Chapter 6: Everything

The memories changed to things less potent and less constant, leaving him mentally dull and partly unseeing. He hadn't relived his mother's wake-

…my father's betrayal…

-and the funeral service… Any of that whole day in a very long time.

Reflections of Lex Luther's youth were hovering above him.  They glistened and shimmied as if fashioned out of water that mirrored the past, a puddle of memories that had been stepped in, it's ripples content to wind endlessly back and forth, back and forth without ever stopping.

Childhood fights and wrong doings swam in that puddle tauntingly, as if mocking his mother's previous influence, as if saying none to subtly that everything he loved about her had failed on him.

...that I had failed her...

The puddle was mocking him, revealing his inner most fear, his most formidable phobia- that he was not his mother's child, that he was his father's son and always would be.

The memories continued to come as the floating puddle drew nearer, only highlighting his dread. The faces of people who had betrayed him became more distinguishable and were followed by the people he himself had cast aside and discarded after use. Those that he completely dishonored.  Flashes of his rare but potent nightmares caused a stir in his gut and his constant turn away from people that might be in a position to-

…love me…

-hurt him seemed to own a bit part in this 'Lex Luther Feature Presentation'. Memories of times when his unguarded self would be exposed, the naked emotions showing blatantly, and his father would hammer away at them until he had once again formed something from his son that he deemed acceptable.

…at least until the next time…

As abruptly as it all had begun, everything stopped. It just sort of... froze. The puddle, no longer shimmering, was lingering on an image of his father: long hair, cold and senseless eyes, lips pulled back into a grimace. Then it faded to black.

Lex was momentarily left a little light-headed as the obscurity before him went hazy but stayed motionless. He calmed, deeply preferring the nothingness-

…what I always prefer…

-to what had been. As he calmed, the atmosphere of the oblivion before him became more sedate and a slower, more mellow picture show began showing more memories, this time ones he could stand to view.

\\\clark's face above him; saving him from death; giving him back his life, giving him the chance for a new life\\\
\\\clark's relieved face as he saw Lex coming at him through the corn\\\
\\\clark's trusting face smiling at him\\\
\\\clark's smiling face\\\
\\\clark's face\\\
\\\clark's eyes, sure and peaceful and content\\\

…I feel so- tranquil…

At least this time the flashes had a theme that he could willingly center on.

\\\clark\\\

…clark…

In the blink of an eye-

…or the beat of a heart…

-he was standing in a field at night, wearing his tee and sweatpants, barefoot and completely alone. Light gleamed down all around him, but on what he couldn't tell. The whole field looked to be occupied by a strange hybrid of wheat, coming up to his knees. It had no color: the reflected glow of the shine evoked by the silvery moon masqueraded as pigment, it's brilliance only increased by the other heavenly bodies above, affixing their own effulgence to the scene.

…gorgeous in a divine and distorted way, but why's it so-…

Deathly silent. No animals, no insects. He couldn't even hear himself breathe. He slowly turned, taking in the panoramic view of nothing but the sterling expanse of field and more field, all just beneath the cover of the pinpricked black velvet of the sky. Off in the distance, miles away and almost invisible, was the pitch-black silhouette of trees, lining most of the horizon.

…where am I?…

As Lex watched, a breeze began to make its way towards him through the wheat-like grass, the lustrous reeds swaying together in the soft wind, like ocean plants after food. As it reached him a chill began from the inside of his body and moved hastily outward. He could feel a sort of… an icy core inside of him, like he- like he was freezing, but that was not really it. He- he was beginning to get… numb.

…oh, no…

He was numbing and alone, feeling as lost to the world as always, but he didn't want to be here. He didn't want to be so… so scared and-

…NO…

Tears, hot tears of anger and self-contempt began to well up in his eyes. He wouldn't admit that, of all things. He wouldn't become it or let it take him over. Not again. Not ever again. If he ever knew what true pain was the single reason was that he had succumbed. He was a Luther, proud and righteous, and whether he wanted that or not it was a fact. Not a circumstance from which he could pick and chose commodities. What you got was it, and he would never, ever be-

"Vulnerable."

Lex shut his eyes to the whispered word materializing from behind him, and willed the tears to retreat.  He then turned to face whoever was foolish enough to stand near him, with him in his solitude. He was meant to be alone, born to be alone. It couldn't be changed.

