Smallville WiP

By Kristina Andersson
kriscat@gmail.com

Prologue

Clark sighed and absentmindedly continued to fidget. He couldn’t relax. The last couple of year’s frequent trips abroad and across the country with Lex hadn’t completely cured him of his fear of flying. Sure, Clark didn’t spend the entire flight preparing for a crash anymore, but he still couldn’t find peace enough to actually use the hours in the air doing something constructive. Usually Lex was there with him, distracting him and calming him, but this time, Clark’s fellow passenger did nothing to soothe his nerves. In fact his presence had quite the opposite effect.

Lionel glared at Clark over his laptop. “Would you please stop fidgeting?” He asked with a sneer. “It makes you look like a back county farm hick, and while that is what you are, I would’ve thought that Lex had weaned you off the worst behaviourism’s by now.”

Clark glared back from underneath his bangs and mumbled quietly, “If it bothers you so much, I don’t understand why you offered me a ride in the first place.”

“I certainly didn’t do it for you,” Lionel answered, proving that his hearing was a lot better than Clark had thought. “But Lex seems dead determent on that you’re ‘the one’. Lionel rolled his eyes as to show how ridiculous he found that statement. “And while I still think he’s a fool for believing his, eh, preference won’t affect business,” he continued, pretending not to notice the face Clark made at that statement, “I’ve come to the conclusion that nothing I say or do will change Lex position when it comes to you. The only thing I can do is wait for Lex coming to his senses, and be the understanding father in the meantime.”

“That’s very big of you,” Clark said sarcastically.

“It’s bad PR if the public thinks you’re a bigot.” That Luthor Corp. had enough bad PR already was left unsaid.

“Of course,” Clark said with an eye roll of his own.

Spending over six hours alone with Lionel was a pain, but it was worth it. Besides, after almost three years as Lex’s boyfriend, Clark was getting used to him. And Lionel had mellowed some after Lucas’ death. Lionel would probably never admit it, but it was clear to Clark that Lucas’s pointless death after driving Lex’s Porsche right into a stone wall, completely stoned on speed, had had a huge impact on Lionel. He clearly didn’t want to lose another son. In Clark’s eyes, this trip proved that was the case.

It had been three wonderful years, with him enrolled at Metropolis University and Lex working in his new LexCorp office downtown. Clark still lived the collage dorm life, one thing both Lex and his father strangely agreed on, but spent most of his weekends and not few weekdays at Lex’s penthouse apartment.

Clark enjoyed his collage life and LexCorp was one of the most forthcoming businesses in the US. Lex even had begun to make a name for himself internationally. As the Breche Award Lex was receiving tomorrow proved.

Lex had already spent a week in Europe, networking and making new business connections and was meeting up with Lionel and Clark in Brussels.

“You’re fidgeting again!” Lionel snapped.

Before Clark could retort, his phone rang.

“Hey,” a familiar voice said.

Clark grinned, “Hi, yourself,” he answered.

“Have you killed my father yet?” Lex asked.

Clark laughed, “No, but I’ve been close to. Where are you?”

“I’m at the Verhofstadt Building, we’ve been going over the ceremony, but I’m leaving for the airport in a little while. Traffic is supposed to be awful today.”

“Then I hope you’re not driving,” Clark teased.

“Very funny. No, I’m taking a limo.” Lex answered.

“Mom wanted me to tell you she’s very proud of you, and Dad sort of grunted approvingly, so I think you’re beginning to win him over.”

“That would be the day,” Lex laughed. “Did your mother… Hey! What are you doing here?!”

“Lex?” Clark frowned. What was going on? Was that sounds of struggle he heard? “Lex?!”

The line went dead.

“What’s the matter?” Lionel asked.

“The line went dead,” Clark answered and bit his lip. Oh, how he wished he’d been on the ground. Then he’d probably reached Lex by now. “And I think I heard Lex fighting someone before that.”

Lionel frowned, “Call back, he ordered.

  And Clark did, several times with no answer. “I’ll call the Verhofstadt, I’m sure I have the number in here,” he said and started to dig around in his bag pack.

