LIBERTY by mako

Part Nine

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Lex's castle was in perfect order as if he'd been living there all along or perversely, if no one had ever lived there. Every room was spotless and filled with cheery summer blooms, much to Clark's surprise. He wondered if the omnipresent servants had psychically known that Lex was returning or simply replaced the flowers daily out of habit.

He doubted such a waste of money would concern Lex. The thought gave Clark pause, but only for a second. Mainly because Lex had taken him by the hand and pulled him into a short waltz through the den office, just for kicks.

Clark laughed, tried not to stumble too badly, then pulled away. "Two left feet," Clark protested when Lex pouted. "Two big left feet."

"You know what they say about big feet, Clark." Wide smirk.

"Sure. Big shoe bills. That's what my parents would say." At the mention of Clark's parents the mood between them sobered dramatically. "So," he said, taking a seat in front of Lex's desk. "What now? Is there any way we can reason with your father?"

"Nope," replied Lex bluntly. He dropped into his leather chair and flipped open the laptop with one smooth motion. "I'm sure he'd be disappointed if I tried. No, a more direct approach is needed although not as direct as he'd like it to be. He's figuring me to fire some warning shots, throw a tantrum or two, maybe even send a hit man." Lex shook his head in amusement at Clark's horrified face. "Just kidding. He's not worth the trouble of a hit man."

Clark fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat. "So what is the plan?"

"The plan is to let him imagine he knows exactly what I'm going to do far in advance. Let him build his defenses against that action, make it seem so big he'll have to secretly use most of his resources and then ... " Lex hit the power switch on his computer. "Come in from behind with something so small, so seemingly insignificant, yet so potent, he'll be rendered helpless against it since he'll have placed his bets on something else entirely."

"That doesn't sound very easy."

"It's not. Luckily, I've had something on my mind for a while now." Lex rapidly clicked through a string of web sites. "But first things first. And that's taking all my money out of Smallville Savings and Loan. Just to give him the impression I'm being a bitch."

"Oh," said Clark, feeling very much out of his depth. "It's really too bad he's like this, huh?"

Lex glanced up, his expression softening. "Does this upset you, baby? If so, I can do it alone."

Deep flush at the endearment, and Clark shook his head. "No," he said firmly. "I'm with you. I'm just afraid I'm not going to be much help. The most devious thing I ever did was soap cars on Halloween. I was so scared I didn't even realize the car I was soaping was my mom's."

Lex bit his lip in a futile attempt not to laugh. "Come to think of it, my dad could use a damn good soaping. But -after- we get your farm back. Okay?"

"Okay." Clark blew out a long breath and sat back. Being with Lex like this would have been so great had it not for his parent's troubles but then again, without the foreclosure he wouldn't have had the opportunity. Mixed blessings were his lot in life it seemed and Clark watched Lex's face as he concentrated on the computer screen.

It was a gorgeous view. Clark couldn't understand how someone could be that hauntingly beautiful. Not classically pretty, not at all -- Lex was a cool beauty, shining with intelligence and an undefinable elegance. Panther sleek and knife sharp with soft grey eyes that could melt their way through a Kansas winter.

Winter. Thoughts of Christmas and promises. Clark's mouth turned dry. "Maybe I should unpack. Would you mind?"

"Not at all," Lex replied without looking up. "Terrance will show you your room. It's next to mine."

"Right," replied Clark, his heart sinking a little with disappointment. He thought of debating with Lex the benefits of sharing a room but knew what had worked, albeit temporarily, at the Kent farm wasn't going to fly at the manse. Too many eyes, too much temptation ... too much important work to get done. "Will we have dinner together?"

Those incredible melting eyes met his. "Are you kidding? Of course, and it's your choice tonight. I usually eat late but you choose the time."

"Late is okay. " Clark hesitated. "And ... I like pizza. But we can have something else, anything really. Whatever you like."

Lex smiled brilliantly. "Ah, yes. I'm too snobby to like pizza, right?" he said. "Wrong. Just give Ter the number to the joint you like best. Or I can have some delivered from Metropolis if you'd like. There's this great little place on 16th and Main -- you can get any topping you can dream up. Pineapples ... shrimp ... "

"You get deliveries from Metropolis?" Clark's jaw hung open. "For pizza?"

"For pizza, morning bagels, even for water." Lex held up a clear blue bottle. "Think I get these at Nan's Grocery Palace?"

"No, I didn't." Clark grinned, grateful that things felt natural and easy between them again. "Not unless you sweet-talked Nan into submitting to your billionaire whims."

