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Blood Brothers - Smallville - Gen (Lex Luther, Clark Kent) - Words: 2,988
Written for Hurt/Comfort Bingo; Prompt: Undiagnosed/Mysterious Illness
Summary: Lex takes care of Clark when they’re kidnapped and Clark is very sick. AU Episode tag to Lineage (Season 2, Episode 7)
Content Notes: kidnapping, restraints. PG-13.
On AO3: Blood Brothers
When Lex woke, more than half mindful of how dizzy he was and how much his head, and everything else, hurt, it took him a full minute to remember what had happened. It came back slowly; Rachel Dunleavy kidnapping him, his father disavowing the entire situation on TV, Dunleavy coming after him with the axe, and then falling backward as he kicked out in a frantic attempt to save his own life. He moved to press his hands against his head and found dried blood down the back of the left side of his head. He surprised to find that he could move his aching shoulders and arms, despite the bonds that seemed to have moved from holding him to a chair to just binding his wrists together.
He tried to open his eyes, a little at a time as the light in the ceiling felt almost blinding. A concussion, probably, he decided, though it didn't answer the question of why Dunleavy hadn't killed him. Moving his body a little he discovered that he was still propped up in a chair, but not actually tied to it. His wrists were bound together in front of him and his ankles were as well, but while his wrists were just tied with some kind of duct tape, his ankles had thick metal manacles of some sort. Everything hurt, which was hardly surprising considering the fall he'd taken while tied to a chair, but a low moan from across the small room drew his attention.
"Clark!" he called, his throat dry and his voice raw.
Across the room was a bed, to which Clark had been manacled to by his ankles and his wrists. At least that answered why he was still alive. He and Clark had taken turns saving each other, though most of the time it actually turned out to be Clark saving him. Apparently this time, Clark hadn't been quite as successful as he usually was at pulling both of them from the fire before they'd gotten too singed. No matter, Lex decided, it could be his turn to save them. After all, if he was Clark's brother, it was his responsibility to save his little brother, protect him from the world.
Clark's response, out in the Kent's barn, hadn't been exactly what Lex had wanted to hear, but it had been enough to bolster Lex. Clark wished they were brothers, and Lex did too, even though Clark didn't think it was possible that Rachel Dunleavy was his mother. Which made perfect sense to Lex; if that crazy lady had claimed to be his mother, he would have denied it too.
"Clark," he called again, this time with a little more power to his voice as he worked to swallow and wet his lips. "You okay there?"
Clark didn't look okay, not at all. His skin was pale and clammy, and he was almost writhing on the mattress as he tugged helplessly against the manacles. He let out another moan and Lex began to get worried, even more worried than he'd been when he'd first woke up in Rachel Dunleavy's house. Of course, it had only been him in danger then, now it was both of them who were trapped here. But he and Clark had been in a lot worse situations that this, a lot scarier situations, and he'd never seen Clark react like this. Something was very wrong.
It took Lex a lot of willpower to manage to get to his feet, his head throbbing in unison with his pulse and his vision greying out as he tried to shuffle a few steps without falling. After about two feet he went down onto the floor, his knees meeting the wooden floor with a crash. He listened to Clark moaning on the bed as he rested his head on the floor, fighting back the desperate urge to vomit. Eventually the need receded and Lex shuffled forward on his hands and knees, leaving his ankles dragging behind him with a clatter. He hoped that the noises wouldn't draw Dunleavy up to the room, because he was in no condition to fight her right now, no condition to protect Clark.
He reached the bed after crawling what seemed like a much farther distance than the room could possibly encompass. "Clark," he said as he gasped for air, pressing his hands on Clark's bare arm.
Clark didn't seem to be aware of his presence, still shifting in pain. His skin was hot to the touch and damp with sweat. Now that Lex was up even with the bed, he could see deep scratches down the side of Clark's face and shoulder, they looked red and inflamed, even though they weren't still bleeding. There was no doubt that Clark had gotten them trying to rescue Lex and that they were probably somehow infected and making Clark sick.
