So many Nanos...
Then there was Camp Nano;
"Choix-Libre" Pt. 6: "Covet-Lethe"
Synopsis:
Part of novel-length WIP begun 2005 (the parts I'm entering thus start in the middle; 50,000 words cored out of what is already a 1,800 pg tale and growing):
Title: “Choix-Libre” aka “Freedom of Choice”
Fandom: Smallville
Category/Pairing: Slash = CLex (duh. Is there any other? Shut up, y'all! There so isn't!)
Rating: totes NC17. Like, not even playing here, people, this is smut that evolves into straight up hawtboipron. Also, trigger-warning: rape, child abuse, addiction/substance abuse, self-harm, crime. Not a vanilla Superman story.
Genre: AU. Plot-heavy w/ romance, m/m later.
Summary: One choice can sometimes lead to a cascade of others. What would have happened if Lex hadn’t taken his father’s coup at the Caves with just a tumbler of scotch and an “Oh, well”? What would have occurred if his reaction had shown Helen just how far he’d go to keep Clark in his life? What would Helen have done to keep her hands on his money, knowing what stood in her way, and what would Clark have done if Helen had gone too far to keep him out of Lex’s life so that she could maintain her hold on him? What would Lionel have done if Lex had gone too far too soon to keep his father out of the place containing all of his answers? What would have been different if, in the midst of all the pressures and the rage these choices induced, Clark had been hit with just a little more to deal with in that moment? Would he finally have rebelled? Would he have made a different choice? And how would Lex react, if given the opportunity to hear the truth, and Clark if given the opportunity to tell it, in a different time and place? Would he turn a much-needed mirror on Clark? And most importantly; what would have occurred if Clark had had someone on his side who had understood what he was going through during his summer as an exile, and what would be the far-reaching consequences of these choices? We all have choices; choices, and the freedom to choose…if we but dare to step outside the boundaries we’ve been given. And from those choices, lives can become…legendary.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Some people over at the CW and DC own them...much to our chagrin and occasional rage-filled sorrow. I seek not profit but JUSTICE FOR LEX!!!
Spoilers: C’mon. Entire series by now, y’all. Acknowledges canon to “Accelerate”, AU from “Calling” onward, though incorporates some canon events thereafter. Also cherry-picks wider DC continuum (sometimes instead of SV), abandoned SV plotlines such as the Thomas Wayne-Veritas storyline, and other influences. Even includes some Marvel characters later on (I know, blasphemy!), because I don’t play favorites, and I do what I want.
Excerpt:
Mom laid a gentle hand on his back, and he could hear Dad’s footsteps approaching the doorway, using their quietest stride before halting there to stand in silent support. “If this is anyone’s fault, Clark, it’s certainly not yours. You’ve been fighting for Lex from the first day you met him. Please…don’t beat yourself up about this.”
“I was late, Mom.” It was out before he could censor it. “I let myself get hung up with frigging Ian Randall and Eric Summers, and I was too late.” He closed his eyes for the first time since he could remember, hot tears prickling at the back of his lids, unable to stand their gasping intakes of breath, the feel of their concerned exchanges of glance, their eyes on his back, his face; an unspoken demand for an explanation and a narrative that no longer even f*cking mattered. “I fought and I fought and I thought I did everything I could to slow Lionel down, but it was like wading through tar to get back…and I got there just as they flipped the switch; and if I’d just gotten there a second sooner…” His hand clenched the headboard, so hard he felt the wood splinter beneath his fingers, compress; crack. “I couldn’t stop it,” he whispered.
“Oh, baby…” Her hand tightened on his shoulder. “If those boys were there fighting you then it’s not your fault that you…”
“You don’t understand.” And she couldn’t. She wasn’t inside his head.
