Rating: The whole fan fiction gets a *very* hard T+ rating. Not only for action, blood and drama from chapter to chapter, but also for mentions and scenes involving death and minor swearing from various characters throughout.
Characters/Relationships: Oh jeez, considering the length of this project...where do I even begin? *takes a deep breath* All right, the main story's plot is based strictly on the brotherly relationship that Lex shares with Clark, but the relationship he shares with Jonathan and Martha plays a large role in the later chapters as well. So I suppose you could consider this basically an "Extended" Kent Family story. :) Now, for the main characters...they are Clark Kent, (16) Lex Luthor (23) Martha and Jonathan Kent, Chloe Sullivan and the main antagonist. (Sorry, but I can't say her name here. Figuring out who she is a main plot in the story's first three chapters and I want it to be a mystery for a bit!) Also, there are various other characters throughout, such as special cameos, (One of whom is a friend of mine, and one who is another character in the DC Universe) and other minor characters from Smallville, but those I listed above are the *most* important. :D
Warnings?: Mmm, yes indeed. As mentioned above there are some very dramatic themes in this fan fiction. Lots of drama, lots of angst, lot of blood. Swearing and death scenes as well. So if you can't take things like that, or it isn't something you like seeing in your Smallville fan fiction, please turn around now before you get woozy. *giggle* ;) 3
World: My Canon (Meaning that this is the same exact time line and world where my other main stories, Devotion and Kent Family Christmas take place in. And, because of that reasons, some things are changed around to fit my ideas and needs. Such as, for example, Lex being far closer to the Kents than the series acutally portrays him to be.)
Notes: Oh boy, oh boy, it's finally here! If you have been following my work recently, or you read my special Smallville Christmas story that I wrote a few months ago...you may or may not have seen a mentioning of an upcoming story I was currently in the process of creating. The very same one which was the main reasons I wrote Kent Family Christmas in the first place! Well, if you guys were curious about that, and why I had to turn around and write something entirely new so that Lex was close enough to the Kents so it made sense in context...then never fear! Because dear readers, you are looking at the exact story I mentioned previously!
Yep, after almost seven months of piecing every detail together, creating new characters, making new concepts and canon and various other things that always takes far too long for me...the story (Or at least the first chapter for the time being) is finally done! :D And honestly, considering that this story was originally based off of nothing but a very silly death!fiction I wrote so long ago to go along with an old graphic of mine, I'm honestly very happy with how serious, how long, and how amazing it totally wound up becoming! :D This is, my friends, officially the ending (Now, now, don't worry. I still have one more piece that works as the unofficial ending to do after this.) to my Lex and Clark series I've been working on for over a year now. And it's what I have considered my other stories to have been building up to. It all comes down to this right here, and I seriously want to go out with a bang! So, without any other delays, let's just get right down to it, shall we?
(C): Clark Kent/Superman does not at all belong to me. He belongs to the men who originally created him in the first place. You know, those two insanely amazing guys who aren't me whatsoever. I'm a girl, and they are guys, and thus...are not me! The TV series Smallville is not mine either. Neither is Smallville versions of Clark, Lex, Martha Jonathan or any of the other characters that appear in this fan fiction. Seriously! I have nothing! Zip! Nada! Diddly-do-da! I am, just as I'll always be, an artistic hobo! Honestly, not a single thing belongs to me other than this massive piece of fan fiction and the main antagonist of it! That's it! Other than that, they all belong to their rightful owners! I'm not at ALL daring to claim ownership over a single thing! They aren't mine, and they will never be mine. This should all be common knowledge now. Please don't sue me! ;_;
Cold, hard, rain beat down heavily on the dusty dirt pavement of the parking lot of the Wild Coyote—a locally owned bar near the outskirts of Smallville Kansas—as two figures danced swiftly underneath it's chilling downpour. The younger man grit his teeth in sheer frustration as he jumped backward, away from the woman's, his attacker, duel blades. Landing back on his feet, he took a moment to catch his breath and shut his green eyes tightly; listening carefully to her movements in the storm.
Listening to her as she paced back and forth on the sand, to her weapons as they scraped against one another in her hands, and to her irritated grumblings as she stood on the other side of the field; while he, himself, slowly calculated in his mind what position her next attack would come from.
And, just as he assumed, not less than a second later she lunged forward out of her darkened hiding place, taking advantage of, what she believed was, his sudden distraction. The blade in her left hand sped forward as she closed in on him from behind, but when he heard her scream; he opened his eyes and immediately forced himself back to the moment at hand.
With an inward grin, he moved out of the way of her oncoming attack, and felt her blade do nothing more than slightly graze the arm of his black dress shirt. Peering over his shoulder, his smile widened when he saw an upset frown cross her red lips.
