Clex WIP update. Yes, again!
Sep. 7th, 2004 01:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
arysteiaThe end is in sight! Well, my sight. Maybe not yours... Yet. But the pace is picking up.
Parallel
Lex/Clark, futurefic, mostly R rated. A paean for Denial. "All the ways it could have gone wrong, and one way it didn't."
The last time Lionel visited him here, it took three orderlies, a straitjacket, and a hypo of Haldol to get Lex into the observation room. Lex remembers like it was yesterday, remembers being nineteen and out of control. This time he doesn't fight and they let him walk down in his institutional pyjamas, though the human mountain who takes up position outside the door is clearly a guard, despite his hospital scrubs. He's not a threat to anyone, and he wants to prove it, so he lets it pass without comment.
He's still out of control, out of control of his own life, and in a faraway dreamlike memory this docility, this passive acceptance, seems strange even to him, but none of this is his real life. It's just an interval, and if he does what they want, what they need, Dr Gregory will sign him out and let him go home. He knows the procedure, and fighting it only ever makes the stay longer. He sits where they tell him, on the low stool that makes him smaller than everyone else in the room, and waits. Lionel sweeps in with his normal aplomb, but he looks strangely tired, and his voice sounds scratchy, lacks its usual bombast. He doesn't waste time on small talk.
"I've spoken to Gregory. He's very concerned. I am too. You need to take better care of yourself."
"Yes." Lex speaks calmly, deliberately. "I will." The right words are obvious, and for once they don’t have to fight their way past the wrong ones, the ones calculated to enrage Lionel. "Things have been really hard lately, I need to take a break. Maybe I should go to the mansion, get away from Metropolis."
"The drugs don't help, Lex."
Lionel knows *everything*. Lex should remember that next time.
"I know. I've just been under so much pressure, and it's really hard to focus sometimes. But it's not like before." For some reason it actually matters to Lex that his father believe him. "All I need is some time away and I'll be fine."
"I wish that were true, son." Lionel seems genuinely worried, and that’s far more disturbing than his usual theatrical posturing. "Dr Gregory is afraid you might be headed for another breakdown. I couldn't stand to see you like that again."
"That's ridiculous. I'm fine."
"You don't remember anything, do you?"
"About what?" Lex tries to think, but all he remembers of the last week is that Clark left him alone on Christmas day. He'd spent the morning in his office with the bottle of Macallan he'd special ordered for Jonathan, trying to work up the courage to call the Kents. He wants to reject his father's tale of gun waving and hysterical accusations out of hand, but the truth is he can't even remember going to the house.
"You're clearly a danger, Lex, to yourself and others. It won't be hard to get a compulsory treatment order. It's only because I didn’t press charges that you're here instead of in prison."
"You’re wrong. I’m tired and I’m stressed, and I *have* been depressed, I probably should see someone, but I’m not sick. Not like before."
"I want to believe you, son, but Dr Gregory doesn’t agree. He knows you, Lex, he’s always helped you in the past, and I think we should trust his judgment."
"I *don’t* trust him." Lex’s voice is rising despite himself. "I want to see my own doctor."
"That's not a good idea."
"I'm not a kid anymore, Dad, you can't keep me here. You don't have the right to make my medical decisions for me."
"Of course I do, Lex, I'm your next of kin."
"You're *not*." Disgust lends Lex a touch of his old strength. It’s disgust with himself as much as his father, for being stupid enough to believe Lionel could truly have no hidden motive. "Don't you *dare*."
"Clark? I don't need to tell you that same sex unions aren't recognised in Kansas."
"It doesn't matter. He's my legal next of kin and he has my power of attorney." Lex clings to the things he *can* control, the things he knows he took care of long ago. When he could think straight. His head is so fuzzy now, thoughts stumbling a second behind, like the lag on a satellite relay. "He has my power of attorney," he repeats, a mantra to ward off evil. He’d never expected to need it, but life in Smallville taught him to prepare for all eventualities.
Lionel smiles, not convinced for a moment. "I was under the impression that you'd broken up. Dominic informs me that Clark moved out of the penthouse months ago."
"That's not true."
"No?" Lionel lays a sympathetic hand on Lex's knee. "You don't have to be embarrassed, Lex. I won't say I told you so. Though I did, of course. I'm amazed it lasted as long as it did."
"Stop it. You don't know anything."