His eyes widened as they met the familiar and peaceful features mere feet from him and he stepped back in surprise.

…it can't- no! born to be alone; I was born anew when my mother died…

He swallowed, turning his face down and away, not wanting to be seen like this, not by anyone, but especially not by him. "Clark, I…"  He trailed off. It was not often in his life that he was left speechless, but he had no words for this moment, no words to express just why he didn't want Clark to see him.

…why can't I just tell him to leave me be?…

Because maybe he didn't want Clark to just leave him be. Maybe he couldn't keep up the charade anymore, the lack of feeling, wit sharper than Ginsu, resolve tougher than steel about everything. There was beauty in release, right?

…that can't be it; if anyone were to leave me with something to say and no way to vocalize it-…

"Clark…" he tried again, but got no further.

The usually demure farm boy took the initiative by stepping forward and the nickel-colored reeds sundered in front of him, clearing a path leading to Lex. He crossed the short distance, the path closing behind him, and placed a hand on his friend's face. Lex gasped as the chill left him completely, vacating his body and mind, replaced by a warm and heated comfort beginning to grow within his stomach. He unintentionally snuggled his cheek further into the hand, letting his suddenly heavy eyelids droop.

…he can't see me like this…

Clark used his cupped hand to force the other man to meet his eyes. "It doesn't matter, Lex."

He let out shaky breath at the sound of his name, the utterance sympathetic and intimate. He hadn't realized just how fervently he needed to hear Clark's unique timbre, his rich and sweet tone, until his body shivered in acceptance and willingness to follow. From the same voice that melted him with every word, he wanted more.

Clark smiled, looking as if he understood every shadow of Lex's internal debate. "It doesn't matter what I see of you. I could never hurt or betray you."

Lex took the time to really peer into those eyes and found something that he couldn't believe, he couldn't conceive. There was trust in those eyes, and selflessness. Admiration-

…for me? but why?…

-and faith, but most of all, most confusing and tormenting of all, yet undeniably still there was love. Simple and thick.

He felt his knees go weak.

…love…

///mom///

"I can't-" He pulled away from Clark and the warmth disintegrated, leaving the chill to slice back into him like the finest iciest, blade. He lost his breath, almost doubling over from the impact. How he hated to be cold, to feel-

…and therefore be-…

-nothing. How he hated this dulling senselessness.

He wrapped his bare arms around his chest, the tee-shirt doing an infinitesimal amount of work to keep him warm, and tried to draw in a breath. He found he could get no more than a pant or two into his desperate lungs. He was suffocating.

He dared to look behind him, dared to glance back at the face that led him to peace every time he was lucky enough to receive the view, and saw inexplicable comprehension in the eyes that existed there.

"Clark," he whispered, more to himself than to the boy.

…warmth…

Field.

…cold…

His breath became more ragged as he turned his whole body back to Clark, looking unabashedly for answers to his bewildered mind, his lost and chaotic soul.

…he makes me feel- something; is he- could he be-…

Yes. Clark was the fire that could warm him, the flames that could keep him human, keep him from- from numbing completely. The field was his life, his father, his world, cold and harsh. Disappointing and restrictively cruel to the last judgment, the last calculation.

…my world of calculations; but which is stronger?? the cold, or the fire?…

His eyes quickly traversed the field that dwelled banefully around him, encompassing him.  It's wind whispered throughout the grains, bellowing with malignancy of what it was to be him, screaming harshly to the sky about the ill-starred fatality of a Luther.  This vacant lot was his future home, it was all he knew how to be, all he knew to expect.

…which is stronger?…

His icy hands with stiff, insensate fingers, ran up and down the length from his shoulders to his elbows, a puny and feeble attempt to stay extant without Clark's help, without Clark's comfort or closeness-

…or touch…

-but he could no longer feel the movements with his arms or hands.

…the world or clark? my world or- or my clark?…

He shut his eyes to the numbness, knowing that in just a few moments, he wouldn't care, he wouldn't have to make the decision.  It would be made for him. Because that's what the numbness did. It took you over, became you, made you not care.

It made you Lionel.

…oh, god, no; please- which is stronger?…

With what little was left untouched by the dulling sensations, he hoped to God that it was Clark.

