Under Glass

Rated: PG-15
Characters/Paring: Lex, Clark/Lex
Parts: 1/2?
Author: Sceleris

Too much pressure on glass and it will break. Break into thousands of glittering pieces that will wound any fool trying to collect them.

Clark had been, for all his invulnerability, glass and Lex never realized it. Now the tiny splinters of Clark had formed themselves into a sharp-edged figurine called Superman.

Wound this fool, the edges did. Plans foiled in the last hour and business mergers ruined with a few scathing words in well-known print. And, like any fool, he retaliated by splintering the shards further.

Years in this pattern passed and then Lex made the connection.

He had just found out he was going to lose his hand and he had thrown a decanter of scotch at the wall. He stared at the glittering sprinkles decorating his wall and floor, and sank to his knees with a harsh sob.

Had he been any less of a Luthor, he would have been bawling his eyes out. Instead he sat there, dry-eyed and staring.

Clark was the reason he was losing another piece of himself…his hand would now join his heart on the little MIA list in head.

It was the thought of Clark and the mocking sparkle in front of him that brought it all together. He remembered the hunted look that appeared when he questioned his lying farm boy once again. The avoidance that had soon followed a fiery argument brought on by one too many lies and more than one glass of scotch. During which, he ended up throwing out words like he had just thrown back the liquor.

You’re no friend of mine...Trust doesn’t exist with lies...Get out...I hate you! All of these had been hurled into Clark’s pained face, cracking him a little bit more with each one. It was the last that finally broke him.

Clark had left, and in his self-righteous anger, Lex didn’t notice the pieces of Clark that littered his study floor. He walked past them without a glance and it was the beginning of a horrible end.

Returning to the present, Lex began to clean up the mess his tantrum had caused. He imagined that each shard was Clark and ignored his bleeding fingers.

Once he had thrown all the glass away, he walked out onto his balcony. There, he called out for help in the only way he could think of.


And help came--wrapped in blue and red spandex, covered with golden skin, and looking at him with suspicious eyes.

“Luthor” it was flat and cold and it cut him just the same.

“Clark” this was a plea, and it softened Superman’s crystal edges.

“What is it Lex? How have I ruined you life today?”

“They have to remove my hand because of the Kryptonite exposure.”

“That isn’t my fault!”

“I know, Clark.”

“Then why am I here? You hate me, remember?”

“I never hated you.” he said quietly.

“Bullshit” the profanity left him shocked that his home-spun boy had used such a word. “You’ve proven your enmity for me a hundred times over.”

It’s all he can do not to wince as his actions are thrown into his face. “I didn’t mean what I said that night, Clark. I was drunk, everybody says things they regret later while intoxicated.”

“I wouldn’t know, seeing as I’ve never had that…pleasure.” The words were fairly dripping with all the bitterness they contained.

A shake of the head and Clark is getting ready to leave, clearly tired with the conversation.

A part of Lex is screaming at him, telling him that if he lets Clark leave now –like he did all those years ago, the results would be far worse than before

He reached over and placed a hand on Clark’s bicep, halting him. Both looked down at the pale contrast of his skin against the brilliance of the suit, knowing that it’s not enough to impede Clark if he really wanted to go.

“Please” the word falling from Lex’s lips had all the stopping power of a wall of Kryptonite, and Clark settled back down.

“You threw me out, told me that you couldn’t forgive me for my lies. Lies which weren’t all mine to tell! I begged you…begged, Lex! To forgive me, to understand, and your answer was that you hated me. Which part of that didn’t you mean?”

“All of it Clark, I was hurt that you hadn’t trusted me and I was trying to hurt you in return.”

“Congratulations Lex, you did.”

“I’m sorry Clark” Somewhere in the back of his brain is a little voice telling him that Luthors don’t apologize, and Lex ignores in favor of watching Clarks face for a reaction.

“I believe you are, Lex but the apology is years too late. Now, there’s a volcanic eruption in Hawaii that needs my attention, are we through?”

Lex sighed, “Yes, we’re through” and the words rang in his ears with all the finality of a judges gavel.

A slight breeze and the balcony was empty again, like the entire conversation had never taken place. If it weren’t for the bit of dried blood that crusted his fingers he would have thought it hadn’t.

With nothing else to do, Lex walked back into the house and settled in for a fitful sleep.

One restless night turned into seven, which in turn morphed into a month. During this, he had his hand removed and generally moped in his penthouse.

Of course if anyone was brazen enough to call it moping he’d tell them they were crazy and have their jobs.

After three months, Lex’s balcony was occupied again and the sight of the red cape fluttering in the wind caused his heart to stutter.

He made his way quickly to the balcony doors and stared at the face he had thought he'd never see again.

Part Two
spilled secrets