time to find the ever elusive sleep.
From then on whenever he couldn't sleep or felt the fear boxing him in, Jason would head out to the cemetery and settle on the stone bench next to the most beautiful angel and watch the sky. It was pure freedom to do so. And every night he was there, Byron - as Jason learned his name - would ask his help in delivering some sort of message or gift, and seeing no harm in doing so, he'd oblige.
~ * ~ * ~
Chloe and Lana were chatting in a practically empty Talon as Lana closed up for the night. They both looked up when they heard the bell and a tall man stepped through just as the last customer scurried out. Broad in the shoulders and fit, the man studied the coffeehouse with a scrutiny that Chloe recognized all too well. He was a cop of some kind.
"I'm sorry, but we're closing," Lana told him, but the man paid her no attention, focusing his gaze on Chloe who shuddered at the emptiness she saw there. Backing up a step, she shook her head in denial of whatever he might want. "We're closing."
And Lana gasped as the man flipped the closed sign on the door and threw the deadbolt into place. She exchanged a worried look with Chloe even as she made a grab for her cellphone. They needed Clark.
"I was wondering if you ladies could help me..." As he talked, the man pasted a curdling smile under those cold eyes and they both backed up quickly, deciding it was time to make a run for it. Since their backs were turned, they never saw the predatory sneer that soon crossed that classically handsome face.
~ * ~ * ~
Jason couldn't sit still, and both Lex and Clark watched him, concerned. "Jason?" Lex finally called, his patience wearing thin. "What's wrong?"
"I'm not sure," he answered softly, looking over his shoulder and expecting to see Norman.
"I -" Clark's phone rang and he snagged it, flipping open the cell and listening intently. It only took a second for him to stand, anger and worry on his face as he told them both, "I need to go. I'll be back soon."
Jason blinked and he was gone. Shaking his head, he headed down the stairs out of the loft himself, almost forgetting about Lex who watched him thoughtfully. He found his way to the graveyard, hoping that the peacefulness of the spot would help him calm down. He always loved quiet spots surrounded by trees at night. Norman had forever been exasperated by his choice of thinking spots.
'Come here, sweetheart.'
Shaking his head, Jason tried to clear it. Norman wasn't here. He wasn't. And after such a length of time, he'd convinced himself that maybe he wouldn't come. Of course, he knew the truth. Once Norman claimed you as property, you were his. Until death.
Sighing heavily, he settled on his favorite bench and looked up at the full moon, basking in the silver light. He loved this existence he'd managed to carve out for himself. No one to answer to and he even had a few friends and acquaintances. It was luxurious after having spent so many years without either of those things. And Jason still couldn't stop the worry, the itch between hisshoulder blades.
When the chill of the night hadsoaked through all his layers, Jason stood and headed back to the barn. He figured that he would just sleep there instead of waking up the Kents with his entrance into the house so late. Arriving back at the loft, he was surprised to see Lex stretched out on the couch himself, eyes closed. Pausing at the top of the stairs, he tried to decide what to do when he heard the other man ask, "Join me?"
Startled, Jason stared, uncertain of what the other man was asking. When one pale hand reached out, slender fingers waiting for his acceptance, he slowly shuffled across the floor, staring at that hand like it was going to spawn. He'd known Lex for several months now, but his heart still pounded with no little fear and something else that he refused to categorize as he slowly reached out. He blinked and he was settled on his side, drawn close on the couch, ear pressed against a slender chest. Slowly, Jason relaxed into the other man's heat and allowed his eyes to flutter shut with weariness.
~ * ~ * ~
He woke near dawn when Clark cautiously called his name, a strange look on his face as he studied the picture that Jason and Lex made on the couch. "What do you need, Clark?" Lex asked wryly and Jason could hear the smirk that was undoubtedly on his face.
"The girls were attacked last night," the boy stated flatly. "They're okay, but they thought that I should -"
"Warn him?" came a new voice. Jason froze, body trembling with the effort not to flee or scream or cry at hearing his nightmare behind him.
"Norman," Jason breathed, pulling away from Lex and sitting up to see the murderous gleam in his - in Norman's eyes. "Why are you here?"
"Collecting what's mine," he replied harshly, reaching out and grabbing roughly at the back of the younger man's neck. "You're coming home."