Neither of them were. They could never understand what it was like to always be so scared that maybe this time he might be just a second too late. “With every rescue, I have nightmares after; sometimes for months. I see it, over and over again. What if I got there just a hair too late?” His eyes shot open, burned into her beloved, worried gaze. “What if that hatchet had landed, Mom?” he demanded. “Would you still have your fingers?” He rounded fiercely on his father, taken aback and frowning in the doorway. “What if the tractor landed when it fell on you!” It was almost accusing, and he shook his head grimly and jerked away from a face he couldn’t deal with right now, alive. Stared straight ahead at nothing but seeing it all again. “Lana, with that psychopath cop. Chloe, buried alive. So many strangers; but it doesn’t matter if they’re strangers. It doesn’t matter if I know them or not. Not if I’m just a little too late.”
He closed his eyes again, gorge rising at the thought of it; of the what-ifs that swamped him when he let them; at any moment when he let his guard down even just a little. “And Lex…” he whispered, and let it shatter him as it so often did, in restitution; the worst what-if of them all, now all-to-real in light of today’s debacle. “In that car. Under water. Me, too late. Pumping. Pumping. And getting nothing; till I crack his ribs, break every bone. Till I taste blood. And he…dies.” So bleak, and so real to him. “In my arms. So many times he could’ve…” Lex, with a gun to his head. Lex, with Hamilton railing at him. With Walden, all the power of the Caves trapped in his fist. Lex, with those tattooed idiots who’d robbed him. Lex, jumping out of a f*cking window with a ninja assassin aiming an automatic at him through ruined shards of stained glass. “Again and again, over and over; Lex.”
It was a broken whisper, barely audible even to him. “So many times I could have failed him.” He bit his lip, hard enough to draw blood, and felt the headboard break under his hand. “And this time…I did.”
His mom was murmuring to him, rubbing his back, and he could hear the helpless note in her voice, could feel her helpless glances at Dad. Was aware when Dad came over too and crouched beside-behind his chair to join in comforting him; sweet lies saying he hadn’t failed, that he’d done all he could. That Lex would surely be fine, that he was strong, he’d come back from this like he did everything.
But Lex was still, and cold, and pale in front of him, and he didn’t move.
And finally, Clark cried.
"Choix-Libre" Pt. 6: "Covet-Lethe"
Synopsis:
Part of novel-length WIP begun 2005 (the parts I'm entering thus start in the middle; 50,000 words cored out of what is already a 1,800 pg tale and growing):
Title: “Choix-Libre” aka “Freedom of Choice”
Fandom: Smallville
Category/Pairing: Slash = CLex (duh. Is there any other? Shut up, y'all! There so isn't!)
Rating: totes NC17. Like, not even playing here, people, this is smut that evolves into straight up hawtboipron. Also, trigger-warning: rape, child abuse, addiction/substance abuse, self-harm, crime. Not a vanilla Superman story.
Genre: AU. Plot-heavy w/ romance, m/m later.
Summary: One choice can sometimes lead to a cascade of others. What would have happened if Lex hadn’t taken his father’s coup at the Caves with just a tumbler of scotch and an “Oh, well”? What would have occurred if his reaction had shown Helen just how far he’d go to keep Clark in his life? What would Helen have done to keep her hands on his money, knowing what stood in her way, and what would Clark have done if Helen had gone too far to keep him out of Lex’s life so that she could maintain her hold on him? What would Lionel have done if Lex had gone too far too soon to keep his father out of the place containing all of his answers? What would have been different if, in the midst of all the pressures and the rage these choices induced, Clark had been hit with just a little more to deal with in that moment? Would he finally have rebelled? Would he have made a different choice? And how would Lex react, if given the opportunity to hear the truth, and Clark if given the opportunity to tell it, in a different time and place? Would he turn a much-needed mirror on Clark? And most importantly; what would have occurred if Clark had had someone on his side who had understood what he was going through during his summer as an exile, and what would be the far-reaching consequences of these choices? We all have choices; choices, and the freedom to choose…if we but dare to step outside the boundaries we’ve been given. And from those choices, lives can become…legendary.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Some people over at the CW and DC own them...much to our chagrin and occasional rage-filled sorrow. I seek not profit but JUSTICE FOR LEX!!!