“For heavens sake!” Lionel snapped and grabbed the phone. “Let me do it.” He quickly found a small card with the number in his briefcase and dialled. He soon put down the phone. “I can’t get through,” he said. It was clear he was beginning to get worried.

The stewardess came in, pale in the face, “I think you want to see this, sir.” She said and turned on the TV with the remote control. She was so shaken up she had to try three times before she succeeded. A female reporter, looking a bit ruffled around the edges was standing in front of several fire trucks and ambulances. She was clearly talking, but the TV seemed to be set on mute. The flight attendant began to fumble with the remote again.

“Give me that!” Lionel growled and grabbed the remote.

Finally the sound came on. “Seems to have been some sort of explosion in the lobby, which might have been the work of terrorists. But nothing is confirmed.” The reporter shouted into the camera. “What we do know is that the newly finished Verhofstadt Building, named after former Belgian Prime minister Guy Verhofstadt, was supposed to be designed to survive anything, from earthquakes to missile attacks. Exactly what it took to bring the building down is still unclear. Rescuing personal has just begun to search for survivors. Over two hundred people worked in the Verhofstadt, and that does not include all the guests attending conferences and such in the building. Several prominent persons were allegedly inside the Verhofstadt at the time of the explosion. Among them, the Belgian Minister of Finance, the American ambassador, and Lex Luthor, a rising star in the world of finance and son to business tycoon Lionel Luthor. But that has still not been confirmed.”

Lionel dropped the remote, and some how managed to turn the TV off. Clark stared at Lionel, and Lionel stared at Clark.

With tears in his eyes, Clark picked up the remote and turned on the TV again. They watched the news in silence, only taking their eyes of the screen to fasten their seat belts before they landed at Brussels International Airport.

//Click//

“No arrests made yet. But sources in the Belgian police and Interpol says that they now have several suspects…”

//Click//
 
“Ties to several terror organisations…”

//Click//

“Many of the victims remains impossible to identify.”

//Click//

“Witness have confirmed that American Lex Luthor was inside the Verhofstadt. Among them, a wounded Limo driver that was waiting for Lex outside the Verhofstadt. Sources at Interpol also claims that a good friend of Lex’s and Lex’s father, industrial leader Lionel Luthor both have stated that Lex called the private plane, taking them both to Brussels for Lex’s award ceremony, just before the explosions. But we have not been able to reach Lionel Luthor for a comment on this claim.”

Jonathan sighed and turned of the TV and turned to his wife, just coming out from Lex bedroom.

“How is he? Any change?”

Martha bit her lip and shook her head. “No, he just lays there, completely silent. He just answers questions with nods and shakes of his head, and I don’t think there’s one piece of Lex’s clothing in this apartment that isn’t in that bed with Clark.”

Jonathan rose from the couch and gently hugged her. “I’m the first to admit, I wasn’t thrilled over Clark’s relationship with Lex, but Clark loved him so much. Even I could see that. He needs to grieve. And I guess this is the way he does that. All we can do is be supportive and give him the time he needs.”

Martha smiled sadly, “You are a wise man, Jonathan Kent.”

“No, I just know how I would feel if I lost you,” Jonathan answered and hugged her tighter. “What did Lionel say?”

“That Clark can stay here in the penthouse as long as he needs. That the memorial cervices will be planned by his secretary and if Clark has any requests, he can take it up with her.” Martha leaned her head on Jonathan’s shoulder. “It’s like he can’t be bothered. He’s so focused on finding someone to blame.”

“You know Lionel,” Jonathan simply said. Now was not the time for a Luthor rant. He kissed Martha’s forehead. “All we can do is being there for Clark.” 

Clark burrowed his face in Lex’s coat and closed his eyes. It smelled like Lex. Everything was all right. It was a lazy Saturday morning, and Lex had just gone out to get breakfast and would join him in bed soon.  Deep deep down inside him was a little voice whispering that everything wasn’t all right. That he needed to get up. There were things that needed to be done. And his parents were worried about him. But he ignored it.

It didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered anymore.

Part one

 “Just because the Mayor declined you a personal interview doesn’t mean he’s on the take, Lois,” Clark said and paid the amused cab driver.

