The Depths We Sink To (Chapter Thirty-Two)

Just finishing with Apocalypse, then starting on Quest.

Chapter 32

Only Lex could make her go from comforting him to slapping him in under a minute. She stared at him, not sure what to say. Sorry didn't seem like an option because he damned well deserved that. She decided to ignore his ugly words and concentrate on repeating what he'd refused to listen to before. "I thought you knew, Lex," she said through clenched teeth, pulling her hand down and stepping away from him. "And if you think there's something you can do for Lana, then why don't you stop haranguing me and damned well do it?"

He drew back, breathing hard. "I would if you would just tell me what the hell happened to her."

"I can't say," she said carefully. "I'm not a doctor, but I'm doing all I can to keep her work going." What else could she do right now? Brainiac was destroyed and Lana seemed no better. "For when she's better."

"If that even happens." Lex paced away. "I should have been told earlier," he said, his voice hard. "Regardless of whether you thought I knew."

"I didn't think..."

"About me?" He turned to her. "You never do, these days. None of you ever do. It's been a week. I could have had everyone in the state on this and you know it. Instead, I've been jetting all over the damned globe like there's nothing..." He stopped himself and backed away. "Doesn't matter." He narrowed his eyes. "Thanks so much for the heads up. I'm sure Lana has a real shot. A damned week later," he snapped, turning on his heel and stalking out. 

She stared at the open door, wondering if he was right. After this last month, it had been so clearly Them versus Lex that it was hard to think of him as someone who could help. He had money and connections and, surprising as it seemed, some investment in whether they lived or died. Think about it, Chloe. If I really wanted to hurt Lana or Clark... or you, I could have and I haven't. That was true. What if she'd thought to tell him, ask for his help even. Might Lana have been saved by now if... 

She shook herself. No. She was letting leftover feelings for him cloud her judgement. She couldn't forget what he'd had done to Patricia Swann, what he'd done to Lionel himself, what he might do to any one of them if they were standing in his way. If she even thought for a moment his previous attachment to any of them made a difference, she'd just have to remind herself that Lionel was his father. But an abusive father who tore him down and manipulated him until... It was no excuse. She couldn't let it be. 

And Lana's state had been unchanged since the moment Brainiac took her. No improvement, but no deterioration, either. There was nothing to be gained from bringing Lex in before so she was damned well not going to waste time beating herself up over it. Maybe he'd help now and, if he did, it was the damned least he could do. That's the only way she could think of it to keep her mind on her work and away from him. No pity. No gratitude. Nothing but a solid line with her on one side and him on the other.

She picked up the box she'd been moving earlier and took it to the locked filing cabinet. She wondered what Lana would think when she found her Isis offices taken over by Oliver's arsenal. She tried to imagine explaining it in some funny, flippant way and Lana laughing it off. They'd laughed together that last night, like real friends. Maybe they could work together here when she was healed. This hero-helping sometimes felt lonely. It would be nice to have a coworker. Oliver sometimes felt like one with his sarcastic little rejoinders, but he was never exactly there, always jetting around the...

She stilled, remembering something Lex said. Instead, I've been jetting all over the damned globe like there's nothing... He'd clammed up after that. 

She'd been trying so very hard to practically ignore his existence that she hadn't even thought to find out what the hell he was into, as long as it was away from her. 

But she also remembered that night she'd been tortured by the rogue G-woman. She'd been concussed and beaten tender, but every word he said was still clear. I have a jet ready right now. I could make it happen. I could take you away.

She mentally edited out the last two best forgotten sentences and focused on the fact that he'd had a jet ready that night. But ready for what?

What had he been up to?

***************************

What the hell was he doing? He'd put Milash off. That cryptograph was gathering dust. And now he was driving, not flying, not even being driven, to Smallville. He had better things to do than drive. He had more important things to do than spend the whole damned day at an asylum staring at his glassy-eyed ex wife - the one that had him framed for her murder, the one that stole from him, spied on him, seemed pretty intent on ruining him, that ex wife - calling in one specialist after another to cure her only to be told that nothing could be done. As if that wasn't a useless enough exercise, he was now off to see Clark. And he hardly knew why. 