"You always have to try and save the day, don't you?" Lex asked, leaning over and using the sleeve of his shirt to try and wipe some of the sweat away from Clark's eyes. Lex's own shirt was stained with blood around the cuffs, where he'd fought against the restraints earlier. "We're blood brothers, now," Lex continued as he wiped some of Clark's blood away from the scratches on Clark's face. Clark just moaned and thrashed a little, winding up pressed against Lex, the torn areas of Clark's t-shirt flapping open to reveal more scratches that almost had a greenish tinge to them. For the first time ever, Lex wondered if gangrene actually turned wounds green, even though he vaguely recalled that it should take much longer than a few hours to set in.
Lex closed his eyes and tried to strategize. His brother, and Clark was his brother in all the ways that mattered even if Dunleavy wasn't Clark's mother, was very sick and needed a doctor soon. There was no way to move Clark without uncuffing him from the bed, and no way that he was getting out of the room without getting his ankles apart. And to do that, he needed his hands free. That, at least, was doable.
He sat on the edge of the bed, pausing when his jaw got tired of chewing down the seam of the tape that bound his wrists and wiped Clark's face down again. At least he knew that Martha and Jonathan Kent would be working on saving Clark, they wouldn't abandon them here the same way Lionel had abandoned him. Hopefully they would figure out that Clark was missing sooner or later and make a guess at to where Clark went. As much as he'd like to believe that Clark had told someone where he was going, Lex knew that was unlikely. Clark may be one of the most friendly and accepting people that Lex had ever met, but he was also pretty damn secretive as well.
Clark gave another moan and Lex soothed his hair with his fingers, hoping that he was at least providing some comfort. When Clark had settled back down, Lex went back to work, the boarded up window not giving him any sense of how long it was taking. At least the throbbing in his head had dialed back to a dull and persistent ache.
The edge of the duct tape finally peeled away and Lex used his teeth to slowly unwrap his wrists, rubbing them gratefully as soon as he was free. He used his new freedom to do a better examination of Clark and clean him up a little bit more. The wounds on his shoulder seemed to be the worst, even though there was horrible bruising across Clark's stomach that made Lex worry that internal bleeding was why Clark was so sick.
He mentally prepared the speech that he would give Dunleavy as soon as she came upstairs, about how she had to get a doctor here now, how he had connections with doctors who would come, or else her son would die. Hopefully, that would be enough to get Clark some help, and he could give the doctor secret instructions to let the police know where they were and to send in a SWAT team from Metropolis. Most people would consider it a little bit paranoid to have code words for asking for a swat team, but it was situations like this that made Lex glad that he was paranoid enough to prepare for such an eventuality.
The cuffs on Clark's arms were looped around one of the posts in the bed-frame, and so was the chain that bound the manacles around around Clark's ankles. He'd might be able to pick the locks if he could find something strong and thin enough, but that might be time that Clark didn't have. The only other option he could see would be to dismantle the bed-frame itself, but when he ducked his head down to check out the fastenings, everything looked rusted together. The manacles around Lex's own ankles were of the same type and quality as the ones that were on Clark with a chain and a padlock binding them close together. He might be able to break one of the links on the chain if he had a hammer, but that would probably make enough noise to draw Dunleavy up to the room.
Clark moaned again and thrashed against his bindings, leaving his wrists bloody as he twisted against the metal. Lex carefully held Clark down; even sick, Clark seemed to be very strong. "It's alright, it will pass," Lex said, hoping that he wasn't lying. Clark eventually settled back down, a new layer of sweat covering his skin. Lex tore off two strips from his shirt and wrapped them around Clark's wrists, both to help stop the bleeding and to cushion his wrists for the next time that the fevered delirium left Clark fighting his restraints. He checked that Clark's socks were offering some protection to Clark's ankles, and then stood up.
Lex shuffled a few feet away from the bed, intent on checking the lock on the door, and see if he could pry the boards away from the window. He hated to leave Clark there alone, but escaping and getting help might be the only way he could save Clark's life.