Spoilers: C’mon. Entire series by now, y’all. Acknowledges canon to “Accelerate”, AU from “Calling” onward, though incorporates some canon events thereafter. Also cherry-picks wider DC continuum (sometimes instead of SV), abandoned SV plotlines such as the Thomas Wayne-Veritas storyline, and other influences. Even includes some Marvel characters later on (I know, blasphemy!), because I don’t play favorites, and I do what I want.
Excerpt:
Mom laid a gentle hand on his back, and he could hear Dad’s footsteps approaching the doorway, using their quietest stride before halting there to stand in silent support. “If this is anyone’s fault, Clark, it’s certainly not yours. You’ve been fighting for Lex from the first day you met him. Please…don’t beat yourself up about this.”
“I was late, Mom.” It was out before he could censor it. “I let myself get hung up with frigging Ian Randall and Eric Summers, and I was too late.” He closed his eyes for the first time since he could remember, hot tears prickling at the back of his lids, unable to stand their gasping intakes of breath, the feel of their concerned exchanges of glance, their eyes on his back, his face; an unspoken demand for an explanation and a narrative that no longer even f*cking mattered. “I fought and I fought and I thought I did everything I could to slow Lionel down, but it was like wading through tar to get back…and I got there just as they flipped the switch; and if I’d just gotten there a second sooner…” His hand clenched the headboard, so hard he felt the wood splinter beneath his fingers, compress; crack. “I couldn’t stop it,” he whispered.
“Oh, baby…” Her hand tightened on his shoulder. “If those boys were there fighting you then it’s not your fault that you…”
“You don’t understand.” And she couldn’t. She wasn’t inside his head.
Neither of them were. They could never understand what it was like to always be so scared that maybe this time he might be just a second too late. “With every rescue, I have nightmares after; sometimes for months. I see it, over and over again. What if I got there just a hair too late?” His eyes shot open, burned into her beloved, worried gaze. “What if that hatchet had landed, Mom?” he demanded. “Would you still have your fingers?” He rounded fiercely on his father, taken aback and frowning in the doorway. “What if the tractor landed when it fell on you!” It was almost accusing, and he shook his head grimly and jerked away from a face he couldn’t deal with right now, alive. Stared straight ahead at nothing but seeing it all again. “Lana, with that psychopath cop. Chloe, buried alive. So many strangers; but it doesn’t matter if they’re strangers. It doesn’t matter if I know them or not. Not if I’m just a little too late.”
He closed his eyes again, gorge rising at the thought of it; of the what-ifs that swamped him when he let them; at any moment when he let his guard down even just a little. “And Lex…” he whispered, and let it shatter him as it so often did, in restitution; the worst what-if of them all, now all-to-real in light of today’s debacle. “In that car. Under water. Me, too late. Pumping. Pumping. And getting nothing; till I crack his ribs, break every bone. Till I taste blood. And he…dies.” So bleak, and so real to him. “In my arms. So many times he could’ve…” Lex, with a gun to his head. Lex, with Hamilton railing at him. With Walden, all the power of the Caves trapped in his fist. Lex, with those tattooed idiots who’d robbed him. Lex, jumping out of a f*cking window with a ninja assassin aiming an automatic at him through ruined shards of stained glass. “Again and again, over and over; Lex.”
It was a broken whisper, barely audible even to him. “So many times I could have failed him.” He bit his lip, hard enough to draw blood, and felt the headboard break under his hand. “And this time…I did.”
His mom was murmuring to him, rubbing his back, and he could hear the helpless note in her voice, could feel her helpless glances at Dad. Was aware when Dad came over too and crouched beside-behind his chair to join in comforting him; sweet lies saying he hadn’t failed, that he’d done all he could. That Lex would surely be fine, that he was strong, he’d come back from this like he did everything.
But Lex was still, and cold, and pale in front of him, and he didn’t move.
And finally, Clark cried.