Flight to Neverland - The Continuing Saga
by Nymph Du Pave

Prologue
Catching Up

Summer is not going to be anyone's friend
For now we know there can be an end
An end to what we held so dear
Our precious friendships no longer clear

The definition has been erased
A difficult one to embrace
One that sweet blossoms could explain
One made clearer in the summer rain

Where smiles burst and laughter roars
That’s when we'd sleep on the floors
Our hidden castles were of the grove
And our lake played like an ocean's cove

What once was has slipped away
Into the fading light of day
And where hands held there is now none
Our fun and games are over and done

I miss the smiles, the brightest eyes
and wish I could be mesmerized
By the days again, before we did learn
That everything must die and burn

Before I lost their hearts and time
Before, when their hands were only mine
Now it's empty, my friends have gone
And have left me unable to move on

I still see the sun; forever it's shining
And the leaves before, now they're dying
I'll be here forever, my home for so long
The summer, before it all went wrong.

The stupid poetry contest.  She hadn't wanted anything to do with it.  Nothing at all.  And now here she was writing MORE stupid poems.

"Argh…" she muttered and slammed her notebook shut.  She tossed it back into her desk drawer, slamming that shut as well, unable to believe that she had, like some stupid, cliched teen, designated a book specifically for her poems.

She looked up at the screen, at the item that had started the last poem.

Chloe had made some stupid mistakes in her life -- among the worst were: dating a horny seventeen year old when she was only thirteen, telling her father that she would rather live with her mother, running away from Metropolis Middle (twice), running away from home (three times) and of course, trying pot -- but this topped them all.  Looking up this one, single, tiny, damnable piece of information, evidence if you will-

And keeping it.  That had been the biggy.

She sat in front of her computer, sides of her personality warring against each other.  Her heart was saying one thing and her brain was saying another.  Heart was all for dumping it, loving Clark like the big brother teddy bear he was and just forgetting that the damned thing even existed.  Brain was declaring that a good reporter would never let personal interests interfere.

But she wasn't a reporter.  Not technically.  Not yet in the way that would justify keeping this kind of evidence.  And Clark wasn't a danger.  A roaming, hormonal curiosity with more holes in his life than in his favorite pair of worn and tattered work jeans, but still…  He was her best friend.

Really though, Brain was so much more whiny then Heart.

She dragged the file to her trash been, right clicked and emptied the bin.

She had deleted the file.

It felt strange but…  There was no regret.  Not even in the slightest.  And she felt as if a weight had been lifted.  A huge weight.  Like say, six foot four, 185 pounds with dark brown hair, tanned skin and amazing eyes…

"Okay," she said to herself.  "That's taken care of.  Now.  What about this?"

The lavender paper with the printed poem declaring unrequited love sat on top of her keyboard, taunting her.  Really there was this problem and then the one where she was going to have to explain what she thought had been the meteors influence with Clark, and then the whole thing with Pete.  She wasn't sure that she could mend things on the last one until Clark paid their brokenhearted friend a little visit.

She looked over at her journal -- JOURNAL!  Not diary, Clark, thank you.  JOURNAL -- and rolled her eyes.  How many times?

She put her head down on her folded arms and stared out the window at the houses down the street.  How many damned times had she said 'Clark.  Just tell him.  He'll understand.'?  How many times had she practically begged Clark to just go over to Pete's blurt out the fact that he was in love with Lex and then suggest a game of basketball before he had to get back home?

"Clark's a big ole' scaredy-cat dummy."

+_+_+_+_+

"Chickenshit," he whispered.  "That's all I am."

He couldn't face Lex and he couldn't face Pete.  He was still pissed at Chloe, but even more pissed at himself.  It had been a week and two days since the poetry gathering and all he could think about was 'what if I'd just told Chloe and Pete the truth'.

It had sort of worked for Buffy, but that was television and he didn't want his life and that of his friends to turn out like season five.  No more angst.  He would say that he didn't want to put his friends in anymore danger, but really, was that possible?

Chloe went where Chloe wanted, and whether it was because it was off limits, somewhere she was told/asked/pleaded with not to go, somewhere new, or somewhere suspicious, it was always somewhere dangerous.  And Pete…  Well, Pete just seemed to find danger, which never really made sense to Clark.  Pete was bright, sensible and calm.  It always seemed to be an accident or coincidence.  Wrong place wrong time.

He wasn't sure what he was going to do about anything, least of all Lex, which should be the easiest.  'Lex, hey, how ya doin'.  Remember the poem that I think made you run out of the Talon?  Yeah?  Well that was all about you, buddy.  Love ya!'

It should be so easy, so incredible simple.  But he'd never declared love to anyone, and he wouldn't know what to do in a relationship.  Seventeen years old and he'd never had a girlfriend.  Kissed a few girls, Chloe included.  Maybe two or three times.  But he'd never had a girlfriend, would know where to start there, so how was he supposed to go along with a relationship with Lex?

Really none of this actually mattered.  He was just too much of a pussy to go and admit his feelings to Lex who was now sure he was 'beyond in love with' Lana Lang.