"I know you're sick, and I'm going to see to it that you get the help you need. You're my son, and I love you. I’m having a writ filed this morning, contesting your domestic arrangements. My lawyers are meeting with Judge Holland this afternoon. They tell me it should be perfectly straightforward – you and Clark haven’t been together for months. You would have taken steps yourself, dissolving the power of attorney, if you'd been able to. It's only your illness that's prevented you. The mere fact that Clark isn't here when you need him speaks volumes."
"We *haven't* broken up." The desperation in his voice is shocking to Lex, but he knows it's the truth. He knows that even if they had, Clark would still be the one he would want to take care of him. Clark would still be the one he would *trust* to take care of him.
"Then where is he, Lex? Your white knight. Why isn't he here?"
"You're not letting him in. I've seen your guards outside."
"Oh, come on, Lex, I’ve humoured you for years, pretending I don’t see what’s right in front of me, but I think we both know I couldn't keep him out of here if he really wanted to see you."
Lex’s heart stutters, but then he remembers. The truth is a light in dark places, it keeps fear at bay. He knows it like he knows his own name. Clark would *never* leave him in a place like this. He’ll come. All Lex has to do is wait.
"He's not coming for you this time." Lionel opens his Louis Vuitton briefcase, pulling out a folder of black and white photographs. Lex flips through them with hands that only shake a little. Clark and Lois eating dinner, at a ball game, walking through the park. That one's the worst. Clark's arm round her waist, leaning in, heads close together whispering.
Lex shoves the folder back at Lionel. "They're *friends*, Dad," he shouts. "Some people are capable of spending time together and not fucking. Just because *we're* not..." Some people *are* capable of it. And Clark's always been one of them. If Lex can just convince *himself*.
"He's moving on, Lex, you need to do the same."
"We're getting back together. This is temporary, while I sort some things out."
Lionel's voice is cold, calm, and absolutely final. "He’s filed for a formal separation."
"You’re lying."
"It's for the best, Lex. Time to close that chapter in your life. I just can’t believe you were stupid enough to give him control of your company. After all the trouble I went to to protect your inheritance, you give away your own legacy."
"What?
"Your so-called settlement." Lionel snorts. "Idiotic romantic nonsense."
The words are an icy hand round Lex's heart. Squeezing ever so slowly. "How do you know about that?"
"Lex, son..." Lionel’s voice is sympathetic again, almost gentle. It's worse than shouting, grating on Lex’s nerves like wire on raw skin.
"How do you *know*?"
"He filed it on Thursday and applied to have his Lexcorp stock vested immediately after. I tried to block the transfer, but my attorneys say your agreement was ironclad."
"That's impossible."
"I can show you the papers if you don't believe me."
Lex reaches out for the sheaf his father proffers. His own signature mocks him, flying across the page, unusual flourish flicking right off the paper. He remembers the sense of elated confidence with which he'd signed it. Sick of Lionel's bullying and hectoring, humiliated at being seen as dependent in any way on his father's favour, making a point once and for all. To Lionel, to Clark, above all to himself. I *can* trust someone this much. Clark's neat, precise printing sits uncomfortably beneath it, obviously added in later, the different pen used clear even in the photocopy. Lex doubles over, hugging himself, papers falling to the floor. He doesn't care about the company, not really. But Clark's finally given up. He's not coming back.
Lionel pats him on the shoulder. "Why on earth did you do it, Lex?"
"I trusted him…"
"You can't trust him anymore, son."
"What do you *want* from me?"
"I want you to sign the consent forms and do what you have to do to get well. That's all."
Yet another pile of papers, and Lex signs where Lionel tells him, hand shaking so much he barely recognises his own name on the page.
Lionel folds the papers back into his briefcase and begins to walk out. He stops in the door and turns back. "We'll appeal the settlement of course."
"Let him have it." Barely a whisper, eyes focused on the floor.
"We'll get a hearing with a sympathetic judge. You obviously weren't thinking straight. Gregory will testify as to your mental state, and..."
Lex looks up in horror. "It was four years ago, Dad. You want to say that I was crazy all along?"
"That's not what I'm saying, Lex."
"You'll *destroy* Lexcorp. Everything I've done in the last four years, every deal, every contract, will be subject to scrutiny."
"Better that than let that boy have it."
"No!" Lex stands up, strides over to Lionel in the doorway, fists clenched. "I built that company from nothing. I won't destroy it."
"Lex." It's satisfying to see Lionel shrink away from him.
"I *chose* to give it to him. I knew what I was doing."