Lois was already halfway to the Daily Planet entrance and didn’t even bother to check that Clark was following her when she answered, “But it’s a good sign he has something to hide!”

“Or he’s just busy running the city,” Clark answered and quickly grabbed the door when Lois turned around and glared at him. He knew from experience the brunette wasn’t above closing it right in front his face if she was mad enough.

Fortunately, this time Lois just rolled her eyes at him, “Oh, come on! Everyone knows the mayor spends more time on the golf course than in his office.”  She moved through the crowd in the lobby clearing a wide path to the elevators.

Clark followed her, “Maybe he’s really good at delegating?” he suggested, restraining a smile when his partner glared at him.

“Oh, come on, Smallville!” she said, exasperation clearly shown in her voice. “Even you can’t be that naïve.” She stared at the elevator doors and the lights above it. “And where is that elevator? If Ralph’s messing with it again, I’m going to make him wish he was dead!”

Clark calmly pressed the elevator button and it started moving. Lois growled. “And who’s side are you on, anyway?” she demanded to know as she stepped into the elevator. Are you my partner, or have you suddenly begun to work for the Mayor’s office?”

“I’m on our side,” Clark answered. “All I’m saying is that we have no proof to back your theory up. And you know as well as I do that there’s no way Perry’s gonna print it without solid ironclad evidence. And before we go after the Mayor of Metropolis because he doesn’t want to go one on one with Mad Dog Lane, we better finish the story we where sent out to do.”

The elevator stopped and the doors opened. Lois stepped out into the busy newsroom walking towards her desk. “Story? What story? The anniversary of the Metropolis Opera isn’t a story. It… It’s something that belongs in the society pages!” She sat down in her chair with a huff.

“I don’t know, Lois,” Clark said as he sat down at his own desk. “I kinda like to write articles like this. It’s nice that not all the Planet’s features are about corruption and disasters. It makes a nice change once in a while.”

Lois rolled her eyes but before she got a chance to reply, Jimmy Olsen interrupted. “Hey CK!” he grinned and sat down on Clark’s desk. “How come you never told me you had friends in high places?”

Clark frowned, “What are you talking about?”

“You got a call while you guy were out,” the redhead said, still grinning.

“So? Did you take a message?” Clark asked pointedly.

“Sure did!” Jimmy nodded proudly. “Lionel Luthor requests your presence at Luthor Plaza as soon as possible.”

Lois head snapped up. “Lionel Luthor wants us to do an interview?” she asked, her eyes were gleaming at the thought of an exclusive with the famous corporate leader. “I have so many questions…”

Jimmy shook his head. “Uh-uh! Mr. Luthor said, and I quote, ‘And tell him to leave Ms. Lane at the Planet. She can be amusing but I don’t feel for the Spanish inquisition today.’ Then he asked to talk with Mr. White, and the chief said you should come and see him first.”

Clark, still frowning, rose and walked over to the editor’s office. Lois followed. “Who does he think he is?” she steamed as Clark politely knocked on the door. “We’re a team! Lionel Luthor have no say in how we work. Only Perry can do that!” By now they stood in front of Perry White’s desk. “Tell him, Perry!” Lois demanded.

“Clark, you’re going alone,” Perry said. “Lois, I’m sure you have other things to do. I still haven’t got that opera piece…”

“But Perry!” she protested.

He pointed at the door. “Out!” he said sternly in a voice even Lois didn’t dare to disobey. At least not openly. With a pout she left the office.

Perry turned to Clark, “Now, son. Do you have any idea what this is about?”

Clark shook his head, “Not a clue. I haven’t talked to Lionel for almost a year. But I doubt he wants me to do an interview.”

“Probably not,” Perry agreed. Well, there’s only one way to find out. So get to it.”

“Yes, sir,” Clark said and turned to leave the room. Before he reached the door, he hesitated and turned around to face Perry again. “Our arrangement still stand?” he asked.

Perry nodded, “You say it’s personal, and I won’t ask about it.” He glowered at Clark, “But if it’s news worthy, Daily Planet eventually gets an exclusive.”