What good would it do? What answers would he get? Hell, he'd already tried Chloe today and got nothing for his troubles but a slap. He put a hand to his cheek, swearing it still tingled. She packed a surprising punch for such a little thing, but he supposed he knew that she might. He also supposed he didn't blame her, with what he'd said. It had been beneath him. He was on a higher road these days, or trying to be. He was on a mission and he needed to be above petty remarks and bitter, jealous acts - unless it was keeping Olsen busy and away from Sullivan. But that was more of a damned public service. 

"Why am I doing this?" he growled, rolling down the Kent Farm's drive. Why was he bothering? Even if he was the means of curing Lana, none of them would thank him except begrudgingly. So why?

You've made your choice and you're alone. And you always will be because you keep hurting every single person that ever cared about you. Her words were like a constant plague. Everything she said followed him. 

He'd wondered earlier, in the warehouse as Regan tortured that rather useless guard from Intercept, if he was going soft. Maybe he was. Or maybe it was the sleep deprivation as he'd been up all night after weeks of little to no sleep. But maybe it was just this new information that had him seeing things differently. Not his mission. That was still unchanged. But how he did it, why he did it... That could change. If he could lessen the damage he left, even in this late hour, it might be one way to repay them.

"Repay them," he sneered, getting out of his car and walking across the packed dirt to the barn. That's where Clark would be, rain or shine, hot or cold.Repay them He was jumping the gun. He wasn't even sure Clark and the sister wives had done anything that warranted repayment. But he couldn't push this feeling away, something like gratitude.

He'd gone over and over it by now, trying to make it all fit. Lionel, Clark, Chloe, and Lana were all there in that warehouse. All there the night he was brought in mortally wounded and brought out again without a scratch. There was no time that night, not to go from Detroit to Smallville to Star City to Smallville again, cured by some magic healing serum. And to come out without even a scar...

"I was under the impression that all the serum was destroyed."

"All but a single dose, which I salvaged... for myself, if I should ever need it."

"But you gave it to me?"

"You sound surprised. You're my son. You think I'd stand there and watch you die?"

He'd sensed bullshit in the room that night, as always with Lionel. But he'd assigned the stench to the protestations of fatherly love. But maybe it applied to how he was healed. Maybe his father meant it when he said... The idea filled him with self-loathing. He tried to swallow it down as that was nothing new, but it seemed stuck in his chest now. They were all in that warehouse - Lionel, too. They all had something to do with the fact that he didn't leave it in a body bag.

Whatever Project Intercept was, it had some part in healing him. It must have. And with all of them there, it only followed that... But why would they keep it a secret? Wouldn't they want to lord it over him? Like they were even farther above him if something they did was part of saving him?

Saving him. Saving. Save. Something flitted through his mind at the word, but he was too damned tired to catch it.

He moved toward the barn. He heard Clark in the house, heard Kara. He didn't want to face her just now. If he was right about her being something... unique, then he most likely didn't want to see her angry. He moved into the barn, remembering when he'd had an open invitation, remembered weeks of menial labor in the hopes that Jonathon Kent would stop looking at him with disgust in his eyes. He'd tried for so long to prove himself to these people, but they never accepted him. 

He moved up the steps to the loft, picking up a football left disinteredly on the floor. He remembered buying Clark's entire football team jerseys only to be coldly told he couldn't buy back his friendship. And maybe there were nice memories, too, but all he seemed to remember was each sting of rejection. He supposed that's why he'd ultimately given up. But what if he'd seen those sweeter moments? Why couldn't he ever damned well remember the good things? Maybe then things would be... He stared out the wide loft window and pushed it away, just concentrated on what he was here for. He wouldn't ask about Intercept and what it had to do with his supposedly miraculous recovery. If anyone was to tell him, they would have by now. He could get his own answers. More files were being cleared up every minute. Besides, he was positive the only one he could have got to let something slip is Lana. And she was...

He didn't like it. Whatever went down this past year, he didn't like seeing her an unresponsive vegetable with cold, white eyes. He could do something about it if Clark would just let him in, just enough to help. He had to know something. So he'd offer. He'd ask. And he'd try not to be an asshole. That was all he could do right now. Maybe then this feeling would go away and he could get back to work.

The first step to polite conversation might be announcing his presence when he heard Clark shuffling up the steps. "This place hasn't changed a bit since I last saw it."

