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serafina20Okay, obviously, the reining title for this fic is "In the Still of the Night," but this early in the game, I hesitate to actually give it a title. So, we'll just call it the "working" title.
Oh, and I think I've gotten a reputation for being a fast writer. This one will not be written quite as quickly. I seriously need to work on COTW 47, and I start in-service next Monday (!!!!) and, after that, will hopefully move into my classroom. So, we'll see.
Part 1
Before he'd met Clark, Lex had never thought twice about his habit of going to the cemetery to visit his mother's grave. He'd gotten in the habit in his early twenties when he'd finally kicked his drug habit. Whenever the world got too much, instead of getting high, he'd go to the cemetery.
It sounded strange, and, Lord knew, Lois constantly gave him flack about it. "It's creepy," she'd said to him one night when they'd been having a movie marathon. "Only deviants hang out in a cemetery."
Maybe she'd been right. About four months ago, Clark had told him before about Lana Lang's old habit of going to the cemetery to talk to her parents.
"She went two, three times a week," Clark said as they lay stretched out on the couch on a hot summer evening. Their air conditioning had been shot, and the weather was scorching. They'd ended up having a picnic of cold cuts and fruit in the living room, a bucket of ice besides them which they lazily rubbed over each other's body, licking trails of water as the ice melted. The lights had been off, jazz played softly in the background, and they'd spoken of their childhoods, both striving to only talk about the happy memories.
"That often?" Lex responded, rubbing ice over Clark's peaked nipple.
"And at night, too. Whenever no one could find her, we always knew she was there. It was a little creepy, but she worshiped her parents. She'd have conversations with them, and she took me out there a few times and translated what they were saying. I know it was a coping strategy, but it always seemed to me that she carried it too far, you know?"
Lex had hummed something noncommittal, but the conversation stuck with him, especially on days when he went to the cemetery. Obviously, this wasn't considered to be a normal activity, even by his beloved. But it was a hard habit to break. The cemetery was beautiful; it was probably the most beautiful place in the city, and Lex loved it there. It was quiet, peaceful, and no one bothered him. There were no cars, no noise, no distractions. The only sounds were nothing the running water from the fountain on his mother's monument, the occasional bird or rodent, and the whisper of wind through grass.
He didn’t go often. Certainly not two or three times a week. In fact, Lex rarely went once a month. The only times he went were on her birthday, the anniversary of her death, and whenever his head got too loud with confusion and pain.
He'd been going a lot more since finding out about Morgan. He needed the peace and serenity he felt while sitting in front his the monument, just drifting in his thoughts. Maybe that made him like Lana Lang, he didn't know. All he knew was Clark had never lost a parent, and he didn't know the strange comfort there was in being near a tangible memory of them.
Lex needed the comfort of the cemetery now. Badly. His mind was in an uproar, whirling around from thought to thought, emotion to emotion, exhausting him. He didn't know what to think anymore.
Clark wanted to marry him. No. Clark had *asked* Lex to marry him. It wasn't an abstract idea anymore. It wasn't something that hung in the air between them. The words had been spoken, the desire made clear, and there was no way to ignore it. It was real now.
Deep down, Lex had always known that Clark had wanted marriage. It was in his nature, his view of the world. His parents had been married for almost thirty-five years, and their marriage had been relatively untroubled. They were built to last, and that was all Clark knew. His world hadn't been Lex's, with a father who was cold and domineering, a mother who was depressed, loving, but forever anxious, and a biological father who Lex wasn't ready to accept. To Clark, marriage was as natural as breathing; to Lex, it was more alien than his lover.
"Marry me," Clark had said. And he'd meant it. Clark actually wanted to marry Lex. Lex, who was depressed and grouchy. Who smoked too much and ate too little. Who put his career over anything else, who snapped at Clark when he left the towels on the bathroom floor or didn't wipe up spills when he cooked. Lex, who woke up every day certain that this was the day Clark would leave.
Even though Clark didn't seem like he was leaving any time soon. Even though he had, technically, promised.
No, Lex wasn't that good of a catch, but it wasn't like Clark was either. Clark never remembered to throw anything away, so there always were plates with dried food around or spoiled milk around. His socks were scattered through the apartment, and he always forgot to spray the shower with the Tilex. He almost always came home with blood on his uniform, and he didn't know how to get stains out of anything. He was too cheerful in the morning, too peppy in the afternoon, and too happy at night. His smile was too blinding, his teeth were crooked, he'd refused to get a new pair of glasses just to bother Lex, and he wore flannel shirts on his days off.
God. Lex hoped Clark married him.
