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Chapter Text

       It was so dark.

       Kar-El curled into her brother more as their “home” continued to shake around them. Their world was often dark, the special lights only turning on so many times and only for so long. The lights were due to go on soon, illuminating the small world Kar-El had ever known, but that wasn’t what worried her now. No. She worried over the unnatural warmth around her. Usually, the container she and her “twin” (a word she had learned from the voice that taught her only small words) stayed in was cold. Not freezing, but it had certainly never been so warm, nor had it ever shaken so much -- though she did have a vague memory of a loud BANG followed by their home rattling for a good while before calming. It was worrying to say the least.

       Suddenly, all the lights came on, blinking as a loud sound surrounded the tiny figures curled around one another. Though she was frightened, Kar-El’s brother, Kal-El, laughed at the unfamiliar lights flashing before his eyes. Still, he did try to comfort the smaller of the two, wrapping his arms around her head and cradling her closely to him.

       Then, everything stopped. With a great crash and a jolting jump, suddenly everything Kar-El could remember stopped. The humming that constantly lulled her to sleep was completely absent, the lights faded to nothing, and the sounds ended as the doors began to open.

       Klara glared at the ceiling, almost trying to will it to catch fire.

       “Clark!” she screeched, fighting the urge to kick the wooden beam next to her in frustration. “We’re gonna miss the bus!”

       Klara’s mother, Martha, smiled and laughed at the antics before her. “Happens every morning,” she chuckled as her son finally came down and, of course, began to drink right out of the damn carton!

       Despite being close, even for twins, Klara and Clark had tendencies to be quite different. Physically, Clark was far more athletic than his sister. Where Klara was always a tiny child, Clark was practically a bean stalk. While Clark had a well-defined six-pack, Klara, while well-toned, had no definition to her. While Clark had dark, thick hair and shining brown eyes, Klara’s locks were pine-brown with eyes like freshly-mowed grass. Even personality-wise, the two were often rather different. Clark was often quiet and unassuming, probably because of Jonathan and Martha’s influence, Klara was disturbingly quiet with momentary blow ups. While Clark’s quietness was sometimes obviously forced, Klara’s was more controlled and contained.

       Perhaps Martha had gone wrong in allowing her to read The Invisible Man when she was younger.

       Klara took one look at the slip in her brother’s hands and groaned internally. Great idea Clark, she thought, shoving a piece of toast into her mouth and chewing it angrily. Sign up for the football team and join the neanderthals. Dad’ll be thrilled.

       “What’s that you got there son,” her dad asked, probably genuinely curious.

       Here we go.

       Clark, obviously, knew the answer already and looked cowed as he answered. “It’s a permission slip . . . for the football team. They’re having try-outs this afternoon.”

       Klara silently sighed in tandem with her father, but for a different reason.The ensuing argument (“Accidents happen” “I can control myself”) was one she’d heard plenty of times before. Soccer team, little league team, and just about everything else. Hell, she had once been on Clark’s end of the argument when it came to her having to quit dancing, but, rather than fighting day in and day out like her stubborn brother, Klara had accepted her dismissal from the dance world with grace and tears (in unequal amounts, but that was her business).

       “I just want to go throughout high school without Klara and I being complete and total losers,” Clark complained, stomping out of the house angrily, leaving a despondent pair of Kent parents behind.

       Klara shook her head, giving both of her parents a sad smile and a kiss on the cheek. “I'll talk to him,” she promised, slinging her backpack over her shoulder as she heard a loud WOOSH go past the house, and let her shoulders slump. “Well,” she said, moving outside and taking her backpack off, “Looks like we missed the bus. Again.”

       Why did Clark have to have a crush on Lana?

       Klara cringed as she heard her friends, Pete and Chloe, talk about the dance. Chloe was obviously hoping Klara’s oblivious brother would pull his head out of his ass and ask her. Not that he ever would. Clark, much like everyone else in their family, was a hopeless romantic. If Clark settled for anyone, it was Lana or his soulmate.

       Klara prayed it was his soulmate. While almost everyone was lucky enough to get the writing and flowers on their wrists that told everyone would say to them, there were still those who didn’t, like Lana’s Aunt Nell, Klara just couldn’t help wondering why her brother pined after some random girl while he had, ‘So you’re the infamous Clark Kent’ out there waiting for him!

       Klara couldn’t imagine falling for anyone besides her ‘I could have sworn I hit you’. Sure, it didn’t exactly bode well for their first meeting, but a soulmate; someone who would love her unconditionally, who would never judge or begrudge her, who she could tell the “family secret” to and not be scared of becoming a bad extra in a sci-fi flick.

       Logically, Klara knew not all soul-mates worked like that. Some were abusive, some were aromantic, some were anti-marks, some need extreme therapy before they can be in a healthy relationship, and some just fell apart. It was sad, but it was simple fact that, even though 95% of people have a soulmate, not everyone deserves one. But that wouldn’t be Klara. She honestly couldn’t afford that kind of hurt. She wanted what her parents had, the kind of deep, profound love that meant you could tear each other’s heads off over stuff but still sleep in the same bed because you knew you could fix it in the morning.

       Klara rubbed her left arm, the same spot where her soulmate’s messy but legible scrawl was on her right. There, just barely visible under her flannel shirt, she could feel the pulsing energy of the small bud that, when she met her soulmate, would grow and bloom into a flower that would represent everything about their relationship.

       Klara had seen pictures of plenty of soul-flowers. There were the one’s often expected, like her parent’s red tulips, the more unusual ones, like a yellow rose for platonic or aromantic relationships, and even some withered ones, which were usually only seen in abusive relationships.

       As she watched her brother humiliate himself in front of the school quarterback (and bully) for Lana, Klara couldn’t help shaking her head. Come on Spitfire, she thought. This is getting painful to watch.

       “So what do you think about this ‘Scarecrow’ business?” Chloe asked Klara as they sat, watching the football tryouts with all the pity they could muster. “Small town hoax or homicide waiting to happen?”

       Klara shook her head. “I think it’s a recipe for disaster. They probably always pick a kid who can’t fight back. What happens when that kid finally snaps?” The shorter brunette flinched as she watched another boy become buried in the dirt. “Honestly, just let it run it’s corse. As long as they don’t grab Clark or Pete, it’s not worth the fallout that would follow.”

       Chloe chuckled. “Klara Kent scared of some football players? Never thought I’d see the day.”

       Klara barked out a laugh, drawing the attention of some of the kids around them.”Oh, I’m not scared of them, but Karma is a real thing Chloe, and I’m willing to wait for it.”

       “But if Pete or Clark get picked?” Chloe asked, smirking.

       “Then Karma took too damn long.”

Klara and Clark walked in silence for a while, Klara not knowing what to say. Clark was really upset about about this football thing, and Klara was willing to bet the reason started with a big, fat L.

"What do you say we go for a run this Friday?" Klara asked suddenly, drawing her brother out of his revere as they crossed a bridge. "A real run. Blood pumping, muscles --"

A loud SCREECH made her break off, staring, shocked, as a silver car rammed into her and her brother."

Klara broke the surface first.

"CLARK!" she screamed, panicked and afraid. "CLARK!"

On her second scream, a splash closer towards the shore drew her attention to her soaking wet brother dragging a bald man (a gorgeous  man, but now was not in any way the time for that) closer to the shore. As Clark seemed to begin CPR, Klara slowly made her way over to the two, her soaking clothes making it harder and harder to move as she continued, taking note of the sharp pain in her ankle, which was probably hurt.

By the time she limped her way out of the water, their almost-murderer was coughing up water.

Thank God, Klara thought as she fell next to them, too tired and in pain from her ankle to keep upright. He's fine. Noooooo police investigation.

"--you alright?" Klara heard Clark as the stranger, obviously still worried, but the man in front of her paid her brother no attention. No, he was staring unabashedly at Klara with all the awed wonder of a child staring at a new place for the first time. Unlike with a toy, this was not something to play with and discard as year went by, but as something to explore and try to understand.

"I could have sworn I hit you," he whispered, still gazing at Klara as the arm holding her up buckled a bit under her weight. Shock so great, she couldn't even  think of what to say back, of what words she prayed were on that man's wrist.

"My brother and I learned how to roll over cars for you," she breathed out eventually, her face turning red in embarrassment. "Hi," she whispered, crawling over closer to him.