"What are you doing here?"

Lex turned, tossed Clark the stupid football. "You were the last person to see Lana while she was well. I figured you're the one to talk to if I have any chance of helping her," he said evenly, still trying his damnedest not to let out all the petty, angry noise in his head being in this place. 

"No one's asking for your help."

Clark, of course, never made it easy. "I'm only trying to save her, Clark. I had the best medical minds in the world examine her." Or the ones he could get on this notice, thanks to not being let in, as usual.

Clark seemed to drop the attitude. "Is there anything the doctors can do to help her?" he asked, after a moment.

"They tell me her condition is unlike any they've ever seen." He turned toward the window, wondering if this was pushing it, but he said it anyway. "Several specialists described it as almost alien." Meteor rocks, strange ships, magic stones... what the fuck wasn't almost alien in these parts? And why was Clark always at the thick of it? He didn't think he'd get all those answers today, but if Clark would just let up enough for him to help...

"So you're telling me the best doctors in the world can't do anything to help Lana?" Clark asked behind him.

"Unfortunately, they've all come to the same conclusion." He turned back to Clark, not surprised he avoided the veiled question. "Her state is irreversible. " He moved toward him. "That's why I came to you, Clark. If we could find out what triggered Lana's syndrome, maybe we could have hope." His exprssion was as guarded as ever. "Think, Clark. She was living with you. Is there anything you can remember that might explain how this could have happened?" He found anger creeping into his tone. There was damned well something he could tell. And it didn't even have to give away everything about his cousin or his own secrets or whatever the hell he knew about Lionel's extracurriculars. Just enough to help...

"I wish there was." 

And that was a lie. But he couldn't even bring himself to be angry about it. He moved past Clark, but stopped before moving down the steps. "If there's something you left out that you'd like to share, you know where to find me. " Why did he even bother in the first place? Screw them. He had enough to do on his own. He no longer cared what they did.

**************************

"I don't care what he said," Chloe fumed, pacing away from the coffee cart. "It doesn't mean he knows." 

"But he said alien," Clark insisted, panic in his voice. 

She sat on a bus stop bench and took a deep breath of the marginally fresh air out front of the Isis building. She figured she should get some outside time before locking herself away with Isis' computers again... and while talking Clark off the ledge. "And what does that have to do with you? Lex has seen some pretty far-out things in our town from meteor freaks to abandoned ships. It doesn't mean he knows everything."

"I just feel like... every time I speak to him, he's getting closer."

"Not if I can help it," Chloe muttered. 

"What's that?"

"Nothing," she said quickly. She wouldn't tell Clark about tracking Lex. Not until she had all the info she could. It might lead him to panic more and, when Clark panicked, he sometimed got stupid ideas in his head, like letting evil supercomputers wipe his existence away. She'd get more info first, then he'd have something to prevent rather than obsess about. She was still on Lex's trail from last week. Finding out where he'd been and what he'd done might be her best chance of predicting his next moves. "Anyway, let's just try not to bother with him for now." Words to live by. "I mean, maybe a nice edible fruit arrangement if he can help Lana," she said as lightly as she could. Because she didn't want to seem... fixated on lex. Not at all. Because she wasn't. 

"He said there's nothing they can do without more information on what happened to her," Clark said miserably.

She gritted her teeth. "Yes. Because many medical specialists have alien antibiotics they save up for just this occasion. He's trying to draw you out. Don't let him." She tried for a joke. "Anyway, it hasn't been an altogether wasted day. You still exist. The world's end was averted. Can't say the same for the alternate universe gang, though." She forced a laugh. "Poor other Chloe. Beat out by Lois for her first Pulitzer. She'd have a field day with that if she knew."

She heard Clark huff out something like a laugh. "I don't think I'll be telling her if she comes in."

"Where are you?"

"I'm at the Daily Planet. With Lex away more, I thought I could get on the internet here."

She did laugh, then. "Clark, there's practically a Best Buy waiting for you over here. Why don't you..."

"I can't," he said quickly. "It's all... her things and her decorations and..."

"No, I understand," she said softly. "Just... tell me if there's anything I can look up for you here."

He sighed. "I wouldn't know what to ask. I'm just..."

