LIBERTY by mako

Part Eight

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Clark's knees shook as he climbed back into his loft, the thick sheaf of legal papers cutting into his palm like dull knife. Foreclosure papers against his parents, Jonathan and Martha Kent, seizure of one Kent Organic Farms plus an eviction notice from the county sheriff, probably thrown in just for good measure.

They had five days to leave the only home Clark had ever known and he found it hard to breathe when Lex peered sleepily at him from the bed, grinning.

"Hey, beautiful."

"Lex." Clark could barely recognize the sound of his own voice. "You have to look at these."

Lex squirmed up into a sitting position. Took the stack of papers and with one glance, blanched to a frightening shade of white. "What's this?" His eyes narrowed as he scanned the briefs. "No. Wait a minute ... this can't be ..."

"It is." Clark's pulse slowed to a painfully thick beat. "Foreclosure papers on the farm. And Mom and Dad think ... " Thud. Thud ... went his heart. "They think that somehow you're responsible for it."

Lex's eyes went impossibly wide. "They think I did this?" He shook his head frantically. "Clark ... I would never ... I mean ..." He angrily flipped through the sheets as if his rage would erase their content. "I can't believe they would think that. I'm staying here, for Christ's sake! Why would I pull a foreclosure on a house I'm staying in? You know that doesn't make sense."

Clark swallowed. "That's what I told them but I think they're still in shock. Dad ... " Quivering breath. "I've never seen him like this, Lex. He's destroyed. And Mom ..." Panic climbed up his throat. "I don't know why this is happening. Everything was fine with the bank up to last week. They had leeway, an informal extension and then the management changed and ..."

"The management changed?" Lex asked suspiciously. "Do you have the new manager's name?"

"Oh ... it's ... hold on." Clark took the papers back. "Here. His name is Dominic Latrell."

Lex closed his eyes, jaw clenched tightly. "That son of a bitch." He leaned back, his head going thunk against the wall. "That scum sucking, ass-kissing ..."

"Do you know this guy?" Clark winced, realization dawning.

Grey eyes snapped open. "Yes,. He's the prime minister of my father's toads. The queen bee of his drones." Dangerously. "He's also a dead man."

"So ... your father did this? Because you're staying here?" A tiny bit of Clark's apprehension faded. Lex's betrayal would have killed him but *this* he might be able to deal with.

Maybe.

"Yeah," Lex breathed. He rose and yanked on his jeans. Viciously shoved his arms through a flannel overshirt and clomped into his shoes. "Come on. I have to explain this to your parents," he said. "Not that they'll ever believe me."

"I think they might," Clark said. "Even if they don't want to. I mean, my father ..."

"Your father is a wiser man than you might think. This is my fault, but I swear to you Clark, it's not my doing." He turned and took Clark's hand, squeezing it tightly. "You believe that much, don't you?"

Clark nodded, squeezing back. "Yeah. I do." A tiny half-smile. "If you were going to foreclose on us, I think you would have ravished me and left when you had the chance."

Lex chuckled drily. "I'm sure your father will love *that* alibi."

"Well," Clark sighed. "Any alibi will be better than what he's thinking now."

"Then let's get going. Hatred only feeds on itself." Lex's expression darkened. "I should know."

Tripping footsteps sounded down the loft stairs and Clark stared after Lex, his nerves going into overdrive once more. He scooped up the foreclosure papers and began to pray. A prayer for his family, a prayer for their land ...

A prayer his father didn't have a shotgun at the ready.

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An hour later, Clark paced the Kent kitchen nervously, yanking the curtains aside to stare out into the backyard where Lex and his father stood, deep in conversation.

"What are they *doing* out there?" he groused, as his mother poured hot water into two mugs.

"They're talking, Clark. Now sit down and drink your cocoa."

"Why can't we all talk?" Clark took a seat but continued to peer out the window. "You know, together. As a family."

"Because this isn't really just a family matter," Martha sighed. She took a seat opposite Clark and absentmindedly stirred her cup. "This is a matter between the Luthors and your Dad." She held up her hand against Clark's protests. "I'm not going to sugarcoat it, honey. There's bad blood here, Clark and the only people who can work this out are Lex and your father."

"What sort of bad blood?" Clark wrapped his cold hands around the mug and watched the steam immediately fade.

Martha shook her head sadly. "It goes back further than Lex staying here, that's for sure. I'm sure it must have galled Lionel to see his son defect to the enemy, even if only for a few weeks."

"Why are we Lionel's enemy?" Clark shoved the cup away angrily. "Why is he doing this to us?"

"Because he likes to win," she replied cryptically. "Because he likes control. Because he's not a good person." Martha reached out and took her son's hand. "I know we tried to teach you that everyone has some good in them but I'm sorry to say that there are a couple of hopeless cases in this world."

"And Lionel is one of them?"

"Maybe," Martha said slowly. "But that's not for me to decide."

Clark looked down at the kitchen table. "Mom, if you knew that Lionel would react badly to Lex staying here ... then why did you allow it? Why did you take that sort of risk when you didn't have to?"