"Lex," Clark moaned, his chest arching up and his hands jerking against the cuffs.
"It's alright, Clark. I'm just going to check things out, I'll be right back," Lex said, glad that Clark seemed to know that he wasn't alone.
Clark just grunted and dropped back down against the bed limply.
Lex paused for a moment, wondering if he should work his way back to check on Clark. As much as he'd like to be at Clark's side, Lex knew the best thing he could do for Clark was to get him help and that required getting out of the room. He finished shuffling towards the door and examined the lock and the hinges. Again, he could probably pick the lock, with enough time and the right tools, but those were both in short supply.
The trip to the window was long and the longer Clark was still and silent, the more worried Lex got. Lex grabbed onto the closest plank that was nailed over the window and pulled as hard as he could, putting all of his weight into it. He had private training with a professional fitness expert, he should be able to do this without too much trouble. The board didn't move from its position and Lex finally let go and leaned against the wall, panting and holding his aching side. Maybe he needed to start doing physical training while he was injured, or fly someone in to do a survival skills training with him. Maybe he could get Clark to do the training too, even though Clark seemed to do fine most of the time without any specialized help. From where he was leaning against the wall he could see that the nails that were holding the boards on were rusted, and a closer examination indicated that they all were. He gave an experimental tug on a few of the other boards without any success.
Exhausted, and more than a little dizzy, Lex shuffled back to the bed and slumped down next to Clark. He took a moment to check Clark's pulse and breathing and was relieved to find that they were both steady. Lex closed his eyes and tried to figure out what to do next. The room was bare, with the exception of the bed and the chair, and he hadn't seen any pins that he could use to start working on picking the locks.
A loud crash from somewhere else in the house startled Lex, and Clark jolted behind him as well. While soothing Clark and trying to prevent him from pulling on the cuffs, Lex listened carefully for more sounds. Shouting, two male voices and a female, quickly followed the crash. Then a shriek and what was unmistakably a gun being fired.
Lex swallowed hard and kept himself in between Clark and the door. He was hoping that it was the police, though the police in Smallville were a little hit or miss on actually going after the correct bad guys; he was hoping that they had taken care of Dunleavy and not the other way around.
A voice called out, a male voice, and Lex took a chance. "We're back here!"
The voice called back again, too muffled to make out the words, and Lex yelled again. The next time the voice shouted, it was much closer, and Lex could make out the words.
"In here! He's hurt!" Lex shouted one more time, rubbing Clark's uninjured shoulder as all the shouting was causing Clark to shudder and shake.
"Stand away from the door," the voice spoke, sounding like it was directly outside the room.
"We're clear," Lex called back. He moved so that his face was away from the door and so that he was shielding Clark from any debris that might fly free.
The door was kicked in and a police officer, followed by two paramedics, rushed into the room. The next moments were a blur as they tried to help him and he waved them toward Clark. When another paramedic tried to guide him away from the bed and out of the way, Lex only vaguely remembered saying "but he's my brother," before they helped settle him onto a stretcher.
Outside, surrounded by police cars and ambulances, Lex saw Martha and Jonathan Kent waiting anxiously with a police officer. Jonathan had his armed wrapped around Martha's shoulder, and they both kept glancing at the house with fear in their eyes, clear and open for anyone to read. In that moment, as they lifted the stretcher up into one of the ambulances, Lex wished with everything he had that he and Clark really were brothers, and that he'd grown up with Clark. He couldn't imagine anything he'd want more.
*****
A week later, Lex made his way down to the Kent farm, finally cleared to drive after his concussion. The bruising was starting to fade, even though he still had butterfly stitches holding together the cut on the back of his head, and gauze wrapped around his wrists as the skin healed.
When Jonathan Kent greeted him a little more civilly than Lex was accustomed to and directed him out to the living room, Lex just blinked and watched as Jonathan disappeared out onto the farm. With a shrug, Lex went out into the living room and found Clark resting on the couch and reading a text book.