"Blindly googling?"

"How did you know?"

"Because I know you. But I tend to do that when I don't know what to do, too."

He was silent for a moment. "You seemed happy, you know, if that helps."

"What?"

"In that other world. I didn't get to talk to you long and I don't know what you did for a living, but you were with this nice guy. I think he was a cop. And you were planning a wedding and... you seemed happy."

She wanted to laugh and ask him if he got a name or phone number, but that wouldn't be fair to Jimmy. 

"Well, I wouldn't have been happy for long since the planet exploded. So you just remember that before you decide my world's happier without you."

He chuckled just a little. "I will. I'll call you later."

"Bye." She hung up and leaned back against the bench. Thinking about that other Chloe who had a whole different life. She wasn't a meteor freak. She might have even grown up with a mother, given that. Maybe this Chloe didn't have those advantages, but she wouldn't trade some of the things she'd done and seen for that world. Besides all that, that world was doomed to end painfully. She wasn't so bad off here. And Jimmy was a nice guy. A nice, stable, normal guy. A refuge from all this danger if she'd just try harder to make it work. And she would... if he were ever around anymore. He was suddenly on all these assignments... 

"Chloe?"

She glanced up, confused at first at why this plump, curly-haired girl at the coffee cart seemed to... "Megan." She stood. She'd nearly relegated her to some other world, other life. And she supposed Megan was, really. The Daily Planet seemed so far away now. Yet it had been little over a week. "Hi. How are you?"

"No. How are you?" Megan came nearer. "I mean, I came in one morning and you were just gone. I'm always afraid to ask. You know how the editors are there nowadays. Totally creepy."

Chloe nodded. She'd kind of missed Megan's frantic energy. "Totally," she echoed softly with Megan's favorite word.

"So did you finally have enough?" She sat down and patted the bench. "Because I'm totally almost there except for how I need the credits and all."

"Not exactly." Chloe sat. "I was fired."

"You?" Magan gasped. "And I'm still there?"

"What? Megan, you do fine."

She snorted. "Fine enough. I'd have probably got fired if they were paying me. But this is such total BS. You worked harder than anyone. I was always totally floored you weren't moving up from the basement."

She supposed she could have if she were ever allowed to write up even a fraction of what she knew. "I wasn't working hard in the right way, I guess." That much was true. Secretly saving the world didn't exactly boost her up the career ladder.

"No, but seriously... Why?"

"Uh..." She didn't think "Because our boss' father put a key in my desk" would fly.

"Ugh. Never mind. I'm sure it was totally Luthor. He was always skulking around, spying on you, asking about you when you weren't there. Like he was just looking for something. Total creep."

"Totally," she said miserably.

"Anyway, I wish you were there. You always helped me." Megan stood. "I guess the only good thing about you being gone is we, like, never see him in person now. Just that goony new assistant guy, always dragging Jimmy off... Oh, well you know that." Megan rolled her eyes. "You guys are together again. Totally forgot."

Chloe stood as well. "Yeah, we are," she said quickly, wondering what Lex's new heavy wanted with Jimmy. "But he didn't tell me he was having trouble at work."

"Oh, no. Don't worry. I doubt the guys shaking him down for lunch money, but he totally looks like the type." Megan shrugged. "Nah, he just always has some assignment from Luthor. Wants him to stay late or go out of town, but there's never a story or even a photo to show for it, which I told Jimmy is also total BS, but he keeps doing whatever."

"Whatever," Chloe echoed dully as Megan chattered on about getting to her study group. She waved her off and smiled, but dropped it when Megan was out of sight.

So he wanted to play games... Well, he wouldn't win.

*********************

He really needed a win right now. After his extremely useless day, he'd thought he'd had one with Milash finally showing up... until he spent the whole night dithering.

"Unbelievable," the old man wheezed. "Immaculate. The gears, the complications... I have never seen anything quite like it."

Lex had heard some variation of this for a damned hour as the man turned it over and over under his magnifying glass. "What does it do?" he finally asked, keeping his temper.

Milash turned in his chair. "Well, I am sorry to say I don't know."

Lex started to lose it. "I didn't come to the most renowned expert in antiquities in north America for more ambiguity."

Milash smiled. "Well, I just need more time. I need to take it to my workshop and take it apart."