He hurled the hoe in a downward arc too hard and it plunged into the earth.  He winced and looked up at his father.  Sure enough, Jonathan had stopped digging on his side and glanced up in curiosity.

He looked down at Clark hole.  "Uh, son, I don't think we're digging to China here."

He nodded.  "Sorry about that."

Jonathan frowned.  "Are you sure there's nothing wrong, Clark?  Nothing you need to talk about?"

"I'm sure," he said, a little tired of the question.  He pulled the hoe from deep within the dirt and started packing the hole.

There was a moment of silence that was too silent.  He didn't even hear Jonathon working.

He looked up to find a worried expression on the older man's face.  "What is it, Dad?"

"Well, its just this."  Jonathon sighed and leaned slightly on his pitchfork.  "You seem to have cut yourself off from the world.  I was talking with your mother the other day and she hasn't seen any of your friends since that little gathering last Friday."

"Thursday."

"Right, right.  Now, far be it for me to complain or contradict myself here, Clark…  But we haven't even seen Lex and we're worried.  We understand that you two were very close.  Best friends even.  Like Chloe and Pete."

They could never understand how close we were, Clark thought, feeling even sorrier and even more pissed at himself.  They'd shun or hate me, wouldn't they?  He almost rolled his eyes at his mellow-drama.  No, no.  They'd still love me, but they'd wish that above all I could have been normal.

That realization stung, but he grinned.

"What?  What is it?"

"Everything's okay, Dad.  Lex is probably still in the city and Chloe and Pete are a couple now.  They're probably going to be stuck to each other for long time.  You know how new couples are."

His father smiled and Jonathon's eyes seemed brighter, easier, more relaxed.

So Clark was getting better and better at lying.  He wasn't sure if that was good or just damned depressing.  Maybe he had no one to really confide in.

Lex.

He needed something.

"We just worry about you."

Clark nodded.  "I know.  Thanks."

To Clark's relief, they got back to work.  Unfortunately, he couldn't stop thinking.  He had to do something.  Soon.  Or else his chance with Lex would vanish, and he couldn't let that happen.

+_+_+_+_+

"The thrill is gone."

Bit of the guitar, not as heavy-handed as the first time and the slide actually sounded good, like it was supposed to.  A little amateur, but he could fix that with practice.

"The thrill is gone."

His voice was rustically intoned.  Those were Pamela's words.  'Rustically intoned'.  Meaning if he learned how control his grate and the slight twang  -- he wasn't sure where the hell that came from -- he could actually sound fairly decent.  As it was he was alright.  You could listen to him, but he wasn't going to be winning any Grammys.

"The thrill, baby, is gone."

He could buy a few maybe, but where was the fun in that?

"The thrill is gone."

Okay, he had to stop this damned song.  He reached out and flipped a few pages in his songbook to the next number.  Mr. Bojangles.  Too complicated.  Next.  I'm a Fool to Want You.

"Um…  No.  Definitely not."

Since I Fell For You.

I Loves You, Porgy.

Ne Me Quitte Pas

Crazy.

None were titles that he wanted to play, and yet a part of him wanted to indulge in the agony and the suffering that he was going through.  His father would have gotten evil.  His mother would have done something creative and productive to rid herself of the feeling of worthlessness.  Lex decided that he liked his mother's way of dealing with stress and disappointment better than his fathers.  So he told himself that every time he was about to partake in vengeance, stupidity or illegality, he would grab his guitar, calm the hell down and find a legal alternative.

Come Rain or Come Shine.

Could that really be classified as blues? he wondered.  The song itself was too happy.  It was about living with someone throughout the thick and the thin.  It was about how it would be great to have that loved one, even if everything else around them was in shambles.

"Day may be cloudy or sunny," Lex mumbled.  "We're either in or we're out of the money.  I'm with you always."  He paused thinking about the way he hadn't spoken to Clark -- or anyone really -- in over a week.  "I'm with you rain or shine."

He hadn't been the best friend that he could have been to the only person that ever cared to share the time of the day with him, much less give it to him with a broad smile and bright eyes.  Clark was the only thing that Lex felt influenced him in the same direction that Lillian did.  But how could he glance at Clark even once more without the pain completely taking him over?  Lana Lang was all of Smallville's fantasy and that was fine -- until Clark was included in the bundle of admirers.

He hadn't really understood the true depth of Clark's feelings for Lana until he'd heard the poem.  It was then that he realized that he could no longer dream and when all that is good in a man's life falls to pieces he is hard-pressed to find another good.  But he refused to become his father.  He knew that someday, some way, there would be a way around his pain.

So he could forget ever being with Clark.  That's what his poem was about, right?  There hadn't actually been any hope inside of him that once Clark heard his words, the boy would realize that Lex was talking about him, discover true but hidden feelings, and then fall on the ground at Lex's feet with love.

Was there?

Lex knew which song to move to next.  He'd never actually played this one before, but he'd heard his mother work it a million times over and it wasn't until a few years after her death when Lex understood why.  He'd started playing the guitar as a tribute to his mother, something to connect her spirit with his, something to keep her influence in his life alive, and Sam Loomis, their butler, had brought down some of her old music books, insisting that Lex keep them hidden from his father for fear of them being thrown out.  It was then that Lex also realized the effect that Lillian had on everyone, not just he and Pam.