He chuckled, and a lump formed in her throat at the sound. "I've been looking for you for a very long time," he said back, smiling like she was the sun and he'd just crawled his way out of a dank cave.

And Klara could feel the flower on the inside of her wrist begin to bloom.

Chapter Text

His name is Lex Luther, and Klara couldn’t have cared less.

The two chatted animatedly while waiting for the emergency vehicles the truck driver had called to arrive, sharing as much information as possible. Klara could see him plotting to get her a cell phone when she admitted she didn’t have one (she’d have to end that quickly), frown when she mentioned she hadn’t made any college plans yet (she still had four years!), and smile fondly when she mentioned her now dead dance career.

As for him, he’d just moved to Smallville, he was taking over management for the plant Chloe’s dad worked at (which meant he was staying), he obviously didn’t get along with his father (which, while she could understand, made Klara’s heart ache for him), and he was absolutely wonderful.

Her father was going to murder her in the barn when they got home.

“Clark! Klara!” she heard. Speak of the possibly homicidal father and he shalt appear in a cloud of worried rage. Klara thought, but she couldn’t keep up the pessimism when her father ran to their side, worry clearly typed onto his face in the boldest  letters, even as Clark helped her hobble her way to his arms. “Oh Lord,” the older man said, gathering Klara to him like a desperate man. “Princess, are you alright?” Before Klara could answer, he was already growling over her shoulder at the men behind her like a very angry and rabid dog. “Who was the maniac driving that damned thing?!”

“T-That would be me sir,” Lex said, moving forward with a outstretched hand. “Bunch of nails fell off a truck and I couldn’t swerve in time. I’m so sorry.” Klara could easily tell Lex was reining in his ego, trying to make a good first impression. “The paramedics said it was a minor sprain, but if anything else is wrong, I’ll take care of it personally.”

Normally, the admission and the offer would have quelled her father’s wrath, but Klara could tell from the look on her father’s face; he’d recognized Lex immediately, and he would be hearing none of it.

“Just drive slower,” Johnathan Kent snarled, hoisting up his daughter with obvious strength. “Good afternoon.”

“Umm, Mr.Kent—” Lex started, clearly hoping to tell the overprotective father about his and Klara’s connection.

“Daddy—” Klara said at the same time, hoping to defuse the situation before her loving (read: overprotective) father knocked her soulmate’s lights out.

“We’re going home. Now,” he said,cutting both of the couple off as he angrily stomped away, pointedly ignoring the longing look Lex was giving Klara, or the one she was sending him in return.

Her name was Klara Kent, and Lex had never felt anything like this in his life.

He was sure his exile to Smallville had been a curse, but his near-death experience had been enough to convince him otherwise. Then he’d seen the most beautiful creature he’d ever laid eyes upon. Soaking wet, limping like an injured fawn, and visibly exhausted, she was still the most glorious person he’d ever seen. Then, as if he had not had an interesting enough day, she spoke, and his entire world turned sideways. No, it wasn’t turning sideways. It was as if his world had always been on some odd axis he had never known was there until she righted it for him.

She was amazing. Even though her father had forced her to quit dancing (he had enough experience to tell even if she didn’t show it), she still loved him deeply. Even if brother her and her twin brother were adopted, she and Clark, obviously, still felt like they were family. Even though she was obviously not the most popular cheerleader (clear by the sheer number of books in her bag that were clearly not required in any class outside of college), she seemed to love her school.

It didn’t hurt that Lex thought she was beautiful. Her long, curly hair, tangled and soaked from the water, made him want to run his fingers through it, her tiny frame looked just the right size to be cuddled up to him, for him to curl around, and her gorgeous eyes seemed so bright and innocent.

She was perfect.

Her father hated him.

His father would hate her.

Lex hardly cared.

“You realize I’m going to take that telescope from you if you keep  this up you know,” Klara said, startling her brother out of his “Lana Gazing” via their shared telescope. She would have come up and stopped him prematurely, but it  had taken a good few hours after inner to calm her poor mother.

“How’d the Soul-Mate talk with Dad go?” the taller twin asked, hoping to distract his twin with the new development in her life. “I didn’t hear any screaming so . . .”

Klara sighed, deciding to let it go for now. Her brother was hardly a peeping tom, just a socially pathetic man. “That’s probably because there was none,” she admits, shrugging her shoulders as she flops down on their couch in a heap. “I didn’t tell him. Between the accident and the thing in the morning . . .” Klara trailed off, frowning. “I figure we’ve had just enough drama today as a family.”

Clark chuckled, settling next to his sister and pulling her to his side. “Yeah. That’s gonna go pretty bad. I do not envy you that.”

Klara let out a loud, exasperated groan. “Urgh,” she said, covering her eyes. “It is in no way fair. When you finally meet Spitfire, they’re gonna welcome her with open arms! Daredevil?”

Clark outright laughed, always finding it humorous when his sister pulled out her old nicknames for their Soulmates. “Well,” he said, “In their defence, ‘So you’re the infamous Clark Kent,’is a bit more socially acceptable than ‘I could have sworn I hit you.’” Clark’s entire form shook as he laughed hysterically at his sister. “So,” he nudged her with his elbow. “What is it?”

Klara smiled, thinking on the growing bloom on her wrist as she exposed the white and blue bloom to her brother. It wasn’t in full bloom, but it had finally emerged from the stem, showing her a glimpse into her future with Lex.

“Columbine flower,” she explained. “Strength, wisdom, and salvation.”

A red truck awaited the twin outside the next day.

“Oh my god,” Klara laughed, hobbling pathetically towards it. “Please tell me that is the new Kent truck!”

“Close,” her mom said, passing the twins a well-put-together card. “It’s yours. Courtesy of Lex Luthor.”

While Clark excitedly read the card, Klara leaned over the bed of the truck – careful of her now-bad ankle – and picked p the present within that she knew was just for her.

A small, blooming columbine flower.

Strength. Wisdom. Salvation.

Ugh. Could this man be more perfect?

“Where are the keys?” Clark asked, and Klara rolled her eyes, knowing good and well where they were already, and that she and Clark were not getting that truck. And she might have to hold off on telling her father about the soul-flower another day.

“Mom,” she said, knowing she was going to have to have one of her parents on her side. “I’ve got something I have to show you.”

Martha Kent’s entire body became stone solid and her heart rate jumped. Last time she’d heard those words, her daughter had ridden her backpack around the farm like it was a broom stick, “Because I thought it should.”

“What is it sweetie?” she asked, trying desperately to stay calm.

Without saying anything, Klara lifted her left sleeve, showing her mother the growing bloom on her wrist. The bloom that matched the flower in her hand, which Martha had seen her pluck out of the truck only seconds before.

“Oh dear,” she said, knowing what Klara was probably feeling.

On the one hand, there’s an elation. Martha knew Klara had been wishing for the day she would meet her soulmate ever since Martha and Johnathan had explained to the twins just what the flower and words on their wrists meant, and hadn’t that been a relief, to know that her children, different though they may be, had soulmates who would, hopefully, understand them both in a way Martha and Johnathan feared no one ever would.

On the other hand, there was only one person Klara’s soulmate could be, and Johnathan hated him. Martha smiled at the irony. Just like Dad hated Johnathan.

“I’m going to assume the truck is for Clark, and the flowers are for you?”

Before Klara could answer, the two female Kents swerved as Clark bellowed. “Does this seem normal to you?” and shoved his hand into the wood chipper.

Great.

Chapter Text

Klara’s knuckles turned white on the steering wheel of her new truck, which she was driving using keys she’d lifted right from her father’s pocket before storming out of the cellar with the same flourish of her brother, but not the speed, as she knew she wasn’t in the mental state to stay angry with her father and properly dodge anything that came her way, and she just wasn’t ready to stop being angry at her father.

How could her father have kept something like that from them? For twelve years, ever since Clark had begun showing his strength and speed and Klara her telekinesis, both of the twins had questioned everything about themselves and their lives before Smallville, and her parents had just sat there and watched them agonize over it. How could they do that to them?

Before she knew it, Klara was outside a massive mansion, staring at the gate in front of her. Until someone scared the crap out of her by knocking on the window loud enough to echo through the entire truck.