He pushes past Lionel into the corridor, orderlies and nurses scurrying after him. Forces himself to calm down, and smiles through welling tears at the nurse who likes him best. "I'd like to go back to my room, please."
chapter 6
Parallel
Lex/Clark, futurefic, mostly R rated. A paean for Denial. "All the ways it could have gone wrong, and one way it didn't."
The last time Lionel visited him here, it took three orderlies, a straitjacket, and a hypo of Haldol to get Lex into the observation room. Lex remembers like it was yesterday, remembers being nineteen and out of control. This time he doesn't fight and they let him walk down in his institutional pyjamas, though the human mountain who takes up position outside the door is clearly a guard, despite his hospital scrubs. He's not a threat to anyone, and he wants to prove it, so he lets it pass without comment.
He's still out of control, out of control of his own life, and in a faraway dreamlike memory this docility, this passive acceptance, seems strange even to him, but none of this is his real life. It's just an interval, and if he does what they want, what they need, Dr Gregory will sign him out and let him go home. He knows the procedure, and fighting it only ever makes the stay longer. He sits where they tell him, on the low stool that makes him smaller than everyone else in the room, and waits. Lionel sweeps in with his normal aplomb, but he looks strangely tired, and his voice sounds scratchy, lacks its usual bombast. He doesn't waste time on small talk.
"I've spoken to Gregory. He's very concerned. I am too. You need to take better care of yourself."
"Yes." Lex speaks calmly, deliberately. "I will." The right words are obvious, and for once they don’t have to fight their way past the wrong ones, the ones calculated to enrage Lionel. "Things have been really hard lately, I need to take a break. Maybe I should go to the mansion, get away from Metropolis."
"The drugs don't help, Lex."
Lionel knows *everything*. Lex should remember that next time.
"I know. I've just been under so much pressure, and it's really hard to focus sometimes. But it's not like before." For some reason it actually matters to Lex that his father believe him. "All I need is some time away and I'll be fine."
"I wish that were true, son." Lionel seems genuinely worried, and that’s far more disturbing than his usual theatrical posturing. "Dr Gregory is afraid you might be headed for another breakdown. I couldn't stand to see you like that again."
"That's ridiculous. I'm fine."
"You don't remember anything, do you?"
"About what?" Lex tries to think, but all he remembers of the last week is that Clark left him alone on Christmas day. He'd spent the morning in his office with the bottle of Macallan he'd special ordered for Jonathan, trying to work up the courage to call the Kents. He wants to reject his father's tale of gun waving and hysterical accusations out of hand, but the truth is he can't even remember going to the house.
"You're clearly a danger, Lex, to yourself and others. It won't be hard to get a compulsory treatment order. It's only because I didn’t press charges that you're here instead of in prison."
"You’re wrong. I’m tired and I’m stressed, and I *have* been depressed, I probably should see someone, but I’m not sick. Not like before."
"I want to believe you, son, but Dr Gregory doesn’t agree. He knows you, Lex, he’s always helped you in the past, and I think we should trust his judgment."
"I *don’t* trust him." Lex’s voice is rising despite himself. "I want to see my own doctor."
"That's not a good idea."
"I'm not a kid anymore, Dad, you can't keep me here. You don't have the right to make my medical decisions for me."
"Of course I do, Lex, I'm your next of kin."
"You're *not*." Disgust lends Lex a touch of his old strength. It’s disgust with himself as much as his father, for being stupid enough to believe Lionel could truly have no hidden motive. "Don't you *dare*."
"Clark? I don't need to tell you that same sex unions aren't recognised in Kansas."
"It doesn't matter. He's my legal next of kin and he has my power of attorney." Lex clings to the things he *can* control, the things he knows he took care of long ago. When he could think straight. His head is so fuzzy now, thoughts stumbling a second behind, like the lag on a satellite relay. "He has my power of attorney," he repeats, a mantra to ward off evil. He’d never expected to need it, but life in Smallville taught him to prepare for all eventualities.
Lionel smiles, not convinced for a moment. "I was under the impression that you'd broken up. Dominic informs me that Clark moved out of the penthouse months ago."
"That's not true."
"No?" Lionel lays a sympathetic hand on Lex's knee. "You don't have to be embarrassed, Lex. I won't say I told you so. Though I did, of course. I'm amazed it lasted as long as it did."
"Stop it. You don't know anything."
"I know you're sick, and I'm going to see to it that you get the help you need. You're my son, and I love you. I’m having a writ filed this morning, contesting your domestic arrangements. My lawyers are meeting with Judge Holland this afternoon. They tell me it should be perfectly straightforward – you and Clark haven’t been together for months. You would have taken steps yourself, dissolving the power of attorney, if you'd been able to. It's only your illness that's prevented you. The mere fact that Clark isn't here when you need him speaks volumes."