"Wait a minute -" Lex interrupted, standing to follow, to stop. Jason turned pleading eyes on them both, flinching at the pain of fingers digging in, eyes widening in fear as the click of a gun's safety echoed loudly in the suddenly too quiet barn.
"Don't," he murmured as he saw both of his new friends coil to make their move. "I'm not worth it." And Jason let the hurt and fear and anger in Lex's eyes roll over him as Norman dragged him out in front of the barn where the sun had begun to crawl its way forth.
"You have no idea the trouble it took to find you, sweetheart." Norman didn't sound angry, his pleasant tone grating along Jason's side, causing him to cringe. "We'll have to discuss your...vacation soon."
"Norman, please," Jason gasped as a fist connected with his kidneys. He'd almost forgotten how the pain exploded up his back when a fist connected to that sweet spot. And Norman could always find it.
"Please?" came the breathy reply as his tormentor's breath quickened with the next punch and Jason closed his eyes to shut out the pure joy and shattering desire in that gaze.
"Please." Jason tried to pull back, figuring that anything was better than letting Norman get him to the car. He heard Clark and Lex behind them trying to figure out how to help, and he prayed that they would - that they wouldn't...
There was a rush of early morning air and abruptly he fell to the ground with no one dragging him along. Looking up, he saw someone, a shape that he couldn't quite make out. A person in dark clothing and glowing eyes. A sharp crack that seemed too loud and a startled cry and then nothing. Jason stared, mesmerized by the sight. Norman sliding out of the stranger's hands and onto the ground, Clark somehow on the ground behind them. But those eyes.
"We repaid." A small, wounded sound escaped his throat and he blinked and there was darkness.
~ * ~ * ~
He awoke to the familiar beep of a heart monitor and sighed wondering how long he'd be in the hospital. Norman didn't like it when he wasn't at home. That thought paused and ground to a halt as he remembered seeing the blood and Norman on the ground. He must have made a sound because Martha Kent swam into view and she smiled softly down at him. "You're just fine, Jason. Rest."
He blinked and nodded, stopping when everything spun about like a carnival ride. When he could focus again, he saw Lex standing uncertainly at the end of his bed. It was the first time he'd ever seen the other man look so unsure of his place. Wanting to ease that insecurity at least as much as he was allowed, Jason felt his lips quirk and he couldn't see his own expression but whatever Lex saw pushed all the jittery tension from his shoulders. Feeling the weight of his lashes, Jason murmured his thanks and let them drop.
~ * ~ * ~
When he was released from the hospital, he was surprised to find Lex waiting for him at the doors in one of his limos. Jason startled at the gentleness of the smile and soft hands as he was guided into the car. The ride back to the Kents was filled with a wonderful silence that wrapped itself around him and he sighed. He blamed it on weariness when his body slid along expensive leather and leaned against the offered warmth. As his eyes fluttered shut, he could almost tell himself that wasn't a brush of lips against skin.
But he found that he didn't want to lie like that, and a smiled played across his lips as the strings of fear and tension were slowly drawn forth and away.
Fin
Author: Andrea/silentflux
Fandom: Smallville
Pairing: Jason Teague/Lex Luthor
Rating: FRM more for the slashiness and the violence than anything else...
Warnings: Slash
Spoilers: None... well, vaguely for Nocturne, but it's so twisted I wouldn't even call it a spoiler...
A/N: This was written for sv_renaissance's King Challenge. I chose to write Rose Madder in the Smallville setting. It's obviously AU from the show's canon, and I twist and use characters as I like... I also borrowed Norman from the book... I just didn't see anyone in Smallville I wanted to slide into that character :) Plus? Norman terrifies me. Hopefully, I did this challenge justice. Just FYI - each break is like a slice into a longer period of time. I considered doing more scenes, but... this is what came out. Please let me know what you think!
Also, this fic was also written for my paliphrase challenge - hope.
Summary: Jason Teague is running from his past and toward something more, something safe.
~ * ~ * ~
He sat in the corner, hunched against the wall on the floor, trying to breathe. The air had disappeared from the room, the pain eating it up until there was nothing left for him. His body shook with it, and he knew he'd need a hospital. Again. He felt the drying liquid between his thighs and cringed as every movement sent a new shock of pain through his body. And the man who'd done this stared down at him, unrelenting, his stare cold, vicious and practically gleeful.
