Time to Start by miche_connor

[teot]

Title: Time to Start
Rating: PG-13
Cover: One
Word Count: 7,000+
Summary: Clark tries to make Lex do what he wants him to do.
Notes: Feedback is almost as sweet as pie, and twice as welcome.
Disclaimer: Not my characters, because if they were we'd have something to watch. Dedicated to everyone, past and present, who adore these characters as much as I do. Especially for ANON, ANON, ANON, ANON and ANON, for inspiration and hugs and so many other good things.



Time to Start
by miche_connor

There are only two mistakes one can make along the road to truth; not going all the way, and not starting.

Buddha (563 BC - 483 BC)

The thick wavy glass that formed the window in the door of the coach made the rolling green hills ripple like thickened water as it moved sedately over the winding road that led up a rather steep cliff side, cutting back and forth in angled switchbacks to the dark gray pile of stones called Brinkburn Abbey. Not home, precisely, but familiar for all that.

Lex Luthor, Viscount Deveril, reclined into the richly plush squabs behind his head and sighed. Coming back to one’s birthplace should give one a warm feeling. Shouldn’t it? His eyes drifted toward the slowly passing farmlands that checkered the horizon, and focused on the tiny dwellings that looked like nothing so much as that old wooden Troy diorama that he’d played with as a child. A faint ache pulsed in his chest and faded to numbness as his coach made another gentle turn and passed through the gates and onto the drive that led right to the Abbey’s front doors.

He hoped, faintly, that Lucas was not at home. It would all be very much easier if he were not. A pretty conceit, he admitted quietly to himself. When had his luck ever been anything other than what it was? So, of course Lucas will be there. Lex took a deep breath, gritted his teeth, and set about to prepare himself for what was shortly to come.

Dust motes fell through the air, wafting slowly on tiny breezes that gusted through the windows of the gazebo that was nestled amidst vibrant green lawns and hedges that isolated it from immediate view from the manor house some distance away. Inside, a young woman’s voice rang out proudly as she read from a book held in her hand.

"Here we are, wife; did'st thou think thou'd lost us?" quoth hearty-voiced Wilson, as the two women rose and shook themselves in preparation for their homeward walk. Mrs Barton was evidently soothed, if not cheered, by the unburdening of her fears and thoughts . . ." Chloe Sullivan broke off and frowned at one Clark Kent who was perched on the edge of an ornate chair quite carefully and just grinned at her hugely. "What?"

She sounded cranky, Clark thought. "What do you mean, what?" He tried to tone down the amperage of his smile but found it quite difficult.

"Ooh! I am going to--" She frowned, and her eyes darkened.

Clark’s grin grew wider, and he ducked just in time to get the book thrown at his shoulder and not his head. "Hey, I didn’t say anything!"

"You don’t have to, you clod. How am I going to become a famously wealthy actress if I don’t practice my lines!"

"I think you should practice better lines."

"What?!"

"That’s what I said. Now you’re in a rut."

"I am not! Oh, you are impossible-return my book." Imperious hand held out, waiting.

Clark looked at the leather covered volume and smoothed a hand over it as he picked it up from the hay-covered floor. "I don’t think I should."

"Don’t make me hurt you."

"You couldn’t."

"Yes, I could. I know just where your weaknesses are, Clark Kent." She darted forward, hands stretched out before her, fingers spread wide like claws.

"Oh no!" Clark stood and braced himself for the impact of her slight form against his and lifted the slim volume of prose above his head. His eyes glinted apple-green with mirth as she thudded ineffectually against him and tried to jump upward to grab the book.

"Will-you-just-give it to me!" The petite blonde fumed up at him.

"Mmm," Clark hummed thoughtfully for a long moment, then looked down into her furious elfin face and grinned quite evilly. "No."

"OOH!" She whirled away from him, falling onto a wrought iron bench that was padded and covered in worn grey velvet and glared. "Fine then. I won’t tell you what I heard from father." It took just a moment before her expression slipped from anger to something else entirely as she sniffed unhappily and stared at the pale ovals of her fingernails.

"Father? What could he have told you-" Clark stopped mid-sentence and regarded her. This was something altogether different than teasing about a book of prose and an outrageous dream. "What do you mean?"

"Clark, give me the book, and I’ll tell you."

He passed her the book wordlessly, staring into her face.

"He’s made arrangements. For you." Her lashes were wet as she looked at him.
Clark frowned. "Arrangements? Can you be a little more verbose?"

"To marry, Clark."