Clark looked so much better than the last time Lex had seen him; they had already moved Clark home by the time that Lex was up and capable of getting out of his hospital bed. All the color had returned to Clark's face and there wasn't any evidence of the scratches or bruising, even though he couldn't see where the worst of it had been.
"Hi Lex," Clark said, sitting up straight and closing his textbook.
"Clark," Lex said as he sat down on an armchair near to where Clark was sitting. "How are you feeling?"
Clark grinned. "A lot better. How are you?" he asked, motioning to the bruising and bandages on Lex's head.
Lex nodded. "I'm better. I'm glad to see that you're okay, though. You were really sick. Scared me for a few minutes."
Clark's smile slipped. "I'm sorry, Lex. I was alright."
"You weren't, Clark. You were really, really sick. I didn't think you were going to make it." Caught off guard by his own sudden flood of emotion, Lex controlled his expression. "Did they tell you what was wrong with you?"
Clark shook his head. "Nope, but after they cleaned everything up, I was alright. Maybe there was something poisonous or toxic when the broken sheet rock scratched me." Clark shrugged.
There was something a bit off with the movement, but Lex chalked the awkwardness up to Clark's shoulder injuries still healing. "Well, I'm glad you're better. I just wanted to drop by and make sure you were going to be okay." Lex stood up, ignoring the shot of pain from his still sore muscles.
"Lex, wait." Clark stood up, reaching out to Lex. When Lex turned and showed that he was staying, Clark continued. "I don't really remember a lot after I was knocked out, but I remember you being by my side the entire time we were in there, and that you were taking care of me. Maybe we're not brothers biologically, but we're still brothers in all the ways it matters."
Lex smiled and reached out to clasp hands with Clark and found himself being pulled into a tight hug. They were brothers, just like Clark said, and that's all Lex really needed to know.
Written for Hurt/Comfort Bingo; Prompt: Undiagnosed/Mysterious Illness
Summary: Lex takes care of Clark when they’re kidnapped and Clark is very sick. AU Episode tag to Lineage (Season 2, Episode 7)
Content Notes: kidnapping, restraints. PG-13.
On AO3: Blood Brothers
When Lex woke, more than half mindful of how dizzy he was and how much his head, and everything else, hurt, it took him a full minute to remember what had happened. It came back slowly; Rachel Dunleavy kidnapping him, his father disavowing the entire situation on TV, Dunleavy coming after him with the axe, and then falling backward as he kicked out in a frantic attempt to save his own life. He moved to press his hands against his head and found dried blood down the back of the left side of his head. He surprised to find that he could move his aching shoulders and arms, despite the bonds that seemed to have moved from holding him to a chair to just binding his wrists together.
He tried to open his eyes, a little at a time as the light in the ceiling felt almost blinding. A concussion, probably, he decided, though it didn't answer the question of why Dunleavy hadn't killed him. Moving his body a little he discovered that he was still propped up in a chair, but not actually tied to it. His wrists were bound together in front of him and his ankles were as well, but while his wrists were just tied with some kind of duct tape, his ankles had thick metal manacles of some sort. Everything hurt, which was hardly surprising considering the fall he'd taken while tied to a chair, but a low moan from across the small room drew his attention.
"Clark!" he called, his throat dry and his voice raw.
Across the room was a bed, to which Clark had been manacled to by his ankles and his wrists. At least that answered why he was still alive. He and Clark had taken turns saving each other, though most of the time it actually turned out to be Clark saving him. Apparently this time, Clark hadn't been quite as successful as he usually was at pulling both of them from the fire before they'd gotten too singed. No matter, Lex decided, it could be his turn to save them. After all, if he was Clark's brother, it was his responsibility to save his little brother, protect him from the world.
Clark's response, out in the Kent's barn, hadn't been exactly what Lex had wanted to hear, but it had been enough to bolster Lex. Clark wished they were brothers, and Lex did too, even though Clark didn't think it was possible that Rachel Dunleavy was his mother. Which made perfect sense to Lex; if that crazy lady had claimed to be his mother, he would have denied it too.
"Clark," he called again, this time with a little more power to his voice as he worked to swallow and wet his lips. "You okay there?"