He blinked slowly, light in the room dimming as he tried to find something, something important. But it didn't matter so much as the flickers of memory teasing along the pain, mocking. Jason remembered what happened that day with perfect clarity. He'd come home from school for the holiday, dreading his mother more than life itself, and found him there. She'd invited him of course and knowing her son's preferences, he was perfect. Jason was only sixteen and had very limited experience. Norman was twenty and very persistent.
The first time Norman frightened him, he tried to tell her. She informed him that no son of hers would be so weak as to admit to being scared of someone as upstanding as Norman. He was an FBI agent in a special division. He was a lawyer. He was the dream guy and Jason would do well to remember.
So, he didn't tell her when this perfect guy held him down, cutting slices into the tender skin of his torso, and didn't stop until there was a pool of red. He didn't hide the bruises nor the slashes that became pink then white lines on his golden skin, but she never once asked about them. Her eyes took them in and gleamed always with something akin to satisfaction. And that scared Jason more than anything else. By the time he might have considered just leaving, the consuming fear and destructive habit had sunk into his bones until all that was left in the neverending days was what they saw fit to provide him with.
'Come here, sweetheart.' Those were the words for almost ten years of his life. The seemingly innocuous words that hung in the air, fetid and sharp. He didn't know how it had become so long. He didn't even really contemplate the possibility that one day, Norman might hit too hard, or strike him in just the right place. It didn't occur to him.
Until one morning, he shrugged into a crisp, white dress shirt. He didn't go out much anymore, but Norman preferred him to dress respectably around the house. As he buttoned up the shirt, he looked down and saw the perfect round crimson drop. He hadn't even known he was bleeding. Or maybe he wasn't. Reaching up, he found his nose dry. When did this happen? And the fact he realized he couldn't pinpoint when he might have bled on his shirt - there were too many possibilities - hit him hard.
Trembling, he eased himself down onto the bench at the end of their bed. Ten years of this. Jason studied the bruising on his wrists beneath the cuffs and realized fully that Norman could very well be the death of him. Taking a shaking breath, he froze as another thought struck him, dizzy with the sharpness of it, and a shock of terror shivered along his spine. What if Norman wasn't the death of him? And the years yawned in front of him, long and agonizing - unbearable.
~ * ~ * ~
He'd taken the money from the safe, dropping everything at least once, violently trembling. The money was his, left to him by his grandmother, but Norman had always claimed it as his own. Taking what Norman laid claimed to was never a good idea. After stashing the money in the only bag he'd taken with him next to a clean change of clothes and his journal, Jason walked out of the house. Pausing at the end of the lane, he turned right, stilted to a stop and turned back the opposite direction. Norman always told him that people's directionality tended to depend on whether or not they were right-handed or left. Jason refused to let him be right about this.
~ * ~ * ~
The crick in his back was a testament to the absence of any kind of comfort from the past 38 hours. From bus to bus to bus, he'd drifted, so scared that Norman would be around the next corner, at the next stop, that he didn't sleep and hardly ate. He'd forgotten exactly how much things cost anymore, and it was amazing how slow he was at counting out cash. Shaking his head to try and clear it, weariness seeping in with the chill of early morning in Kansas, Jason's eyes darted around the tiny town the bus had stopped in. Smallville, it was called.
The main street was lined with the kind of shops Jason had only seen in magazines. There wasn't a chain store in sight in this small town and he felt at once lost and almost comfortable. Keeping his head down and refusing eye contact, he began to walk, looking for a convenient place to grab something to eat or drink before the bus moved on. Spotting something called The Talon, he crossed the street and blinked as he moved from the sunshine to the cafe's cheery lights. A young girl was working behind the counter and smiled welcomingly. "Hi! Can I help you?"
The question always took Jason by surprise, a wistful feeling washing over him at the words. "Umm...yes." His voice was scratchy with disuse and stuttered along quietly as he ordered something plain to eat, but when he tried to decide on a drink, the girl suggested something.
"I just made myself one this morning. It's a mocha, but with chocolate and caramel and a bit of vanilla with two fresh strawberries and more fruit for nibbling as you drink. You'll love it," she bubbled, eyes sparkling. Jason watched her in awe as he nodded almost hesitantly. He didn't remember ever being this...happy.
"She'll send you into sugar shock with that," a dark-haired boy sitting at the counter shared with him. The girl sent him a mock glare as he laughed. "I'm just kidding, Lana." Jason twitched when the boy offered him his hand. "Clark Kent."