"What?!"

"I know. But he said something about contracts and what your parents wanted." Her voice was a thready whisper.

"Chloe, I don’t want to marry anyone! I’m only eighteen. How can he even think-Who-" Clark sounded aghast. "I wanted to go to Eton or Cambridge. Study-" He ran thick fingers through his hair and just stared at her , the silver-metal ring with its accompanying gold stone flashed brightly in the light from the fading afternoon sun as he returned his hands to his lap.

"It’s not what I want, Clark. Not at all." Her heart was in her eyes and he knew it. "It’s what your father had written in his will. You know my father will not gainsay that document."

"One can’t fight the dead, can one?" Clark twisted the ring on his finger and sighed. "They’ve made their pronouncement and all we can do is wait for it to happen."

"Why do you think I wanted to practice my lines?" Chloe laughed just a little, and dashed the tears from her eyes. "Maybe if I make myself so unworthy, and-and-low, He will cry off."

Clark shook his head slowly from side to side. "He can’t do that. I would not do that and I am not the one getting married."

"But you are. To Cousin Lois. And ‘tis all arranged and will happen in a fortnight." She looked at him unhappily, her face turning red with embarrassment. "It’s the money in your trust. To keep it in the family. The General insisted."

"Of course. The money. And you’ve been promised to Lord Deveril." Clark stared at his father’s ring where it glinted a rare and yellow promise on his hand. "I wish I could just do something and change things, Chloe."

She nodded at him slowly. "I know. I do too."

They stared at one another and then sighed, deeply.

Clark knew he had to think of something to save them both. He sat up after a moment and stared thoughtfully out the windows at the deeply verdant greenery. "I think-I think I have an idea." He glanced back at the blonde waif looking at him so hopefully. "But it’s going to take a little time."

Pearson opened the wide wooden door to the Abbey just as he reached the top step of the stairs. "My lord. Welcome," he said quietly as stepped back to allow Lex to enter. "My lord is very weak sir. Not likely to live much longer, the physicians say.
"
Lex nodded, just once. "Lucas here?"

"Lord Lucas arrived yesterday. He has not. . . yet . . . been received by his lordship."

Lex snorted softly, looking at the butler with some amusement. Some things change. And some things definitely do not. "Take me to my bedchamber, Pearson. I’ve to change before I see my father."

The butler bowed, and with a subtle nod toward a footman to gather Lex’s bags, led the way personally across the hall, up the oak stairway and through the Long Gallery. One side of the hall held portraits of long dead ancestors interspersed with doors and the other tall mullioned windows that overlooked the cliff side and long drop-off to the farmlands stretching below. Pearson bowed, opening the door to the room and bowed Lex inward, following just behind. The footman placed the portmanteau and cloak bag on the floor and left, silent as he’d entered.

"Send my man to me, Pearson, if you please? And inform his lordship that I am here."

"Of course sir." Pearson bowed again and withdrew, closing the door behind him.

Lex sighed and moved to look out the window. Richly timbered rolling hills met his impassive gaze once he looked past the formal gardens directly below. He didn’t stir when Knotts entered, bearing a pair of candelabra, and placed on a low round table and the dressing table. The valet was followed almost immediately by a pair of footmen carrying pails of hot water for the hip-bath hidden in the corner which they quickly filled.

The candle’s light darkened the prospect outside and Lex turned away, pulling at his cravat and coat absently, though it took the help of his valet to remove completely. "I’ve no time for a soak, but it will feel good to get warm for a little while," he said quietly. "Put out my evening clothes, Knotts. Dinner will be shortly, and my father before."

Knotts unpacked Lex’s luggage, laying out a coat of indigo-colored superfine and a pair of buff-colored breeches. A Florentine waistcoat, silver threads over grey silk lay next to a fine cotton shirt and another cravat.

Lex sighed again as the heat from the water soothed his knotted muscles, but he bathed quickly and slipped out of the wooden tub a bare ten minutes after entering it. Another ten, and he was dressed. "I’ll not wear a wig tonight, Knotts. My father’s seen my bare head; my brother too." He smoothed a lean hand over his scalp and smiled disarmingly for just a moment at the other man before leaving the bedchamber and walking down the Long Gallery with its canvassed faces staring at him and to the Great Chamber at the end. He entered unannounced.

