by Serafina
http://www.geocities.com/serafina_eclipse/main.htm
Title: Corner of the World 26: Memories
Author: Serafina
Disclaimer: I don't own them, and I don't pretend that I do.
Notes: Thanks to Fabrisse and Rachel for the beta job. Jessica, I lost your e-mail adderss and couldn't send this to you for a beta; sorry!
Also, this fic takes place immediately after Interlude II and is still dealing with issues raised in CoTW 25.
Summary: Clark continues to deal with his repressed memories, and Damien has had a really bad night.
Clark stirred, groaning softly as he woke. He really didn't want to wake up, but knew he had to. His father had asked him to be home by eleven today; it was an hour earlier than usual, but Clark knew that the rule was the same. If he wasn't home by the time his father specified, his week-ends with Lex would be taken away. Not wanting to lose that, he ordered himself to open his eyes.
They stayed shut.
Sighing, Clark decided to take a rest from waking up. After all, he, Chloe, and Lex had stayed awake until nearly three thirty, and he was tired.
His mind drifted back to last night.
Chloe had cried for about half an hour, explaining what had happened. After that, she'd refused to talk about it anymore.
"I'm sick of it," she had said, wiping the last of the tears away. "I mean, nothing is going to be solved by crying. Maybe she'll calm down and be willing to talk to me. Maybe she won't and I'll ... I'll .." Her voice caught again. Shaking her head, Chloe smiled and looked up at Clark. "Anyway. I think I'm probably talking to the wrong person about my sex life with Lana. I'm really sorry if I upset you, Clark."
Blinking, Clark could only shrug, trying to figure out what she meant. He had actually welcomed the distraction. The memories that had flooded him earlier that night had shaken him. Badly. So badly that he got that icky vulnerable naked feeling that he'd been getting lately. That feeling that he was stripped and helpless and open to anyone who wanted to hurt him.
Chloe had ended all that by forcing him to turn his mind to something else. A friend in distress he could deal with. Himself in distress was too ... distressing.
Then Clark realized what Chloe had meant. Flushing, he looked at the floor. "It's ok, Chloe. You've been dating her for, what, two months now? Three?"
"Four," Chloe and Lex answered at the same time.
Clark looked speculatively at Lex, who simply shrugged, sipping the hot chocolate Mabel had made for the three of them.
"Anyway, it's ok," Clark had finished. "I don't have a crush on her anymore, don't want to sleep with her. I just want you to be happy."
Chloe grinned. "Thanks, Clark." She reached out and squeezed his hand. Then, taking a deep breath, she went on. "Anyway, no more." She rubbed her palms on her thighs restlessly, head down. "So ..." she said, suddenly sounding unsure.
Sensing her hesitation, Lex rose and went to the bar. "So, I say the best way to deal with a bad break-up is to get drunk," he answered, grabbing a bottle of alcohol.
She looked relieved. Lifting her head, Chloe smiled. "Why am I not surprised?" she asked dryly.
Lex returned her smile, bringing a bottle and three tumblers to the table. "I haven't the faintest idea." He handed her a glass, then poured one for Clark as well.
Clark eyed it dubiously.
Sighing, Lex had said, "Clark, it's not like the two of you are going anywhere. Besides, you drink when you're with me; why shouldn't she? I won't let anything happen."
Chloe raised an eyebrow. "Wow. Clark Kent has sex with a guy and drinks. I'm surprised the world hasn't ended."
"I teach him to drink responsibly," said Lex, tossing back his drink. "Besides, he's not the biggest fan of alcohol."
"I like Scotch just fine," Clark protested. "It's wine I don't like." /Unless I'm sucking it from you / he added telepathically, causing Lex to choke.
Missing the mental speak between the two of them, Chloe simply raised her glass, said, "Cheers," and tossed hers back.
"It's an acquired taste," Lex admitted as Clark patted Chloe's back while she coughed, face red. "Let's spike your hot chocolate; you'll enjoy that more."
Eventually, bored with just sitting around drinking, they found cards and decided to play poker. Using a bowl of M & M's for chips, they spent the rest of the night drinking, playing poker very badly, and watching Jurassic Park. Chloe hated the movie but, drunk, insisted. Lex had never seen it (he had over two hundred movies and, as far as Clark could tell, had watched five), so he agreed it was a good idea.
Chloe crashed during the opening credits. Lex, who was fairly drunk himself, took the opportunity to crawl on top of Clark to make out. After a few minutes of heavy petting, Lex rested his head on Clark's shoulder and fell asleep.
It had been an ... interesting night.
Yawning, Clark stretched slightly. He had consumed a lot of alcohol last night too, but he felt no worse for the wear. In fact, last night, he'd only felt a bit buzzed, which he'd shaken off when he and Lex had started kissing. And he didn't feel the slightest bit hung over now, which he was grateful for.
Sighing, Clark forced his eyes open and lifted his head. Lex was sprawled over him, head resting on his stomach, one leg hooked tightly around his. Dressed in Clark's flannel, he was snoring softly, one sleeve rolled over his hand, the other pushed over his elbow. Sunlight was drifting in through the partially opened windows, falling softly on Lex's face, highlighting the red strands in his lashes.
Smiling, Clark traced Lex's eyelashes gently, then moved his gaze to the rest of the room.
Chloe was on the couch, curled into a ball, still sleeping. Her face was stained with tears, but she seemed to be sleeping peacefully.
After checking his companions, Clark lifted his hand to check his watch. As he suspected, it was late; almost ten o'clock.
Sighing, he shook Lex gently.
"Noooo," Lex moaned quietly. His hand clutched Clark's shirt and he turned his head, burying his face in Clark's stomach.
"Lex."
"Don't wanna get up."
Caressing Lex's head, Clark whispered, "Then don't. But I need to run home and do my chores."
"Call and tell them that you broke your leg."
Clark rolled his eyes. "Yup. That'll work," he said dryly.
Pulling himself up Clark, Lex wound his arms around Clark's neck and burrowed against him. "You're too comfortable. I don't want you to leave yet." He playfully licked Clark's neck.
"I have to. It's almost ten. You know the rules."
Lex pulled away, propping himself over Clark. "They wouldn't really forbid you to come over, would they?"
Clark nodded. "They made the rules and intend to enforce them." He sighed. "I've gotta go."
"Without breakfast?"
"Yeah. Dad mumbled something about a fence and the tractor and repairs on something. He's got a long day planned."
Lex raised an eyebrow. "This is the third week you've had to do chores all weekend. You hardly have any time for me during the day. If I didn't know any better, I'd say your father was trying to keep you away from me."
Nodding, Clark answered, "I've noticed the same thing. Dad's been funny about you ever since the cows. He ... Hey," Clark interrupted himself in a softer voice as Lex's face fell. Catching him under the chin, Clark lifted Lex's head so he could look into Lex's eyes. "At least I still get to come over at all. Dad could be keeping me overnights as well."
"I know," he replied, still looking downcast, the same way he always looked when the cows were brought up. "I just wish that there was something I could do to make things better."