His mirth was short-lived, however; for as he stood there and watched her anger intensify because of the ignorant misstep, he allowed himself to let his guard down momentary, and she easily noticed. With a grin that matched his own—albeit with darker intentions—she took her chance and disappeared back into the cover of rain; intending to come at him from another angle
He heard her feet shuffle, and he quickly re-cocked the black Glock 9mm that he grasped in his left hand, held the gun out in front of him, and turned to face where he believed she stood near the glass door to the bar. Although, by the time he realized that she was no longer there, and had more than likely moved to another part of the parking lot…she had already repositioned herself beside him.
Using the blade she wielded in her other hand, she thrust her body forward, and successfully landed a blow on him; slashing him across forehead.
Feeling the blade bite into his flesh and the blood beginning to seep out from the cut, he let out a yell thick with both pain and anger. A smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she watched from afar—having moved back after she nicked him—as he reached up to touch the small injury. He pulled his hand back, and she heard him swear under his breath when he noticed the blood coating his fingers.
He rose from the ground to stand back on his feet, and he shook his head. No longer giving any attention to the wound even as the blood continued to trickle down the side of his face and drip underneath his chin. Taking a deep breath, he recomposed himself and called out to her in the blur of falling rain. Demanding that she show herself, and casually explaining that she would be severely disappointed when she discovered it would take so much more to finish him.
As his words fell, the only answer that he received was a long silence echoing through the darkness. Shifting his weight, he tightened his grip on his, still outstretched, gun, and began to dart his eyes back and forth through the dimly lit area. Even as he struggled to grasp his surroundings through the thick veil of rain, he determinedly searched for any trace of the woman; all the while he continued to berate himself repeatedly in his head for losing sight of her in the first place
Standing still, and letting the rain gently fall over his bald head as he waited in vain for some sort of response from his ever persistent adversary, he sighed and dropped his hands at his sides; allowing himself to let his guard down slightly.
He knew that there was no chance that she had retreated so easily, and she—much like him—was only taking this pause in battle to collect her thoughts and simply formulate another plan of attack. Breathing in, he slowly backed away from where he stood in the center of the lot, and moved toward the side of the building; where his black limousine sat parked near the furthest wall.
Reaching the driver's side door, he looked down remorsefully at the torn, blood soaked body of his driver that lay spiraled out on the ground, and frowned deeply. This wasn't supposed to happen, and he knew that the driver had become nothing more than an unnecessary causality of the incredibly foolish war that his attacker wished to rage upon him.
'I assume at this rate, one of the *many* causalities…'
Groaning and shaking his head, he forced his eyes away from the man's body and turned his full attention back on the battle that he was currently trapped in; scanning the area once more. But even as he continued to peer out in front of him, a deep sense of shame twisted in the pit of his stomach, and another, far more morbid, thought suddenly prickled in the back of his mind.
He knew that, no matter how much he had wished it were possible, there was not a single thing that he could have done to prevent his driver's death. Even as he sat in his seat in the back of the limousine, nearly helpless, as the events played out in front of his eyes; he could do nothing but watch. Watch as the car was forced off of the street towards his home, and into the parking lot of a rundown bar. Watch as his driver was ripped from within, and brutally stabbed through the chest for doing more than trying to protect him from a crazed attacker
Only when the woman had hurled him out of the back seat and tossed him onto the hard, wet ground – completely face down in the pool of blood ebbing from the man's body – did he feel the anger, that had been building up in his heart, rush forward, overwhelm his actions and knock him out of his internal shock. Almost completely taking over as he somehow found enough strength to retaliate against her.
But, even despite the fact that he could easily vend off the attempts at his life, it did very little to comfort him. Standing up against the limo in the rain's cold downpour, and finally taking all of what had happened in stride for the first time, his utter guilt of the situation surged forward and clung heavily to his mind.
Because Lex Luthor knew that, sooner or later, this would end up happening.
The distant sound of footsteps reached his ears, and he snapped his attention away from his thoughts and back onto the parking lot. Stepping away from his limo, and raising his gun once again, he quickly moved back into defense. Carefully looking about, he patiently waited for her to make her next move as he fingered the trigger nervously. But, as the seconds ticked on, he ended up hearing her disembodied voice begin to speak instead.
"You know, Lex, you only brought this on yourself," She told him sharply as she echoed through the wind and the rain. He glanced back and forth, hoping to spot her moving somewhere through the stretch of land, and allowing him enough time to pinpoint her direct location; but sadly, to no avail. The rain was beginning to fall even more heavily, and he could hardly see ten feet in front of him, let alone a taller woman who sounded as though she was coming from all around.
"All of this is your fault! You're the one who did this to me! You're the one who ruined my life!
As he continued to listen to her words, he slowly felt the hate and anger igniting within him, taking hold of his brain and shutting it off to any sense that wanted to remain in control. His free hand balled itself into a fist, and a scowl firmly crossed his face. He wanted to scream back to her, to explain to her that this wasn't his fault.