The room was paneled in oak and hung with scarlet tapestries and curtains. A fire in the huge fireplace leant warmth to the room and what might have been fifty candelabra scattered lit the room brilliantly. At the far end, a vast four poster sat on a low dias, set amidst plumped pillows of carmine and crimson, Lionel Luthor, Earl of Northumberland lay beneath a fiery comforter, clutching a snuffbox and handkerchief in his left hand. His hair, wild and curled, lay in a mane about his head on the pillow and his eyes, hard as onyx and just as black flashed as he caught sight of his oldest son.

"Your death-bed, father?" sarcasm laced his words as Lex bowed slowly and insolently over the claw that was his father’s hand as it was held out to him. A great red carbuncle of a ruby sparkled on the thin clenched fingers and Lex pressed his lips to it briefly before stepping back a pace.

Lionel’s lips twitched, and a glimmer of amusement sparkled momentarily in his eyes at the abundant magnificence of the room. "My death-bed, indeed." He shifted just slightly. "Soon to be your bed. Son."

Lex clenched his jaw, and tried to keep his countenance as smooth as milk pudding. "My bed? Or my death?" he returned quietly.

"Pointless sparring," Lionel said with a gasp, paling with pain suddenly. "No time for it. And no time for you. Time for you to stop being a park-saunterer and layabout."

"Time? Isn’t that all we have, father? Well. I do, perhaps." Lex’s lips curved upward in a tiny smile that might not have been a smile at all. "I have all the time I need."

Lionel flushed, his face hectic with color. "You dare-" he coughed violently, a fit that lasted moments and left him weak, nearly unable to catch his breath.

"I dare, father. I dare everything." Lex bowed again. "That’s what you’ve taught me. What? Did you expect I would not learn from your guidance?"

"You-" The words are gasped, labored. "You will marry the chit. Marry. And I’ll have it done before I put a period to this. . . existence."

"No." Lex hissed.

"You will."

"No-"

"You will, or your brother will have it all, Lex." Lionel’s voice dropped in tone. "And he’d leave everything burning and in ruins. That’s not what you want. I know you, son, perhaps better than you know yourself. And, much as you’d care to deny it, you are my son. You will hold that which is yours until it is pried from your grasp."
Lex gritted his teeth and said nothing.

"She’ll be here soon. Told Pembroke to bring her here. Tomorrow." Lionel’s clawed hands reached for a box at the side of the bed and tapped it once. "It’s all arranged. And nothing-" a wicked smile split his craggy face. "Nothing you can do will prevent it."

Lex said nothing as he turned on his heel and left to the sound of his father’s dry, rasping laugh.

Dinner was as expected. Excellent food. Fine drink. Formal setting, with crystal and exquisite china. Candlelight made all seem cheery and warm. And a very drunk brother.

"Lex, Lex, Lex." Lucas, taller, broader, more heavily muscled, sprawled in the chair at the opposite end of the table. His cravat was off, his brown hair a wild tangle and he dragged his fork through the sauce of the delicately prepared lobster. "It’s been far too long, brother."

The disparity between the two brothers was nearly extreme. Lex was a good-looking young man, though not handsome in his father and brother’s overtly flamboyant style. He was thin, and had a sensitive countenance that was rendered charming by his smile which was of particular sweetness. His eyes were of a grey-blue with flashes of amber near his pupils, and his skin was the envy of many a woman since it was milk-pale and gleamed faintly in any light. He was of average height, well built, though lacking his brother’s (and his father’s once) magnificent physique. If not for the immediate sense coiled tension in his lithe frame, he might be thought delicate. "Too long indeed Lucas. You seem to be-rusticating in the extreme."

"Well, you know how it is. The old man has all the money, and I’ve none. I can’t believe it. He’s really dying, is he?" Lucas rolled his head against the padded back of the chair. "A world without Lionel in it. It seems altogether ridiculous."
"It is, Lucas. Very odd indeed." Lex ate sparingly for a few moments before pushing his plate away.

"Well, I don’t know why I am here. He won’t see me." Lucas pouted, tossing his head and hair defiantly.

"You’re drunk. Of course he won’t see you." Lex took a precise sip of the rich burgundy and lifted his chin. "Not that you want to see him. Do you?"

Lucas laughed aloud, grinning in that way that so precisely like their father’s. "Lex. Give me money, and I’ll take myself out of your way."

"I’d rather purchase you a pair of colors in the cavalry."

Lucas looked up at that, his eyes keen despite the drink. "You would, would you? Have me off to fight old Boney and leave you the lot?"

"No." Lex nodded at the footman who hovered at his elbow and rose when the man pulled back his chair. "I’d see you find yourself. And you always were horse-mad." He turned to leave the room, his brother’s thoughtful silence loud between them.