Clark didn't look okay, not at all. His skin was pale and clammy, and he was almost writhing on the mattress as he tugged helplessly against the manacles. He let out another moan and Lex began to get worried, even more worried than he'd been when he'd first woke up in Rachel Dunleavy's house. Of course, it had only been him in danger then, now it was both of them who were trapped here. But he and Clark had been in a lot worse situations that this, a lot scarier situations, and he'd never seen Clark react like this. Something was very wrong.
It took Lex a lot of willpower to manage to get to his feet, his head throbbing in unison with his pulse and his vision greying out as he tried to shuffle a few steps without falling. After about two feet he went down onto the floor, his knees meeting the wooden floor with a crash. He listened to Clark moaning on the bed as he rested his head on the floor, fighting back the desperate urge to vomit. Eventually the need receded and Lex shuffled forward on his hands and knees, leaving his ankles dragging behind him with a clatter. He hoped that the noises wouldn't draw Dunleavy up to the room, because he was in no condition to fight her right now, no condition to protect Clark.
He reached the bed after crawling what seemed like a much farther distance than the room could possibly encompass. "Clark," he said as he gasped for air, pressing his hands on Clark's bare arm.
Clark didn't seem to be aware of his presence, still shifting in pain. His skin was hot to the touch and damp with sweat. Now that Lex was up even with the bed, he could see deep scratches down the side of Clark's face and shoulder, they looked red and inflamed, even though they weren't still bleeding. There was no doubt that Clark had gotten them trying to rescue Lex and that they were probably somehow infected and making Clark sick.
"You always have to try and save the day, don't you?" Lex asked, leaning over and using the sleeve of his shirt to try and wipe some of the sweat away from Clark's eyes. Lex's own shirt was stained with blood around the cuffs, where he'd fought against the restraints earlier. "We're blood brothers, now," Lex continued as he wiped some of Clark's blood away from the scratches on Clark's face. Clark just moaned and thrashed a little, winding up pressed against Lex, the torn areas of Clark's t-shirt flapping open to reveal more scratches that almost had a greenish tinge to them. For the first time ever, Lex wondered if gangrene actually turned wounds green, even though he vaguely recalled that it should take much longer than a few hours to set in.
Lex closed his eyes and tried to strategize. His brother, and Clark was his brother in all the ways that mattered even if Dunleavy wasn't Clark's mother, was very sick and needed a doctor soon. There was no way to move Clark without uncuffing him from the bed, and no way that he was getting out of the room without getting his ankles apart. And to do that, he needed his hands free. That, at least, was doable.
He sat on the edge of the bed, pausing when his jaw got tired of chewing down the seam of the tape that bound his wrists and wiped Clark's face down again. At least he knew that Martha and Jonathan Kent would be working on saving Clark, they wouldn't abandon them here the same way Lionel had abandoned him. Hopefully they would figure out that Clark was missing sooner or later and make a guess at to where Clark went. As much as he'd like to believe that Clark had told someone where he was going, Lex knew that was unlikely. Clark may be one of the most friendly and accepting people that Lex had ever met, but he was also pretty damn secretive as well.
Clark gave another moan and Lex soothed his hair with his fingers, hoping that he was at least providing some comfort. When Clark had settled back down, Lex went back to work, the boarded up window not giving him any sense of how long it was taking. At least the throbbing in his head had dialed back to a dull and persistent ache.
The edge of the duct tape finally peeled away and Lex used his teeth to slowly unwrap his wrists, rubbing them gratefully as soon as he was free. He used his new freedom to do a better examination of Clark and clean him up a little bit more. The wounds on his shoulder seemed to be the worst, even though there was horrible bruising across Clark's stomach that made Lex worry that internal bleeding was why Clark was so sick.
He mentally prepared the speech that he would give Dunleavy as soon as she came upstairs, about how she had to get a doctor here now, how he had connections with doctors who would come, or else her son would die. Hopefully, that would be enough to get Clark some help, and he could give the doctor secret instructions to let the police know where they were and to send in a SWAT team from Metropolis. Most people would consider it a little bit paranoid to have code words for asking for a swat team, but it was situations like this that made Lex glad that he was paranoid enough to prepare for such an eventuality.