To somehow force enough sense into her head to prove to her that she was so wrapped up within her own delusions that she had failed to realize one thing. That it was hers instead. That all of it was always her entire fault to begin with.
After all, Lex was the son of a Luthor, and it was common knowledge that Luthor's were never this careless. That Luthor's never made such naive mistakes in their scientific research and calculations. And that they always, always knew better than to tamper with things that not even they could possibly try to understand.
'Or perhaps *I'm* the one that's become delusional.
However, he never got a chance to say a single word.
For the very next thing that he felt was a burning pain shooting up his side; stripping him of breath, as he realized that his attacker stood directly beside him. She reached out and wrapped her left arm around the front of his neck, pulling him close to her body, as she twisted her weapon inside of him. Leaning forward, she sweetly whispered into his ear.
"And now it's due time that I did the same for yours." She uttered, fiercely ripping the blade out, and stepping back; watching him crumble to his knees with a cruel smile
Lex grimaced as he held his side with his right hand; blood flowing incredibly quickly from between his fingers and dripping onto the ground below. With a jagged breath, he slowly raised his head and looked at her with an expression of anger. Somehow managing to suppress the agony coursing through his body, he shakily raised his gun to aim at her—incredibly blurring—figure that stood above him in one final desperate attempt.
Looking down, and almost admiring his seemingly never-ending will power, the corners of her lips twitched slightly. And it took almost everything she had to force herself not to burst out in complete hilarity
"Now, Lex, do you honestly believe that you could do—" She began to say, gesturing to him with a graceful tilt of her head, and resting it upon her shoulders in a mocking way. But, before she could finish her sentence…the sound of his gun went off
Her green eyes widened as she felt herself stumble back. Not only due to her instinctive reflex in regards to the loud noise, but also by the force of the bullet entering the side of her arm
Quickly catching herself, she looked down at the entry wound in alarm. Watching as the dark crimson blood slowly started to stain and run down the arm of her shirt, and she could feel herself practically seething from the boundless hatred that the injury had somehow managed to call back forward.
She spun her head around and stared down at Lex, and damn it, he was smiling. Even as he bled from his wounds, an overly proud grin crossed his face because of what he had been able to accomplish; and oh, how she utterly despised seeing that arrogant look on his face
"You bastard!" She cried; struggling to place a hand over her bleeding arm as her eyes turned cold. However, even as she continued to look down at Lex, she slowly realized that not only did his blood continue to gush out in an unnerving rate, but it also had managed to form a small puddle under his feet. And with each pained breath he took as he continued to hold the gun in front of him, she noticed that his grin faltered slightly each time; as though it was just another well placed façade.
Watching him, and drinking in his anguished movements, her fury greatly subsided and she found herself smiling because of the wondrous discovery. Keeping her smile carefully in place, she started to back away.
Before a dreadful silence overtook the parking lot—turned battlefield within the last hour—and Lex was left alone down on his knees, he somehow managed to hear his attacker's final words. And he swore that he could still see the smile on her face
"Ah, well, that's quite all right…" She expressed quietly, letting her voice trail off as she gradually faded from Lex's vision, and into the canopy of darkness. He watched her go with knitted eyebrows and a large angry scowl over his face. He wanted to go after her, wanted this insanity to stop before it even had a chance to fully begin. But as he tried to move forward, his body screamed out against him, forcing him to stay where he was.
Before a dreadful silence overtook the parking lot—turned battlefield—and Lex was left alone down on his knees, he somehow heard his attacker's final words. And he swore that he could still see the delighted smile on her face.
"You'll be dead soon enough as it is."
When her words fell and then disappeared into the night, and all became quiet within the Wild Coyote; Lex then allowed his crumbling mask of strength to shatter to pieces. Finally showing the unbelievable amount of pain that he had been struggling to shield away from the first moment she had stabbed him in the ribs. For he would not give her the benefit of seeing him submit to his weakness.
In a fluent rush of motion, he quickly dropped the gun from his shaking hand and fell forward. Sweat beaded down his face as he held his bleeding side with both hands; desperately trying to stop the increasing flow of blood in any way humanly possible
However, as he continued to apply as much pressure to the wound as he could, he dimly became aware of the taste of copper at the corners of his mouth. And that's when he realized that his head wound had begun to bleed again, and was in the process of dripping down his cheeks anew.
And he knew that with both injuries bleeding so fervently at once... No, he absolutely refused to allow that to happen
With a small grunt of determination, he squared his shoulders, and leaned back on his feet. He rocked back and forth until he was able to stand up without having to move his hands away from his side. He inhaled and took in several uneven gasps of air, and very slowly began to stagger from where he had fallen; proceeding towards his limo once again and ignoring the small trail of blood that he was leaving as drug himself down the path
Finally reaching the side of the car, he fell heavily against the window. Reaching down to grab the handle, and practically throwing the door open, he wearily nudged himself inside onto the leather seats. Looking down, he mentally thanked God several times over when he saw that the keys were still in the ignition, and having to search his dead driver for wherever he kept them was now one less troublesome task he had to force his aching body to fulfill.