The carriage ride was mostly uneventful. Clark accompanied Chloe as he always had, and would; brothers do that for their sisters, even if they were not truly siblings. He could hear the low rumble of the wheels on the road, and the syncopated beat of the horses and the postilions. Chloe’s maid, Anne, sat comfortably in the corner with her workbasket at her side and watched them both absently as she set stitches into a delicate swatch of muslin.

"Clark." Chloe’s voice sounded higher than normal, and he looked at her instantly. "You-you really do have a plan to get us out of this?"

"Yes." His eyes were large and so round with earnest truth that she took a deep breath and swallowed the tears that threatened. "Though, I wish father could have come with us. I know that would have helped you not feel quite so vulnerable."

"He can’t travel with gout. It’s too painful. I know that. I’m just glad you’re here. And I am glad you are here. I always feel safer with you." Her dark green eyes twinkled. "Even when Annabelle decided she wanted to follow you everywhere."

"Oh don’t remind me." Clark groaned as he rolled his head backward and stared at the wooden roof of the coach.

Chloe giggled. "I think it was just that she knew how much you appreciated her. . . products."

"I haven’t had milk since then!"

"And I think that was very ungentlemanly of you, as well. To turn a lady down-even if she has four hooves and likes to eat clover-Well. Clark. That is really too bad of you."

He tossed one of the pillows on the seat at her, turning away to hide his smile at her laughter.

"My lord." The butler hovered briefly at the doorway, standing very stiffly at attention.

"Yes, Pearson?" Lex moved to the other side of the billiards table and prepared his shot.

"My lord. She’s here."

Lex stilled immediately and looked up at the Pearson. "She’s here."

"Yes, sir. I’ve shown her to the yellow room." Pearson cleared his throat. "Her brother is with her sir."

"And you showed him to the yellow room, too?" Amusement glinted in Lex’s eyes; it was rare that he could tease Pearson about anything, but when the opportunity arose, he invariably took it.

"I showed him to the green room sir." Pearson returned quietly, his even voice betraying not a hint of awareness at Lex’s tone. "It is, however, next to the yellow room."

"Of course, Pearson." They shared a quiet twinkle that faded as Lex turned back to the table. "And my father?"

"He’s-resting. I thought it best to wait a little, since he’s not been able to-"
Lex interrupted. "And Lucas?"

"Riding sir. Earlier today; I expect he’ll return for supper."

"If he won’t, his horse will." Lex’s voice was dry as the desert.

"Exactly, sir."

"Thank you, Pearson."

The butler bowed and left, and Lex regarded the scattered balls on the baize green table once more before moving again to take up the position he had earlier abandoned.

Chloe sat in the window seat of her room-the yellow room-and watched as Anne quietly fussed with her clothes as she put them away. "Come, miss. You’ve got to change. Supper will be in a few hours." She laid out a rich cream satin gown on the dressing table, and placed a comb, brush and mirror beside it. "Come."

Chloe stood reluctantly and moved toward her maid, her steps dragging just a bit. "I really don’t want to do this, Anne. I don’t even know this man-and I don’t understand how my father could just decree this. He’s never done anything like this before."

"It’s not for me to question your father; nor you, neither. He knows what’s best. Turn about." Chloe obediently presented her laces for untying.

"It’s just-" Chloe turned and looked at the older woman. "I know it’s foolish but I wanted a marriage like the one my parents had, before mother passed. Is that so very wrong?"

Anne pressed her lips together and tugged on Chloe’s laces a bit more. "No, miss. But you know your parents had their union arranged just as yours has been. Who’s to say it won’t turn as you wish? You’ll just have to work at it. That’s all. Now shush, and let me get you ready. I know you’ll be presented sooner than you like to the lord you’re going to marry and the one that’s arranged it. Best you look your best."

Chloe turned about again and sighed. Maybe it was best to be prepared for the worst. Still. Clark said he’d a plan. She could at least hope for that.

Clark looked at the room he’d been placed in and blinked. Green. And not a pleasant grassy green, but bilious bright puce. And dark paneling. He shuddered and waved away the offer of a bath or the services of a footman for getting dressed and chose instead to slip out of his coat and then splash some water into a bowl and wipe his face with the damp end of a towel.

A short knock sounded at the door.

"A moment," Clark said, tossing the hand towel to the side of the white ceramic bowl before he crossed the floor to open the door. "Yes-Oh!" Surprise made him dumb for a moment.