After re-starting her heart, the abnormal teen turned to see her smirking soulmate, smug as all get out and silently laughing at her. “You are a horrible person,” she said, getting out to glare up at him, looking all to the outside world like a Pomeranian taking on a lion. “A horrible, terrible person.”

Still laughing, Lex leaned forward, crowding Klara closer to her car. “Well, then, I’m horribly, terribly sorry, my dear lady,” he cooed, making Klara’s knees go weak. “A thousand apologies.”

Klara slowly stilled as the reason for her approach dawned on her again, falling upon her form like a soggy quilt, dragging her shoulders own with the weight of her father’s words. “No,” she said, voice gloomy as her mood, “It’s fine. I’m just a little wound up today.”

Similarly, Lex sobered at her expression. Today was suddenly not looking the way he wanted it to for her. He’d hoped his gift (a bit overzealous, but soulmates) along with a gentle remind of their connection (a romantic gesture, not a claim) would brighten her day. The Kents obviously only had one car – a disturbingly old truck – and who would turn down  new one as a gift?

Did she not like the truck? Was it too modest? Too expensive? Did her brother not like it? Her mother? Her father? Was she being bullied at school? Was –

“Dad and Clark got into it,” Klara explained, seeing Lex going over possible battle plans in his head. “Over the truck. Then it was over football and how Clark’s not allowed to play, then it went into why Clark’s not allowed to play (which is a family secret so please don’t ask), then they brought me into it, then we found some stuff out about the adoption that would have been nice to know years ago —”

“And you both don’t want to spend all night arguing, so you hopped in the car that started the whole thing and headed here,” Lex said, cool understanding tempering his rising rage and panic. Family drama. He could handle this. The Luthors probably have a copyright on it, and mysterious family secrets or no, he knew how to quickly deal with a child-parent battle. “Come on inside,” he said, taking off his jacket and placing it over her shoulders. “I’ve got a personal chef that makes the most amazing chocolate chip cookies.” The Luthor heir winked at his soulmate, taking an immeasurable amount of joy in the smile that crossed her face. “Extra chocolate.”

Klara Kent was a lucky bitch, something she openly acknowledged as she bit into her fourth chocolate chunk cookie, this one about the size of her hand. Moaning as the still-warm chocolate melted in her mouth, she looked over at her amused soulmate.

“How attached are you to this chef of yours?” she asked eventually. “’Cause I love my mother’s cooking, but I am willing to fight you for him.”

Lex laughed heartily at his younger companion.

The talk between the two, like the one at the bridge, came easily as both always believed conversations between them both would go. Lex, while a bit jaded an arrogant, had a wit that drew Klara in, and a kindness she was sure others (like her father) thought he lacked. When he spoke of his business (which she told him not to do often “There are things I can’t tell you for a really long time, and they’re important, so I don’t want you to feel like you can’t have your own secrets, especially if they involve your company”) it was like listening to a general planning a final battle. As Klara curled into a blanket by the fireplace, she found herself more and more enthralled in the man in front of her.

Not to say Lex was any less smitten.

No, like Klara, Lex had always had expectations of his soulmate, and Klara surpassed them. Sure, he was curious about this “family secret”, but that didn’t matter right now. Klara mattered.

Klara and her sailor’s mouth (he’d never heard someone called a chicken-humping dick-nibbler before). Klara and her hero-worship of her parents (even if they were the reason she was there in the first place). Klara and her bright eyes and brighter mind. Klara, who laughed so hard sometimes she snorted. Klara, who reacted to cookies with a rabid hunger as opposed to the cool indifference he was used to. Klara, who listened to him raptly, reacting to every word with an unmasked amusement or anger.

Klara. His Klara.

Oh, he had it bad.

They were returning the stupid truck. Honestly, Klara didn’t care, but still! She had to stand up for her soulmate’s honor!

Not that her dad knew Lex was her soulmate. Oh, no. She was going to keep that wrapped up tightly and shoved under her bed, at least until homecoming. Besides, Mom knew. That was good enough, right? Right?

Klara sighed, not wanting to think about it while there were bigger things to panic over.

Like her idiot brother walking Lana Lang home.

Klara was fine with Lana, alright? Honestly, she was, but Lana had a testosterone-driven, probably jealous boyfriend with a team of football players for friends. Friends who would have no qualms about dragging Clark or Pete out to the fields and fucking them up. Clark would be fine, he’d have to fake it, but the boys would leave far more sore than him. Pete though? Chole? Klara? They bruise. Easily.

But what does Klara know?

“Clark,” Klara groaned, looking around as her sasquach brother slipped through the bars. “No one answered, we can’t just--” He just keeps walking. “Urgh.”

Klara could hear sword fighting

Why could she hear sword fighting?

“Hello?” Clark called out next to her, just as cautious to continue as she was. “Anyone here?”

“Lex,” she called, not liking being in the mansion with just Clark around and a supposed swordfight going on. “Lex!”

As they walked towards Lex’s office, the sound got louder and louder. Eventually, they made it to the large room, only to see two figures fencing (which, in retrospect, make so much more sense) one of whom Klara would bet her life was Lex.

Before either twin could let the two fencers know that they’re there, the not-Lex figure swiftly knocked Lex off of his balance, winning the battle. Klara still stood, impressed, however. She never knew anyone who could fence before. then again, it does seem like one of those things practically required by rich people; she’s pretty sure she saw it in that Richie Rich movie--

Klara’s entire thought process came to a halt as a foil came flying near her head, missing scratching her only because she moved quickly enough to change it’s course closer to her brother. Though that hardly stopped the squeal of surprise she let out, making a show of flinching away from the tiny sword.

“Jesus, Klara,” Lex breathed, face shifting from frustration to concern and regret in nanoseconds. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t hear you two come in.” He put a gloved hand on Klara’s arm, rubbing it comfortingly. God, how could he have been so stupid! Honestly, throwing these mini-tantrums were fine back in his old house, but he had other people he had to worry about now.

Klara smiled at her soulmate’s worry, seeing him spiraling down into some serious self-loathing. “Blame that one,” Klara joked, gesturing towards her giant brother (who was politely not looking at his sister and her soulmate). “He was the one who decided to sneak in.”

Clark gave Klara an incredibly unimpressed glare, “We buzzed, but no one answered,” he explained.

Lex’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Then how did you two--”

Klara barked out a laugh in Lex’s arms. “Tell ‘im, Clark. How did we get in?”

Now, Clark was a mixture of embarrassed and annoyed, always a good look on him. “We kinda slipped through the bars. Listen, if we interrupted something--”

Lex shook his head and smiled, mostly at Klara. “It’s perfectly fine,” Lex said, “I think Heiki has sufficiently kicked my ass enough for today.” He motioned to the woman behind him, who smiled before moving along to another room.

“How are you,” Lex asked Klara, remembering her reason for her last visit. “Things settled on the farm front?”

Klara was silent and shook her head, definetly not wanting to talk about the awkward silence ruling the house right now, a feeling Clark apparently backed up, as he said, “Pretty nice mansion you’ve got here.”

Nice Clark, Klara thought. Real subtle. Still, her brother wasn’t wrong. Klara had been too upset the day before, but, in the light of day, Lex’s mansion was beautiful. It looked like some ancient Scottish/Irish (she had a hard time telling the difference, OK? she’s only human) castle one would find near a cliff.

She liked watching Gargoyles as a kid, OK, God, stop judging!

“It’s great if you’re dead and in the market for a house to haunt,” Lex grumbled at they walked across the room, Lex’s arm still around Klara, as if he was afraid to let go. “My father tells everyone it’s ‘The Luther Ancestral Home’.” As he spoke, his voice dripping with sarcasm and a tiny bit of loathing.

“Scottish or Irish,” Klara said, trying not to show her glee. Please don’t say English. Please don’t say English. I can handle being an ignorant American, but not that ignorant. Please don’t say English!

Lex smiled proudly at his soulmate, impressed. “Scottish,” he answered, rewarding her with a squeeze and fought down the instinct to drop a kiss on her forehead. He knew she was intelligent, but seeing it was beautiful. “My father had it shipped in brick by horribly expensive brick.”

Klara remembered that clearly. She’d been tempted to go playing in the growing castle at night when the trucks first came to their small town (an adventure to have before any kind of security came to keep her away), but no one would ever join her and, eventually, the castle was finished and she just had to sit and wait for someone to move in.