Lex smiled slyly. "Don't put that beneath me. But alas, our Nan is a former Navy nurse who served in Tripoli during World War II. She'd kick my ass to hell and back just for suggesting it. Did you know she has a 12 -gage shotgun behind the counter?"

"Sure," Clark replied, as he picked up his luggage and made his way into the hall. "Who do you think caught me soaping my mother's car?"

Lex's bright laughter filled the office. Terrance the servant was waiting quietly at the foot of the winding stairs and Clark followed him up to his new digs, smiling.

This was going to be okay. It was going to work out. He just knew it.

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Dinner that night was perfect. Pizza on priceless china, three glasses of very sweet wine and Clark felt wonderfully tipsy beneath the light of a dozen flickering candles.

"No more for you," Lex said, pouring the rest of the Beaujolais Nouveau into his own glass. "I should be ashamed for giving you any. I have to keep reminding myself this isn't France."

"I get champagne at New Years," replied Clark indignantly. He hiccoughed, then chuckled. "Well, a sip anyway."

Lex's fingers trailed down Clark's cheek, his face a study in adoration. Desire like fire burned where he touched and Clark's entire being felt ... altered. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was just his hormones raging out of control but he didn't want to wait anymore. Not till Christmas, not till morning -- not another moment.

He captured Lex's hand and deliberately kissed the fingertips, one by one. Sucked the index finger between his lips to the first knuckle, enjoying when Lex stiffened at the sensual assault.

Dare to tease me will you, Clark's entire demeanor seemed to say and he loved every sharp breath, every twitch of Lex's body as he tried to think of more ways to seduce the beloved man in front of him. Maybe he likes being handled by someone stronger, Clark thought hazily. I can be strong ... I can be weak too, if that's what he likes.

I can be anything he wants.

A wet kiss against Lex's palm and Clark thought about falling to his knees and nuzzling wildly, before Lex pulled away, breathless and pink-cheeked. "Time for bed."

"Good," Clark purred. He ran a hand up Lex's thigh. "Yours or mine?"

"You'll be in yours and I'll be in mine." Slightly strangled voice, and Lex gently removed Clark's hand from his leg. "Actually, I have some work to do, so you shouldn't wait up."

Clark's buzz dissipated with depressing speed. "Right." He wobbled up from his chair. "Okay. Guess I'll see you in the morning."

"See you then. Sleep tight, love."

Another unexpected endearment but Clark ignored it. All the petulance of a rejected teenager filled him and he didn't want to hear anything at that moment. He wanted what he wanted and he wanted it now -- Lex in his arms, moaning his name and Clark wasn't going to get it no matter how hard he tried.

The thought was infinitely depressing.

No help from the servants was forthcoming and Clark stumbled to his room, alone. Bumped through the door, wondered where his coordination had gone, forgetting about it when the comforting warmth of a turned-down bed finally enveloped him.

Screw you, Lex, he thought viciously. No, wait ... no screws for you.

None for me -- none for you. So there.

The thought made Clark smile drunkenly. He hoped Lex was as lonely as he felt. He yanked the thick down comforter over his shoulder and felt an uneasy sleep slowly overtake him.

Sleep that came with what felt like consequences.

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It was daytime but the sky was dark. The Kent farmhouse stood in the far distance tiny and still beneath a rumbling sky.

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Clark awoke from the nightmare with a gasp, his heart pounding. Mouth so dry he could taste the lingering terror and his room looked frighteningly foreign in the dark. He ached to be back in his loft, surrounded by familiar things, not least of all the knowledge that his parents were always just a call away.

He didn't want to be alone.

Gathering a blanket around his shoulders, Clark felt his way through the darkness toward the door that adjoined his and Lex's bedrooms. Stubbed his toe on a chair, cursedly roundly when the wood cracked before fumbling for the doorknob.

It was locked.

Clark jiggled the knob, disbelieving. No, it was definitely locked and something inside his heart faltered. He must have made quite the fool out of himself at dinner, that much was certain. Lex must have decided he didn't want to deal with a tipsy, horny teen -- not when there were such serious goals to accomplish.

Such as getting Clark's home back.

Clark put his back to the door, closed his eyes and weakly slid to the floor. He never imagined he could feel so helpless ... or alone. Homeless in every sense of the word now, not even having Lex as a lifeline, at least not when he really needed him.

Clark rested his forehead atop his knees and listening numbly to the tick of a nearby clock.

There you go, Dorothy. Click your heels three times and repeat after me ...

There's no place like home.