"Give him time. He'll come around."
"Maybe," Lex said cynically. Shaking his head, he threaded his fingers through Clark's hair. "We still have things to talk about, you know."
Sighing, Clark nodded. "Yeah, I know." Then, needing to change the subject, he plucked at the collar of the shirt Lex was wearing. "I like this shirt on you. The blue brings out your eyes."
"Oh? And does it make me look like a Smallville native, too? That's the look I'm going for. Lex Luthor: farm boy."
He grinned. "Oh definitely. Like you were raised on a farm. You know what'll complete the look?"
"What?"
"You coming home with me and doing my chores."
"I think I'll pass. I may be going for the look, but I want to keep my hands at their city boy splendor." Lex waved his free hand around.
Clark turned his head and kissed it. "So much for farm boy Lex." He kissed it again then lifted his head to kiss Lex on the lips. "I've really got to go. Take care of Chloe for me?"
Lex glanced at the sleeping woman on his couch. "I'll make sure she's safe." Then he turned back to Clark, hesitation in his eyes.
"What?"
"It's just ... this Lana/Chloe thing. Them having sex. Are you sure it doesn't bother you?"
"Yes." Then, seeing Lex wasn't convinced, Clark rolled over so he lay on top of Lex. "You're the one I love, Lex," Clark whispered, kissing Lex deeply. "I don't want to have sex with Lana. I mean, yeah. The thought has crossed my mind at various points through my life, but the fact that Chloe had sex with her doesn't bother me. I want Chloe to be happy; she's my best friend."
Lex made a slight face. "That's all well and good for you to say, Clark, but ... I don't believe you. Not that I think you're lying, exactly, but I think that you are very young and don't quite know what you want. And, when we started this, I swore to myself I'd be fair to you. That I'd give you anything ... anyone you wanted. Do you understand?"
"Is this the 'you're young and should experience everything' speech?" Clark asked.
Lex nodded.
He rolled his eyes. "Not this again. Lex, what do I have to do to convince you ..."
"It's not that I don't believe that you think you're telling the truth," Lex interrupted. "And it's not that I don't think that you don't know what you want, but you are young. I don't ..."
Clark shook his head sharply, lump forming in his throat. "Can we not do this right now?" he managed to rasp around it. "Not after last night."
"It's just ..."
Clark rose and left the room. He was angry, but not angry enough to speed away. The speed lacked the dignity he wanted right now.
Besides. He was hoping that Lex would catch up.
He did. "Clark, wait!" Lex called, catching Clark half way down the stairs.
Clark stopped but didn't turn.
Jogging down so he was on the step below Clark, Lex shook his head. "You're taking this the wrong way."
"We just found out that we've had this connection for twelve years, Lex. That is what I want to worry about right now. That is what I care about. What I don't care about is experiencing everything the world has to offer. I know that there is a wider world out there and, you know what? Right now, I don't care. I don't care that I've never slept with a woman. I just want to sleep with you. You are who I love, Lex. Why can't you just let that be?"
"Because you are fifteen years old, Clark!" Lex shot back. "Fifteen. You aren't old enough to make this kind of decision."
"Oh, so I'm suddenly not old enough to decide that I love you?" Clark asked in disbelief. "When did the rules change, Lex?"
Shaking his head, Lex rubbed his eyes in fatigue. "No, Clark, that's not what I meant. I just ... I don't want you to think that you have to stay with me," he said, voice shaking slightly. "Especially ... well, especially now that we know about this bond. I don't want you to feel tied down because of something that happened when you were a child."
"Lex!" Clark all but shouted, hitting the banister with his fist.
Lex flinched as it cracked, a jolt of reflexive fear running through him that Clark felt over the bond. He paled, but stood his ground, gazing at Clark though determined eyes.
Clark forced his hands to relax. "I'm sorry." Closing his eyes, Clark sat on the steps. "Lex, I love you. And I like having this connection with you. Right now, at this moment, I'm interested in finding out what it means. How did it happen? Will it last? That's what I care about."
"So do I," Lex said softly, sitting next to Clark. "But I'm afraid that it'll mean you think you have to stay with me."
"So? What if it does? And what if that's how I'm supposed to feel?" Clark ran his hand through his hair. "What if this is normal for me? My species, I mean. Maybe we find someone, form a bond, and are happy for the rest of our lives. I don't know, but ..." He broke off, furrowing his brow in concentration as something caught his attention.
Sensing that Clark had read his mind, Lex covered his face. He was trembling, thoughts clouded as images of the future and implications of the bond raced through him.
Clark sighed. "Calm down, Lex. It's ok." He ran his hand up Lex's back, massaging in soothing circles. "I'm not saying that we are bonded or mated for life. I was just throwing out the possibility. And, even if I am mated to you, that doesn't mean we have to stay together. You're right: I do think about sleeping with women. And, sometimes, I think about sleeping with other men. I like the idea, but only in the abstract. Only in the 'maybe one day when I'm older, and if I'm not with Lex, I'll find someone else' sense." He squeezed Lex's shoulder. "So, see? I have thought of a world without you."
"But you wouldn't pursue it," Lex said in a muffled voice.
"No, not if I didn't have to. Not if we were still together and still both wanted to be together. But neither would you. Or is there something you're not telling me?" Clark tilted his head, gazing at Lex.
Lex looked up. "No," he admitted softly. Looking away, he took a deep breath and said, "I ... Lately, when I think of my future, I think of it in terms of 'us.' And the implications on my--our lives." He licked his bottom lip, a faint smile quirking the corner of his lips.
"What sort of implications?"
"Well, will Dad let me get anywhere in the company if I stay with you? And, let's say I strike out on my own, or take over Luthor Corp. Will the world accept me if I'm in a homosexual relationship? And what about my political aspirations? I want to run for office; I've even thought about being the President. Can I do that if I'm with you? I don't know if I'll want to keep the relationship a secret once you're legal, but I still have ... plans. Will I be able to follow through?" He rubbed his temples. "And what about an heir?"
Clark frowned. "I didn't know having an heir was important to you."
Lex's laughter was almost hysterical as he answered, "Neither did I!" Then, slightly calmer, he said, "Well, I don't know if it is. I don't know if I want any children, but Dad's trained me to think of things like that. Implications of the future." Taking a deep breath, he looked up at Clark. "I never meant to fall in love with you, Clark. It wasn't supposed to be casual, but I didn't expect this."
Sliding his arm around Lex, Clark pulled him close. "I know. And I ... I don't know what I expected. Nothing as serious as this, but I'm not sorry that it happened."
"I'm not sorry, either. Don't ever think that I am." Lex said quickly.
"I don't." Clark kissed him in reassurance. "But I do want you to see how stupid it is to try to give me the world, when I don't want it right now. Don't worry about what I am or am not experiencing. Things have a way of working themselves out."
Lex nodded and pulled away. "I have a hard time trusting fate."
"Then just trust life," Clark replied. "If we grow out of each other, then it will happen. Don't try to push me into anything because you think I'm supposed to have a wild youth. And, especially don't push me away because you're scared."