Exhaling slowly, calming his overly distressed emotions; he started up the limo and smoothly backed out of the bar
As Lex drove down the country road leading away from the merger buildings that laid upon the outskirts and back into the quiet little town, the sweet call of unconsciousness suddenly beckoned to him; his vision clouding. Catching himself as his head slipped forward onto his chest, he jerked upwards with a startled gasp and forced himself back awake.
Momentarily glancing down at the blood that still continued to flow from his wound, and was in the process of staining the seat, Lex suddenly came to realize the exact amount of danger that he was currently in; and how he would need to find someone to help him with this blasted mess very soon.
Because he knew if he didn't, there was a pretty good chance that he would not make it through the night.
'Or,' He thought wryly despite it all. 'Even the next hour at this rate…
Coming onto a two-way street, Lex's creased eyebrows lowered in contemplation. He knew that the westbound road lead towards downtown Smallville, and eventually it would turn towards his home. And if, by some miracle, he actually managed to survive the thirty minute trip, he could easily call one of his best on hand doctors to look him over and save his life. However, waiting for them to actually arrive at the mansion as he slowly bled to death all alone in his library became far less flattering to the young man as he continued to weigh out his various options.
And slowly, he turned his eyes in the other direction.
The eastern road was considerably a much shorter trip, as its destination was less than ten minutes away, instead of the Luthor mansion's rather unsettling thirty. And although it did lead further out into the country, far away from Smallville's medical center, its trained staff, or even Lex's own professional hired hands. And it's only real residence amidst the timid flatlands was nothing more than a small, completely innocent, yellow farmhouse…it was still home to the only people that Lex had ever considered himself to be safest with.
With nothing more than a brisk nod of the head as he came to his conclusion, he turned the wheel of the limousine and went east.
Clark Kent walked down the stairs of his home with a large smile on his face; collecting his red jacket that was draped over on the table in the hallway as he did. He had promised one of his best friends, Chloe Sullivan, that he would come over to her house and help her with an article for The Torch—the Smallville High's student newspaper; one of which Chloe was the chief editor of—that was continuously giving her problem upon problem each time she tried to edit it. And Clark, never wanting to say no to a friend in need, happily agreed to give her all the undivided attention he could possibly muster.
"I'll be back later, guys!" He called to his parents, Jonathan and Martha, who sat reading in the living room together. "I'm going over to Chloe's to help her out with the 'article of death.'"
Reaching the bottom of the staircase, he chuckled lightly as he thought back over Chloe's rather amusing choice of words when she had called him earlier that evening; nearly begging him to be her 'knight in shining armor'. When the sweet voice of his mother spoke up, telling him that that would be all right and they would leave a plate of dinner waiting for him in the oven when he got back; he broke from his thoughts and smiled his thanks.
Clark turned away from his mother and father, and was about to head out the front door when the sound of knocking suddenly came from the opposite side, and his expression twisted in confusion. As far as he knew, his parents weren't expecting anyone tonight, and, unless her plans had suddenly changed, he was the one that was supposed to meet Chloe at her house…not the other way around. Clark shrugged his shoulders and reached for the doorknob; opening it and kindly addressing whoever it was that was on the other end.
Almost instantly he felt the blood drain from his face.
Lex stood in front of him, soaking wet as he leaned against the Kent's doorframe. His head was lowered and his left hand, which was completely covered in patches of dried blood, was held over his freshly bleeding ribs. He struggled with each breath he took, and Clark realized as he looked him over, that he couldn't remember a time he hadever seen his older friend that deathly pale before.
Clark blinked; somehow being able to hold back his instinctive shock, and moved forward.
"…Lex?" He worriedly called his name as he reached out and placed a hand on Lex's trembling shoulder. When Lex felt Clark's touch, he slowly looked up at his friend and half smiled; a trail of blood dripping from his lips. Not a second later, he opened his mouth to speak, and his tone only caused Clark's worry to intensify.
"Clark…" Lex weakly muttered out in a voice that was nothing more than a mere ghost of a whisper to the young Kent's ears. He winched slightly as he tried to stand up straight; fully intending to walk inside to talk to him and his parents about what had happened. However, any attempt he made to force his muscles to work only failed miserably, and he was simply reduced to slipping back against the wood framing once again.
Moving his head and staring back up, he noticed Clark's overly dazed expression, and despite the pain, he briefly smiled mirthfully and tried to grab his attention by lighting the mood.
"…I hope I didn't…catch you at a bad time…?"