Because it was never a question of whether or not Lex wanted to marry Clark. Clark was the man Lex wanted to spend the rest of his life with, rain or shine, sickness or health, alien or human, flannel or not. No one made Lex feel as safe, protected, loved, or adored as Clark did. He knew no one ever would.
It wasn't a question of wanting. It was a question of being brave enough to say yes.
Lex lit a cigarette and walked up the path to his mother's grave. It was on top of a gently sloping hill, and Lex strolled along the gravel path easily. Despite his conflicted thought and emotions, today was a good day. He'd eaten breakfast, gone for a jog, worked for a few hours tying up loose ends on a story he and Clark were working on, and managed to slip off for some personal time without too many questions asked. He felt relaxed and calm. His head was fine, his stomach didn't hurt, and the darkness that enveloped him all too frequently had dissipated. Maybe the anti-depressants were actually working.
If this kept up, he might actually be able to say yes tonight when he and Clark went to dinner.
He came to the crest of the hill and stopped dead in his tracks.
Shit.
Paralyzing fear was overtaken quickly by anger. This was *his* place and damn if anyone was going to push him from it.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Lex demanded, storming to the stone bench that rested in front of Lillian Luthor's monument.
Morgan turned, face twisted in what looked like a wince. "Lex."
Lex crossed his arms over his chest and glared. "Well?"
"It's Julian's birthday," he said. A cough rattled in his chest, and he raised his handkerchief to his mouth. The handkerchief had an embroidered "LL" on it, and Lex recognized the lilies that edged it. "I generally come out to visit his grave on this day." He wiped his mouth, and then tucked the handkerchief back in his pocket. "You normally don't."
"No," Lex said a little awkwardly. God, should he come? Was he betraying his family somehow by not? "I barely remember Julian." It had been over twenty-years. Most of his associations with Julian centered around horrible guilt.
"I'm not surprised. He only lived three months before Lionel got tired of having such a sickly son." Morgan sighed. "A sickly son, a recalcitrant wife, and a friend who was again monopolizing the children he'd sired. It was an affront to your father's dignity." He winced again. "To Lionel's dignity."
"What do you mean?" Lex asked before he could stop himself.
A soft smile touched Morgan's mouth. "It was summer. You were home from school and bored, and you had a new baby brother. I took care of Julian most of the time. Lillian was recovering, and I didn't trust the nurse to be gentle enough. So you and I spent a lot of time together. Lionel never liked that."
God. That entire period was such a blank. A dark, confusing mess of half-remembered truths and nightmarish images. "I don't remember," Lex whispered. Sometimes, it felt as if his life hadn't really begun until he was in his twenties. Everything before was a drugged, psychotic blur.
Why would Clark want to marry someone like that?
"Julian had underdeveloped lungs," Morgan said, cutting into Lex's deepening misery. "And he was fussy. When he came home from the hospital, he required a lot of attention. I knew from my experiences with you that I'd only have a year or so to be near him, so I have others watch over my businesses and stayed at the mansion. Lionel was busy with work, so he didn't have time to poison you against me. You helped me change and feed Julian, you held him and watched cartoons with him. You spent hours explaining Warrior Angel to this tiny infant, who looked at you with such intense concentration. You even let me touch you. You fell asleep leaning against me a few times. I read to you both, and sometimes I was able to coax your mother to at least sit with us all."
"You make it sound like we were a family."
Morgan said nothing, but his face reflected his thoughts clearly.
Anger twisted Lex's stomach, and he crossed his arms over his chest. "I don't care," he said. "You aren't anything to me. And you're just as bad as my father. As Lionel. Dammit." He stormed away a few steps, then turned back around. His stomach was tied in a knot, and he could feel his nostrils flaring as his control waned. "What made you think you could play games like this and get away with it?"
With great effort, Morgan pushed himself to his feet. "Games like what?"
"Like switching dads on me. Fucking my mother and then pretending Lionel's my father. Screwing with my head like this. It's sick."
"It was never meant to be like this, Lex," Morgan said urgently. "Or, at least, my understanding of what Lionel wanted wasn't what it turned out to be. I knew I wouldn't be acknowledged as your biological father, at least not until you were old enough to understand the need for secrecy. Lionel felt that if it were known he couldn’t father children, it would reflect badly on him. I understood that, but I was given the impression that I would be more present in your life. I didn't realize Lionel would do everything he could to make you wary of my attention. I didn't know what I was getting into, Lex, I swear."
"Whatever."
"Kal mentioned recently that an old friend of his offered to be a surrogate if he ever decided to procreate. How is what I did any different?"