"Jason Teague," he answered, fear clamoring in his chest as he reached out and shook that big hand.
"Welcome to Smallville," Clark greeted, flashing him a blindingly gorgeous smile that the older man couldn't help but return.
"Thanks, but I'm just passing through." His fingers tapped nervously against his thigh as he settled on to one of the empty stools at the counter.
The effort of making polite and almost sharp smalltalk tired Jason greatly, but Clark and Lana didn't seem to mind his bluntness nor his inability to rattle on. They just smiled and told him about their town and The Talon. Their voices flowed around him as he slowly put away the first solid meal he'd had in two days and sipped on a truly decadent drink.
He didn't even register the sound at first, but when he got up and looked out the window, the silver bus that had borne him into this peaceful town had gone. Breaths coming uneven and fast, Jason stared, fingers tightening until nails drew blood from his palms. What would he do now?
~ * ~ * ~
A few minutes or hours go by and he's still sitting in The Talon, drinking water now instead of coffee, trying to figure out what to do. He supposedSmallville was as good a place as any to stop, but after deciding that, he had no idea what to do. Where would he live? How would he make money? The money he'd taken would last him a while, but he should save. Just in case.
He looked up and saw Lana and a blond girl conversing at the counter, soft brown and shrewd blue gazes making him nervous. Maybe it was time to go. Before he could gather his journal and his bag, the tiny blond was standing in front of him. He blinked up at her almost stupidly before she asked, "Are you okay?"
A bitter laugh escaped him, almost hysterical and he bit his lip hard to stop it, the slight pain reeling him in. "I..." And what could he say? She studied him closely and seemed to come to some kind of conclusion even as he tried to figure out how to answer her question.
"Need help?" she asked him softly, a sincere kindness gentling her sharp regard.
"Yes. Please." The wishful tone of just two words shamed him even as she nodded.
~ * ~ * ~
Jason was tried not to show how jumpy he was, but he wasn't sure it worked. Mr Kent was very cautious around him while Mrs Kent felt the need to cook for him. A lot. He'd eaten more in the past three weeks than he had his entire life. Soon Jason was fascinated with how she made such wonderful, mouthwatering food. He'd taken to watching her in the kitchen, studying how she mixed and chopped and baked. The first time she touched him casually on the small of his back as she walked by, he jumped and practically yelped as he twisted the bruises still present on his torso in an effort to get away from the startling touch. Her eyes saddened as she slowly stepped back. From then on, she may have hovered some, but she didn't touch him unless he saw her moving. The warmth kindled in him from that small consideration settled somewhere inside that had always before been cold, and he treasured it.
Clark was another matter all together. He was a huge kid - a teenager who'd obviously hit his growth spurt early - but it didn't take long for Jason to get over that. The big green eyes were so amazingly open and innocent, his energy was almost puppy-like, that soon Jason was more relaxed around him and theKents than he'd been in years.
His work on the farm with Mr Kent - Jonathan - kept him tired and happy. He was used to work, and even though some of the lifting bothered his back, he ignored it. He was used to that pain, after all. The results of living with a kidney man. Some men liked legs or ass. Norman liked kidneys. The soft helpless sounds Jason made when he took a beating there.
One day, not long into his stay at the Kent farm, he saw Jonathan studying him with concern. He'd flinched under the gaze, even though the other man had been nothing but kind. And that flinch was observed and the older man frowned at the implications. Jason never talked about it and Jonathan never asked. But the elder Kent also didn't allow him to lift anything until ten days later. Something near to pride swelled inside him as he thought of the care and concern and respect he'd been given as each action by theKents spoke of their kindness and consideration. It made him almost believe he was worthy.
~ * ~ * ~
Jason was working in the barn, trying to change the oil on the tractor by himself so that Jonathan wouldn't have to when he heard footsteps. "Clark?" he called out, pulling the cloth out of his back pocket and wiping his hands as he straightened and turned. Freezing, he was caught by an intelligent blue gaze and could think of nothing else to say.
"Hi." There was a pause as the man obviously expected Jason to say something, but when he didn't, that smooth voice continued. "I'm Lex. I was looking for Clark?"
"Jason. And I'm not sure. Probably out helping his dad with the fencing." The smooth head nodded, eyes intense and the presence of the other man made him want to take a step back.