Although Lex tried to make a joke out of the situation that he was in, Clark did not feel any trace of amusement register in his mind. For in that moment, it merely seemed that Lex was slowly bleeding out right in front of his eyes—although, blast it, he didn't know why—and there was nothing even remotely funny about that in the slightest. In fact, seeing Lex in this way only caused his broad shoulders to shake, fear to take over, and any form of logical sense to completely shut off.
And, had any part of his mind actually been working correctly, Clark would have no doubt screamed at himself for reacting in that way. Before him stood one of his closest friends, possibly bleeding to death, and there he was… standing frozen in place; unable to speak
After a moment of nothing but both young men staring at each other as confusion and fear flickered about in their locked gazes, a sharp spasm of pain ran up Lex's side and he groaned weakly. And that's when he realized that, despite Clark's obvious dismay of what was happening, he had to ask for help straightaway; if not from him, then perhaps his parents.
Lex leaned from the door and did his best to try and stand up again, but as he did, another rush of pain – far more severely than the previous one – shot up inside of him and his vision rapidly turned dim before him. He swayed on his feet as the dizziness set in, and almost as a reflex, he called out to Clark with whatever remaining strength he had.
As the sound of his name reached his ears, Clark managed to snap himself of his shocked filled daze and focus his attention back on Lex. Just in time to watch as the young Luthor reached out a shaking hand, trying to grab a hold of Clark's jacket, and tumbled forward with a quiet murmur; his voice fading.
"Lex!" Clark cried out as his mind shifted into overdrive by the sight of him falling. He jerked forward and grabbed him underneath the arms before he could fully hit the ground. Feeling himself being held up by Clark, Lex rolled his head against his shoulder and closed his tired eyes; finally succumbed to unconsciousness and knowing full well that he would be taken care of by the Kents.
Clark large blue eyes continued to stare down at an unmoving Lex Luthor in his arms, even as he carefully backed away from the door and helped his friend in out of the rain. He lifted him back against his shoulder when they reached the center of the hallway connecting the den to the living room, and Clark became aware of something dripping down his fingers. Something that he knew wasn't rain. Pulling back and looking at his hand, he had to choke down his nausea as he realized Lex's blood now covered it.
Tearing his eyes away, and looking back down at Lex, Clark felt himself beginning to shake once again as overwhelming concern washed over him. However, before he could completely lose himself in his feelings and yell to one of his parents—or anyonewho cared to listen, for that matter—for help, a voice shrieked from the other room; beating him to it
He didn't have to turn around to see who it was. He didn't have to cast his eyes from Lex's bleeding face to know that she had her hands over her mouth, muffling her voice as his mother often did when she was afraid. And Clark didn't have to say a word to know that his father was currently in the process of mentally listing the names of several doctors that the Kents knew, and carefully choosing the most well trained out of the group to personally save Lex's life.
He did know, however, that over the last year his parents had become considerably much closer to Lex, as he, himself, had as well. And thus, it came as no surprise to the boy that seeing Lex in this sort of battered state caused both Martha and Jonathan's worried emotions to rage on unchecked.
Tightening his grip around Lex's shoulders, Clark addressed his parents in a quiet, timid voice.
"Call 911…" He managed to breathe out. Turning his head away from where his friend leaned in his half-embrace for the first time in several long minutes, he focused his eyes on his mother and father instead; a scared expression on his face. "…Now."
In the community of Smallville, there were not many people that the Kent family wasn't friends with, and even less that they didn't know on a first name basis. So it was that, when the time came that one of the members of the humble family were struggling with a complicated problem, often the sort which they knew they couldn't solve on their own, their friends were always there to lend a hand whenever the opportunity presented itself. And, for the young Smallville Medical physician—and close friend of the Kent's—Chelsea Kithara, she wasn't at all troubled when she received a sudden call on her cellphone in the middle of the night from a distressed Jonathan Kent.
She listened carefully to his words as he quickly tried to explain the situation to her, as she went about rapidly throwing on whatever clothes she currently had scattered about her Pleasant Meadows apartment. Eventually settling for a black jacket, blue jeans and her best running shoes that she absentmindedly had flung into her closet earlier that evening, she collected her things and left her home; hurrying as fast as she could to her red Mustang that sat in the darkness of the garage.
Jonathan and Martha did their best trying to keep Lex's blood down to a minimal with makeshift bandages as they waited anxiously for Chelsea to arrive at their door. When she did, ten minutes later and almost shoving her way into the living room couch where Lex laid, she automatically went about putting herself to work, and Jonathan smiled.
She was nothing if not persistent with her constant drive to help people, and never without a caring and gentle hand as she did so, it was quite obvious to the eldest Kent that she was the perfect choice in the matter.
As she carefully tended to Lex, mending his wounds so that his wounds no longer spilled blood with one hand, she used her other to blindly shuffle around in her medical bag and pull out a small bottle of orange liquid. She then focused her attention away from her patient, and onto filling the medication into a small syringe and administering it into Lex's forearm.