"I won't," Lex whispered.
Kissing Lex, Clark asked, "Do you really think what you said? About us in the future?"
He smiled, ears turning pink. "Yes, I do. I figured we'd move to Metropolis, and ..."
The alarm of Clark's watch went off suddenly. "Shoot," Clark sighed, checking it. "I've got to get home. Can we ... can we continue this conversation later?"
"Yes." Lex kissed him, then pulled away. "Go. I'll call you later."
"Ok."
Lex's voice stopped him before he sped away.
"Talk to your mother, Clark. Tell her about last night. She should know that you recovered some repressed memories. And it'll make you feel better."
"Yeah, ok," Clark answered vaguely. He wouldn't be telling her, but Lex didn't need to know that. Dropping a kiss on Lex's head, he whispered, "Bye. Love you," then sped down the stairs, racing through the sun drenched morning towards home.
"Call me if you ever want to take me up on my offer," Lex said as he opened the door, allowing Chloe to step outside. "I'd be more than happy to help provide a way to get over the break-up." He kept his tone light, but mildly seductive, something that he knew she found attractive from the way her cheeks glowed whenever he used it.
Chloe shot him a look, rolling her eyes. "Thanks," she said wryly. "I'll see you later." Turning, she almost smacked into Damien.
"I beg your pardon, Ms. Sullivan," Damien said smoothly, stepping aside.
"It's ok," she replied almost breathlessly. "Bye, Lex." With a final wave, she left for her car.
Damien turned to Lex, dark eyes questioning and a touch accusing. Reviewing what he'd just said, Lex realized that all Damien had heard was Lex making an offer to Chloe. Lex was lucky it was only Damien who'd heard and not, say, Gabe Sullivan; there was no way to mistake what Lex was offering from his words and tone. It wasn't the brightest thing to say to a sixteen year old girl, but Lex enjoyed flirting with Chloe's and didn't think she'd take him too seriously.
Even if Lex really was considering setting her up with another woman, just to see the look on Lana's face.
Right now, though, he had to face the situation at hand. Damien was upset. That in and of itself was alarming, because Damien never let his emotions show if he could help it. Something must have happened last night to drive Damien to the edge; his entire body was tense, eyes dark and tumultuous, face ever so slightly angry.
Oh, this was going to be fun.
"What?" Lex asked, smirking.
"Is there something I should know?" Damien asked, stepping past Lex into the house.
Closing the door, Lex followed him. "About what?"
"About your relationship with Ms. Sullivan." When Lex continued to stare at him with a blank expression on his face, Damien continued, "The two of you looked quite cozy, and I heard you making her an offer. Is there anything in this offer that I should know about beforehand?
Lex frowned. "What do you mean?" he asked innocently.
Damien simply shot him a glance, mounting the stairs towards his room.
Enjoying his game, Lex continued, "I really don't understand. I mean, yeah, she spent the night. And ..."
"She spent the night?" Damien repeated, stopping dead.
Stopping besides him, Lex blinked. "Yeah. Why? Something wrong with that?"
A muscle in Damien's jaw twitched. "Sir, please don't play games with me. You know this has the potential to turn into something ugly, especially since you are already sleeping with one underage resident of this backwater town. Answer me plainly so I can begin to clean up whatever mess you have gotten yourself into this time: are you fucking her?"
Lex debated whether to continue his game or not. Looking at Damien carefully and seeing the barely concealed rage, he decided to drop it. As enjoyable as it was bothering Damien, Lex really wasn't in the mood to get killed. Besides, Damien wasn't doing anything interesting; instead of getting louder as he grew angrier, his voice got softer and more intense. It wasn't exactly the show Lex had been looking for.
"No. I'm not," Lex answered seriously. "I sometimes play with Chloe verbally a bit, because I know she finds me attractive, but I'm not planning on ever doing anything with her. I wasn't offering to have sex with her; I was offering to set her up. She and Lana broke up," he added.
Damien raised an eyebrow as if to say that he didn't really care about the romantic relationships of people who didn't concern him.
Smiling slightly, Lex finished, "Gabe Sullivan knew that she was here. She called after she came over and said that she, Clark, and I were watching movies and it got late, so she was going to stay. He said that was fine." Lex shrugged. "This is a very strange town."
"So I've noticed." Turning, he climbed the last few steps and went to his room.
Lex followed him upstairs. "Oh, thanks for the faith, by the way. It's not like I get myself into too much trouble these days."
There was no answer.
Jogging to catch up, Lex remarked, "You seem a bit tense. Something wrong?"
Not looking at Lex, Damien gave a sharp shake of his head. "No."
"Uh-huh. Like I believe you when you bite my head off like that." Lex followed Damien into his bedroom and closed the door. Leaning against it, he crossed his arms and said, "Damien, tell me what's wrong."
"Sir, I am tired and dirty. I want to shower and rest. So, unless there is anything important I can do for you, I ask that you please leave me." Damien's tone was level but firm; he was very obviously trying not to snap at Lex.
Lex didn't move, simply stared at his assistant through blank eyes.
Lifting one eyebrow, Damien faced Lex and began unbuttoning his shirt. When it hung open over his chest, Damien pulled it off and tossed it into the nearby laundry basket. Then he moved to his trousers.
"Let me guess," Lex said, unfazed. "Metropolis nightlife isn't as satisfying as it used to be."
The trousers came off and went into the basket. Damien was not wearing anything underneath.
"No," Damien said, calmly standing naked in the center of his room. "I am sure the Metropolis nightlife is as satisfying as it ever was. I, however, did not experience it, as I did not go to a club. I went to Dominic's instead."
Lex raised an eyebrow. He knew that Damien and Dom had been sleeping together for some time, and that Damien enjoyed the blond's talents in bed. However, this was beginning to sound serious. This was the fourth time Damien had visited Dominic in the past two months. Yes, Dominic's heart attack had been a concern, but Lex had figured a phone call every once in awhile was enough to placate Dom.
Going over to his apartment to spend the night with him four times was moving out of the realm of a business relationship and into something more.
"Oh?" Lex said cautiously. "What happened?"
Shaking his head, Damien went into the bathroom. Lex followed.
"Damien, I need to know what happened last night."
Damien was fiddling with the water to his shower. Not turning around, he replied "We talked, mostly. And Dominic asked if we had anything to do with Victoria's arrest."
Lex rolled his eyes. "Oh, now he asks. She was arrested two weeks ago. Did it just occur to him that we might have had something to do with it?"
"Apparently he's been anxious about this, and wasn't sure if he should ask." Damien stepped into the shower, closing the curtain. Pitching his voice so Lex could hear him, he continued, "He knew the evidence had to be planted by someone, since he was almost positive that Victoria was not involved in the child pornography business."
"Almost positive?"
"She did poison Dominic, sir. He told me that he felt he didn't know her anymore. While he sheltered her after Sir Harry abandoned her here, Victoria was apparently quite loving. He thought that they bonded, and reached a new level of understanding in their relationship. Then she poisoned him, and left him for dead. While he was recovering from that shock, the news of her arrest reached him. Although the crime she was accused of didn't sound like something Victoria would do, Dominic told me that he simply wasn't sure what to believe anymore."