Lex had to pause before answering. A wave of rage washed over him at the thought of Clark discussing their personal life with this man. He'd known they'd talked about him, of course; Clark had told him that the subject Morgan wanted to talk about the most was Lex. But hearing it in vague terms from Clark, and hearing it from the monster himself were two different things.
When he was calm enough, he replied, "It's different because Clark and I do decide to have children, we'll tell them about their parentage. Not only that, but we'll love them unconditionally, never fuck with their heads, and never make them believe they killed their baby brother!"
"That wasn't my choice. God. Lex, Julian was my son. *You* are my son. Just because I wasn't allowed to tell you, doesn't mean I didn't love the both of you."
"Right," Lex said shakily.
Morgan hesitated and then sighed. His head shook slowly as he said, "I do love you, Lex. You're my son. I know that you don't want that to be true, but it is." Morgan shrugged. Another cough shook his body, and the handkerchief appeared once more.
Lex saw a man--bodyguard, he assumed--take a few steps closer, eyeing Morgan warily. But Morgan straightened and took a deep breath, so the bodyguard again faded into the background.
"All of us failed, Lex. I did most of all. When I saw what Lionel was, I should have challenged for custody and taken you and Lillian away from him. There are a lot of things I should have done, Lex, and I didn't. I am truly sorry."
"That's not enough," Lex said softly. "What you did to me. What Dad did to me, I'm so fucked up. I don't know how to do anything. I can't trust. I don't believe."
Morgan coughed again before hesitantly approaching Lex. "He loves you," he said softly.
Lex twitched.
"And more than that, Kal knows how to love. He's not like me. Or Lionel. He'll never hurt you."
"Yes, he will," Lex said. "Everyone does." Then, tired of the conversation, he turned and walked away.
The day wasn't so great anymore.
TBC
Oh, and I think I've gotten a reputation for being a fast writer. This one will not be written quite as quickly. I seriously need to work on COTW 47, and I start in-service next Monday (!!!!) and, after that, will hopefully move into my classroom. So, we'll see.
Part 1
Before he'd met Clark, Lex had never thought twice about his habit of going to the cemetery to visit his mother's grave. He'd gotten in the habit in his early twenties when he'd finally kicked his drug habit. Whenever the world got too much, instead of getting high, he'd go to the cemetery.
It sounded strange, and, Lord knew, Lois constantly gave him flack about it. "It's creepy," she'd said to him one night when they'd been having a movie marathon. "Only deviants hang out in a cemetery."
Maybe she'd been right. About four months ago, Clark had told him before about Lana Lang's old habit of going to the cemetery to talk to her parents.
"She went two, three times a week," Clark said as they lay stretched out on the couch on a hot summer evening. Their air conditioning had been shot, and the weather was scorching. They'd ended up having a picnic of cold cuts and fruit in the living room, a bucket of ice besides them which they lazily rubbed over each other's body, licking trails of water as the ice melted. The lights had been off, jazz played softly in the background, and they'd spoken of their childhoods, both striving to only talk about the happy memories.
"That often?" Lex responded, rubbing ice over Clark's peaked nipple.
"And at night, too. Whenever no one could find her, we always knew she was there. It was a little creepy, but she worshiped her parents. She'd have conversations with them, and she took me out there a few times and translated what they were saying. I know it was a coping strategy, but it always seemed to me that she carried it too far, you know?"
Lex had hummed something noncommittal, but the conversation stuck with him, especially on days when he went to the cemetery. Obviously, this wasn't considered to be a normal activity, even by his beloved. But it was a hard habit to break. The cemetery was beautiful; it was probably the most beautiful place in the city, and Lex loved it there. It was quiet, peaceful, and no one bothered him. There were no cars, no noise, no distractions. The only sounds were nothing the running water from the fountain on his mother's monument, the occasional bird or rodent, and the whisper of wind through grass.
He didn’t go often. Certainly not two or three times a week. In fact, Lex rarely went once a month. The only times he went were on her birthday, the anniversary of her death, and whenever his head got too loud with confusion and pain.
He'd been going a lot more since finding out about Morgan. He needed the peace and serenity he felt while sitting in front his the monument, just drifting in his thoughts. Maybe that made him like Lana Lang, he didn't know. All he knew was Clark had never lost a parent, and he didn't know the strange comfort there was in being near a tangible memory of them.
Lex needed the comfort of the cemetery now. Badly. His mind was in an uproar, whirling around from thought to thought, emotion to emotion, exhausting him. He didn't know what to think anymore.