With a satisfied smile, she lightly patted Lex's hand and rose from where she had been kneeling, turning to face the Kent family who were watching quietly from afar.
"Well, thankfully, whoever did this to him had some pretty lousily aim," She informed them, continuing to smile even as her voice dropped down to a serious tone. "Had the stab wound been a few inches higher, you folks would have had a serious problem on your hands."
When she noticed Clark tense up from where he stood from behind his parents at what she was suggesting, she craned her head over Jonathan's shoulder and tried to explain. "But the fact still remains that they didn't, Clark. Honestly, the worse possible outcome from all this is that Lex is going to wake up with the mother of all migraines and some pretty sore ribs."
Hearing the amazingly comforting news, Martha breathed a sigh of relief. "So, Lex is going to be all right?"
"Yes," She answered, closing the top of the bag she held in her hands as she did. "I gave him something for the pain, and there's a chance that he'll probably be out for the rest of the night, but rest assure that your favorite billionaire playboy is going to be just fine."
"That's great to hear, Chelsea," Jonathan said as he leaned forward and gently placed a hand on her shoulder with a soft smile. "Thank you so much for everything you've done."
With a proud nod, and a quiet hum in response to his words, Chelsea turned on her heels and walked towards the front door; Martha trailing behind as she reached out and gave the girl her own personal thanks in the form of a tender hug.
"It's always a pleasure to help." She murmured as she broke from the hug after a moment, and opened the door to leave. She turned her head back around to look at Martha once more as she reached the end of the porch; smiling widely. "You guys take care of yourselves, all right?"
As her car left the Kent's property, Martha moved back into the living room and was unsurprised when she saw Clark quickly pulling away from the wall and taking his place at Lex's side. His eyes peered up and down his friend's bandaged body as his eyebrows lowered in concern. With a short frown, Martha walked around the couch and placed a hand on her son's shoulder.
"Sweetheart, it's been a long night," She whispered gently, not wanting to wake Lex even if she could. "Don't you think you should try to get some sleep?"
Clark shook his head.
"No, I'm fine," He told her, perhaps a bit more sharply than he should have. When he realized, he lowered his voice and turned to look at her. "Really, I'll be okay. I just want to stay here for a while."
"Clark, you heard what Chelsea said. Lex is going to be perfectly fine."
"I know… it's not that, Mom."
As she listened, Martha's face crinkled slightly; giving him an odd look and not understanding what he meant. Noticing her confusion, Clark simply turned his head back to where Lex slept and sighed quietly to himself. "I just don't…I just don't want him to feel like he's alone."
Martha's bemused expression then faded and was replaced with one of pure compassion. The bond that both her son and Lex shared with one another was something that never failed to surprise her. She smiled and leaned down until she was able to kiss Clark on the top of his head.
"Just try not to stay up too late. After all, she did say that he could sleep through the night."
Clark smirked mischievously. "I'll do my best."
With a playful nudging of her hip against Clark's shoulder, Martha quietly left the room, walking upstairs and leaving the two young men alone.
The grandfather clock near the window in the living room chimed loudly as the hour turned over to two in the morning, and the sound was enough of an irritation to warrant a small grumble from Lex as his mind began to clear from the medication and he opened his eyes. Less than a second later however, he shut them close again. Mostly because he couldn't believe that he never noticed how brightly the Kents kept their living room in the middle of the night.
Rubbing his stinging eyes with an annoyed sigh, he started to lift himself up on the couch when he stopped half way. Wait…couch? He thought to himself with a raise of his eyebrows as he touched the soft material.
The last thing he remembered was standing in front of Clark as an unbelievable amount of pain shot through him and then falling forward into the teenager's arms, and although it was a bit of a blur regarding the events that took place afterward, he didn't recall anything about falling over on the couch.
With a shake of his head, he simply settled on the idea that the Kent's must have moved him after he passed out. Pulling up from where he was laying, he swung his feet over the side of the couch and almost instantly regretted doing so. For when he did, both of his sides cried out in protest simultaneously from the quick action. With a hiss of pain, he crashed back onto his pillow with a loud thud.
Lex tried lifting himself up several times more after his fall, but each time he did, it only caused him to mumble certain choice words underneath his breath and clutch his lower body as it ached painfully. And soon, he just decided it would be best if he just laid there and didn't move at all.
And that was when he heard a familiar voice call his name from the kitchen in surprise. Lex raised his head only slightly and saw Clark walking forward; coming to kneel beside him with a large grin.
"Lex, you're awake!"
Turning his head to the side, they both exchanged relieved looks to one another, and Lex couldn't help but smile because of Clark's cheerful mood. After a moment, Clark began to rise from the floor to stand, and he, too, quickly went about lifting himself up as well; doing it so that his friend could sit next to him. But, before he could, he felt two strong hands come down on his shoulders, forcing him back into place.