No one ever did.

“Does your Dad like it?” Klara asked, realizing afterward that her brother had probably said something while she wasn’t paying attention.

“He has no opinion as far as this place is concerned,”  Lex answered, a self-depricating smirk on his face as he tried not to show his annoyance at his father. “He’s never even stepped foot into this place.”

Klara frowned, her inner cheapskate raging against the walls of her mind. YOU BOUGHT AN ENTIRE MANSION FROM SCOTLAND AND YOU DON’T EVEN VISIT IT!!!!

“Then why’d he buy it?” Clark asked as Lex began toying around with random knik naks in the room.

Yes, the Gollum on Klara’s shoulder hissed angrily. Why did the stupid rich man buy the castle?

Lex sighed before he answered, knowing how bad it would sound. “Because he could.”

Chapter Text

“So,” Lex asked, keeping an arm around Klara as they moved throughout the room. “How’s the ride? I know it works fine, but no problems?”

At his words, both Klara and Clark had the decency to look abashed. “I’m really sorry Lex,” Klara said, her voice small and frail like a glass bird in Lex’s hand. Lex tightened his grip around her, afraid that, if he were to loosen his grip, this precious bird would slip through his fingers and shatter on the ground.

“We can’t keep the truck, Lex.” Clark said, feeling for the first time like a voyeur while watching his sister and her soulmate. Clark and Klara had always been close, but, for the first time in their lives, it felt like Klara had gone somewhere where Clark could not follow. He didn’t know how to handle that.

Lex looked at Clark confusedly. Sure, he knew that there had been problems brought up by his gift, but he didn’t think that anyone on that farm would honestly think he was so spoiled he would just let what happened go. Even if Klara wasn’t his soulmate. “Clark, you saved my life. Your sister is my soulmate. I will do everything in my power to keep you both and your parents safe and happy. Whether your father likes me or not. That truck is one of the hardiest, safest trucks on the market.”

Klara felt the guilt crawling up her throat making it hard to breathe. “I’m so sorry Lex. I honestly don’t know what is wrong with him. He’s never been like this before.”

“Klara,” he said, pulling Klara out of her pit of despair, *“It’s fine. I’ve been bald since I was nine. I’m used to people judging me before they get to know me.”

Klara bristled at that. No. Her soulmate was perfect and she would hear no words to the contrary until the man himself gave her a reason to think otherwise. The idea of people thinking less of him for something so petty. . . “Well that’s a load of bull and Dad should be above it.”

Clark chuckled at his sister. It was good to see her finally standing up for what she wanted as opposed to just letting their dad scare her into hiding away behind their normal façade. “It’s not Lex,” Clark pointed out. “It’s more Lionel Luther he’s got a problem with. No clue why.”

Klara frowned, obviously confused as to what that had to do with Lex, but this was a common occurrence in Lex’s life, and he knew exactly what was wrong. *“He figures the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, eh?” Lex sighs, looking out the window at the world outside, almost wishing he had the ability to see all the way to Johnathan Kent and see exactly how the man’s mind ticked. “What about you two,” he asked, excited at the prospect of learning more about his soulmate and her brother. “Did you two drop next to the tree, or did you leap from it?”

The smaller twin looked away from the ecstatic face of her soulmate, unsure of what exactly was the right answer. Ignoring the recent revelation about her and her brother’s heritage, she wasn’t sure about the answer now. Did she take after her mother? Certainly not her father. How was Klara supposed to answer the question when she didn’t know what was right herself?

Seeing the confusion and almost panic in his sister’s eyes, Clark figured it was time to end things quickly. “Look, our dad wants us home pretty soon. We should probably head back. Thanks for the truck, even if Klara is the only one who got to drive it.” Clark smiled at his sister, trying to get her out of her own head.

The giant twin handed the eldest of the three the keys and began shuffling an irate Klara out of the room.

Lex saw the image of the two walking away and something compelled him to call out. “Clark, Klara,” he said, getting them both to turn around. Lex had to compose himself from the image Klara made, her hair fanning around her as she twirls on her toes like the ballerina she is, looking in the light like the angel Lex knew her to be.

*“Do you think man can fly?” Lex asked finally, desperate to keep this heavenly being he has been gifted in his presence as long as he could.

‘Yes’ Klara wants to say. ‘I can take you flying any day you want. We can soar together.’

But she can’t.

Lex cannot know yet.

Thankfully, Clark answers for her, trying to hide his amusement at Lex’s fascination on flight considering his sister’s particular skill set. “Sure, in a plane. Why?”

Lex shook his head, looking between the two. *“No, I’m not talking about something like that. I’m talking about soaring through the clouds, nothing but air beneath you.” A look of fondness came over his face. “Flying through the sky on nothing but will and magic alone.”

Klara had never felt so special, so unintentionally loved in all her life. For years she’d been afraid of what her powers meant to other people, but, for the first time, she felt like she was extraordinary without feeling like a freak of nature.

Clark shattered her thought with a hard, “People can’t fly,” the Klara being unspoken but loud as a train whistle in her ears. Right. She needed to get herself together.

Lex pays no heed to the unspoken warning however, grinning at Klara. “I did,” he said, taking her hands in her own. “After that accident, when my heart stopped. It was the second most exhilarating moment of my life. I flew over Smallville, and, for the first time, I didn’t see a dead end. I saw a new beginning.” He placed a single kiss on Klara’s knuckles, making her knees buckle. “And I awoke to an angel.”

Clark wanted to gag. Sure, Lex seemed pretty cool, but that was his sister! Weird. 

Klara was exhausted, but stood in the darkened editing room for the school journal as Chloe showed them her latest conspiracy theory.

Problem is, this time she had proof.

“That’s gotta be his kid or something,” Klara said finally, staring at the two pictures of Jeremy Creek. “Or a freaky coincidence.” Furrowing her brow, Klara searched for a far more logical explanation. “There’s a theory that, because there are a limited number of gene possibilities that there’s always someone in the world who looks almost exactly like you did at one point!”

“I went the evil twin route too,” Pete said, gesturing to Chloe. “Til we checked this missing persons.

Klara and Clark both looked at the paper, confused as to what it had to do with everything.

“Apparently our Rip Van Winkle was in a coma for twelve years from an electrolyte embalance. Explains why he hasn’t aged a day.”

No, Klara wanted to say. No it does not. Electrolytes don’t effect the aging process like that. Something else is going on.

“And you think he just woke up for no reason?” Clark asked disbelievingly. Too disbelievingly for Klara’s sake, considering they were literal illegal aliens.

*“Well, no,” Chloe admitted, getting excited as the conversation went on. “There was a huge storm, and the hospital’s generator went down, and when it came back on, Jeremy was gone.”

Pete nodded, having been there for the initial research so seeing the method is Chloe’s madness. *“The electricity must have charged him up like a Duracell.”

“Ok,” Klara said, feeling a headache coming to the front of her mind, “ignoring the logical leaps that are being made considering that electrolytes have nothing to do with actual electricity, but say you’re right. Why go after old jock straps? Why not stay in the hospital and talk to his family?”

Pete looked at her with pity in his eyes, not for her, but for Jeremy Creek. *“Because twelve years ago today, they chose Jeremy Creek as the scarecrow. On the day of the meteor shower.”

Chloe handed Clark a newspaper clipping that Klara didn’t need to read to know what was written. Jeremy Creek had been caught in the blast, hadn’t he?

*“The exposure to the blast must have done something to his body,” Chloe said, her face a strange mix between excited and pity.

Clark, however, wasn’t hearing it. “That’s impossible.”

Klara had to put her two cents in at that. “Not entirely,” she said, drawing attention to her. “The meteors do have some form of radiation to them, remember? That’s why we always get out of class whenever they’re involved.” Klara looked at Pete and Chloe, “Clark and I are allergic to that particular form of radiation. Sweaty palms, tightness of breath, the whole enchilada. It’s not too far off the map to think there’s a possibility that the radiation from the blast in such a concentrated amount could have caused some permanent changes to him physically.”

That changed everything. Chloe had forgotten about the twins’ allergy to the green rocks, seeing as it wasn’t often that any of them handled them. Apparently, some doctor in Metropolis said their bodies rejected the radiation much in the way cancer patients sometimes rejected their treatments. Thankfully, neither twin had cancer, just weird bodies.