Martha smiled, her eyes crinkling at their corners. "Because it was the right thing to do, baby. And what's a little war with the Big Bad Lionel Luthor if our son wants to help a friend?"

Clark blinked in astonishment and the kitchen door opened as his father and Lex came inside, their expressions grim but determined.

"Son," said Jonathan, clasping a hand to Clark's shoulder. "Listen up."

A lump in his throat the size of Kansas, but Clark swallowed past it. "Yes, Dad?"

"We're going to be leaving our home, but only temporarily." Jonathan slid a meaningful glance at Lex. "Your mother and I will be going to stay with your Aunt Veronica in Wyoming. You'll be staying at Lex's house here, unless something unforeseen happens."

Clark's jaw dropped. "I ... I'll be staying at Lex's house?"

Jonathan nodded. He looked neither happy nor unhappy, and Clark wondered if his father has lost it completely. "Straightening out this ... problem ... may take a while and I don't want to take you away from your friends or pull you out of Smallville High just yet. If the situation becomes, shall we say, hopeless, you'll meet us in Wyoming."

Martha glanced up at this, her eyes brightening with tears. "Are you sure, Jon?"

"For a couple of months at the most, Martha," Jonathan soothed. Another dark glance at Lex. "That's the limit."

Lex said nothing, his eyes were fixed firmly on the faraway wall and Clark suddenly wished he could turn back time, morph into a fly and listen in on whatever conversation his father and the younger Luthor had. It must have been something else for his father to have agreed to all this.

Either that, or it must have been something he'd never wanted to hear. Ever.

"In the meantime, Lex has generously offered to pay for all our moving and storage costs. We'll be keeping most of our things here in Smallville against our eventual return." Jonathan's mouth twisted angrily. "Of course if we don't return ..."

"You will." Lex insisted firmly. He turned toward Jonathan. "I keep my promises."

"So do I," replied the older man, the tiniest hint of menace in his voice.

"Um ... okay," interjected Clark, the tension in the room getting to high for his already jangled nerves. "Now that we have this settled, what do we do next?"

"We pack," Jonathan sighed. "And pray."

Clark looked from his father to Lex then to his mother, who was visibly trembling. He pulled her into his arms, pressing gentle kisses against her hair. "It'll be okay, Mom. Lex won't let us down."

"Oh, I know," she said, her voice muffled against Clark's shirt. "I'll just miss my garden that's all."

"Not for long, Mrs. Kent," said Lex. "I swear to you ... not for long."

Clark felt his mother nod in reply and looked up at Lex in askance. So many questions and too few answers, but that feeling was nothing new. So many things he had to know, but Clark stayed silent instead, content to hold onto his mother as well as his family and his home ...

For as long as he possibly could.

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That night was perhaps the darkest Clark had ever seen. Overcast sky, no stars and he wandered into the fields drawn to the sound of faraway digging. He waved his flashlight ahead and could just make out his father's outline in the distant south fields. Clark ran to his side, the dirt churning beneath his flying feet.

Heard a ragged fight for breath and gently took the shovel out of his father's hands. "Dad, what are you doing?"

"Hiding your birthright, son." Jonathan stepped back and wiped his brow. "Can't have the next owners finding your ride here, can we?"

Clark glanced around and stepped back involuntarily from the strange pod that had delivered him to Earth some twelve years before. "No," he said. "I'd say not."

"So, how about helping your old man dig it under? I know you don't like looking at it but ..."

The shovel began to spark against the stone-filled dirt and in seconds the pod was buried beneath twenty feet of soil. Clark stepped back and surveyed his handiwork. "Think that will do it?"

"Yep. I think so." Jonathan clapped a comforting hand to his son's shoulder. "Now I don't want you to worry about anything, son. It's all going to work out."

"Dad," Clark said, with a shake of his head. "I don't know how you can be so convinced. Do you really think Lex will win out against his father? Or even go against him? The man is frightening, Dad. He ... he hits Lex for God's sake."

"And Lex is going to hit back, I'm sure." Jonathan shrugged. "And yes, I believe that good wins out over evil in the end."

"You think that Lex is good?"

Jonathan smiled as he took the shovel back from his son. "Don't you? He's your friend, Clark."

Clark dug his toe into the soft dirt as conflicting emotions flooded his soul, not all of them welcome. "Yeah, sure. I mean ... of course. I know he'll help us or at least try to. But how can you be so sure he'll win out? That *we'll* win out in the end?"

"We have nothing left to lose, Clark. That was Lionel's fatal mistake, one I think Lex will take advantage of it," said Jonathan, trudging back toward the house. "Besides, even if Lex wants to give up, he won't. Because he still has something left to lose."

Clark strode after his father. "And that is?"

"You," said Jonathan simply. "The best friend he'll ever have." He broke into a breathtaking smile. "I can't say that I blame him. Even if you weren't my son and just my friend, I personally wouldn't give you up in a million years."

Clark gaped at him, an overwhelming feeling of unworthiness washing over him. To be loved that much ... by someone like his father ...