Clark gave him a brilliant smile. “Of course,” he said and left the office.

Luthor Plaza was all about power, one of the highest buildings in the country, it towered over Metropolis like an elegant giant of glass and chrome. A manifest of Lionel Luthor’s wealth and influence, it held both Luthor Corps’ main offices and research departments. And at the top, Lionel Luthor oversaw everything from his penthouse office.

Clark always felt a touch of sadness when he was near the building. It had been Lex’s dream from the beginning. The property Luthor Plaza was built on had been purchased by Lex Corp to build it’s headquarter on. Lex had soon become absorbed in the project, and the original blueprints had been Lex’s vision.

The last time Clark saw Lex in the flesh, had been in his office. Lex had been bent over the desk, staring at the blueprints; frowning over the last minute changes the architects claimed had to be made and hadn’t even noticed Clark had entered the room for several minutes. The building was meant to become a symbol of Lex’s rising power and accomplishments. It was to be called The Lexor and had been as dear to Lex as a child.

After Lex’s death, Luthor Corp had swallowed Lex Corp, and the building had been renamed Luthor Plaza. Instead of a representation of Lex rising to the top, it was now just another way for Lionel Luthor to show his strength.

After mentioning his name at the reception desk, Clark was soon showed up to the top floor, where a efficient secretary told him he was expected by Lionel and that he could go right in.

Lionel stood by the window with the back turned against the door, looking down on the city. Without turning around he said, “Do you believe in coincidents, Clark?”

Clark shrugged. “I guess that depends on the coincident,” he answered.

Lionel turned around; there was a look on his face Clark hadn’t seen since that day on the plane. After the news of the attack, but while they where stilling clinging to the faintest bit of hope that Lex could still be alive. He gestured to a file on the desk, indicating that Clark should read it.

Clark picked it up, but only had a chance to take a glance at the first page before Lionel grew impatient. “Two days ago, a business associate to me was invited to a gallery opening in Stockholm. It was the debut exhibit of an artist that already has become rather successful in Sweden, creating a comic of some sort. An artist, Rowles swears is a dead ringer for Lex.” He grabbed the file from Clark and went through it until he found a couple of snapshots. Clark had to agree with Rowles. The smiling man next to a large painting looked exactly like Lex.

“Quite a coincidence, isn’t it?” Lionel murmured.

Clark stared at the older man, surely Lionel wasn’t implying… “So?” he asked. “They say we all have a double somewhere.”

“Rowels have known Lex for years. He told me that not only did this person look like Lex; he had the same voice and mannerisms. And the artist is called Lucas,” Lionel said and sat down in his desk chair. He gestured for Clark to sit down in the desk chair. “Lucas Holm.”

“There’s a lot of Lucas out there,” Clark stated with a confidence he didn’t feel. It was weird, but it had to be a coincidence. Lex was gone, and there was nothing to be done about that, as Lionel himself had told Clark after Lex’ memorial service.

“Rachel Dunleavy’s mother’s maiden name is Holm,” Lionel continued.

Clark stared at him, “What?!”

Lionel reached into a desk drawer and put another file on the table. “Rachel’s mother was from Sweden. I just found out Rachel even have dual citizenships.”

“Rachel Dunleavy… Lucas’ mom,” Clark whispered. “This must be some sort of joke.”

“It isn’t,” Lionel answered. “Rachel was released from the hospital seven months after Lucas’ death.”

“She was?” Clark frowned. “Why wasn’t we told?”

“Because the staff’s professionalism was severely lacking.” Lionel growled. “I was supposed to be notified, but wasn’t. When I finally found out, she’d gone into hiding.”

“But why didn’t you tell Lex?”

Lionel smirked, “I did. I guess he didn’t want to upset you.”

Clark glared at him but just changed the subject, “I can believe that Lex has a double. But a double walking around with Rachel Dunleavy’s family name? There’s something strange going on.” He frowned and stared suspiciously at Lionel, “There’s no chance this guy is a clone or something, right?”

Lionel rolled his eyes, “I can assure you, there’s no clones of Lex running around that is my doing.”