But this sent a precident. This explained everything.

“I think you should show them,” Pete said, looking at Chloe.

That made Klara’s eyes narrow. “Show us what exactly?” she asked.

Chloe brought them to another room in the journalism department that Klara had never seen. And, suddenly, she wished she still hadn’t.

It was an entire wall covered from top to bottom in articles, printed and torn, all involving oddities from around Smallville.

Klara suddenly felt minor. Did Chloe think she belonged on this wall? Was her freakishness enough to be worthy of being plastered on such a grotesque display. She felt like a first-time officer looking at her first crime scene, lost and terrified. She could hear Chloe and Clark arguing, but couldn’t bring herself to look away from the horror.

“Klara,” Pete asked, putting his hand on her shoulder, shaking her out of her stupor as her brother ran out of the room. “Klara, are you alright?”

Klara shook her head, refusing to look at either of them. “You should take these down Chloe,” Klara said, following her brother out of the room. “I doubt you’d appreciate your face being up on something called the Wall of Weird. It’s more than a bit cruel.”

With that, she left, not bothering to listen to Chloe’s excuses. Klara had seen Lana on the wall as well. That was just harsh. Sure, weird things started happening after the meteors fell with Clark and Klara, but putting up every article, including Lana’s was unnecessary.

Running over to the woods next to the school, Klara grabbed a rather large branch and told it to float so she could sit on it. Once she was sure it was stable, she gripped it tightly in both hands, sat down and shot the branch forward, her mind’s eye keeping track of what was around her faster that her physical eye could.

When she finally got back to the school, it was just in time to see Whitney throwing her brother into the back of a truck and driving away, some of the other players piling into another car. That wasn’t what worried her.

Clark was being poisoned.

Probably not intentionally, Klara doubted any of the spoiled brats would go that far, but they had obviously either not known or forgotten her brother’s allergy.

“Jackson!” Klara called angrily, running towards the players as they pulled out of the parking lot. “Jackson you get that fucking meteor rock off my brother!” As she finally caught up to the moving vehicle, she slammed her hand against the door. “Dammit Jackson!”

“Come find him if you want him!” Jackson called, the burly brute reaching through the open window to push her face, throwing her from the ruck and onto the asphalt, her palms scraping painfully on the ground as her skin broke under the strain.

Klara looked up, seeing the two trucks driving off into the distance as onlookers watch, completely useless.

 Klara had been looking for hours. It felt like she might never find her brother again if she didn’t find him soon. Both twins had worked to keep themselves away from the meteor rocks generally. She had no idea what extended exposure to the rock would do to them. To Clark.

At this point, she was panicking, running down the middle of a random road in the darkness, calling out Clark’s name and trying to hear him. She hadn’t thought to grab anything sturdy enough to sit on to fly around, so she was stuck doing this the normal way. She couldn’t call her father, she had no cell phone, she couldn’t get a hold of anyone else, they were all worried about the stupid fucking football game! No one was looking for Clark but her, and she couldn’t keep—

Suddenly, there were lights in her eyes, and she started to cry. Really? After the day she was having she was going to get hit by another car this week? Really God!

“Klara,” a familiar voice called, drawing her out of her own misery to realize the silver car had stopped in front of her before her soulmate stepped out, confusion across his face. “Klara, Angel, what’s wrong?” He pulled her to him, running his hands through her hair. “What happened? Are you hurt?” Looking at his soulmate, he took in her haggard appearance. Her normally well-kept hair was haggard and wild, and if she’d just gotten off of a roller-coaster. Her jeans were scraped and torn at the knees, where he could see dried blood from scrapes. Her hands were battered, the skin flaking off in pieces.

The worst possible scenario flew through his mind and terror gripped his heart. No, not his angel, no one would do this to his beautiful—

“They took Clark,” she cried, panic making her feel hot and scared. “They grabbed him and threw him in the back of the truck to be the scarecrow, but he looked wrong! I think they gave him something and it’s making him sick, Lex please!” Klara’s voice shook as she spoke. “I tried to follow them, but that bastard Jackson pushed be down in the parking lot; I couldn’t see where they went!”

Lex had never been so happy to learn of a kidnapping in all his life. “It’ll be fine,” Lex said, walking them back to the car, “I’ll call the police. There are plenty of people still at the plant, I’ll see if they’re willing to help.”

Thankfully, they were. The second Lex mentioned he was looking for the Kent son, every remaining worker volunteered to form a search party until the cops showed up. They’d start in the fields around the plant and move outwards.

“He’s allergic to the radiation from the green meteor rocks,” Klara reminded everyone through Lex’s walkie talkie. “It makes us pretty sick. Especially our throat and lungs. Call out to him, but remember that he might not be able to call back.”

Lex nodded as he grabbed the flashlights in his trunk, nodding to their right. “How bad will he be?” Lex asked, trying to get a handle on exactly what he would be dealing with.

Klara frowned, still ignoring the pain in her hands and knees. “I’m not really sure. I don’t know how big the rock they put on him is, or how long he’s been exposed to it. Usually, we get better in a few minutes after being away from it.” Klara took the flashlight from her soulmate solemnly, “If we put the rock in a lead box, it should be okay. It’s the radiation we’re allergic to, not the rock itself. But neither of us have ever been exposed to the radiation for more than a few minutes.”

Lex nodded, looking around him for any signs of disturbance in the field. “How did you find out?” he asked, trying to get his soulmate’s mind off of her twins’ predicament.

“It was a field trip to a science museum. Clark wanted to look at the space stuff, I wanted to look at the archology section. They used the meteor rocks as substitute ‘ancient gems’ for the kids to find. The second I brushed the dust off of it I just collapsed. I felt so hot, and it was like I didn’t have the strength to breathe. The teacher absolutely freaked since Clark and I have farm-kid immune systems.” Klara frowned at the memory. “Clark was so scared. He and mom couldn’t stop crying, even after I told them I was alright. Dad barely let me go to the bathroom by myself for a week afterwards.” Klara kept her eyes on the field in front of her, desperate to find her brother, knowing the pain he was in. “We went to a random doctor in Metropolis and he said our bodies just reject the radiation from the rocks, kind of like how the bodies of cancer patients rejects that radiation. So we got a doctor’s excuse to get away with not having any classes involving meteor rocks and it’s never been a problem.” Klara looked down at her flashlight, trying not to cry again. “Until now.”

Before Lex could answer, he heard a low moaning to his left. “Help me.”

Both of them rushed to the sound. “Clark,” Klara called, “Clark, oh god,” she said, staring at her brother’s sickly form in front of her, strung up in the field and flopped to the front, unable to keep himself up except for the ropes on his wrists.

Then she saw the necklace around his neck and saw red.

Rushing to her brother’s side, she made to rip the necklace off, but became woozy as her hand closed around the rock. The world spinning, Klara fell backwards, thankfully into her soulmate’s arms. “The necklace,” Klara murmured, her head spinning from the exposure. “The necklace is making him sick.”

Understanding, Lex ran over and took the beautiful necklace off of his new friend, pocketing it before helping him down, noticing his paler coloring as Klara began getting up, crawling pitifully to her twin before wrapping her arms around him and crying into his shoulders. “I was so scared,” she whimpered. “I saw them hauling you off and I never thought I’d see you again.”

Lex looked away from the scene, letting the twins have their moment. Pulling out his walkie talkie, he pressed the button he knew would send him to all the available walkies. “We found him,” Lex said, voice hard and angry. “He’s in pretty bad shape. Mr. Sullivan?”

“Yes,” Lex heard. “I’m still here.”

Lex sighed in relief. “You know the Kent family right? You know what hospital I should take them to?”

There was silence on the other line. “Johnathan Kent is on his way. I don’t think they even have a family doctor. They went to a specialist in Metropolis once when the kids were little, but other than that . . . I’m sorry. I don’t think they even have any insurance.”

“We don’t,” Klara confirmed. Her voice shaking as she raked her fingers through Clark’s sweaty hair. “Clark and I are adopted, but they never included any kind of medical background, so almost no insurance company will accept us.” The smaller twin looked at her hulking brother, tears almost in her eyes once again. “That Metropolis doctor cost us a small fortune as far as the farm was concerned. I don’t know if we can afford—”

“You’re not going to have to worry about the money considering I’ll pay for the charges, just stay there and rest. You shouldn’t have gone towards Clark if you knew the rock was going to make you sick.” Lex’s voice, which should have been harsh and angry, was gentle but commanding.