"We *haven't* broken up." The desperation in his voice is shocking to Lex, but he knows it's the truth. He knows that even if they had, Clark would still be the one he would want to take care of him. Clark would still be the one he would *trust* to take care of him.
"Then where is he, Lex? Your white knight. Why isn't he here?"
"You're not letting him in. I've seen your guards outside."
"Oh, come on, Lex, I’ve humoured you for years, pretending I don’t see what’s right in front of me, but I think we both know I couldn't keep him out of here if he really wanted to see you."
Lex’s heart stutters, but then he remembers. The truth is a light in dark places, it keeps fear at bay. He knows it like he knows his own name. Clark would *never* leave him in a place like this. He’ll come. All Lex has to do is wait.
"He's not coming for you this time." Lionel opens his Louis Vuitton briefcase, pulling out a folder of black and white photographs. Lex flips through them with hands that only shake a little. Clark and Lois eating dinner, at a ball game, walking through the park. That one's the worst. Clark's arm round her waist, leaning in, heads close together whispering.
Lex shoves the folder back at Lionel. "They're *friends*, Dad," he shouts. "Some people are capable of spending time together and not fucking. Just because *we're* not..." Some people *are* capable of it. And Clark's always been one of them. If Lex can just convince *himself*.
"He's moving on, Lex, you need to do the same."
"We're getting back together. This is temporary, while I sort some things out."
Lionel's voice is cold, calm, and absolutely final. "He’s filed for a formal separation."
"You’re lying."
"It's for the best, Lex. Time to close that chapter in your life. I just can’t believe you were stupid enough to give him control of your company. After all the trouble I went to to protect your inheritance, you give away your own legacy."
"What?
"Your so-called settlement." Lionel snorts. "Idiotic romantic nonsense."
The words are an icy hand round Lex's heart. Squeezing ever so slowly. "How do you know about that?"
"Lex, son..." Lionel’s voice is sympathetic again, almost gentle. It's worse than shouting, grating on Lex’s nerves like wire on raw skin.
"How do you *know*?"
"He filed it on Thursday and applied to have his Lexcorp stock vested immediately after. I tried to block the transfer, but my attorneys say your agreement was ironclad."
"That's impossible."
"I can show you the papers if you don't believe me."
Lex reaches out for the sheaf his father proffers. His own signature mocks him, flying across the page, unusual flourish flicking right off the paper. He remembers the sense of elated confidence with which he'd signed it. Sick of Lionel's bullying and hectoring, humiliated at being seen as dependent in any way on his father's favour, making a point once and for all. To Lionel, to Clark, above all to himself. I *can* trust someone this much. Clark's neat, precise printing sits uncomfortably beneath it, obviously added in later, the different pen used clear even in the photocopy. Lex doubles over, hugging himself, papers falling to the floor. He doesn't care about the company, not really. But Clark's finally given up. He's not coming back.
Lionel pats him on the shoulder. "Why on earth did you do it, Lex?"
"I trusted him…"
"You can't trust him anymore, son."
"What do you *want* from me?"
"I want you to sign the consent forms and do what you have to do to get well. That's all."
Yet another pile of papers, and Lex signs where Lionel tells him, hand shaking so much he barely recognises his own name on the page.
Lionel folds the papers back into his briefcase and begins to walk out. He stops in the door and turns back. "We'll appeal the settlement of course."
"Let him have it." Barely a whisper, eyes focused on the floor.
"We'll get a hearing with a sympathetic judge. You obviously weren't thinking straight. Gregory will testify as to your mental state, and..."
Lex looks up in horror. "It was four years ago, Dad. You want to say that I was crazy all along?"
"That's not what I'm saying, Lex."
"You'll *destroy* Lexcorp. Everything I've done in the last four years, every deal, every contract, will be subject to scrutiny."
"Better that than let that boy have it."
"No!" Lex stands up, strides over to Lionel in the doorway, fists clenched. "I built that company from nothing. I won't destroy it."
"Lex." It's satisfying to see Lionel shrink away from him.
"I *chose* to give it to him. I knew what I was doing."
He pushes past Lionel into the corridor, orderlies and nurses scurrying after him. Forces himself to calm down, and smiles through welling tears at the nurse who likes him best. "I'd like to go back to my room, please."
chapter 6