Lex shook his head, thinking about Dominic. "Dom did always have problems separating fantasy from reality. And, from what I remember, he prefers fantasy."
Snorting, Damien replied. "He told me he always wished to have a closer relationship with Victoria. It was, however, always marred by the fact Sir Harry hated him."
"That doesn't explain why he was stupid enough to trust her in the first place. I mean, I used to want a closer relationship with Dad, but I'm not stupid enough to think that I can trust him."
"That has more to do with the fact that you use the sense you were born with. But, I also think that Dominic believed he had power over her when she was cut off."
Lex inclined his head, mulling that over. "So, Dominic was afraid that Victoria would own him, and, when she lost her fortune and was stranded in America, he figured he could own her?"
"I believe so, sir."
"Idiot," Lex muttered, shaking his head. "You know, with his inflated ego and inability to separate the real from the unreal, it's amazing he's as good a businessman as he is."
Damien cleared his throat. "Actually, he's only an adequate business man. Dominic lacks the common sense and cunning needed to forge his way in the business world; his background is in accounting, which is where his strength lies. If it weren't for his connections, he wouldn't have risen to, his current position," he said.
"I'm surprised that Dad keeps him around then. The war is over, and Dad won. He doesn't need Dominic anymore."
"Spoils of war, sir. Your father knows that in order to twist the knife into Harry, as well as make an impression on the heads of other corporations, he needs to keep Dominic on staff and in sight. This will remind everyone of his power. He's stolen someone once, and can do it again."
Nodding slowly, Lex filed that information away for future use. "What did you tell Dominic about Victoria?"
"The truth. All of it. I thought he should know. After all, we did do it for him."
Lex's eyes widened in alarm.
"Uh, we did it to show Victoria she can't damage my property," he corrected. If Damien began viewing Dominic as more important than Lex, things could get very bad, very quickly. Lex depended on Damien to hold him together; it wasn't until recently that Lex realized how much Damien actually did for him, and Lex wasn't ready to lose him yet.
Especially to Dominic.
Damien's head appeared around the curtain; he looked a bit cross at having been corrected. "Yes, I do realize that was the true reason, but I felt it impolitic to say that to Dominic. He is quite sensitive. Not only that, but I knew it would make him feel more important to think that you had this done on his behalf, rather than as a message to her."
Fears assuaged, Lex ran his hand over his scalp. He was beginning to feel a bit warm from the steam. "You're a bit touchy this morning, aren't you?" he asked.
"Forgive me, sir, but I am a bit on edge. Dominic was not as grateful as one could hope. In fact, he was quite distressed about Victoria, and I spent most of the night attempting to make him see reason."
Lex blinked. "Victoria caused him to have a fucking heart attack. He almost died because of her, and you're telling me he's upset we had her arrested?"
Eyes dark, Damien nodded. "He understands that it was necessary, but apparently still has some residual loyalty to her. He's afraid of what will happen to her in prison." His eyebrow twitched in amusement. "Apparently," Damien continued sarcastically, "Victoria is quite the delicate creature. And you know how things are in jail."
"I've heard the rumors," Lex said, fuming at Dominic's ungratefulness. It had taken Lex weeks to think of the perfect revenge, one that wasn't too obvious. At first he had thought to retaliate by poisoning Victoria, but that was too pedestrian for him. After all, everyone had been poisoned: Dominic, his father, even himself. Lex didn't want to seem as if he were following a fad.
Then Lex thought about shooting her. But that was too plebian. Anyone could buy a gun and shoot someone. It happened all the time. Besides, he didn't want Victoria dead; he just wanted her to suffer.
That was when he decided to frame her. It took him a bit to decide what to frame her for, but inspiration struck him one night while he was watching Clark sleep. Clark had looked particularly innocent that night, his face peaceful and lovely in the moonlight.
It wasn't that Clark looked like a child, or that Lex associated Clark with children. It was the innocence that had inspired him, turning Lex's mind to the horror that was child pornography. Especially the media furor that having Victoria--former heiress and Vice President of Hardwick Enterprises--accused of making and distributing child pornography would cause.
And so, the trap had been set.
All for the inadequate gratitude of a mindless moron.
"Did you tell him about the abortion?" Lex asked angrily.
"Of course. Victoria still hadn't gotten the news overseas that she was pregnant, and now she is busy. Telling Dominic is the best way to get the news back to your father."
He nodded. "I still can't believe that the fact he got her pregnant slipped Dad's attention in the first place. Unless he wanted her to have the baby."
"Possible. He had enough contacts to guarantee that the paternity would never be confirmed. He may have wanted to use her pregnancy, and his immunity, as one more triumph over Sir Harry."
Lex cocked his head, a thought occurring to him. "Or Dad thought I was the father."
There was a long silence. "That had not occurred to me, sir. I apologize."
"Well, you knew I didn't fuck her, so it couldn't be me."
"Still, I should have thought of the possibility."
"Well, you were concerned making her see why it would be in her best interest to get an abortion. Trying to figure out why Dad didn't know about it wasn't on your list of concerns."
"That is true." But he still sounded as if he were angry with himself.
Shaking his head, Lex asked, "How did Dom take the news, anyway?"
"In stride. That was not as upsetting to him as the arrest; apparently Victoria has gotten herself into a similar situation before."
Lex raised both eyebrows in surprise. "Really; I didn't know that."
"It was news to me as well; I took her to the clinic myself, and she didn't tell me. Incidentally, the fact that Victoria went willingly eased Dominic's mind about the affair."
"Well, at least we managed to do something to make him happy," Lex grumbled.
"Yes, out of all the work we put in, he is pleased we didn't force her to abort the fetus. The rest he complained about. All night," Damien said crisply.
"That ungrateful son of a bitch," Lex swore. "I'll have to have a long talk with him. Has he been in contact her since the arrest?"
"No. And I've convinced him not to contact her; threatened, actually. If I find out they have spoken, we are cutting him off."
"Good. That'll make him listen." Lex hesitated, a thought occurring to him. "Dominic ... isn't in love with her, is he?"
Damien's answer was a prompt and sharp, "No. This is all brotherly concern."
Smiling slightly at Damien's tone, Lex said, "You asked the same question, didn't you?"
"Well, he does seemed to be very concerned about her and her affairs, so the thought did occur to me. Ever since I discovered he had taken care of her."
"What did he say?"
Damien cleared his throat. "He was quite upset I even insinuated that he had incestuous thoughts about his sister."
Lex rolled his eyes. "Then maybe he shouldn't act like a love sick fool when someone talks about her."
"As I said before: this was about power, not love. In his own way, Dominic will always be seeking a way to prove himself to both Sir Harry and Victoria. More her, I think, since she is his baby sister and was more successful at a younger age."
"Doesn't the fact that it's all gone mean anything to him?"
"Not as long as he is forced to stay in the thankless position of being your father's assistant."