Tall, lean, and muscular, Lucas lounged against the side of the door. He looked Clark over thoroughly before speaking. "Evening," he said slowly.

"Um-well. Yes. I guess it is." Clark swallowed a bit, feeling rather uncomfortable in just his shirtsleeves. He dropped the door handle and pulled back into the room to sntatch up his coat and wear it again.

"Mind if I come in?" Lucas asked as he entered the room.

"I suppose it’s too late for me to mind, considering that you’re already in here," Clark muttered tartly as he shrugged into his shirt. He looked over his shoulder as he adjusted his cravat, trying to fluff its sadly flat folds. "You’re-Lord Deveril?"

Lucas laughed aloud at that as he circled close. The smell of brandy was thick upon him. "No. I’m the other one. You’re mangling that," he observed closely as he lifted his fingers and almost delicately nestled them in the lace at Clark’s throat. "Let me-Ah!"

"The other-OH. The brother." Clark flushed, and it seemed his heart pulsed in his chest like he’d run fifty miles. Inanity. He dropped his hands to Lucas’ for the moment and stared at him. "What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be-well. Elsewhere?" He didn’t have to add, Alongside the road, perhaps?

"No. I’ve no previous engagements, no hostesses threatening suicide if I am not there." Lucas circled again. "I wanted to see just who was here. Who would rate an audience with my beloved father when I can’t greet him good morning.
Evening. Whatever." He flipped his wrist and reached for the pin to hold the folds in place. Stabbed it through the cloth in one motion.

Clark swallowed and stepped back immediately. "That’s nothing I have control over. I think you’d better leave."

"Yes. I suppose I’d better had." Lucas bowed slightly and backed toward the door, pausing when his eye caught sight of Clark’s father’s ring on his finger. "Pretty sparkler," He said absently, idle greed flashing in his gaze.

"It’s just an old ring. My father’s."

"Indeed, it is. Evening." Lucas bowed again and closed the door behind him.
Clark looked at the ring and frowned at it for a long moment before looking at the door that the other man had closed, and firmed his mouth. The bell pull was beside the bed; he jerked it twice and waited for someone to come to his summons.

"Mister Clark Kent, milord." Pearson bowed and closed the door behind him as he left.

Lex turned from the fireplace; the shot of liquor in his hand gleamed in the light from the flames. "Mister Kent." He gestured at the cut crystal decanter on the cupboard nearby. "Join me?"

"No, thank you. I-I really don’t care for it." Clark stood awkwardly for a moment, then took a few steps toward Lex. "I wanted to ask you something. Something-you-" He took a deep breath, and stared at his feet briefly.

Lex allowed young man a moment to gather himself as he drained his glass and placed it on the side table. "I’m assuming you want something."

"No!" The word flew from Clark’s mouth explosively. He reddened a little more. "I mean, not for myself. For my sister." He took another half-step toward Lex. "I want you to send her back. She’s too young. She’s not ready, and she doesn’t want this."

"Want this?" Lex blinked a little, his eyes hardening with fury. "Want what? My name, my title? My attention, my lands, or. . ." he paused. "Is it that those are things you want from her?"

"What? I-No! She’s my sister. That’s-wrong!"

"Is it? Then-is it this?" Lex strode forward with sinister grace and smoothed a hand across his scalp.

Clark blinked and really looked at the man who stood so close to him, and breathed deeply. Spice, brandy and something else indefinable struck his senses, made him gulp. "N-no," he said quietly. "Not that, either." Relief deepened his voice. "You’re not at all like your brother, are you?
"
"Ah. You met Lucas. No wonder." Lex lifted his chin and Clark was subjected to another dose of Luthor scrutiny. "I can see why he sought you out. Take my advice, and ignore him. I do."

"I can’t ignore him! Or you. I want you to allow my sister to return to her home."
"That’s not possible."

"Of course it is! You don’t need her-Look. I know her cousin’s quite attractive. And she’s older." Clark felt his face go dark yet again with guilt and something else that he would not call relief. Not yet. "She’d do you a better service as a, a wife."

"She would."

Clark frowned. He could tell Lex was smiling even though there was no change in his expression. "She’s bold, forthright, strong!" He wracked his mind for more appealing adjectives for Lois. "She’s never at a loss for words-" Or an insult, "And she is an amazing. . .organizer."

"And you wouldn’t want this paragon for yourself, Clark? Do you mind if I call you Clark? We’re so very nearly brothers."

