by jenn
Gunshots were always a shock, and Lex flinched instinctively, pushing off the pillar and moving toward the entrance of the museum. He couldn't be absolutely sure--the most frustrating part of this entire night, how much he'd had to leave to chance and circumstance.
Outside, Lex could hear the faint sounds of the police who'd finally arrived, the softer sound of an approaching ambulance that had taken its sweet time getting here. Bomb threat his ass--though useful, at least. Phelan had all the instincts of a cop and also all the limitations. Old dogs didn't learn new tricks.
Lex had been counting on that. Predictability was rare and should be cherished.
Inside, the room was a mess, and Lex automatically took in the broken display case where the armor had been, the shattered glass on the floor. Easy to trace the line of action, straight to the body on the ground, moving weakly and slower with every second he delayed, and he really didn't have time to contemplate how very well this had ended up working out.
The security guards milling in professional confusion weren't any hindrance at all, and Lex wondered if any of them would ever think to ask what the hell he'd been doing here at one in the morning. His father would hear about it, but Lex had had a three hour trip into Metropolis to think things through.
But--first things first. Carefully, he knelt beside the blood-splattered body, leaning forward just enough for Phelan to hear his voice. So tempting to say something witty, something to make sure Phelan understood how very, very thoroughly he'd fucked up but--
--there more important things to do right now.
"Who else did you tell?"
A bitter smile turned up the man's mouth--something like triumph, maybe, or just that familiar cocky belief in his own superiority to stupid Luthor kids who got themselves in trouble and couldn't get out of it on their own. It was a hell of a long time between eighteen and twenty-one though, and he wondered if Phelan had taken that into account before he started this crap and made Lex's life so difficult.
"Go to hell, Luthor," he whispered, and Lex tilted his head. Burnt-out cop with a sidejob as Lionel's best paid informant, and there was just a little too much possibility of something going wrong for Lex to just let this go. Carefully, he reached inside the blood-splattered jacket, finding the keys concealed in an inner pocket. Phelan muttered weakly, trying to pull away, but blood loss didn't contribute much toward energy.
"You never did know what to leave alone, Phelan." Bleeding out on the cold floor and there were medical personnel coming in, he could hear their rapid footsteps, but no hospital in the country could help Phelan now, one experienced look told him that.
Phelan was staring at him in confusion, dawning realization, or maybe it was his imagination, which was fine, because none of it mattered now.
"Too bad. But think of it this way--if it'd been my choice, it wouldn't have been this clean or this fast." Pocketing the keys carefully, Lex got to his feet and backed away, ignoring the blood that had seeped into the knees of his pants, finding his cell phone in an inner pocket of his coat.
Flicked it on with his thumb and searched the room, finding the right man without effort, off to the side and the very definition of low-key. As he dialed the number, he nodded the man over. On some level, he had to appreciate Lionel's more eclectic parenting lessons, though Lex had also learned from his mistakes. Nothing was as good as a man you owned down to the shoes he wore. Phelan had been too erratic--Lex wouldn't make that mistake.
"Rice? Lex Luthor. Tomorrow morning, hearing for Jonathan Kent. New evidence. No. It'll be on your desk. I want him out by noon at the latest, do you understand?" Lex waited a second--sleepy voice but alert, and he had to be glad that he'd trained his lawyers to be ready for anything and everything. So this wasn't in their usual line--he'd think they'd welcome the variety. "Good. Good night."
Flicking it off, Lex casually made his way toward the waiting man as the police swarmed in, medical personnel doing their damndest to keep Phelan alive. He'd be questioned, of course, and God, he wished he'd taken that late afternoon nap instead of doing those budget reports and hindsight was so damn twenty-twenty.
"Fatal?" Lex asked softly, keeping an eye on the people surrounding Phelan, hefting him onto a gurney ready for a trip to the hospital. He wouldn't make it there alive.
"Yes."
Lex nodded slowly, keeping his gaze on the police.
"Payment first thing tomorrow. Good job."
*****
He walked into his room feeling like crap--no huge surprise that Clark was sitting on one of the chairs, about on par with usual Clark-like behavior except for the circles around his eyes and the tight line of his lips. A little pale, maybe, and probably hadn't slept yet. Lex thought longingly of his bed and then sighed, shaking his head as Clark turned around. Big, dark eyes lost in shadow and tension coiled in him, and it was just a minor miracle he hadn't broken that chair with those tiny, convulsive movements of his fingers clenched on the arms.
Just a little longer. Then sleep.
Without comment, Lex tossed Clark the tape. Perfect reflexes, caught it in a blinding motion that he barely bothered to hide anymore.
"Lex--" Uncertain.
"He opened fire on the security guards," Lex said, loosening his tie. He'd thought this through. "He was shot."
The relief was guilty, but it was there. Written all over his face in big letters like a billboard, and Lex breathed a quiet sigh of relief that Clark hadn't been seen. A lot of spinning could be done, but Clark was Clark and Lex didn't want to think what would happen to him under police questioning. He could lie, he could do it well, but he couldn't lie for shit with his body. It telegraphed everything so loudly that Lex thought people could feel it in their sleep when Clark was in the wrong mood.
"Is he--?" To be sure. To be safe. Lex hesitated carefully, then slowly nodded, watching. "Oh." Nothing else, don't say the words, don't think too hard, just take the moment as offered. Very Clark.