Raising an eyebrow, Lex asked, "Is that a way of insinuating that you are stuck in a thankless position?"
Damien looked around the curtain. "No," he answered frankly. "Of course not. And Dominic would not be as unhappy in my job as he is in his. I, however, will not leave it unless I am killed or I could serve you better somewhere else."
"Thanks, Damien. That means a lot."
Smiling, Damien disappeared. "It might do good to give Dominic something important to do. That way, he will not lose sight of the larger goal."
Frowning, Lex repeated, "Larger goal?"
"Helping you in your ascension to greatness, sir."
Lex flushed and blamed it on the steam and heat of the bathroom. "Of course." Licking his bottom lip, he asked, "Dom is still loyal to me, right? I mean, who does he want more: me or Victoria?"
"You." Damien peered around the curtain. "I asked that as well. He was insulted I had to question his loyalty."
Raising an eyebrow, Lex remarked, "He was insulted a lot last night, wasn't he?"
Allowing the curtain to fall back, Damien didn't answer.
"Did the two of you fight?"
Once again, there was no answer.
Lex stood and went to the shower. Drawing the curtain back, he demanded, "Damien. Did you do anything last night to piss Dom off?"
Standing under the showerhead, Damien tilted his head back into the stream. After a moment, he pulled away, wiping his face. "No. We talked, argued, and fucked. He was not angry when I left."
He blinked. "You had sex. Why are you so frustrated?"
Damien's jaw clenched in annoyance. "I went over to have a pleasant night with a man whose company I, surprisingly enough, find enjoyable. However, last night he reverted to the selfish, spoiled, spineless man that I despise, and I had to spend the night trying to convince him that what happened was for his own good. And, yes, we did have sex, but it wasn't pleasant. I wasn't particularly in the mood, but Dominic seemed to think it would make things better. Perhaps I was a bit hard on him; he seemed to be in some pain, but didn't tell me to stop. That, however, was not what I wanted. I wanted," Damien broke off, shaking his head.
"What?"
"If I hurt him, I do not want it to be in anger. I want his spoken consent. And last night, I was too angry to do anything but a fuck mindlessly, and that was not what I wanted either."
"So, basically, you didn't enjoy it."
"No, I did not. On top of that, I know that all of this could have been avoided had I simply gone to a club. But I didn't, so now I am standing in my shower, partially hard with you standing in my bathroom watching me, dying to relieve myself but too concerned I might somehow violate this new vow of monogamy you've taken. And, the longer you remain here, the more seriously I'm thinking of forcing you to break it," Damien finished, eyes flashing and chest rising and falling rapidly.
Breath catching at Damien's intensity, Lex began to take a half step back when he decided two things. One: Damien would never touch him; his 'mission' was more important to him than getting off at any expense. And, two: if Damien did jump him and try to force Lex, Lex could drop his mental shields and his six foot four super-strong alien boyfriend would be here in one minute flat to kick Damien's ass.
Thus assured, Lex leaned against the damp tiles and let his gaze roam easily down Damien's body, resting on the now fully erect cock rising from between Damien's legs.
Lex smirked. "Wow," he said casually. "I've never seen you this upset." He glanced up.
Narrowing his eyes, Damien took hold of his cock and began stroking it gently. "I have not had sex in three weeks," he said, keeping his eyes trained on Lex. "I've been too busy with work to do anything but pleasure myself. If you stay there, perhaps I can be compensated for that."
"Just looking at me gets you off, huh?"
"If that's all I have, it's not a bad substitute. Besides, I like the idea of your watching me." He began moving his hand faster.
Lex pulled away from the wall. The game was rapidly getting very old. "I think you should take tonight off, too. Go to a club, tie people up, hit them with your whip or paddle or whatever you use these days, and have some mind blowing orgasms. Understand?"
"Yes, sir." Damien's voice was even, but he was obviously fighting to keep it so.
Smirking again, Lex nodded. "Carry on." Then, letting the curtain drop, he left the bathroom.
Back in his own room, Lex flopped bonelessly onto his bed. Closing his eyes, he reached over the bond to Clark.
/ Hey / Clark said after a moment.
/ Hey. Chloe went home. /
/ Yeah, she drove by on her way home. 'Course, my place isn't on her way home, but whatever. I think she just wanted to see me before she called Lana. What are you doing?/
/ I was just talking to Damien / Lex responded. / What about you? /
/ Fixing the far fence. Shouldn't take me long, but then I've got to help Dad build a chicken coop. /
/ Fun. Have you talked to your mom yet? /
Clark hesitated, then said / Haven't had time. /
"Liar," Lex said out loud. "You aren't planning on telling your mom." Over the bond, he simply said / Well, try to find time. I'll call you later, all right? /
/ Yeah. Bye. / Clark closed down the bond.
Feeling drained from the long distance contact, Lex rolled onto his stomach and crawled across the bed. "It doesn't pay to lie, Clark," he muttered, picking up the phone and dialing the Kents number.
Martha picked up on the second ring. "Kent residence," she said.
"Hi, Mrs. Kent, this is Lex," he said, leaning against the headboard. "We need to talk."
"Clark?" Martha called.
"Up here, Mom," Clark called back listlessly. He tossed a baseball into the air, catching it as it fell.
"Hey, honey. How are you feeling?" She gently shoved his legs out of the way and sat on the couch, gazing at him.
He shrugged. "Fine," he answered indifferently, hoping that she'd leave soon. All he really wanted was to be alone right now, but felt it would be impolite to ask her to leave.
When she didn't say anything, or leave, Clark shrugged mentally and tossed the ball back into the air.
Martha caught it. "Lex called. He wanted to know if he could come over for dinner."
"Oh?" Clark lifted his head, gazing at her expectantly.
"I told him he could."
"What'd Dad say?"
She raised an eyebrow. "I didn't ask for his permission."
"I know, I was just wondering what he thinks about Lex coming over. Dad ... hasn't exactly been his biggest fan the last few weeks."
"I know; that's why I told Lex to come over. I'm tired of this awkwardness between the two of them. They need to learn how to be in the same room with each other."
"Lex is trying, Mom. Really."
She smiled. "I know. But he needs to calm down and realize that one, he doesn't need to impress us and, two, that Jonathan isn't going to hurt him."
Clark frowned. "I don't think he thinks Dad is going to hurt him," he said. "I just think that he really wants Dad to accept him."
Sighing, Martha rubbed her eyes. "Jonathan hasn't forgiven Lex for the cows, which is a shame, considering what Lex went through after that. Lex has enough to get over from the experience without having it counted as a mark against him."
"He's really sorry it happened."
"I'm sure he is. But, unfortunately, he can't take it back. It happened; our cows are dead, and land still isn't safe, even with the clean-up crews."
Closing his eyes, Clark whispered, "I'm sorry, Mom."
Martha picked up his hand and squeezed it. "It's not your fault, Clark." Letting his hand drop, she continued, "I just wish your father hadn't said what he did to Lex while he was sick. He needs to apologize."
"I thought Dad didn't remember that," Clark interrupted.