"I, no. I mean, No. Go ahead. It is my given name, after all." Clark looked at Lex wide-eyed and gnawed on his lower lip anxiously.

"Good. You can call me Lex. I have this sense that we are going to know one another very well. Almost a feeling of. . . fate." The bald man moved to stand very near Clark. "I am afraid, however, that I cannot accept one cousin in lieu of another. Chloe will simply have to accept me."

Lex smiled sympathetically as he watched Clark’s face pale and squeezed his arm. "I can promise you I will treat her gently."

"She’s not-I won’t let-Please!" Clark reached for Lex, willing him to understand as he grasped Lex by the upper arms.

"It’s already been decided. And the special license is waiting." Lex looked at the large square hands holding him, and then back at their owner. The pleasant mask he had stretched on his face slipped as he twisted himself loose. "And so is my father."

Clark paled as he insisted, "You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to let your father make this decision."

Lex bowed slightly and walked away. "There is no other choice."

"Yes. There is, Lex. You could tell your father to go to the devil!"

Lex stood at the door, hand on the door knob. His expression was wry. "Clark. My father is the devil."

Clark burst into Chloe’s room, the door nearly flying off its hinges. "Well, it didn’t work!"

Chloe jumped backward at the sound. "What?! Oh, lord, Clark. You scared me!" she scolded.

"We’ve no time, Chloe. We’re going. We have to leave right now." He dashed over to her portmanteau and threw what things he could quickly pack into it.
"No, Clark. Wait. Tell me what you mean!"

"I thought I could reason with him. Convince him that it was all wrong-but he’s going to go through with this and soon." Clark looked at her sadly. "I am sorry. He’s got a special license."

She paled. "I didn’t think he’d-"

"Neither do I, but there’s nothing for it. We’re just going to have to run." Clark pushed the clasp closed on the small piece of luggage and held out his hand. "C’mon. I remember the way down to the stables. We’ll grab one of our horses and. . ."

Chloe nodded. "Let’s do it then."

They had luck on their side as they slipped out the door and down the hall. "Wait. I have an idea," Chloe whispered.

"What?"

" This is too dangerous! We’re going to get caught. Let’s go out the window from the bedroom!"

"But it’s a twenty-foot drop!"

Chloe stared at him. "Sheets, stupid!"

"OH!"

Both turned and disappeared back the way they came, and only Chloe’s maid Anne found them as they were about to make their way out the window on sheets torn and knotted together.

"MISS!"

"Anne!" Chloe looked at Clark and poked him. "We can’t leave her here!"
Clark groaned. "Chloe! We can’t take her with us! She’s-we’re going with one horse, remember?"

"But we can’t - what if they torture her!"

"They’re not going to do that. Just go!"

"Anne, I am sorry, but I have to go. I can’t marry Lord Deveril." She nodded at the brush, comb and mirror set on the vanity. "Take my things, Anne, and go! Run away. Sell them!"

"Miss, don’t do this!"

"I have to, Anne. You were a good friend to me. Good-eeek. Clark, you great gaby! Stop it!"

Clark pushed her out the window, his face creased with a frown. "I am trying to rescue you, so SHUT UP."

". . ."

"Anne. Please wait a little while before you tell them we’ve left. Please."

"I don’t know that I should! This is not right, young man!"

"Maybe. But it’s what my sister needs, and that is what will happen, if I can make it happen." He slipped out the window, following Chloe down the sheet-rope and into the darkness.

Anne looked at the fine items left behind in and on the bureau for fifteen long minutes before walking over to pull the bell-rope herself. "Some things are wrong, and some are right. And I’ll do what’s right."

Clark and Chloe rushed around the long side of the Abbey and ran for the stables. Once there, it was a relatively simple matter to lift Chloe onto a horse after saddling it and throw himself behind her; soon the Abbey and its inhabitants disappeared as they made their way down the steep twisting road the led toward London. Chloe was beaming at Clark, chattering at him with her plans for success, fame, and fortune.

"Once we get to London, we can do anything! We should head to Drury Lane and the theaters there, because one look at the pair of us and they’ll be goggling to have us in their troupes, and from there, well! A hop to all of our other dreams, and they’ll come true, too."

"Other dreams, Chloe?"

"Oh yes. I have this feeling, Clark. One I’ve always had-that we’ll find what we hope for most on the stage."