"Mind if I wait here?" Jason shook his head, letting his eyes drop away, unsure of how long he'd been staring. The prickle of awareness along his skin was unexpected but not unpleasant. He offered the couch in Clark's room up in the loft, but it was declined which somehow pleased him. The rest of the afternoon was kept in quiet company with occasional questions and answers, but otherwise just the sounds of Jason's work to keep them company.
~ * ~ * ~
That night after listening to Clark and Lex converse and bicker and laugh, Jason took a slow walk. He'd seen Lana in the cemetery sometimes, but he didn't like to disturb her. He always made sure to come later. Tonight, though, he had company. "Hello?" he managed, fist clenching in fear at the young man who hid behind his hair. "Can I -"
"No," came the almost sharp reply. "But could you give this to her?" A small note was left on the grave of Lana's mother. "I will repay you the kindness." Jason studied what he could see, and there was nothing there that appeared able to harm Lana.
"I can. But there's no need to repay," he answered quietly.
"No! I'll repay," the boy responded, looking up and Jason gasped, stepping back. If he'd thought Lex was intense, this boy was agonizingly so. It was perhaps amazing and frightening at the same time. Nodding, he watched the careful movements as the curious boy disappeared into the darkness. It was a simple enough thing to give the letter to Lana the next day. Sighing softly, Jason turned back toward the Kent farm. Time to find the ever elusive sleep.
From then on whenever he couldn't sleep or felt the fear boxing him in, Jason would head out to the cemetery and settle on the stone bench next to the most beautiful angel and watch the sky. It was pure freedom to do so. And every night he was there, Byron - as Jason learned his name - would ask his help in delivering some sort of message or gift, and seeing no harm in doing so, he'd oblige.
~ * ~ * ~
Chloe and Lana were chatting in a practically empty Talon as Lana closed up for the night. They both looked up when they heard the bell and a tall man stepped through just as the last customer scurried out. Broad in the shoulders and fit, the man studied the coffeehouse with a scrutiny that Chloe recognized all too well. He was a cop of some kind.
"I'm sorry, but we're closing," Lana told him, but the man paid her no attention, focusing his gaze on Chloe who shuddered at the emptiness she saw there. Backing up a step, she shook her head in denial of whatever he might want. "We're closing."
And Lana gasped as the man flipped the closed sign on the door and threw the deadbolt into place. She exchanged a worried look with Chloe even as she made a grab for her cellphone. They needed Clark.
"I was wondering if you ladies could help me..." As he talked, the man pasted a curdling smile under those cold eyes and they both backed up quickly, deciding it was time to make a run for it. Since their backs were turned, they never saw the predatory sneer that soon crossed that classically handsome face.
~ * ~ * ~
Jason couldn't sit still, and both Lex and Clark watched him, concerned. "Jason?" Lex finally called, his patience wearing thin. "What's wrong?"
"I'm not sure," he answered softly, looking over his shoulder and expecting to see Norman.
"I -" Clark's phone rang and he snagged it, flipping open the cell and listening intently. It only took a second for him to stand, anger and worry on his face as he told them both, "I need to go. I'll be back soon."
Jason blinked and he was gone. Shaking his head, he headed down the stairs out of the loft himself, almost forgetting about Lex who watched him thoughtfully. He found his way to the graveyard, hoping that the peacefulness of the spot would help him calm down. He always loved quiet spots surrounded by trees at night. Norman had forever been exasperated by his choice of thinking spots.
'Come here, sweetheart.'
Shaking his head, Jason tried to clear it. Norman wasn't here. He wasn't. And after such a length of time, he'd convinced himself that maybe he wouldn't come. Of course, he knew the truth. Once Norman claimed you as property, you were his. Until death.
Sighing heavily, he settled on his favorite bench and looked up at the full moon, basking in the silver light. He loved this existence he'd managed to carve out for himself. No one to answer to and he even had a few friends and acquaintances. It was luxurious after having spent so many years without either of those things. And Jason still couldn't stop the worry, the itch between hisshoulder blades.
When the chill of the night hadsoaked through all his layers, Jason stood and headed back to the barn. He figured that he would just sleep there instead of waking up the Kents with his entrance into the house so late. Arriving back at the loft, he was surprised to see Lex stretched out on the couch himself, eyes closed. Pausing at the top of the stairs, he tried to decide what to do when he heard the other man ask, "Join me?"