Martha favored him with an indulgent look. "No, he doesn't. I told him what he said, though; I thought he should know. Besides, Lex wouldn't have forgotten, and I'm sure it hurt him
Clark nodded. "Yeah. It did. Not that he'd admit it, of course."
"Of course not. Lex is a very proud young man. Actually, he's like your father in that respect. Very proud and very stubborn." She sighed. "I just wish they could get along again."
Picking at an invisible piece of lint on his jeans, Clark said softly, "When I got taken away, the day that you got me back, I felt kind of like we were family. Dad and Lex were getting along. Dad ... Dad said how we needed to do something as a family, and then we all went to the museum. Even Lex. They were comfortable with each other, telling jokes and just ... able to carry on a conversation without getting mad." He glanced up at his mother from beneath his lashed. "I liked it."
"I know."
"Want me to get taken away again?" he asked with an impish smile. "That way Lex and Dad could work together to get me back and maybe they'll start being nice to each other again."
"I think I'll pass, thanks," Martha responded wryly. "Once was enough."
"Well, then, dinner will have to fix everything. With brownies."
"I was thinking pie."
Clark frowned. "Lex likes brownies."
"Well I made pie. He'll have to suffer through it."
"I guess he'll survive," he told her doubtfully, shaking his head.
She laughed. "Is that a comment on my cooking? Because, if it is, you don't have to eat it. I'll feed your slice to Lex; Lord knows he could stand to gain a few pounds."
"Naw, it's ok. I'll suffer through it." He said it as seriously as he could before he grinned at her.
"This is the gratitude I get from my only son." She sighed dramatically, swatting his arm gently.
"You know I love you, Mom, right?" Clark said suddenly in a soft voice.
Martha looked surprised. Blinking, she frowned. "Of course, Clark."
He sat up. "No, I mean it. I ... I love you a lot. You're my mom, and I ..." Frustrated and upset, he broke off, looking away.
"What's wrong, Clark?"
Shaking his head, Clark said, "Nothing. It's ... I ... nothing. Really. Just forget it."
"Clark, please tell me. Something is wrong; I can tell."
"I'm fine. Just tired, I guess. We stayed up late last night, talking. Trying to calm Chloe down and all. You know. Because of the fight she had with Lana."
Martha tilted her head slightly. "Was Lana Chloe's girlfriend?"
Clark started in surprise, looking at her. "How did you know that?"
She shrugged. "A few months back you and Chloe argued about something. You were upset that she was keeping secrets from you. After you left, I talked to her a bit and she reluctantly told me she was having relationship troubles. I thought she meant with a boy, but Chloe let it slip that she was seeing another girl. I don't think she realized what she said. I figured out it was Lana for myself."
"Oh. Well, yeah," Clark said, feeling off balance. Shifting slightly so he was more comfortable, he told her, "She and Lana were going out, and Lana broke up with her last night."
Martha made a sympathetic noise. "Poor Chloe."
"Yeah. She was pretty broken up." Sighing, Clark rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling worn out mentally. A few hours ago, while doing his chores, he'd been hit by another tide of memories, and been fighting them off every since. They were waiting on the edge of his senses, Sheal's voice coming to him in whispers as if on a breeze. The baseball had helped him focus his attention on something else; for whatever reason, Martha's presence was making the memories beat at his brain with full force.
Clark just wanted them to stop.
Martha moved closer to Clark and put her arms around him. "I know you care for Chloe a lot, and you might be tired, but something else is wrong. Please just tell me."
"Nothing's wrong, Mom. Really," Clark said, relaxing in his mother's embrace despite himself. His eyes fluttered shut as he breathed in her comforting scent: apples, cinnamon, and a hint of juniper from the lotion she used.
Martha stroked his back lovingly. "Clark," she said reprovingly. "I talked to Lex. He told me he was worried about you. And even if he hadn't, I know you well enough to know that something is wrong."
Clark's breath caught and, over the bond, he sent Lex a stream of anger. How dare Lex go behind his back like this?
A moment later, Lex sent a cool wave of reassurance to him.
/ It's for the best, Clark. /
/ Fuck you. You didn't have the right to tell her anything. /
/ I knew you wouldn't. So I forced the issue. Want me to come over? / Lex asked.
/ I don't care. I ... What am I supposed to tell her? That I met you when I landed? That we're telepathically connected? /
He felt Lex shrug. / That, or you could tell her about your mother. /
"She's not my mother!" Clark said out loud, feeling tears clamp his throat.
"What?" Martha pulled away.
The voices he'd spent the afternoon trying to block out started again, memories swirling through his mind. As the black wave threatened to consume him, Clark felt Lex say quickly, / I'm coming over / before shutting down the connection to protect himself.
Clark pulled away from Martha, holding his head. "I ... I can hear her. This woman. My ... my birth mom. She's ... I don't want to do this," he whispered, drawing into himself.
Martha knelt on the floor in front of him. "Clark. What's going on? Talk to me, please."
"I can't. I ..."
A powerful memory struck Clark, cutting off his speech abruptly.
"But that's such a short time," Sheal responded, stroking Clark's hair.
Clark was sitting in a chair, playing with a puzzle toy. He remembered the toy abruptly with vivid clarity: the pieces were clear and solid; three dimensional rather than flat. It had fit together in many different shapes and was extremely challenging. Challenging, but satisfying.*
"It played music," he whispered, breaking through the memory briefly, before submerging again.
Clark was lifted and squeezed tightly in his mother's arms. She smelled like snow and peppermint. Or something like peppermint; it was unlike anything Clark had smelled on earth, but that was the closest approximation.
"My poor son; all alone for all those months," she whispered, kissing him. "Don't worry, love; you will not be cut off. I will be there. Somehow." *
"No," Clark moaned, grabbing his head. Tears were beginning to threatened again. "No, no, no, no, no."
"Clark? Clark, what's going on? Talk to me, Clark. Please." Martha's hands were covering his, trying to force him to look at her.
"I ... I ... Lex says they're repressed memories. Something unleashed them and I can't stop them." A rush of nausea rushed through Clark, making him choke, gasping painfully for breath.
"Clark, listen to me," Martha said, sounding frightened. "Don't fight them. Just ... relax. Clark, you need to relax. Take deep breaths, honey. Calm down."
"I can't. It's too much. Make it stop. Please," he whispered in anguish.
The couch shifted as Martha sat next to him, stroking his hair. "Tell me what's going on, Clark? Tell me what you remember."
He gasped. "They ... he ... ship. I ... remember something about the ship."
"What do you remember?"
"My father. His name was ... I can't hear his name. But Sheal called him ... Tok. It meant father. I ... Mom, I'm remembering them." Frightened, he sought his mothers eyes. "My birth parents. Her voice. She talked to me when I was in the ship. She explained what happened to them. Why they did what they did, sending me away." Tears began obscuring his vision, and he wiped his eyes.
Martha was pale. "That's good, isn't it?" She offered him a tentative smile. "You remember your parents."