"And-" Clark paused a moment. Something echoed at the back of his throat. "Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Chloe’s voice was a whispery thread. "Oh goodness. What is it?"
"I don’t know. But it feels like a sound that’s a taste in my throat. I’m going to get down-Oh, it’s a mill. Look!"

Water thundered over the dam beside a mill.

"I see it. There’s a bridge there, too. Let’s go!" Chloe kicked the horse with her heels before Clark could say otherwise and it was no surprise to him that instead of going over the rather rickety looking bridge, the horse balked and sent them both into the deep rushing water.

"C’mon. . .C’mon!" The voice was rough, grating. "Don’t die on me." Lips softer than silk pressed to his, and Clark could feel the faint trickle of air enter his lungs. It hurt. It was a harsh pressure on his chest, an aching pain that just made him want to choke. He coughed, spewing water forth as he was turned onto his side.
"Chlo-"

Lex’s bare head gleamed in the moonlight. "Shh. Don’t talk. Just breathe."

Clark shook his head and forced himself into an upright position, looking at the loamy riverbank. "Oh god, Chloe-" he started coughing uncontrollably.

"Or don’t, and you’ll pass out again."

"But my sister-"

"Is fine, if a little dampened. Come on, get up. The mill house is warmer than this and your sister’s inside."

Clark nodded slowly as he rose to his feet. "Had-to-try," he said roughly, in between coughing spasms.

"Yes, I expect you did. And with that out of the way we can simply let things proceed as they ought."

"Lex." Clark stopped just outside the mill house door. "Let her go. Please."
"I can’t, Clark. I’ll lose everything if I do."

Clark shook his head stubbornly and tightened his arm about the slighter man’s shoulders. "No, you won’t."

"You have no idea how my father’s entailed his will. I have to marry Miss Sullivan." Lex regarded Clark intently. "Or it will all go to my brother. I can’t let him have it, and then destroy it all."

"Title will go to you, regardless," Clark pointed out reasonably.

"And it’s worth exactly nothing without the abbey and lands that go with it."

"You-can have my money. I have a very great deal of it, just sitting in a vast pile."

Lex blinked, and shook his head. "No, no. That’s not possible." He frowned and pressed his hands over Clark’s skull. "I think that time under the water has affected you more seriously than you think." He opened the door and pushed Clark inside.

A fire burned in the tiny hearth and the small one room dwelling was very nearly cozy with heat. All three were dried and all three were speaking intensely.

"Wait, let me understand this. Clark, you’re saying that you’re not. . . What?"

"Not from around here at all. See?" Clark pulled off the silver-metal ring with its strange gold crystal and tossed it to Chloe. He gasped and the other two gasped in response as brilliant lines of golden light coursed over his body briefly and faded.

"I forgot-how good this feels," Clark said after a moment. "Like I’ve been given a huge shot of energy."

Lex nodded, his expression intent. "Go on."

Clark could see the analytical gears turning in Lex's eyes. He had to Let Chloe go, now. Of course he would, because Clark meant to give him every reason to allow that to happen.

"My parents-my people-we’re from another planet. It was dying. We came here because it was closest, and we didn’t have much time. In fact, it was destroyed just as we left. Pieces of it were dragged with us as we fell to earth."

"Meteors. So. You’re responsible for my. . . change." Anger laced Lex’s words.
"Well. Yes. But it wasn’t done deliberately, Lex. If we’d stayed. We would have perished."

"But you said your parents are no longer living?" Lex sighed.

"No."

"They-they got very ill. I remember that," Chloe put in hesitantly. "They just got very, very ill."

"They told me that it was because they had waited too long to leave," Clark added. "I am stronger than any man. Faster. I can leap huge distances. Start fires with a thought. Terrifying things to people. That’s why I have my ring." He held out his hand and Chloe tossed it back, and when he put it on, he sighed quietly, looking paler and somehow smaller with it on. "It makes me like everyone else when I wear it."

"A man from another planet." Lex stood abruptly and paced. "It makes my heart nearly burst with curiosity. I have so many questions."

"Lex. I meant what I said. You can have the wealth deeded to me after my parents died. I don’t want it. It’s just held in trust until I get married."

"Married."

Clark nodded once, his lips quirking just a little. "My parents never specified who I had to marry, unlike yours."

Lex laughed and just looked at the not-from-this-planet-type person. "Clark Kent. Are you proposing?"

"Well. Yes. Actually."

"We’ll never be able to live in England."

"Why not?"

"It’s against the law, for one. We’ll be hanged."

"Lex." Clark looked up through his lashes. "Who says anyone has to know?"