The cuffs on Clark's arms were looped around one of the posts in the bed-frame, and so was the chain that bound the manacles around around Clark's ankles. He'd might be able to pick the locks if he could find something strong and thin enough, but that might be time that Clark didn't have. The only other option he could see would be to dismantle the bed-frame itself, but when he ducked his head down to check out the fastenings, everything looked rusted together. The manacles around Lex's own ankles were of the same type and quality as the ones that were on Clark with a chain and a padlock binding them close together. He might be able to break one of the links on the chain if he had a hammer, but that would probably make enough noise to draw Dunleavy up to the room.
Clark moaned again and thrashed against his bindings, leaving his wrists bloody as he twisted against the metal. Lex carefully held Clark down; even sick, Clark seemed to be very strong. "It's alright, it will pass," Lex said, hoping that he wasn't lying. Clark eventually settled back down, a new layer of sweat covering his skin. Lex tore off two strips from his shirt and wrapped them around Clark's wrists, both to help stop the bleeding and to cushion his wrists for the next time that the fevered delirium left Clark fighting his restraints. He checked that Clark's socks were offering some protection to Clark's ankles, and then stood up.
Lex shuffled a few feet away from the bed, intent on checking the lock on the door, and see if he could pry the boards away from the window. He hated to leave Clark there alone, but escaping and getting help might be the only way he could save Clark's life.
"Lex," Clark moaned, his chest arching up and his hands jerking against the cuffs.
"It's alright, Clark. I'm just going to check things out, I'll be right back," Lex said, glad that Clark seemed to know that he wasn't alone.
Clark just grunted and dropped back down against the bed limply.
Lex paused for a moment, wondering if he should work his way back to check on Clark. As much as he'd like to be at Clark's side, Lex knew the best thing he could do for Clark was to get him help and that required getting out of the room. He finished shuffling towards the door and examined the lock and the hinges. Again, he could probably pick the lock, with enough time and the right tools, but those were both in short supply.
The trip to the window was long and the longer Clark was still and silent, the more worried Lex got. Lex grabbed onto the closest plank that was nailed over the window and pulled as hard as he could, putting all of his weight into it. He had private training with a professional fitness expert, he should be able to do this without too much trouble. The board didn't move from its position and Lex finally let go and leaned against the wall, panting and holding his aching side. Maybe he needed to start doing physical training while he was injured, or fly someone in to do a survival skills training with him. Maybe he could get Clark to do the training too, even though Clark seemed to do fine most of the time without any specialized help. From where he was leaning against the wall he could see that the nails that were holding the boards on were rusted, and a closer examination indicated that they all were. He gave an experimental tug on a few of the other boards without any success.
Exhausted, and more than a little dizzy, Lex shuffled back to the bed and slumped down next to Clark. He took a moment to check Clark's pulse and breathing and was relieved to find that they were both steady. Lex closed his eyes and tried to figure out what to do next. The room was bare, with the exception of the bed and the chair, and he hadn't seen any pins that he could use to start working on picking the locks.
A loud crash from somewhere else in the house startled Lex, and Clark jolted behind him as well. While soothing Clark and trying to prevent him from pulling on the cuffs, Lex listened carefully for more sounds. Shouting, two male voices and a female, quickly followed the crash. Then a shriek and what was unmistakably a gun being fired.
Lex swallowed hard and kept himself in between Clark and the door. He was hoping that it was the police, though the police in Smallville were a little hit or miss on actually going after the correct bad guys; he was hoping that they had taken care of Dunleavy and not the other way around.
A voice called out, a male voice, and Lex took a chance. "We're back here!"
The voice called back again, too muffled to make out the words, and Lex yelled again. The next time the voice shouted, it was much closer, and Lex could make out the words.
"In here! He's hurt!" Lex shouted one more time, rubbing Clark's uninjured shoulder as all the shouting was causing Clark to shudder and shake.