"Lex." The voice was kind and patient, coaxing. "Come here." Not a stern tone but more of a knowing plea. There was- there was want beneath the words.

He had a say in this, too, didn't he? He couldn't let Clark see him like this. This wasn't him.

"It is, though. It's a part of you, Lex." He opened his eyes to the younger boy, still unmoving, but not uncaring. "Everything you do is."

Those eyes knew him, and knew him completely. Those blue eyes that were not the color of ice, but the color of the deepest and warmest, hottest, ocean water, hidden beneath miles and miles of the acrid liquid. It was the color of the depths he had seen, the depths that he had been drawn to every time he went scuba diving.  Something below, something warm and comfortable called to him, promising him the glorious absence of his internal void, promising him tranquility.  The call only got stronger each time, and now he was close, the closest he had ever been.  He had found the color of his refuge, his place to run and hide from the world, but not from the one that could love him. If only he could reach out and grasp hold- find the courage within himself to take that final dive and swim to where he belonged.

…please…

He glanced at the body of his friend, someone he was more than fond of, someone that he had an ardent devotion to, and wondered what kept Clark so warm. Love, maybe? Had the boy had found his own color, his own haven? Had he been born with it?

…how lucky…

Lex could feel the numbness starting to settle in his chest. Soon he knew he wouldn't have to feel the things his world had to offer. Pain. Loss.

…mom…

"Please, Lex." There was now a tinge of worry in that voice. "Don't do this. Come to me."

Lex looked back into the Mariana Trench that was Clark's gaze, and realized that no offer had ever been more tempting. In them, he could see the world as he would have liked it and through them he could see that everything would be okay.

"Here." A hand raised and Lex looked down at it. The offering, the gesture, was so simple, yet so abstruse to reciprocate. If he took it the numbness would go away, and he could be warm. He could be warm forever, as long as he never let go. He could be in the right place. Clark's hands, his arms-

…his love…

-could keep Lex safe and warm and alive.  But there'd be pain.

If he refused to surrender to those azure orbs and the outstretched hand, then he could become completely numb to the world, unable to feel anything like hate-

…and faith…

-and fear-

…and love…

-and worst of all vulnerability.

…no, worst of all, I wouldn't be able to feel Clark…

"Please, Lex." Those eyes again. That ocean of compassion, of insight. Beyond all things, he wanted to be there, lost in the middle of the mer, the otherwise barren chasm, with no compass and downed sails. "Trust."

A sob wrecked through him as he reached out his hand. He knew he could trust the deus of Clark's sea.

Forget the numbness, the aloofness, the indifference. Forget the inability to comprehend emotions and feel empathy. He wanted to feel. And more than anything in this world, in any world, he wanted to feel Clark. The open honesty with which he had always trusted Lex, the mutual friendship, the face that always greeted him with a smile. Not an inch of judgement, but an entire world of peace and belief. Clark was his own personal dogma, exclusively so. If there was anything in the world worth being vulnerable for, it was Clark Kent.

"I do. I trust you."

Their hands met and the numbness that had moved up to his chest, that had surrounded his arms and legs, his heart and lungs, the numbness that had threatened to completely take over… It was gone. Like that.

…thank God, the heat's stronger; stronger than the cold…

As soon as his flesh met Clark's, the warmth blazed a hot pursuit through him and he inhaled deeply, his lungs breathing in the sweet, warm air.

…Clark's stronger than the world…

"No. You're stronger, Lex. You made the decision."

Lex lifted his gaze from their clasped hands and looked up into the deepness of the eyes observing him.

…I trust him completely with everything I am…

"Remember that." Clark's arms wrapped around him and he could hold back no more. He didn't want to any longer. This felt more real, the boy more solid, than Lex's whole life.

He began to cry, and hard. Not since the wake had he let himself fall like this, tears he had saved up for the last fourteen years coming out against the strong body that held him. He wrapped his arms around the waist of his savior, pressed his face roughly into Clark's neck. The boy was now two for two, and Lex was exalted. He now fathomed that he had once again found an ally. He had found arms that would hold him without shame, someone who was not afraid of the world and the pain that it might inflict.

Someone that would bring to him a courage he had never known for himself. And he could learn. He was always willing to learn.
 
 
 
 
 

To be continued...