"No. You're my mother. I don't want anyone else." Clark turned to Martha and hugged her so hard she gasped.
"I will always be your mother, Clark," Martha whispered, holding him tightly. "And nothing will change that. Even if your parents were to come for you, I ..."
Something in Clark broke and he began to sob. "They're dead. That's what they were saying. Them dying, everyone dying. Except me. My mother wanted me to live. She, she didn't want me to die so they sent me away. I don't know h-how they died, but I think I'm the only one left."
Martha's arms tightened around Clark.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, kissing his temple.
He gasped, tears flooding down his cheeks as he tried again to fight off the tide.
As if sensing what Clark was doing, Martha said, "Clark, you need to stop fighting this. Just let yourself remember what happened; it will help things make sense to you."
"I don't want to be alone."
"You're not," she replied immediately, arms tightening around him. "I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. I promise."
Blinking, he looked up at her. "What if I get lost? I mean, in the memories and I can't get out."
Martha smiled lovingly. "It won't happen, Clark. Trust me."
He gazed at her a long moment, heart pounding. Then, as the memories began tugging at his mind again, Clark released a shuddering breath and nodded. Adjusting his grip on Martha so he was pressed even tighter against her, Clark closed his eyes and allowed himself to sink into the tide of memories.
"And now she's dead," Clark whispered.
"But you are not," Martha said fiercely. "She loved you so much, she saved you from death. Sent you away so you could live." She kissed Clark's cheek, wiping the tears away. "I would do the same."
Sniffing, Clark burrowed into Martha's embrace, clutching her almost desperately. Her words eased his mind, making the memories recede.
Clark relaxed, needing the protection and haven found in Martha's arms.
Martha stroked his hair comfortingly, carding her fingers through it. She hummed the lullaby she sang to Clark when he was a baby, making the hard knot in Clark's heart ease ever so slightly. Clark remembered her singing to him, taking him into her arms, rocking him gently. Making Clark feel safe whenever he'd had a nightmare, or a bad day.
"What are they like?" Martha asked suddenly, after a few minutes had passed.
Clark's stomach clenched. "I don't want to talk about it."
"Please, Clark. I want to hear." She laughed slightly. "A part of me needs to hear."
Sighing tremulously, Clark shifted in her arms. "I don't really know. Sheal--that was what she called herself," he interrupted, glancing up at Martha.
There was a look of sudden understanding on her face, and Martha nodded slowly. "You said that word a few times. And ... well, one day you were playing outside in the barn. One of the cats had kittens, and they were just old enough to play with." Martha's face took on a look of happy nostalgia. "You loved animals. You would sit for hours just watching the kittens, or chickens, or even the cows, studying them out of those big blue eyes. You didn't touch them, unless the kittens climbed on you, and then you were so gentle. As if you knew your strength and didn't want to hurt them." Martha touched him gently on the cheek as Clark pulled back to look at her better.
Clearing her throat, she continued, "But, this day I'm talking about, you fell asleep in a pile of hay with the kittens sleeping on you. I have a picture, if you want to see. Anyway, I was working just outside, when I heard you screaming. I ran in to see what was wrong. Your face was red, tears pouring from your face and you kept screaming, "Sheal," over and over again." Tears were standing in Martha's eyes and she brushed Clark's bangs from his forehead. "I couldn't calm you down. I got you into the house and you broke away from me. You looked up at me, lips trembling, whole body shaking, then backed away. And then, still crying, you pressed yourself into a corner and stayed there for hours, not responding to anything I did or said." She wiped her eyes. "Your father and I were so worried. You just sat there; every once in awhile you'd mutter something under your breath, but not to us."
"Then what?" Clark asked, fascinated.
Martha shrugged. "You gradually relaxed. You stopped crying, but wouldn't respond. We tried to get you to eat, or at least move. You just ... pulled away, pressing harder into the corner, ignoring us. You muttered something a couple times, and reached out as if you were trying to touch someone, but nothing else. Actually, you used to do that a lot: draw into yourself and ignore the outside world. This time, though, we were afraid that you wouldn't come back; you ... you simply refused to acknowledge our existence. We didn't know what was going on."
"What happened after?"
"You gradually drifted off. I took you up to our room and laid in bed with you, holding you. When you woke up, you were back to normal." Martha smiled again. "Every morning you woke me up by covering my face with kisses and playing with my hair. That morning was no different."
Clark sighed and rested his head on her shoulder. "I don't remember. I don't remember anything from when I little." Chewing on his bottom lip, he sighed and closed his eyes. "And before ... I just started remembering last night. What she sounded like. The song she sang to me. The crib I slept in. It was cold where I lived, but ... comfortable. Refreshing. And something was happening." He pulled away and looked up at her. "How can I remember them? If I was three when I landed, I must have been just a baby when I left."
Martha winced slightly, avoiding Clark's eyes. "Well, you may have been a few years older. Closer to five. But you were so silent, and obviously couldn't speak English, so when we had your birth certificate created, we told them to put down that you were three. We thought it would be better for you to be bigger than the other children, but not older. Even that didn't matter until you turned eleven; you were big when you landed, but grew slowly. Your father and I were afraid your growth had been stunted and slowed because of the space ship. It worked out well, though, because you didn't stand out, but we were still concerned. Then, suddenly, you shot up practically overnight. And, mentally you always seemed to fit in with everyone in your grade. Yes, you weren't the most popular child, but that was more due to your shyness and secrets than age." Martha looked at him. "It wasn't until Lex that you really began to seem more mature."
"So I'm really seventeen?" Clark said, upset.
"Honey, we don't know how old you are. But, yes. You may be older than your legal age. Or, you may be exactly as old as we said you were, only bigger because you're from another planet. We don't know, and unless you remember how old you were when you left, we aren't going to know."
Leaning against the couch, Clark closed his eyes. He could, very faintly, hear his birth mother singing in his mind. She had a lovely voice, although Clark felt a small pang of betrayal for thinking so. After all, he'd always thought that Martha had the most beautiful voice in the world, even now that he was old enough to know that his mother couldn't sing to save her life. But his birth mother could, unless Clark was remembering her voice in a memory colored by a child's adoration.
He sighed and rubbed his eyes.
"The thing that frustrates me is that I don't remember anything after I landed. I can vaguely remember this one night with my birth parents, and parts of the journey. They ... they had the computer talking to me. Sometimes it was my father's voice, sometimes my mother's. I think ... I think they were telling me what happened to them; at least, that's what I'm remembering now. Maybe there's more. I don't know, I just ..." Clark eyes filled with tears again as he thought of Lex and Kiptin. "I remember my first Christmas, when I got the quilt, but nothing else. I don't remember being a little kid with you."
"Well," Martha said, reaching out to smooth Clark's hair, "besides Christmas, what's your earliest memory?"
Closing his eyes, Clark thought a long moment, then said, "Swim lessons. And Lana." Opening his eyes, he latched onto Martha's face. "I remember the summer you took me to the pool down at the park. I had the blue and red swim trunks and was scared of everything. You wanted me to go inside the fence to the pool by myself, and I didn't want to leave you. And then Lana came out, took my hand, and took me inside. She told me it was ok to be scared, but everything was going to be ok." Clark smiled slightly. "She had her hair in braids and was wearing a pink swim suit. I thought she looked beautiful."