"It was an accident." Dropping the tie, Lex remembered the blood and hoped the dark of the room would be enough to hide it until he got to the closet and changed. Clark was so good at guilt--kid didn't need more on top of everything else in his life. Luckily, Clark's entire focus was on that tape, and Lex got by easily, into the closet and stripped, rolling the entire ensemble into a ball and tucking it in the far corner for later disposal. Maybe ritual burning, and that was a nice thought. Came out in his robe and Clark was still fingering the videotape, staring into the wall absently. Mind a million miles away. "Clark?"
The dark eyes fixed on him, hard and fast.
"Your dad will be out tomorrow morning. The police are already searching Phelan's apartment--they'll find evidence." And if they didn't, well, Lex would make some. Shouldn't be that hard. One body and some low-grade heroin--God, they couldn't have gotten an indictment on that in anyplace *but* Smallville, not with Jonathan Kent's reputation and certainly not with the sheer and amazing lack of any physical evidence. Of course, the Kent's lawyer sucked. Lex could have done better with a law book and a good night's sleep. The hearing had been a joke.
"Why were you there tonight?" His voice was soft, and Lex sighed again, thinking about his shower, sleep, preferably with Clark, but at this point, even the floor looked highly attractive. He should have carpeted with nights like these in mind.
"You know why." Lex tilted his head, waiting, wondering if Clark would ask, but there wasn't anything close to suspicion--or at least, the only suspicion Lex was worried about. "I was worried. You would have done the same thing for me."
Which was true and they both knew it.
"I wanted to handle it myself," Clark answered, and Lex forced himself not to smile. "I--Lex, he--"
"Is dead. I--" Lex stopped, because now came the really tricky part. Clark really didn't--well, *understand* some things. Simple things, like tapes, he got. But the other evidence he let slip, assuming probably that most people would ignore it. And he was right, except--well, Lex had noticed, didn't he? And Metropolis wasn't Smallville--if Phelan had so much as *hinted* something to someone, things changed. Maybe not right this second, but Lex didn't think he was the only person who got curious about fifteen year old boys who played hero. Who got the interest of people like Phelan. "It'll be okay. Just--relax. How's your mother?"
"At Nell's tonight," Clark answered, finally placing the tape aside and absently pulling up his knees to his chest. "She insisted, since Mom's--" Clark stopped, taking a breath. "I didn't--if I'd known what this would do to her, I wouldn't have--let it go on like that."
New, fresh mines of guilt, ready for Clark to spelunk into serious moodiness. In a second, Lex was certain, Clark was going to be able to find personal responsibility in the reason for ozone depletion and God, God, God, he needed grounding like no one's business. Or a highly competent and discreet therapist. Lex had a moment of understanding with Jonathan Kent--that Clark was as stable as he was, that was a hell of an achievement. Kid could have turned out any of a thousand nasty, nasty ways, good and bad, and it was just short of a miracle that the worst any of them had to deal with was Clark's easily-roused guilt.
"It's not your fault." And Lex dropped down, reaching out to touch and noticing at the last second the blood caught under his nails. Quick stroke of his cheek, hoping Clark didn't smell it, then pushed himself up. "Give me a minute--I'm going to shower. You're going to not move and think about the fact your father's going to be home tomorrow. Okay?"
Little nod, but the dark head didn't lift.
In the bathroom, Lex made a mental list of calls to make. On the way home, he'd gotten Roger, who was less pissed about being wakened to hear about the exclusive he'd be getting on the death of a bad cop. Feed and maintenance of pet reporters was easier than one might have thought. Only a few more things--copies of the police report, the evidence found at the apartment, coroner's report, and make sure the museum supervisor didn't look too hard into how the security grid and cameras had gone out and the bars on the display bent.
Ten minutes, fast shower, and Clark looked--well, less stressed, in any case. In need of serious comfort, probably sleep, and maybe food at some point. Staring into the wall again and barely reacted when Lex touched his shoulder.
"Come on--let's get some sleep." The dark eyes lifted, and Lex smiled a little at the naked relief on his face. Couldn't help brushing his fingers through the thick hair, and Clark leaned into him, forehead pressed into his stomach, eyes closed. Sweet, pretty, terribly vulnerable boy and God, this couldn't happen again. That was too damn close. Too close, and anything could have happened tonight, anything at all.
"I'm sorry that I--I don't care what Phelan said about--you. It was stupid and I was just--" Muffled, and look, more guilt. Endless supply, like his energy.
"Stressed?" Lex closed his eyes. "Don't worry. When I get stressed, I crash cars. Each to their own."
"Lex--"
"I don't care." Which he did, in a roundabout way, but he had time. Lots of time to work on this little problem between them--and until then, he could cover both their tracks without Clark knowing a thing. "When's the last time you slept?"
Little puff of muffled laughter, and Clark tilted his head back.
"I--have no idea."
"Mmm. Come on." Easy to pull the kid to his feet, and Clark discarded his shoes while Lex contemplated--no. He was tired, Clark was tired, and God, why the *hell* hadn't he taken that nap? Crap.
"Victoria's still here." Not much interest--Clark tossed his shirt on a random chair and Lex blinked. Crap twice. Went to the door to lock it.
"She's a late riser." And a camera's worth of her silence. Just one look was all she'd needed. Lex didn't take chances anymore.
His pretty boy, stretched out on his bed, curling under the blankets with a little snuggle that made Lex's throat ache.
Next time, Lex thought, it wasn't going to get this far.