"No. The cryptograph isn't leaving this room. It holds great sentimental value for me. It's priceless," he spat, still struggling not to lose it. He didn't want to be like he was last week. He didn't want to feel unhinged and constantly angry. He wanted calm and clarity. It was the only way to stay on this path.

Milash stood with a grunt. "Well, if there is no way to decipher the meaning, it seems your priceless heirloom has no value at all."

Lex stared at him silently, not trusting himself not to snap. More waiting. More questions. But what the hell else could he do? He gave the barest of nods and Milash gathered the box, bowing as he moved out of the study, Leaving Lex with Regan.

"I want a security detail on him 24/7," he said coolly.

Regan nodded and followed Milash.

What the hell was he supposed to do now? He ambled to his desk, switching off a lamp. He turned and spent just a second eyeing his liquor before he decided against it. He leaned heavily against his mantle, staring into the fire. He was off liquor at the moment. He could still see blackened shards of his glass from the night he basically burnt his little imaginary friend alive. No more drinking. That was the first thing he decided after that night. When a man started having lucid, daylight hallucinations, it was time to put the lid on it.

He vaguely wondered how different his decisions might have been, how much further he might have got with less mess and murder, if he hadn't spent the last month, maybe even the last few years, deep into a bottle. So many wrong decisions and horrible acts, washed away day and night in a tumbler of scotch, made hazy. Even her. She was a haze. Moments both beautiful and ugly were mired in this gray fog. Sometimes he thought he must have dreamed it all. And it all started with a bottle of...

His body tensed up as he heard a light tap, and not from the cracking fire. He wasn't alone. And it wasn't Regan because he never came in without announcing himself like he was the damned boss. He stayed still just one more second before he whirled.

Pain exploded on the side of his face before he could get a look. He didn't need to look. He just needed to fight. He thanked whatever deity would have him that he wasn't half bombed tonight and reacted quickly, grabbing a fire iron and jabbing. It clashed against what looked like a large knife in the hand of what looked like a large man. He lunged again and found himself on the other side of him. He tried to remember his old fencing lessons, though he'd never had to fence for his life. But he might be now as he frantically noted it was the same man that tried to crack his head open in Zurich. He got one good whack in, but the man still held onto the knife even as his fist shot forward and connected with Lex's jaw. 

He kept on his feet, drawing his arm back for one good...

This was new, was all he could think, staring at the man. He'd been shot, beaten, poisoned, drowned, choked, burned, drugged, crushed, crashed, and sure he'd had plenty of scratches, scrapes, and gashes. But he'd never been outright stabbed. It didn't exactly hurt as much as he thought it would. Still, he crumpled to the floor, hazily wondering if he actually preferred the other methods as his eyes flutterd shut. He definitely should as none of those actually worked, where this seemed to be... not over.

There was more pain, worse pain than the stabbing. Stinging, burning lines that slid over his chest, made him wish the blackness would take over just to end the agony.

And then it ended, not his pain, not even his life, but that slow, painful slide had stopped, leaving him feeling cold and exposed as he heard a voice.

"Oh, my god. Mr. Luthor!"

His eyes fluttered open, but he couldn't hold them.

"Security breach! Lock down the mansion!"

Something was touching his neck. Fucking Regan.

"Call an ambulance!"

Yes. Do that. So it couldn't be the end. Not now. He damned well better live if only so Fucking Regan's voice wasn't the last thing he heard.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER
Chapter Thirty-Three

I never understood why Clark was on the DP (which Lex owns) computers at the end of Apocalypse when there's a damned Best Buy sitting at Isis. Oh, Smallville, how contrived you were. I kind of love that I can say "were" now. Makes it seem nicely fuzzy and distant. 

There's more of Quest coming and I'm sticking with canon, but wanking away to make some things make sense, like some particularly OOC moments at the end. 

I had to bring panicky intern Megan back just to hammer in that Chloe getting fired was not cool and begged for justice that never came. I'm still convinced, had AlMiles stayed, she might have had a shining arc that gave her back her dreams. I mean, I'm happy enough she ended as a reporter still, but I wanted it to be at the DP as that's all she ever talked about for seven years. Still in mourning for my number one ship, ChlailyPlanet.