Nodding, Martha said, "That was very soon after you began speaking. In fact, I think it was two days later. Once you did, I wanted to introduce you to other children your age in a safe situation. Playing in the park seemed too risky, since you might hurt someone, but I thought swimming might be safe."
Clark blinked, remembering that Lex had told him to ask Martha when he began speaking English. Chewing his lower lip, Clark mumbled, "When did I start?"
"Let's see, you were ... five," Martha said slowly. "Actually, you did talk before that, just not in English. Or, really, anything that sounded like a language. Except for a few words, when you spoke, you generally babbled in sounds. You babbled a lot when we weren't in the room, playing with sounds as you tried to figure out the language, but you didn't start actually speaking until you were five. And, when you finally did, you spoke in complete sentences, not just words."
"What were my first words? Or, uh, sentence?"
Martha's eyes raised to the ceiling as she thought. "They were ... 'Mommy, I'm hungry; do we have ice cream?'" She smiled, looking back at him. "You'd been taking a nap. Well, actually," she corrected herself, "I don't think you were asleep. As I was saying before, when you were younger, you would drift off for periods of time. You would be awake, but your attention would be focused inward." She smiled sheepishly. "It's very hard to explain. You'd be in the room physically, but mentally, you were miles away. Sometimes you would mutter things, or move a bit, but you weren't really there. Your father and I would try to bring you out of it the first few times, talking to you, picking you up. Jonathan even shook you gently; we were so scared the first time. We thought we had lost you. But you came out of it. You always did, so we decided it that it must have been normal for you and tried not to worry."
Kiptin, Clark thought. That's how I got to Kiptin.
"Anyway, the day you finally began talking, you were having one of those moments. Then, about an hour into it, you suddenly jerked, let out a small sound and sat up. You looked around the room as if seeing it for the first time, then came to me and spoke." Martha smiled and caressed Clark's cheek. "I was so happy. I ... I started crying. That confused you, so you asked me what was wrong." Tears were standing in her eyes now. "I told you nothing was wrong. That everything was perfectly right. You've been speaking ever since."
Clark rubbed his eyes. "And before that, I just never talked?"
Martha shook her head. "Not to us. We you were with us, you were very silent, unless you were upset. Usually you'd say, 'Ne'yek,' when you were.'"
"No," Clark told her. "It means no."
"So we gathered," Martha told him wryly. "You were usually screaming it with tears flowing from your eyes when we tried to get you to do something you didn't want to do. Like bathe."
He raised an eyebrow. "I didn't like baths?"
"You didn't like the bath tub. In fact, you were downright terrified of it. For almost two years, you took all your baths in the kitchen sink, which you found less intimidating."
"Wow." Clark shook his head, rubbing his forehead. "I don't remember that."
Martha put her arm around him and held him tightly. "I'm sure there's a lot you don't remember, and I'll be happy to tell you whatever you want to know."
Sighing, Clark rested his forehead on her shoulder, making himself comfortable. Eyes fluttering shut, he said, "Why did you take me in? Weren't you scared?"
"No," she responded right away. "It never occurred to me to be scared, not even when your gifts began to develop. You were my son; I knew that from the moment you landed. And I loved you more than anything in the world."
"Dad's scared of me sometimes. Of my powers," Clark said, frowning.
She sighed and kissed his head. "Not of you, Clark. He's scared for you, and what your gifts mean. But he loves you. Never forget that."
A memory surfaced and Clark heard Sheal whispering, "Your father and I love you, Kal-El. Truly, we do. Never forget that."
A warm feeling blossomed in Clark and, for the first time since the memories had surfaced, he felt safe.
Snuggling deepening into his mother's arms, he whispered, "I love you too."
The moonlight streamed in through the open doors of the barn. It was a cool night, but not too cold, so Clark didn't worry about closing anything up. The air on his skin felt refreshing and invigorating. And Lex, cuddled under the blanket next to Clark, wasn't complaining about the temperature, so Clark was able to enjoy the night air with no worries.
Lex sighed and burrowed further into Clark's embraced. "Your mother makes the best pie," he said, sounding drowsy.
Clark laughed quietly. "I know. I still can't believe you ate three slices; you never eat that much."
"It was really good. I don't think I've ever tasted anything that good." Lex turned his head so he could kiss Clark's chest.
"I think you can safely expect Mom to start sending over at least a pie a week, if not every few days. She's convinced that you don't eat enough and, now that she's found something you'll eat, you'll get it in spades."
He could feel rather than see Lex smile. "Good."
Clark closed his eyes as a gust of wind blew into the barn.
"The wind reminds me of Kiptin," Lex said suddenly. "There always seemed to be a breeze even though there weren't any windows." He laughed. "We never thought to put any in."
Clark didn't answer.
"Was it cold on your planet?"
"Yes," Clark answered, heart constricting. "Yeah, it was. But nice. I liked it."
Lex rolled over so he was facing Clark, his head nestled on Clark's stomach. "I remembered something, about the first day we woke up in Kiptin. You know, after Dad took you."
"What?"
"When you were trying to get me to calm down, you said that you'd been there before. When you were a kid, you had visited. But now you can't remember it."
Letting out a shaky breath, Clark nodded. "Well, I didn't exactly remember it then, either. Nothing specific. Just a vague sense I knew the place; I still get it, but I can't pin it down. And ... actually, it's not fixed in my mind as a place. I mean, I go there and remember sitting on the bed, or playing with the toys. It's ... hard to explain."
"Try." Lex picked up Clark's hand and interlaced their fingers.
He shook his head. "I remember that ... the feeling, I guess." Clark sighed, closing his eyes. "Sometimes I remember something from when I was little, but instead of remembering what happened, I remember how I felt. Most Christmas's are like that: I remember feeling excited, or safe. Or Fourth of July; I don't remember any particular one from when I was a kid, but I remember being scared and nervous, but ... in awe of the fireworks. Feelings, not moments."
"And that's what Kiptin is?"
"Yeah."
Lex looked up at him expectantly. "How does it feel?"
Clark sighed and smiled softly. Squeezing Lex's hand gently, he said, "Like love." He lifted Lex's hands to his lips and kissed it. "The moment I woke up there, I felt love. That's why I want to remember it so badly."
Lex crawled on top of Clark and kissed him. "You will. It'll take some time, but you will remember. It's all in there." He tapped Clark's forehead. "And, eventually, something will trigger the memories, and there I'll be."
"There you'll be," Clark repeated, savoring the idea. Pulling Lex tighter to him, he whispered, "My present, my past, and my future." Tugging Lex's head down, Clark kissed him lovingly.
A thrill ran through Lex's body at Clark's words, resonating in Clark. He buried his fingers in Clark's hair, holding tight.
When Lex broke the kiss, he was smiling. "We have a future together." he said. "And nothing will stand in our way."
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