"Hey, take it easy now, Lex," Clark told him seriously. "Unless you've forgotten, you were kinda …stabbed in the ribs? You really can't be overdoing it like that, you know."
Lex's eyes narrowed and he frowned at Clark's words. No, he hadn't forgotten what had happened despite his still somewhat cloudy mind. In fact, as he struggled with the pain that made him feel as though he had been ran over by one of his company's eighteen wheelers—Twice—the thoughts of him being stabled after his foolish miscalculation was one of the several things that swiftly swam through his mind; that and wondering where the woman who was responsible for his injuries had disappeared to after she fled the battlefield.
But as he stared up at Clark's face and noted the rather worried expression that lay upon it, he decided not to start up an argument over such trivial matters, and instead used an obvious, but always effective, lie to change the subject.
"Clark, I'm fine," He grumbled out. His frown still in place as he pulled away from Clark's grip and managed to suppress the pain long enough so that he was able to lean fully up against the arm of the couch, even despite Clark's attempts to stop him.
Taking a deep breath, Lex opened his eyes and smiled. "You have to stop worrying about me, buddy."
Clark crossed his arms and shook his head against his friend's overly stubborn nature. "Well then, if that's the case…" He grinned, leaning forward and politely bowing before Lex; his tone changing and becoming rather silly. "Might I, Clark Kent, please have permission from the ever stubborn Mr. Luthor to continue to worry about his health just long enough so that I can at least bring him something to drink?"
Unable to hold back a laugh, Lex nodded his head and Clark, taking that as his way of telling him yes, walked into the kitchen and headed for the refrigerator.
Once he was out of sight, Lex leaned his head back over the arm of the couch and rubbed a hand over his throbbing forehead; feeling over the several cuts and bruises over his face as he slowly massaged his temples. Realizing that he probably looked far worse than he felt, Lex's frustration got the better of him. And before he could stop himself, he called out to Clark, whose head was—at least from his point of view—currently in the fridge.
"On second thought, Clark; if it isn't alcohol then I don't want it!"
Clark laughed briefly at his yelling, reached above his head to pull down two glasses that were in the top cabinet and poured the drinks he held in his other hand carefully into them both. As he walked back, Lex saw that his friend held an average glass in his right hand, but also a wine glass in his left. Sitting down beside Lex on the couch, Clark handed the wine glass to him.
"Well, I'm sorry to say that my family was all out of scotch tonight," He said with a smile as he brought his glass to his lips and took a small sip. "But I hope you won't mind some finely aged apple juice?"
Pretending to be offended; Lex scoffed, emptied the glass in one long drink, and then placed it on the coffee table in front of them. "…Consider yourself lucky that I'm feeling generous enough to let it slide this time, Kent." He smirked, giving Clark a gentle nudging with his good arm.
They shared a friendly laugh, but it wasn't long until a slow silence then fell over both young men as they sat together on the couch, hidden in the late night shadows; the only light ebbing from the other room. They stared forward at the fireplace as their mind went over the exact same subject with very different reasons. After a moment or two of awkwardly fiddling with the glass in his hands, Clark spoke up and finally broke the quiet.
"Lex…" He said eventually, letting his voice trail off as he waited for Lex to turn his head around. When Clark felt his friend's curious gaze upon him, he pushed forward; all the while he stared down at his feet nervously. "…What happened tonight?"
Hearing those words, Lex winched and turned away. The complicated events of the evening were not something that he felt very comfortable in explaining, even less in explaining them to Clark. In his head, he could already see the teenager's shocked reaction to the truth twisting on his face.
Running a hand over the back of his neck, knowing that since the subject had now been placed out on the table, there was nothing he could do to get out of having to talk about it; Lex sighed to himself and tried to think of the best possible way to handle his next words.
"Basically Clark, I ended up way in over my head at a bar, and I wound up paying for it." Was all he told him; and to Lex, that one short sentence contained much more of the truth than anything else he could have crudely tried to piece together to stop him from asking.
Clark looked up from the floor and over at his side to see that Lex had begun to stare down in his place. As he watched him, Clark's eyes danced over the bruises on the older man's face and he suddenly felt a wave of vengeance rush forward; altogether overwhelming him in regards to what had happen to his friend.
"But who did this to you?" He stammered out with a furious expression. One of which Lex would have no doubt been surprised to see. "Did you know who it was?"
With his eyes completely obscured by the darkness of the room as he continued to stare at anything expect Clark's face, Lex shook his head. "No, I didn't know her."
Clark raised an eyebrow. "Her?"
"It was a woman that attacked me, Clark." Lex replied with a hard frown, looking up finally and turning to stare at Clark. His eyes were half lidded and his tone was serious. "But I had never met her before."