"I think you're biased," he joked weakly.

Jonathan considered for a moment. "Nah." A tiny grin. "Well, maybe a little." He wrapped a tight arm around Clark's shoulders. "Time for bed, tiger. You're going to need your sleep."

"Yes, Dad," replied Clark, as together, father and son made their way back home.

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Clark was surprised to see Lex still up, silhouetted against the loft's outdoor porch, squinting through Clark's telescope, controls in hand. He came up behind him and made a tiny adjustment, relishing the smile that lightened Lex's face when the stars came into focus.

"I have to get me one of these someday." Lex peeked up. "So, did you talk with your Dad?"

"I did. He didn't elaborate and I have to say, I still feel very much in the dark." Clark leaned back against the worn-out loft wall, hands stuffed firmly in his pockets. "I guess I'll just have to accept that everyone is going to talk around me for the rest of my life."

"No." Lex took Clark by the hand and tugged him toward the bed. "Sit. And listen," he insisted, entwining his fingers with Clark's. "Sometimes examining the past too closely, for too long, is self-defeating. What we have here is an immediate problem, one that can only be solved by looking forward, especially since our adversary ..."

"Your father ..." Clark said softly.

Lex looked at him unflinchingly. "That's right, my father -- seems to be stuck in the past. Permanently. What he's doing is born of ego and old grievances, certainly not for love of me. I'm just a convenient excuse." The grip on Clark's fingers tightened. "Your father and I agreed we don't want you to be a part of this cycle. We want your future to be better, untainted by his hate. " He glanced away, looking impossibly shy. "I want that for our future too. Something brighter for both of us."

A grin spread over Clark's face, one he was unable to stop. "Wait a minute. You're not agreeing to marry me, are you Luthor?" he needled.

Lex slid him a narrow glance. "Absolutely not." He sniffed and held out his hand. "I don't see a ring here, do you?"

Clark laughed aloud, the weight that had been pressing him down suddenly lifted. "I thought I got the ring."

"Nope. But you do get this." Lex leaned over and took Clark's lips beneath his own, making the younger man shudder at his touch. "And this," he said softly, between kisses. "And this too."

Clark drew away, his pulse racing. "I thought we were going to cool it till Christmas."

"We are," said Lex with a devilish smile. "This is positively tame compared to what we're going to do on Christmas."

"Oh," Clark gasped as Lex moved to his neck, nibbling down its long length, nipping at his collarbone. "I see."

"No, angel, but you will." More kisses, and Clark had to close his eyes against their fiery touch. "You'll see so many, many things."

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By week's end everything had been packed and loaded onto half a dozen moving vans. Clark stood outside his house, sighing at its emptiness. It looked cold, bereft of the joyous life that had always filled it, for as long as he could remember.

His mom's begonias -- gone. The frilly curtains were taken down, the wind chimes silent. Those silly little garden gnomes were missing and Clark kicked at the bare dirt where they once stood.

This sucked. There was no other words that described his situation so aptly, so concisely. Part of Clark writhed against the unfairness of it all, part of him was so angry he wanted to break things left and right and part of him ...

Part of him was thinking thoughts against Lionel Luthor that were far too dark to dwell on for very long.

Much too dark.

"Is that it, Mom?" he asked, as his mother came down the stairs.

"That's it, sweetheart." She fussed with her purse, not looking back. "Now remember, you have your aunt's phone number written inside your backpack. I wrote it in there with a big black marker, just so you can't say you lost it."

"Got it." Tears stung at his eyes. "Mom ..."

Martha smiled at her son, gently patting his cheek. "It's going to be okay, baby. No matter what."

"Right." Clark sniffled, then drew himself up. Can't be a little boy forever it seemed.

Not even when you still wanted to be one.

"All right," said Jonathan, striding up and taking his wife's hand. "Clark, you have your aunt's phone number ..."

"Inside my backpack. And I'll call every night, I promise." He meant it. Clark reached out then gathered his parents in a tight embrace. "You guys call me too, okay?"

Jonathan looked bemused. "Who is this child?" he asked his wife sarcastically over Clark's shoulder. "Did we pack ours and get this one instead?"

Martha laughed in reply and a car horn beeped at their front gate. Clark turned around and saw a familiar silver Jaguar in their driveway.

Lex. "Okay, I'm off." He kissed his mother quickly and backed away toward the car. "Remember to call me. And say 'hi' to Aunt Veronica for me."

"Will do," his mother replied and Clark opened the Jag's passenger door and hopped inside. Glanced over at his lover and drew in a sharp breath at the sight of a Lex who was no longer dressed like a farmboy, but instead, one that was sharp, sleek and perfect in a long black jacket and purple dress shirt.

The Lex he'd known for what seemed like forever.

A leather-gloved hand shifted the gears and they were off. "Okay, that's done with," said Clark, as the road spun by at a rate far over the speed limit. "Now what?"

Lex smiled grimly at the road ahead. "Now we kick my father's ass."

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end of Part Eight

Click here for: Part Nine.

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