Clark blinked, “Are you saying there might be clones of Lex running around that isn’t made by you?”

“I doubt it, but if he is, the people making him must have some serious backing,” Lionel answered. “Just to create a clone from ordinary human DNA is a complicated procedure. And since the meteor shower, Lex’ DNA was anything but normal. No one of my teams would be able to make a well rounded adult clone of Lex.” He smirked, “If we were doing that sort of thing. Cloning humans is illegal, you know.”

Like that had stopped Lionel before, Clark thought, but wisely kept quiet. You had to pick your battles with Lionel, and right now, his hypocrisy wasn’t that important.

“So you agree all this can’t be a coincidence?” Lionel continued.

Clark nodded.

“Then you’ll go to Stockholm with me to get to the bottom of this,” Lionel stated.

Clark sighed, “I don’t like having to rehash all this again. But if there’s just a small chance that Lex is alive, or if there really is a clone, I owe it to Lex to find out.”

“Good,” Lionel said. “The jet leaves tomorrow at 2 pm and we’ll be staying at the Sheraton.”  He then turned on his computer and ignored Clark. After a minute, he looked up, “Was there something else?”

Clark couldn’t help but to grin, “No, nothing at all.”

“Then give my regards to your mother and get out of my office.” Lionel said impatiently. “And take the files with you. They’re your copies.”

Clark did as he was told.

Half an hour later, after a short stop in his apartment, changing one suit for another, making a quick call to Perry, and stopping a robbery, he landed in a remote location on the Kent farm. He spinned around, and the red and blue costume disappeared in a blur and Clark was now clad in jeans and a flannel shirt. The usual dress code for a visit to the farm.

After becoming Superman, Clark always used the suit when using his powers. It would not do to have someone see a civilian clad man do the same things that Superman did, even from a distance. That could raise too many questions.

Times had changed, and even Smallville had changed with it, but the farm was still the same. The house was still yellow, Martha’s garden were still full with colourful flowers and in the pastures well fed cows moved along in a slow comfortable pace. And in the kitchen a faint smell of cookies and apple pie never completely left.

 A lot of people would call it the epitome of the American mid west. Clark just called it home.

His mother was in the kitchen preparing dinner. She looked up from her pots with a smile, “Clark! I didn’t expect you today. Are you staying for dinner?”

Clark smiled back. His father was now almost completely grey, but the only sign of age his mother had was a few laughing lines. But in her eyes were traces of the sorrow Clark knew was in his own eyes. He’d been miserable for so long, and Martha had suffered with him. He couldn’t thank her enough for her wholehearted support, but he still couldn’t help feeling a bit guilty as well.

He caught his mother in a big hug, and didn’t let go for a long, long time, burying his face in her hair. Martha hugged him back, gently stroking his back. Finally she asked, “Clark, what’s wrong?”

“I just had a talk with Lionel,” Clark mumbled into her hair.

Martha tightened her hug. Clark was over six feet, weighing over…..  but for Martha, a part of him would always be the little boy, who with a bright smile reached out for her the day of the meteor shower. And she would do anything in her power to protect him.

”He had some news, and I really need to talk to you two about it,” Clark continued.

“Your father should be back any minute,” Martha said. “He was fixing the fence towards the south field.”

Just as she finished, Jonathan walked through the kitchen door. “Clark!” he exclaimed, just as pleased as Martha to see his son again. His smile froze as he took in the picture before him. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I think we better sit down for this one,” Clark said and pulled out the file from his bag. 

Jonathan stared at the pictures of the bald Swedish artist. “It sure looks like Lex,” he finally said.

Clark nodded. “I know,” he said. “And that’s why Lionel wants me to go to Sweden with him tomorrow to find out for sure.”

Martha bit her lip, “Honey, are you sure you want to repeat all this again? I mean, this is like a wild goose chase. Lionel hired the best to find out what happened to Lex, and so many witnesses placed him inside the building at the time of the… incident.” She gently reached out over the table and stroked her son’s hand. “You must realize that despite the name issue, this probably is just a coincidence. I really thought we were going to lose you back then.” She blinked away a tear at the thought of how close it had been. “And now Lionel…” she silenced as Jonathan put his arm around her shoulders.