Thinking over his mental list of the various criminals that had been a great threat to his family and friends in the past, Clark tried to narrow down who it was that could have done this. He knew that most of them were locked away in high-tech institutions such as Belle Reeve, or—at the very worse—had ended up being killed because of their last attempts at someone's life.
But, even as he continued to think in silence, not a single name he recalled from the list seemed to have enough motivation—or power—to go after Lex and almost successfully take his life.
As Clark became lost within his thoughts, and the quietness, as well as the subject of the conversation itself, slowly wound up proving too much for Lex to handle, he eased himself up from his seat, addressing the younger man as he did.
"Clark, I want to thank you and your parents for what you did for me tonight," He stated as he walked around the couch, heading out of the living room and towards the front door. "I deeply appreciate it."
Clark's eyes snapped back to awareness as he heard his friend's words. And, practically leaping off the couch, he followed after him.
"Wait, just where on earth do you think you're going?" He cried out, his eyes wide as he grabbed Lex by the shoulder and prevented him from taking another step.
"I'm going home, Clark." Lex answered him, looking down at the hand that refused to let go with a scowl.
"Have you completely lost your mind?" Clark exclaimed with a fresh spark of anger in his voice. He placed his other hand on Lex's free shoulder and spun him around until they were both facing one another again; when he did, he allowed his emotions to break loose. "Lex, this woman almost killed you tonight! And who's the say that the next time she finds you, she won't try and finish the job? Lex, please, it's not safe for you to—"
"That's enough!" Lex yelled suddenly, cutting his pleas off as his eyes flashed dangerously. Seeing the unnerving look in his friend's eyes, Clark flinched and dropped his hands away from his shoulders. And almost instantly Lex softened his voice down into a much kinder tone.
"You're letting your concern over my well being cloud your judgment, Kent," He explained with a half grin. "Honestly, you would be surprised to find out just how many times I've had to deal with people attempting to kill me. Despite it all, Clark, deep down I'm still the son of a tyrant living in a small town where not everyone looks favorably on the accursed Luthor name or their business methods."
Clark's eyebrows twitched in confusion and Lex continued. "Basically, what happened tonight was just another number to add to my personal list of 'close calls'." He said plainly, turning away from Clark and moving towards the door. "You shouldn't concern yourself over it. I know I won't."
"But Lex, wait—!"
"Clark," Lex cut him off in a rather firm voice as he opened the door and began to walk out. "I'm sure by the end of the week all of this will be nothing more than an uncomfortable memory."
And with nothing more than a simple wave of his hand, Lex let the door close behind him. Sighing in defeat, Clark walked back into the living room and pulled back the curtains of the window nearest the grandfather clock. Watching carefully as Lex opened the door to his limousine—all the while he wondered to himself just how on earth he had managed to overlook that massive thing sitting in front of his family's house up until now—loudly started it up, and pulled out of the Kent's driveway.
As Clark was left alone, and Lex vanished from his line of sight completely, continuing down the road that would take him back towards his Luthor estate—far more quickly than the speed limit probably allowed him to—Clark suddenly felt a chill run up his spin.
Letting the curtains fall away from his hand, he leaned up against the window and shut his eyes; blowing the dark bangs off of his forehead with a frustrated breath.
He didn't feel all that comfortable with allowing Lex to leave that easily. And the more he thought back over the choice, the more overwhelming feelings of guilt slowly crept in over his mind, since he knew that there was a pretty good chance that Lex's attacker was more than likely still searching for him through the streets of Smallville. And then, coupled with the way his friend had so carelessly brushed off the fact that he could have died…
Clark moved away from the window as he squared his shoulders, determination coursing through his body as he swore to himself that, no matter what, he would find some possible way to help Lex with this rather dangerous situation he had managed to get himself stuck in the middle of.
Unfortunately, glancing over at the clock in surprise, Clark realized that there was probably very little that even he could accomplish at three-ten in the morning. Shrugging his shoulders with a sheepish chuckle, he figured that it would benefit both Lex and himself if he was at least well rested for the task ahead. He turned and was about to leave the living room and walk up the main staircase when he stopped in his tracks.
Looking back over into the hall, unpleasant images of the last few hours flashed before his eyes. A bloodied, half alive Lex Luthor standing before him in the rain, wearily asking for help, before forward in his arms. Moving him out of the rain and carefully placing him on the couch as he and his family waited for Chelsea. Him sitting beside Lex as he slept soundlessly, doing his best to make sure that, no matter what his concerned feelings were, his best friend was taken care of.
Violently shaking the images away, Clark decided to take the kitchen staircase up to his room instead.
The next chapter will hopefully be uploaded next Saturday. However, depending on real life time schedules updates could be later or sooner than that date, but hopefully I'll have it written and up by then! Regardless, please keep your eyes out for updates! Until then! :3