"Stand away from the door," the voice spoke, sounding like it was directly outside the room.
"We're clear," Lex called back. He moved so that his face was away from the door and so that he was shielding Clark from any debris that might fly free.
The door was kicked in and a police officer, followed by two paramedics, rushed into the room. The next moments were a blur as they tried to help him and he waved them toward Clark. When another paramedic tried to guide him away from the bed and out of the way, Lex only vaguely remembered saying "but he's my brother," before they helped settle him onto a stretcher.
Outside, surrounded by police cars and ambulances, Lex saw Martha and Jonathan Kent waiting anxiously with a police officer. Jonathan had his armed wrapped around Martha's shoulder, and they both kept glancing at the house with fear in their eyes, clear and open for anyone to read. In that moment, as they lifted the stretcher up into one of the ambulances, Lex wished with everything he had that he and Clark really were brothers, and that he'd grown up with Clark. He couldn't imagine anything he'd want more.
*****
A week later, Lex made his way down to the Kent farm, finally cleared to drive after his concussion. The bruising was starting to fade, even though he still had butterfly stitches holding together the cut on the back of his head, and gauze wrapped around his wrists as the skin healed.
When Jonathan Kent greeted him a little more civilly than Lex was accustomed to and directed him out to the living room, Lex just blinked and watched as Jonathan disappeared out onto the farm. With a shrug, Lex went out into the living room and found Clark resting on the couch and reading a text book.
Clark looked so much better than the last time Lex had seen him; they had already moved Clark home by the time that Lex was up and capable of getting out of his hospital bed. All the color had returned to Clark's face and there wasn't any evidence of the scratches or bruising, even though he couldn't see where the worst of it had been.
"Hi Lex," Clark said, sitting up straight and closing his textbook.
"Clark," Lex said as he sat down on an armchair near to where Clark was sitting. "How are you feeling?"
Clark grinned. "A lot better. How are you?" he asked, motioning to the bruising and bandages on Lex's head.
Lex nodded. "I'm better. I'm glad to see that you're okay, though. You were really sick. Scared me for a few minutes."
Clark's smile slipped. "I'm sorry, Lex. I was alright."
"You weren't, Clark. You were really, really sick. I didn't think you were going to make it." Caught off guard by his own sudden flood of emotion, Lex controlled his expression. "Did they tell you what was wrong with you?"
Clark shook his head. "Nope, but after they cleaned everything up, I was alright. Maybe there was something poisonous or toxic when the broken sheet rock scratched me." Clark shrugged.
There was something a bit off with the movement, but Lex chalked the awkwardness up to Clark's shoulder injuries still healing. "Well, I'm glad you're better. I just wanted to drop by and make sure you were going to be okay." Lex stood up, ignoring the shot of pain from his still sore muscles.
"Lex, wait." Clark stood up, reaching out to Lex. When Lex turned and showed that he was staying, Clark continued. "I don't really remember a lot after I was knocked out, but I remember you being by my side the entire time we were in there, and that you were taking care of me. Maybe we're not brothers biologically, but we're still brothers in all the ways it matters."
Lex smiled and reached out to clasp hands with Clark and found himself being pulled into a tight hug. They were brothers, just like Clark said, and that's all Lex really needed to know.
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Clark may be one of the most friendly and accepting people that Lex had ever met, but he was also pretty damn secretive as well. This line really spoke to me as well. It is Clark to a 'T'
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I think that is the thing that really caught me both by surprise, but made a huge amount of sense, in this episode; that Lex wanted Clark to be his brother, to have this irrevocable tie with him. It seemed like a very revealing moment for Lex to go to Clark's barn and feel out the situation, hoping that Clark (despite how Jonathan Kent felt about Lex) would also want this connection, even if it was through this random stranger who Clark felt was trying to take him away from the Kent's.
And yes, Clark is a very sweet and helpful farmboy, who will do just about anything (with completely justifiable reasons) to keep his secrets.
Thanks for reading!
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