Clark wanted to marry him. No. Clark had *asked* Lex to marry him. It wasn't an abstract idea anymore. It wasn't something that hung in the air between them. The words had been spoken, the desire made clear, and there was no way to ignore it. It was real now.
Deep down, Lex had always known that Clark had wanted marriage. It was in his nature, his view of the world. His parents had been married for almost thirty-five years, and their marriage had been relatively untroubled. They were built to last, and that was all Clark knew. His world hadn't been Lex's, with a father who was cold and domineering, a mother who was depressed, loving, but forever anxious, and a biological father who Lex wasn't ready to accept. To Clark, marriage was as natural as breathing; to Lex, it was more alien than his lover.
"Marry me," Clark had said. And he'd meant it. Clark actually wanted to marry Lex. Lex, who was depressed and grouchy. Who smoked too much and ate too little. Who put his career over anything else, who snapped at Clark when he left the towels on the bathroom floor or didn't wipe up spills when he cooked. Lex, who woke up every day certain that this was the day Clark would leave.
Even though Clark didn't seem like he was leaving any time soon. Even though he had, technically, promised.
No, Lex wasn't that good of a catch, but it wasn't like Clark was either. Clark never remembered to throw anything away, so there always were plates with dried food around or spoiled milk around. His socks were scattered through the apartment, and he always forgot to spray the shower with the Tilex. He almost always came home with blood on his uniform, and he didn't know how to get stains out of anything. He was too cheerful in the morning, too peppy in the afternoon, and too happy at night. His smile was too blinding, his teeth were crooked, he'd refused to get a new pair of glasses just to bother Lex, and he wore flannel shirts on his days off.
God. Lex hoped Clark married him.
Because it was never a question of whether or not Lex wanted to marry Clark. Clark was the man Lex wanted to spend the rest of his life with, rain or shine, sickness or health, alien or human, flannel or not. No one made Lex feel as safe, protected, loved, or adored as Clark did. He knew no one ever would.
It wasn't a question of wanting. It was a question of being brave enough to say yes.
Lex lit a cigarette and walked up the path to his mother's grave. It was on top of a gently sloping hill, and Lex strolled along the gravel path easily. Despite his conflicted thought and emotions, today was a good day. He'd eaten breakfast, gone for a jog, worked for a few hours tying up loose ends on a story he and Clark were working on, and managed to slip off for some personal time without too many questions asked. He felt relaxed and calm. His head was fine, his stomach didn't hurt, and the darkness that enveloped him all too frequently had dissipated. Maybe the anti-depressants were actually working.
If this kept up, he might actually be able to say yes tonight when he and Clark went to dinner.
He came to the crest of the hill and stopped dead in his tracks.
Shit.
Paralyzing fear was overtaken quickly by anger. This was *his* place and damn if anyone was going to push him from it.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Lex demanded, storming to the stone bench that rested in front of Lillian Luthor's monument.
Morgan turned, face twisted in what looked like a wince. "Lex."
Lex crossed his arms over his chest and glared. "Well?"
"It's Julian's birthday," he said. A cough rattled in his chest, and he raised his handkerchief to his mouth. The handkerchief had an embroidered "LL" on it, and Lex recognized the lilies that edged it. "I generally come out to visit his grave on this day." He wiped his mouth, and then tucked the handkerchief back in his pocket. "You normally don't."
"No," Lex said a little awkwardly. God, should he come? Was he betraying his family somehow by not? "I barely remember Julian." It had been over twenty-years. Most of his associations with Julian centered around horrible guilt.
"I'm not surprised. He only lived three months before Lionel got tired of having such a sickly son." Morgan sighed. "A sickly son, a recalcitrant wife, and a friend who was again monopolizing the children he'd sired. It was an affront to your father's dignity." He winced again. "To Lionel's dignity."
"What do you mean?" Lex asked before he could stop himself.
A soft smile touched Morgan's mouth. "It was summer. You were home from school and bored, and you had a new baby brother. I took care of Julian most of the time. Lillian was recovering, and I didn't trust the nurse to be gentle enough. So you and I spent a lot of time together. Lionel never liked that."
God. That entire period was such a blank. A dark, confusing mess of half-remembered truths and nightmarish images. "I don't remember," Lex whispered. Sometimes, it felt as if his life hadn't really begun until he was in his twenties. Everything before was a drugged, psychotic blur.
Why would Clark want to marry someone like that?