“But I have to know, Mom.” Clark said seriously. “If there’s just the slightest chance that Lex is alive. I have to know.”

“But…”

“No, Martha,” Jonathan interrupted. “This is something Clark has to do.”

Clark looked at his father, a bit surprised of the support. Jonathan seemed to read his mind, because he continued, “I’m the first one to admit that when you and Lex got together, I was less than pleased. But, no matter what I think of the Luthors,” He looked pointedly at his wife and son, “And I’d changed my opinion about Lex long before… what happened.”

Martha nodded, “We know you did, dear.”

Jonathan continued, “A blind man could’ve seen how much you loved Lex, and how much he loved you back.”

“I’m not questioning their love for each other,” Martha defended herself. “I just don’t want Clark to get his hope up, just to have them coming crashing down again when he finally meet this person” She made a gesture towards the photo on the table.

Jonathan just looked at her, “Clark loved Lex just as much as I love you. I might not have liked it in the beginning, but it soon became clear, even for me, that they had what we have. And, honey, if, god forbids, something like what happened to Lex happened to you, and I later found indications that you might be alive, I would chase around the world, too. No matter how small a chance. So, how can I tell Clark to act differently?”

Martha sighed, “I guess not.” She turned to Clark, “You know you’ll always have my support, whatever you decide. But, please be careful. Both with your body and your heart.”

Clark tried to smile reassuringly. “I promise to be careful,” he said. “Is it time for dinner yet?” he asked a few seconds later.

Martha laughed, both at the familiarity of Clark as a bottomless pit and just to get rid of the tension. She rose and with her men’s help began to set the table. Such a familiarity. She revelled in it. 

 Martha stood on the porch, half hidden in the shadows as her son blurred, and yet again was clad in the blue and red costume she’d made. That costume was both a curse and a blessing in her eyes.

Superman saved the world and that put him in danger. Physically, from so called super villains, some meteor mutants like the Parasite and Live Wire, some insane geniuses like the Prankster and some where even aliens like Clark himself. But what was worse were those occasions when Superman was attacked by those he tried to save. Headlines like ‘Superman’s recklessness broke my leg!’ and TV shows like ‘Is Superman more trouble than he’s worth?’ hurt her son just as much, if not more than the meteor rocks.

She worried about him, but she guessed all mother’s worried about their children no matter what age they were. And having to worry was a small price to pay for having Clark sane.

For so long he’d retreated into his own mind after Lex’ death. Just laying in bed, staring at the ceiling, hardly even eating or taking care of his hygiene. It had been like he was just slowly fading away. She’d stayed in Metropolis with him when he refused to move from Lex’ apartment, making sure he stayed alive.

Then one evening he’d bolted straight up out of the bed and without a word disappeared out of the open window. He’d returned half an hour later, speaking for the first time in months, and with determination shining through his eyes.

He hadn’t been able to save Lex, he explained, but he could save others. And that had been the beginning. Clark had returned to college, finishing his journalist education. But now, not as much because he enjoyed writing and investigating, but as a mean to find out who needed his help as soon as possible.

He’d told Martha he wanted a costume a comic book character could’ve worn, and when she’d shown him the suit, he’d smiled and added the Kryptonian symbol for rescue on the chest.

Two months later, reporter Lois Lane mistook the symbol for a sterilized S, and named Clark Superman. And the rest was history.

With a wave, her son took to the air and soon all that was left were a streak of red and blue on the evening sky.

Martha put her arms around herself, trying to get some comfort. She sighed as two large warm hands landed on her shoulders. Somehow Jonathan seemed to know when she needed him the most. She’d been afraid they would grow apart as the years went by, but instead their love seemed to grow stronger and stronger.

“Everything’s going to be alright,” Jonathan murmured in her ear.

“I hope so,” she answered. “I hope so.” It was nice of Jonathan to try to give her comfort, but they both knew she wouldn’t be at ease until Clark was back from Europe, safe and sound.

The streak was gone from the sky now. As one, Jonathan and Martha turned and walked back inside. There was nothing else to do but wait.

End part one