“Klara!” the trio heard in the distance, “Clark!”

“Daddy!” Klara called, not caring how immature she probably sounded to Lex in that moment. “Daddy we’re over here!”

Suddenly, both Martha and Johnathan Kent burst through the wall of grain and ran over to their children, Martha running her hands over Clark’s forehead while Johnathan gathered Klara into his arms.

“It was Whitley.” Klara sobbed, still overrun with emotion after the week’s events. “He put a meteor rock necklace on Clark and hauled him off to be the scarecrow!”

Martha shook her head angrily, face red with motherly wrath. “They’re still doing that barbaric tradition? You’d think they’d have learned by now.”

Lex felt the need to draw their attention to him, if only for a moment. “Mr. Sullivan has called an ambulance for both Clark and Klara. They’re on their way right now.” Lex saw Johnathan open his mouth to protest and cut him off quickly. “I’m paying the bill, so don’t worry about it, and don’t even try to deny it.” Lex smiled as warmly as he could, realizing that, one day, this could be his family as well as Klara’s. “It’s the right thing to do.”

In that moment, the almost impossible happened. Johnathan Kent, one of the proudest men Klara ever knew, swallowed his pride. “Thank you,” he said, “We’re. . . grateful.”

Not exactly the ringing endorsement Klara had hoped for, but it was a start. 

Almost an hour later, both Clark and Klara were given clean bills of health, though were banned from going to school for the next week to ensure their bodies flushed out the toxins introduced by the radiation. Klara’s hands and knees had been bandaged, but they had seen worse. Then Clark pulled Klara aside as their parents were signing the paperwork for them to leave.

“I saw Jeremy Creek,” Clark said, knowing his sister would be enthralled from that moment on. “He came to see me almost right before you guys. He said he was going to the school dance to ‘stop them’.”

“And he just left you there!” Klara raged, still furious from the day’s events.

“He said I would be safer there,” Clark rationalized. “He was trying to help me.”

Klara growled angrily, upset and unforgiving. “He left you for dead,” she said, “We’re going.” 

The subsequent fight with Jeremy Creek wasn’t one Klara could say she enjoyed. It was obvious from the start that there was something mentally wrong with the boy. Probably the combination of trauma upon trauma, both mentally and physically, had broken the poor thing.

But perhaps she could help put him back together.

While her brother tried to talk Jeremy down, Klara went over what she knew about radiation. It was a good amount, considering that she tended to navigate through Wikipedia on nothing but curiosity. Sadly, she had nothing on the effects of electricity on radiation. Eventually, she figured there was little harm in trying the most obvious option.

Breaking the pipe behind her brother, Klara covered the floor in water and electricity, watching in fear as Jeremy’s body was enveloped in it.

Finally, as the light died down, Jeremy looked at both of them in confusion. “Who are you two? What am I doing here?”

Klara smiled, ecstatic that her plan had succeeded. “I’m Klara Kent. That’s my brother Clark. You’re in Smallville.”

Jeremy looked around, despondent, soaked to the bone, and lost. “I think – I think I want to go home now,” he said, confused and emotional.

“Sure thing,” Klara said, holding a hand out to him to help him up. “Let’s just get you out of here.”

Hours later, Klara was sitting on a fence outside, staring up at the sky that had dropped her into her parent’s laps. It had been an unbelievably trying day. Sure, she and Clark had gotten their revenge a bit by stacking the trucks of her brother’s kidnappers (because that’s what it fucking was Clark you could have died stop defending them) on top of one another, but she was still a bundle of emotions.

“So,” she heard behind her. “You brother said I’m to ask if he’s ok in about five years? What about you? You got a time frame for me princess?”

Klara could have answered her father logically. She could have had a sarcastic answer. She could have actually answered the question. Instead, what she did was blurt out, “Lex Luthor is my soulmate and I think I love him and I don’t know how to handle that.”

Silence.

“Well, that was unexpected,” Johnathan said, staring at his daughter in the pale moonlight. “Explains a lot though.” The eldest Kent sighed, dropping his head into his hands as he leaned against the fence his daughter sat on. Eventually, he spoke up. “I’m not apologizing to him for anything. I still think he comes from a lying, manipulative family of crooks.” Before Klara could angrily defend her soulmate, her father continued, “But, I promise to reserve judgement for Lex himself based on his actions. He did save Clark tonight, and I’m not going to just brush that aside.”

Leaning to the right, letting her shoulder rest against her father’s, Klara smiled. “Thanks Daddy,” she whispered, watching as Lana Lang was dropped off by her bastard friends. “You’re the best.”

Narrowing her eyes, Klara willed a sharpened rock she had hidden in Lana’s drive way to shoot forward and embed itself in a line. She had no idea what it was or what it did, but she was pretty sure it wasn’t the break or gas line.

Pretty sure.

Chapter Text

Klara knew that Clark was having trouble sleeping. Ever since he saw the Wall of Weird, he’d been handling their introduction to the Kent family less than well. Not to say that Klara wasn’t having her own issues with the Wall, but Lex’s comforting presence had helped banish her fears. Clark had no one to banish his.

Still, it was becoming obvious that neither twin was sleeping well. Clark was crumbling under the guilt of what happened before they could even remember, and Klara was haunted by the image of her strong, indestructible brother slumped, half-dead in a field. It had been a fun night in the Kent household.

And that was ignoring the obvious way her father was constantly distancing himself from any conversation involving soulmates. Thankfully, he had completely stopped the angry muttering over Lex, but he hadn’t invited her soulmate over for dinner.

Klara was taking the win she had.

Still, it was with heavy eyes that Klara rolled out of bed that morning, only forcing herself to move with the promise that Lex had made to visit her family’s booth at the Farmer’s Market later today. It would be his first time at a Smallville Farmer’s Market since he moved into town. Klara couldn’t deny that she was looking forward to showing off her soulmate to the whole town. Sure, they had both agreed not to flaunt their soulmate status to avoid tabloids camping out in front of her family’s farm (and wasn’t that a terrifying thought for a literal illegal alien? No Clark, that joke is never not funny), but they had also agreed not to hide their relationship, as neither of them were ashamed of their soulmate.

“Morning Mom,” Klara said, giving her mother a kiss on the cheek as she stumbled to the fridge, her short-sleeved, green shirt and black shorts feeling cold in the fall temperatures. While Clark seemed invulnerable to the cold (like he apparently was to everything, the lucky bastard), Klara was more inclined to the warmer days. “Clark still dead to the world?”

Her mother nodded, a fond look on her face that only a mother could have. “I was just about to call the both of you down. We need to be headed out in 15 minutes, and both you and your brother still have chores to do.”

Klara smiled, “The barn is sweeping itself as we speak, and I’ll get the tractor out after I grab some orange juice.”

Martha shook her head tenderly, knowing that, if she were to walk into the barn right now, she would see a broom sweeping the hay that would arrange itself into piles, seemingly by themselves.

This is why they don’t have guests often.

Klara was fairly surprised by the reaction most of the town had to the scarecrow incident. While no one had blatantly brought it up (with the exception of the plant workers who had gone searching that night, all of whom had a standing invite to the Kent home any day any time), plenty of people had come over “just to check on them”. Even their doctor, who was very put out that they hadn’t listened to the order to “take it easy” for the week. If only Klara could have told her that they had been taking it easy that season.

“I’m so sorry we weren’t there,” Chloe had said the second she saw the twins, pulling them both into a tight hug. “Pete and I were so busy focused on Jeremy Creek we didn’t even wonder . . . I’m just so glad you’re both ok!”

Klara smiled, unable to hold her anger and disappointment at Chloe in the face of the girl’s sorrow and regret. Klara’s anger had always burned like a fire work when it came to her friends, bright and hot for seconds, but gone in a flash. Besides, Klara recognized that only a little of her anger was actually directed at Chloe. Her being a freak wasn’t exactly Chloe’s fault now was it? Although she was still going to have a talk to Chloe about boundaries again. Seriously, Lana on the Wall was several levels of Not OK. But that was for later. For now, she would just be happy that one of her best friends and she were fine.  It seemed the blond was grateful for that as she smiled happily at the twins.