"Well." Lex turned the thought over in his mind. "It might work. But there's still the difficulty of actually getting someone to perform the ceremony."

"Well. We could have a Kryptonian marriage," Clark offered. It was probably the strangest thing he'd ever done, but it felt more right than any other thing he could think of doing.

Lex blinked at him slowly and made a rolling gesture with his hand.
"Oh. Well. We just have to go to the ship and pledge faith to one another. That's really all it is. And share a cup of water."

"Hey! What about me?" Chloe looked at the two men and crossed her arms.
"What about you?" Clark asked, blushing just a bit because he had forgotten about Chloe entirely for a few moments.

"Well, I want in on this. I mean-Not like that, you perverted man!" Chloe glared at Lex. "I mean, If you’re going to do this, I want to help. I could help!"

"Actually. You can. And I know just how we can get everything we all want." Lex looked smug. "But it will require that we go back to the Abbey."

"You’re going to marry Chloe." Clark sounded disgusted.

"Yes."

"But-"

"And after my father’s gone, we’ll have it annulled."

"Oh," Clark and Chloe said thoughtfully.

"And then-Clark-We can explore that other option."

"Oh!" Clark blushed. "But if you just get the marriage annulled, will you need-"

"No." Lex grinned. "But think of the fun we can have together if we do!"

"Do not think I am going to let you escape my grasp, Clark." Lex had leaned close to murmur the words into his ear. "You're mine now. I've saved your life."

Clark stared at Lex for a long moment and Lex returned the gaze. Something flared between them, something intimate and rich and it was something Clark really wanted to explore.

"So!" Chloe's bright voice sliced into the growing silence. "I want to know more about what fun things we're going to do!" She bounced on her toes as she looked from Clark to Lex and then back again.

All three smiled as Lex began detailing his ideas and only Clark’s faded slightly when an extremely drunk Lucas barged in on them to tell them to return to the Abbey immediately.

The physician met them at the door to the Great Chamber. "I fear you are too late. He’s very nearly passed from this world."

"Should we go in?" Chloe asked, looking at Lex for an answer though it was the doctor that replied.

"He’s not likely to even be aware that you’re there."

Lex seemed stricken to silence and Lucas held up the hallway wall.

"Chloe, maybe you and I should wait out here."

"No." Lex’s voice sounded firm.

"Come on. We’ll all go in. It’ll be better for him, I am sure."

"Well, if you are sure," Chloe said quietly. "Then I suppose we shall."

All four entered the huge room; it was still preposterously lit with far too many candles and the brilliant colors of the bed seemed far too garish for the solemnity displayed by those involved. Still. Lex drew Chloe with him, and both of them stood at the side of the bed.

Lionel Luthor seemed but a shell of a man, fading rapidly in the hours since Lex had seen him last. Lucas and Clark stood at the foot of the bed.

"Father." Lex said firmly. "Father!"

Lionel’s clouded eyes opened, looked blindly about the room. "S-son?"

"We’re here, father." Lex regarded his parent coolly.

"Good. All my plans are complete."

Lex smirked slightly and said nothing; Lucas simply stared at the bedridden figure with dismay. He’d not expected Lionel, always so vibrant, so alive, to be so very near death.

"You’ll run to my traces, Lex. I’ll hold them forever. Marry the chit, and you can do what you will. I’ve seen to it. Look in my journal, son. All of the information you’ll need is there."

"Information?" Clark asked quietly. "What-"

"Got all of them on my strings. All," Lionel laughed again, and it was weak, feeble. "And with the right tool, well. There are only thirty in line for the throne ahead of us."

Clark’s eyes rounded in surprise as he stared at Lex, who blinked twice and then shook his head negatively at Clark. "It’s a fine dream, father. A fine dream for a Luthor." But not his dream.

Lionel’s breath rasped past his lips once more and ceased.

"Oh, god," Chloe said softly, pressing her hand to her mouth.

"Hey Lex?" Lucas asked quietly, the fuzziness of drink passed from his countenance with his father’s death.

"Yes?"

"You were right. I want those colors. I want a cavalry regiment and. . ." Lucas gulped suddently. "I have to get out of here. Now."

"You’ll have them, Lucas. You’ll have them and more."

Lucas strode from the room, and it was as if a shadow had passed from his shoulders. He stood taller, straighter. Maybe he could still be what he wanted to be. Lex hoped so, as he slipped an arm about Chloe’s shoulder and laced his fingers through Clark’s.

It was time to start.

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