"Julian had underdeveloped lungs," Morgan said, cutting into Lex's deepening misery. "And he was fussy. When he came home from the hospital, he required a lot of attention. I knew from my experiences with you that I'd only have a year or so to be near him, so I have others watch over my businesses and stayed at the mansion. Lionel was busy with work, so he didn't have time to poison you against me. You helped me change and feed Julian, you held him and watched cartoons with him. You spent hours explaining Warrior Angel to this tiny infant, who looked at you with such intense concentration. You even let me touch you. You fell asleep leaning against me a few times. I read to you both, and sometimes I was able to coax your mother to at least sit with us all."
"You make it sound like we were a family."
Morgan said nothing, but his face reflected his thoughts clearly.
Anger twisted Lex's stomach, and he crossed his arms over his chest. "I don't care," he said. "You aren't anything to me. And you're just as bad as my father. As Lionel. Dammit." He stormed away a few steps, then turned back around. His stomach was tied in a knot, and he could feel his nostrils flaring as his control waned. "What made you think you could play games like this and get away with it?"
With great effort, Morgan pushed himself to his feet. "Games like what?"
"Like switching dads on me. Fucking my mother and then pretending Lionel's my father. Screwing with my head like this. It's sick."
"It was never meant to be like this, Lex," Morgan said urgently. "Or, at least, my understanding of what Lionel wanted wasn't what it turned out to be. I knew I wouldn't be acknowledged as your biological father, at least not until you were old enough to understand the need for secrecy. Lionel felt that if it were known he couldn’t father children, it would reflect badly on him. I understood that, but I was given the impression that I would be more present in your life. I didn't realize Lionel would do everything he could to make you wary of my attention. I didn't know what I was getting into, Lex, I swear."
"Whatever."
"Kal mentioned recently that an old friend of his offered to be a surrogate if he ever decided to procreate. How is what I did any different?"
Lex had to pause before answering. A wave of rage washed over him at the thought of Clark discussing their personal life with this man. He'd known they'd talked about him, of course; Clark had told him that the subject Morgan wanted to talk about the most was Lex. But hearing it in vague terms from Clark, and hearing it from the monster himself were two different things.
When he was calm enough, he replied, "It's different because Clark and I do decide to have children, we'll tell them about their parentage. Not only that, but we'll love them unconditionally, never fuck with their heads, and never make them believe they killed their baby brother!"
"That wasn't my choice. God. Lex, Julian was my son. *You* are my son. Just because I wasn't allowed to tell you, doesn't mean I didn't love the both of you."
"Right," Lex said shakily.
Morgan hesitated and then sighed. His head shook slowly as he said, "I do love you, Lex. You're my son. I know that you don't want that to be true, but it is." Morgan shrugged. Another cough shook his body, and the handkerchief appeared once more.
Lex saw a man--bodyguard, he assumed--take a few steps closer, eyeing Morgan warily. But Morgan straightened and took a deep breath, so the bodyguard again faded into the background.
"All of us failed, Lex. I did most of all. When I saw what Lionel was, I should have challenged for custody and taken you and Lillian away from him. There are a lot of things I should have done, Lex, and I didn't. I am truly sorry."
"That's not enough," Lex said softly. "What you did to me. What Dad did to me, I'm so fucked up. I don't know how to do anything. I can't trust. I don't believe."
Morgan coughed again before hesitantly approaching Lex. "He loves you," he said softly.
Lex twitched.
"And more than that, Kal knows how to love. He's not like me. Or Lionel. He'll never hurt you."
"Yes, he will," Lex said. "Everyone does." Then, tired of the conversation, he turned and walked away.
The day wasn't so great anymore.
TBC
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2004-08-10 09:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-11 08:45 pm (UTC)I'm glad to have you, but you might have a bit of a wait. *hands soda and sleeping back*
ouch
Date: 2004-08-10 10:48 pm (UTC)Re: ouch
Date: 2004-08-10 10:49 pm (UTC)Re: ouch
Date: 2004-08-11 08:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-10 11:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-11 08:46 pm (UTC)He needs lots of hug and love. Clark will give it to him; I promise.
Poor neurotic honey
Date: 2004-08-10 11:24 pm (UTC)*hugs*
Re: Poor neurotic honey
Date: 2004-08-11 08:47 pm (UTC)He's been so screwed over by his family and friends, yeah, it will. Lucikly, Clark is perfectly happy to teach him. ;)
Beautiful wealth of details. I fell right into its reality.
Thank you!!!!!
no subject
Date: 2004-08-11 06:28 pm (UTC)A Martha line that's perfect here. Then you go and break my heart by the end. *pout*
no subject
Date: 2004-08-11 08:48 pm (UTC)No happiness is completely without some heartbreak. I promise all will be mended. *hugs*
no subject
Date: 2004-12-04 09:52 am (UTC)