“I promised I’d hang with Pete, but I’ll talk to you later,” she said, also hugging Clark. “But don’t you worry, I’m gonna drag those football players through the mud for this. They’ll wish they’d gone toe to toe with a linebacker instead of me.”

Suddenly, Klara felt the warm sensation of love and acceptance all throughout her body, making her safe and comfortable. After the week she had been having, she had certainly needed it.

The conversation suddenly stalled when Lana walked over to them. Klara saw red at the other girl’s face. How dare she? What kind of brass balls did this witch have to come over to them after what her boyfriend had done to Clark? Probably over her if Klara’s guess was any indication. “Hey Clark,” she said, smiling at him. “I didn’t see you at the dance last night.”

A glass ornament in the booth next to them shattered unexpectedly. While many brushed it off as simply a faulty knot making it fall and shatter, Clark had the thought to glare at his obviously emotional sister. They had learned years ago that things only tend to blow up when Klara was upset or angry.

And angry she was, if only for a brief moment. Then, she realized that, in all honesty, Lana probably hadn’t known what had happened the night before. It had gotten around town through the adults, but matters like this sometimes take at least a few days before it reaches the school.

That didn’t mean Klara still didn’t hate her.

“I was a little tied up,” Clark said crossly, looking directly at a sheepish Whitney. Klara didn’t appreciate the humor. Suddenly, unbeknownst to anyone there, several tears began in Whitney’s letterman jacket. In a few says, when the frays fell apart, Whitney would have just a pile of useless fabric.

When Johnathan Kent came around the truck, Klara steeled herself for the compliments. No matter how awful Whitney was to Clark and Klara, he was still an amazing football player, and her father had to respect that.

So imagine her surprise when Johnathan Kent glared furiously at Whitney, placing himself between the burly football player and his daughter, stretching a hand in front of Clark as well. It was as if he was trying to place a barrier between his children and the other teen. Klara’s eyes were wide. Although everyone knew the football team was responsible for what had happened last night, but Klara hadn’t thought that Johnathan would hold Whitney himself responsible.

“Hope you both buy some product,” he says, face unbreakable stone. “Wouldn’t want you to end up in the hospital from bad health.”

With that, he walked away, leaving Clark embarrassed by his father’s anger, Chloe and Klara shocked by his open display of anger, Whitney appropriately ashamed, and Lana confused.

“I should get the rest of the stuff.” Clark finally said, desperate to get away from the stifling atmosphere that wasn’t at all helped by his sister’s still visible wrath.

“I’ll help,” Whitney said, following after him. Klara moved to follow them, uncomfortable with the idea of her brother being left alone with Whitney after everything that happened, only to be stopped by Chloe’s hand. Looking up, she saw the blond shake her head. They would keep an eye and ear out, but Clark needed to fight this battle on his own.

Klara sat, waiting for the conversation to end, and wasn’t surprised when it ended with Whitney stomping off to Lana, who was talking to . . . a relatively hot Greg. What? Just because Klara had found her soulmate didn’t mean she wasn’t allowed to appreciate hot guys. He still looked a bit creepy, but it was lessened without the greasy face, unkempt hair, and baggy clothes. The leather jacket also helped. A lot.

Still, a leather jacket did not a Whitney make, and Klara watched as the football player ushered his girlfriend away, seeing him lean down and growl menacingly at the other boy. Childish.

“That Whitney?”

Klara yelped as she spun around, tripping over an apple in the process. Thankfully, two strong, soft hands grabbed her arms, steading her. “Woah there,” Lex said, smiling fondly at the young woman in his arms. “Easy. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

Klara, realizing it wasn’t another football player, smiled happily back, elated to see her precious soulmate to make the day better. Thinking on his words though, the smile slipped to become strained. “You know Whitney?” Klara asked, an irrational fear in the back of her mind.

Lex frowned as well, worry etched across his face. “You threw his name out there a lot last night. Do you not remember?” Looking at his soulmate, Lex saw plainly that she didn’t. Lex didn’t blame her, it was probably pretty traumatic, watching her sick, possibly dying brother carted off like cattle. Seeing that her lack of memory was upsetting her, Lex quickly pulled her closer to him, laying her head against his shoulder. “It’s alright,” Lex said, running his hands through her hair. “You had a long day. You were worried. It’s fine.”

Klara sniffled slightly, but refused to cry. She’d done enough of that the day before. “Sorry. I don’t know what is wrong with me this week.”

Lex smiled. “It’s alright,” he said. “It’s been a long week. However,” he stepped back, offering his arm to her exaggeratedly, “I believe I promised to escort the lady this fine day.”

Klara giggled slipping her arm into his, feeling where her Columbine flower rubbed against his words, separated only by the fabric of their clothes.

 Klara glared at Whitney and Lana as they left, wishing she had the mental fortitude to make the damn car crash. The bastard would have deserved it.

*“Well, I can’t knock your taste in women,” Lex said, pulling Clark out of his moping state. “You finally willing to tell me what actually happened last night?” The look Lex gave her brother implied that he was only asking for the sake of social formalities. He expected an answer.

“Klara didn’t tell you?” Clark said, honestly surprised. Klara wasn’t like him when it came to bullies. She had never been one to hide her distain for them and their actions.

Lex shook his head. “Your sister gave everyone the basics,” he said, looking Clark in the eye, “But she wasn’t exactly calm, and it was just a bunch of theories. I heard it was a school tradition? Really?”

Clark’s face turned to stone as he looked away. “More like a prank, nothing else. Not a big deal, really.”

Before Klara could scold Clark for brushing something like that aside, Lex, saint that he was, beat her to it. *“Clark, I hate to break it to you, but you were tied to a stake in the middle of a field. Even the Romans saved that for special occasions.” Concern bled into his voice and face as he tried to get his newest friend to just look at him. “Clark, the prank itself is one thing, but adding the necklace was another. Leaving someone in a field like that is dangerous by itself, but with that rock around your neck… you could have died, Clark. Instead of you sick to your bones we could have been looking for a body.”

Klara’s entire body shivered, the image of her brother, slumped over, looking like he wasn’t even breathing—

Her thoughts were stopped by an arm around her shoulder. Lex pulled her closer to him, still keeping his eyes on Clark, but offering her the comfort he knew she needed. He would have comforted her more, but he needed Clark to understand the gravity of what had happened the night before.

You never know how it feels to be the surviving sibling until you are.

“Hey kiddos, what’s the hold—”

Johnathan stopped at the scene before him. His daughter was wrapped up in her soulmate’s arms, obviously still upset. Not that Johnathan didn’t understand. After all, she probably still wasn’t exactly ok after everything that had happened the night before. Still, that didn’t mean he was completely alright with seeing his little girl with Lex Luthor of all people.

Come on, you promised her you would try.

Swallowing his frown, Johnathan walked over to the kids with a more forced neutral look on his face.

“How are you today Mr. Kent?” Lex asked, offering his hand while the other stayed firmly around Klara, resting on her hip. “I know it was a late night last night.”

Johnathan shivered at the memory, but shook hands with the boy anyways, forcing himself to ignore the hand resting on his daughter’s hip. “Lex,” he said cordially, keeping the malice out of his voice for his daughter’s sake. “You lot hurry up now; we’ve got to finish up soon.” With that, he walked away, barely acknowledging the ‘K Dad,’ both twins sent his way.

Looking at his soulmate, Lex couldn’t help but smile. “One handshake and no threats of violence. That went better than I expected it to.”

Klara’s bark of laughter started them all of, and, soon, they were laughing together as if the night before had never happened. 

And so, of course, because nothing nice can happen to their family for too long or the world will implode, they come across Whitney almost dying in the middle of the road, Whitney’s truck flipped over, leaving the jock half conscious at best.

And then Klara smelled the gas. Suddenly, she remembered the night before, shooting the sharp rock into Whitney’s truck and not really caring where it went. Well, obviously it was going to be a fucking problem now.

Especially as her idiot brother through himself out of the truck and went racing towards the slowly growing bomb she had unintentionally made. “Dad,” she called, following her brother closely, “Get the fire extinguisher out the back.” Raising her hand to help concentrate, Klara mentally pulled at the door until it came off, revealing a still knocked out Whitney that Clark ran over to.

Just as the flames reached the gas.