The moment he'd opened the book that day, it was to the page that held the song I'm a Fool to Want You, and as he read the lyrics he began to understand his mother's connection with the song.

"I'm a fool to want you," he started.  "I'm a fool to want you.  To want a love that can't be true.  A love that's there for others, too."

He never went to Metropolis.  That was just the cover story for anyone that called.

"I'm a fool to hold you.  Such a fool to hold you.  To seek a kiss not mine alone.  To share a kiss the Devil has known."

Lana, he thought instantly.  His Devil.

Loomis had tried to convince him to talk to Clark when he called, but he just wasn't ready.  So he was in Metropolis.  He'd always told Clark before every visit to the city and when he 'got back' he was going to have to explain why this time it was different.

"Time and time again, I said I'd leave you.  Time and time again, I went away."

He could just say that it was and emergency and that he couldn't get to a phone.  Sorry, Clark.  Couldn't make time.

"And then would come the time when I would need you.  And once again these words I'd have to say."

He was amazed at how accurate the song was to his mother's relationship with Lionel.

"Take me back, I love you.  Pity me, I need you.  I know it's wrong, it must be wrong, but right or wrong, I can't go on without you."

They thought there were things he didn't know, they thought he was a less nosey boy than he was.

"Mmmm.  I'm a fool to want you."

But he heard their fights.  He noticed when he and his mother took extended vacations where they would come back and his mother would act strangely sad, but relieved.

"You hurt me time and time again."

He knew his father was never faithful.  Not after Julian.  Not for long, anyway.

"But I still love you, baby."

He thought about Clark.

"I still need you."

He'd get over him soon.  He had to.  His sanity was in the tender balance.  He needed the boy's friendship, needed it like an anchor to the real world, the world of the living and the breathing.  The world opposite his father.

"I'm a fool."

He would do anything for Clark.  He could do this.  He could get over him and just enjoy the company.  Clark and Lillian would help him do what was right.

He could do it.

"I'm your fool."

+_+_+_+_+

"Such an idiot.  God!"  Pete was down by the lake, the only place he could think really.  He couldn't be at home.  It was over-run.  He loved his mother and father, and his brothers and sisters, but right now the eight of them were too much.  And now his aunt and uncle were coming down from the city to spend a week.  They'd be arriving in an hour, maybe two, and then after they left he had three days to get used to normalcy until his grandparents -- both sides -- came down.

His mother would have been pissed that he would no longer be staying with Clark, so Pete lied.  He said that he was staying both there and with George Pullman.  Georgie and he hadn't spoke in more than two years.  Not out of distaste but out of distance.  They'd just grown apart.

Instead of staying either place however, he was going to be sleeping in the tree-fort that he and Clark built years ago at Crater Lake.  It was just the place that he needed to think about… things.

Like Chloe.

He winced and his stomach tightened.  He loved her, really and truly.  He wanted her to be his and only his.  And the way he treated her the other day was wrong.  But…

At the same time that he wanted her, he wanted nothing to do with her.  Her lies and her easy deceptions.  Her suspicious and cunning mind that he'd always admired.

your hair, so bright
eyes like light
everything was unassuming

and then like death
you steal my breath
with another stupid lie

your casualties are
well, they've gone too far
you've hurt another that you love

and now good-byes
are worth no cries
I cannot see your heart

He knew it was overly dramatic but, damnit, that's how he felt.  He felt betrayed and lost.  The one thing in the world that seemed so steadfast had been crumbling into tiny pieces since he'd found the adoption papers on Chloe's computer.

He'd always trusted her, even over Clark ever since he started hanging out with Lex.  He'd believed with his gut that Chloe could never hurt either of her 'boys' as Martha Kent referred to it.

Then he'd happened upon the adoption records looking up information on Kwan to post in a 'During the Summer' paper that the school was funding.  There was summer school and school activities so Chloe figured why not still have the paper and the new principal was all and ready to say yes.

Chloe had then explained why she kept them.  'I've been telling you for the longest time, Pete.  You let things slip away when it comes to Clark.  He's a mystery.'

And of course, as Chloe had said, he'd let it slip away.  He didn't believe in prying into the very, very private areas of his friends lives.  That's why he hadn't confronted Clark on his feelings for Lex.

But when Clark read the poem and Chloe had been so obviously anxious for the response…  It cut him.  How could Chloe know?  How could Clark possibly trust her more than him, Pete, his best friend since forever.  Since BEFORE Chloe.  Suspicious, sneaky, lying her.  It just wasn't fair.  It wasn't right. Pete was as damned honest as a person could be and here was Clark falling for Lex-fucking-Luthor and telling everything to Clandestine Chlo.  It just pissed him off.

So he'd, in his anger, broken a secret from a best friend.  First time in his life he'd ever done that.  Broken her trust.  It felt awful but at the same time, he was sure that he could never trust her again.  How she could keep such a major thing from Clark and then turn around acting like Clark's only fucking confidant?

He still loved her, though.  Kinda wondered if he would ever be able to stop.  It hurt so unbelievably much.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

To be continued...