Startled, Jason stared, uncertain of what the other man was asking. When one pale hand reached out, slender fingers waiting for his acceptance, he slowly shuffled across the floor, staring at that hand like it was going to spawn. He'd known Lex for several months now, but his heart still pounded with no little fear and something else that he refused to categorize as he slowly reached out. He blinked and he was settled on his side, drawn close on the couch, ear pressed against a slender chest. Slowly, Jason relaxed into the other man's heat and allowed his eyes to flutter shut with weariness.
~ * ~ * ~
He woke near dawn when Clark cautiously called his name, a strange look on his face as he studied the picture that Jason and Lex made on the couch. "What do you need, Clark?" Lex asked wryly and Jason could hear the smirk that was undoubtedly on his face.
"The girls were attacked last night," the boy stated flatly. "They're okay, but they thought that I should -"
"Warn him?" came a new voice. Jason froze, body trembling with the effort not to flee or scream or cry at hearing his nightmare behind him.
"Norman," Jason breathed, pulling away from Lex and sitting up to see the murderous gleam in his - in Norman's eyes. "Why are you here?"
"Collecting what's mine," he replied harshly, reaching out and grabbing roughly at the back of the younger man's neck. "You're coming home."
"Wait a minute -" Lex interrupted, standing to follow, to stop. Jason turned pleading eyes on them both, flinching at the pain of fingers digging in, eyes widening in fear as the click of a gun's safety echoed loudly in the suddenly too quiet barn.
"Don't," he murmured as he saw both of his new friends coil to make their move. "I'm not worth it." And Jason let the hurt and fear and anger in Lex's eyes roll over him as Norman dragged him out in front of the barn where the sun had begun to crawl its way forth.
"You have no idea the trouble it took to find you, sweetheart." Norman didn't sound angry, his pleasant tone grating along Jason's side, causing him to cringe. "We'll have to discuss your...vacation soon."
"Norman, please," Jason gasped as a fist connected with his kidneys. He'd almost forgotten how the pain exploded up his back when a fist connected to that sweet spot. And Norman could always find it.
"Please?" came the breathy reply as his tormentor's breath quickened with the next punch and Jason closed his eyes to shut out the pure joy and shattering desire in that gaze.
"Please." Jason tried to pull back, figuring that anything was better than letting Norman get him to the car. He heard Clark and Lex behind them trying to figure out how to help, and he prayed that they would - that they wouldn't...
There was a rush of early morning air and abruptly he fell to the ground with no one dragging him along. Looking up, he saw someone, a shape that he couldn't quite make out. A person in dark clothing and glowing eyes. A sharp crack that seemed too loud and a startled cry and then nothing. Jason stared, mesmerized by the sight. Norman sliding out of the stranger's hands and onto the ground, Clark somehow on the ground behind them. But those eyes.
"We repaid." A small, wounded sound escaped his throat and he blinked and there was darkness.
~ * ~ * ~
He awoke to the familiar beep of a heart monitor and sighed wondering how long he'd be in the hospital. Norman didn't like it when he wasn't at home. That thought paused and ground to a halt as he remembered seeing the blood and Norman on the ground. He must have made a sound because Martha Kent swam into view and she smiled softly down at him. "You're just fine, Jason. Rest."
He blinked and nodded, stopping when everything spun about like a carnival ride. When he could focus again, he saw Lex standing uncertainly at the end of his bed. It was the first time he'd ever seen the other man look so unsure of his place. Wanting to ease that insecurity at least as much as he was allowed, Jason felt his lips quirk and he couldn't see his own expression but whatever Lex saw pushed all the jittery tension from his shoulders. Feeling the weight of his lashes, Jason murmured his thanks and let them drop.
~ * ~ * ~
When he was released from the hospital, he was surprised to find Lex waiting for him at the doors in one of his limos. Jason startled at the gentleness of the smile and soft hands as he was guided into the car. The ride back to the Kents was filled with a wonderful silence that wrapped itself around him and he sighed. He blamed it on weariness when his body slid along expensive leather and leaned against the offered warmth. As his eyes fluttered shut, he could almost tell himself that wasn't a brush of lips against skin.
But he found that he didn't want to lie like that, and a smiled played across his lips as the strings of fear and tension were slowly drawn forth and away.
Fin