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Terrance knocked at eight a.m. for breakfast and Clark mumbled an excuse through the door. He wasn't in the mood to go anywhere and pulled the blanket over his head in silent protest. Hours passed, brutally slow and Clark sighed before finally pushing the linens aside, making his way into a hot shower at a little past noon.

Beneath the bubbles and the steam Clark's mind wandered sadly over his predicament. He was glad to be with Lex, wanted to help his parents, but felt completely out of his league when it came to high-stakes game-playing. If it came to a boxing match, he could beat Lionel Luthor to within an inch of his life and be no worse for wear, but when it came to the game of life Clark felt he was sorely lacking, even in the basics.

Not to mention that keeping his distance from Lex physically was turning out to be pure torture. At home it was easy -- even absent, Mom and Dad were more than enough incentive to control himself, but here, alone with Lex in his house, Clark could already tell it was going to drive him out of his mind.

What little was left of it.

He dried off, dressed quickly and moped down the winding staircase, pausing to get his bearings before turning toward Lex's office. Tried to think up a ready-made excuse for his absence at breakfast and was relieved to see the office empty except for Jenna, the day maid.

"Um, hey Jenna." Clark stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Is Mr. Luthor, I mean, Lex here?"

"He went out on business, Mr. Kent," she replied with her soft Irish lilt. "But he left a note for you on the end table."

"Thanks." Hands dug down deeper into the denim, this time with annoyance. Clark picked up the sleek, purple envelope, pulled out the monogrammed card inside and wondered vaguely why he was getting so irritated, even at a letter that was nothing short of brazenly affectionate.

"Missed you at breakfast. Went to the city for our business. See you at supper. Soda is on the menu tonight, so don't get too excited. Hugs, L"

Clark shoved the card into his back pocket. His face felt hot, tension was seeping through his shoulders as he looked around the stately mansion. Staying inside never felt less inviting even with all of Lex's amazing toys, so Clark made his way to the front door intent on heading out for the day.

Once on the outside stairs, Clark took a deep breath of fresh summer air and the knowledge he no longer had a home to return to hit him again like a freight train. He had to swallow past the pain, past the terrifying insecurity.

It wasn't easy.

Running -was- easy, however. Sullen thoughts of Lex's rejection spurred him on through the fields and Clark found himself on the outskirts of Main Street, a block from The Beanery, mere seconds later.

He entered his favorite hangout and smiled as the welcome smell of freshly perked coffee filled his nostrils. "Hey! Pete!" He waved to his friend standing at the take-out counter, who, for some reason, looked as sullen as Clark had felt just a few moments before.

"Hey." Pete said dully, his face averted.

That was odd. "What's up?" Clark said, taking a seat beside him.

Pete shrugged. "I dunno. What do you care?"

Clark reeled back, as if hit. "Pete ..." He struggled for a moment with his words. "Are you mad at me? Did I do something?"

"No. You didn't -do- anything, Clark." Brown eyes sparkled with anger. "It's what you haven't done that's the problem. Friendship is a two-way street man, and you can't just leave it off like you did in school and then not call me for weeks on end. You gotta give to get, if you know what I mean. Now if you'll excuse me ..."

Clark was struck dumb as Pete brushed past him and stormed his way out the door. They'd never had a serious fight in all their years of friendship and of all the times to lose his best friend ...

"When it rains it pours, huh?"

Clark looked up and was surprised to see Whitney standing next to him, the older boy's ever-present red football jersey nowhere to be found. "Pardon me?"

Warily, for even if they were no longer rivals over Lana, Whitney wasn't exactly someone Clark liked ... or trusted.

"Sorry, I couldn't help overhearing Pete chew you out. Guess some people never heard of real life being hard enough on a guy without his pals getting pissy with him." Whitney nodded at the counter girl. "Espresso, black, two sugars please." He turned to Clark. "What do you want?"

"Oh, um ... just a coffee. Regular," said Clark. "What do you mean about my real life?"

Whitney bit his lip and shrugged. "I heard about your farm, Kent. I'm sorry, man. I can't imagine how that must suck." Sympathy filled his voice.

"Oh. Thanks," Clark sighed. "Does everyone know?"

"My dad heard it from Nell." Whitney accepted two paper cups from the waitress. "I'm pretty sure it's making the rounds even as we speak." He handed Clark his coffee. "But maybe Pete didn't hear about it yet. Either way, I'm sure he'll come around."

"Yeah, I guess. Well ... thanks for the coffee." Clark got up to leave when a hand touched his shoulder.

"What are you doing this afternoon?" Whitney asked, cornflower blue eyes strangely intense. "Want to throw a couple of passes? You know, just for a laugh."

Clark blinked. "You want to hang out with -me-?"

Whitney grinned. "Weird, right? No, seriously man, things are cool between us, aren't they? This Lana thing, you don't have to worry about that. We're not together anymore and if you're with her, that's all right."

"No, I'm not with Lana," replied Clark quickly. He examined the sincere face in front of him and decided to go with the flow. It couldn't be any worse than sitting around Lex's empty castle. "And sure, I'd love to throw the ball around."

"Great. Come on, let's go down to the lake." Whitney clapped him on the shoulder and together they made their way out of the coffee shop and toward Whitney's well-dented truck.

The day might get stranger but Clark wasn't sure how.

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The football came whizzing toward him, fast, and Clark caught it without looking. His astonishing reflexes were just that, reflexes and he'd never paid too much attention to them except when his parents were around, their faces taut with anxiety. He usually did better, played safer, when no one was yelling at him anyway.

Whitney whistled his approval. "You've got real potential there. I can't understand why your father is so against you playing."

Memories of Dad from his dream, and Clark quickly changed the subject. "So, you say your car insurance -tripled- in the past few months?"

Whitney rolled his eyes. "Yep. My father busted a blood vessel at the second increase, but the third ... I'm lucky I'm driving at all." He tossed the football lightly to Clark who whirled and caught it behind his back. "The bummer is, those accidents were -not- my fault. There's always some freak jumping out at me on the road and I swear, if I'd just run them over, I'd probably have been better off."

"I don't know about that." Clark threw the ball back, aiming just to Whitney's left. "At least you didn't have any hospital bills."

"I did," Whitney protested, lunging to make the catch. "Remember? After you pulled me from the fire. That was a lost cause, that wreck. But thanks to you, I lived through it." He stopped. "Did I ever thank you for that?"

"I think so." Uncomfortable, Clark looked down at the grass. "It's not important."

Whitney tossed the ball back to Clark. "You know, Kent, I'm glad I'm not with Lana anymore. She's a great girl and all that, but I definitely turned into a major ass when I was with her. Weird what love, or what you think is love, can do to you isn't it?"

Clark nodded, tamping down a quick thought of Lex. "You're not always yourself, that's for sure." He hesitated. "So, why did you and Lana break up? I mean ... well ... if that's too personal ..."

He was surprised to see Whitney turn pale. The older boy struggled, then shrugged helplessly. "It's like you just said. You have to be yourself and when I was with Lana, I ... I wasn't myself." Rubbed his temples with a sigh and sat down wearily on a fallen log. "I was someone I thought I had to be," he said haltingly. "Not the person I am and I think it was the same for her, just not to the extent it was for me. I was playing a game -- you know, captain of the squad, date the cheerleader ..." He looked away, distinctly ashamed. "Beat up the freshmen for no good reason."

"Right." Clark sat down beside him. Stared at the football in hands, ran his fingers over its thick stitching. "So that Scarecrow thing. That was all a game?"

"No." Guiltily. "Not a game, more of a denial and ..." Whitney ran his hands through his hair. He looked like he was shaking. "Jesus, Clark. You don't want to hear this. I don't even know why I'm telling you."

"I'd like to know." The air hung heavily between them and Clark felt as if he were heading straight into the whirlwind of his dreams ... desperate to catch the tiniest bit of understanding within his clumsy and fumbling hands.

Whitney stared up at the sky, breathing hard. "I feel so fucking guilty about what I did, now that I know and ..." Hoarsely. "Let's just say that I didn't do those things to you because of Lana. I did it because I hated myself and couldn't face the truth."

"The truth about what?" Clark asked, his throat tightening. There was something serious here. Something that maybe he shouldn't hear, but ...

"The truth about how I felt about you. The way I should have felt about Lana." Whitney stumbled to his feet, his face a brilliant red. Time stood on edge and Clark felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. "I'm sorry, Clark. I'm sorry for everything. Please, don't hate me."

Clark rose, his heart thudding with shock. "Whitney ..."

But the older boy was already gone, his battered truck roaring away from the lake at a dangerous speed. Clark could do nothing but stand there and listen to the wind whistle through the trees. Wind that was getting louder by the second ...

Warning of a storm to come.

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end of Part Nine

Part Ten: Luthors and lies. Clark and Whitney. Lex fights against his darker instincts.

Thanks to all my readers for their patience. Sorry this took so long!

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