Thinking quickly, Klara pulled the concrete around her up and over her, creating a shield of stone from the blast. Through the blood rushing through her ears, she could hear her mother calling their names, but couldn’t see Clark as she had encased herself in darkness—

 It was so dark.

       Kar-El curled into her brother more as their “home” continued to shake around them. Their world was often dark, the special lights only turning on so many times and only for so long.

“KLARA!”

Her mother’s voice pulled her from the distant memory, yanking her harshly back to the real world, where she could smell something burning.

Was it too much to hope that that something was Whitney? Probably, but even still, Klara lowered her make-shift shield to see the damage. Clark was fine, his clothes a bit singed. Her father had a burn on his hand, from what she didn’t know, and her poor mother was in hysterics, wondering just what her stupid children thought they were doing. So, not the worst. Great. 

While Clark was outside talking to her father, Klara figured she would sit inside with her mom, hoping to calm her fears.

“Look at it this way,” Klara said, pouring the tea into the pitcher with an obscene amount of sugar in it. “Klara and I are probably immune to everything, including diabetes!”

Martha snorted, seeing just how many cups of sugar her daughter had put into the syrup she was calling tea. “You mean you will probably be immune. Your brother doesn’t eat like he runs on sugar, so he would be fine either way.”

Klara huffed a laugh and poured herself a glass of tea. Ad she reached for a second glass, her mother waved her off. “Don’t bother,” she said, smiling, “No one else is going to drink your sugar.”

Klara smiled, taking a sip of her drink and sinking into the feeling. She could probably use a bath, but she felt bad about the idea of leaving her mother alone after everything that had happened. After all, for all that both her parents couldn’t stop talking about how proud they were, she couldn’t help but see the worry and fear in their eyes.

But, they were parents, it was expected of them.

What Klara wasn’t expecting was a sweaty, obviously distraught Lex bursting through their front door, looking like hell. His shirt was untucked, everything was rumpled, and he was breathing as if he’d just run a marathon. “Klara,” he called, running over to her and scopping her into his arms. “Oh, thank god, you’re alright,” he breathed, crushing her tightly to his front, though the sound was muddled by the hair that found its way in front of his face. Pulling back, he catalouged eache detail about her perfect face, taking in that there were no obvious signs of injury. “I heard about what happened from one of the workers at the mansion. They said you’d been involved in another accident and . . . I’m just glad you’re alright.”

Klara smiled, happy tears brimming in her eyes.

So this is what having a soulmate is all about.

Chapter Text

Lex looked at the necklace in his hands angrily. It was a small, thin thing, making it hard for him to believe it had almost destroyed something as precious to him as Klara and Clark. He knew that, as the eldest of the three, he should handle this situation with the civility and maturity of the adult CEO in training he was.

Which meant not wrapping the chain around his fingers and punching Whitney until he was a bloody pulp.

Although he was sorely tempted.

Still, that wat the old Lex Luthor. He’d made a promise to himself after he realized who Klara was (as a person, not just his soulmate), that old Lex Luther was far too much like his father, and he would not have her hurt like his mother had been. He would be a better person, if only to make her happy.

Which meant still not wrapping the chain around his boot while he hired men to hold Whitney while he kicked the shit out of him.

Although he remained tempted.

Still, that didn’t mean he had to be fair about all of this. Honest, yes, but not fair. 

The Lang girl was riding into the stables, just like her aunt had said. He looked at her with a strictly critical eye, not caring for her physical appearance. Sure, finding his soulmate hadn’t made him blind or celibate (not that he would ever even consider cheating on Klara), but Lana didn’t have the intelligence or beauty to even begin to catch his eye considering his new standards for beauty included an angel on earth.

*“Your form’s good, but his gait is off,” he said eventually, drawing her attention to him. *“You might want to check your shoes.” He smiled at her, putting on the most charming face he could muster. *“Lex Luthor. I’m a friend of your aunt’s.” Who has had a vaguely disturbing interest in me for years but is useful every now and then.

Lang wasn’t impressed, surprising considering who she was dating. *“Sneaking up like that. You’re lucky you didn’t get kicked."

Lex didn’t let his annoyance show. She was already judging him. As if she had a right considering what had happened to his brother because of her.

Lana looked at him, unimpressed still. *“We've already met,” she said plainly, waiting for him to reveal why he was there. Perhaps it had something to do with the Kent twins. She’d seen him with Klara at the market and had already gotten a call from her friend Courtney from the cheerleading squad on how the whole town was talking about how he was dating her. Pretty much the entire town was divided. Half were sure he was toying with the younger girl and would throw her to the side when he got bored. The other half were convinced they had to be soulmates because how else could a scrub like Kent land a man like Luthor?

Lex frowned slightly in his mind, knowing he couldn’t afford to do so outwardly. He wasn’t appreciating the young girl’s tone. *“I seriously doubt I’d forget meeting you”

Lana rolled her eyes, now knowing who exactly was right. Lex Luthor was still the heartless playboy he was in that pool. He was playing around with poor Klara Kent and would break her heart. Lana would have to warn her ahead of time to be careful of him. After all, it wasn’t every day someone like Whitney came along to be an absolute prince.

*“You were a little preoccupied at the time.”

Lex made a face, now realizing that he really had met the young girl and things probably hadn’t gone well. *“I get the feeling I didn’t make a great first impression.”

Lana frowned at him, obviously disapproving. *“When I was ten, I went to Metropolis for a riding competition. Your father invited us to stay over. My aunt said you had an indoor pool.” Oh. Well shit. *“When I went to check it out, I found you and a girl skinny dipping. I think you were teaching her the breast stroke.” Lana crossed her arms, making a show of trying to seem like she was looking down at the taller man. “And now I see you walking around with Klara Kent.”

Suddenly, everything fell into place, and Lex saw red. She wasn’t just judging him as a person. She was judging him as a boyfriend. A soulmate. Unintentionally as far as the second was concerned, sure, but still, Lex was furious and found himself sorely tempted to wring her neck. Still, he refrained, wanting to see what her reaction to what Whitney had done would be before passing his final judgement in return. After all, be the better man.

“Well, you’ve certainly grown since then,” Lex said, trying not to tower over her and remind her that Clark and Klara were the injured parties here, not Lex or Lana. “And so have I. Though it looks like my tastes have refined a bit more than yours has. After all, you went for the guy who throws around a pig skin for fun when you could have the one who saves lives every time someone turns around.”

Lana frowned, upset at the implication. Clark was a nice guy, sure, but so were guys like Greg. However, unlike Greg, Clark had never tried to put the moves on her, making him great, but also kind of . . . boring in a way. Still, that was her decision, and she didn’t need people like Lex Luthor judging that.

“You’re talking a lot of big talk for someone who’s been in town what? Two days? Three?”

Lex smiled, knowing he was getting to her. “Almost a week now, and it only takes a week to see the difference.” Holding the necklace out to show to her, Lex revealed in the shock that crossed her face. “I’m gonna go ahead and assume this is, in fact, yours then,” he said, smirking as she snatched it out of his hands.

“Where did you get this?” she snapped angrily, feeling like she was definitely losing control of this conversation. “I gave this to—”

“Whitney,” Lex finished for her, his expression clouding over as he remembered the reason he was there. “Whose response to you talking to Clark was to put it around his neck, strip him down and tie him to a stake in the middle of a field.”

Lana’s face turned white in shock. “Jesus,” she whispered, hand going to her face. “Is he alright?” she asked.

Lex nodded, happy she at least was focusing on the important part of the conversation now. “He and Klara needed to go to the hospital for the allergic reaction, and Clark probably wouldn’t have made it the night, but their doctor assures us they should be fine as long as they actually rest for once.”

Lana froze, not understanding. “Klara? Hospital? What?”

Lex raised his eyebrows, “You didn’t know?” he asked harshly, hearing Klara’s sobs echoing in his ears. “Clark and Klara are allergic to the radiation of meteor rocks, which that thing is made of.” His words were cold and unfeeling. “Your precious boyfriend almost killed my friend because he walked you home. And Clark still risked his life to save him.”

Lana held the necklace tightly in her hand, not understanding. Luthor was the bad guy here. Playing around with Klara’s emotions!

“Whitney would never—”

“I’m going to stop you right there,” Lex said sharply, not appreciating her denial. “Because he did. And some asshole named Jackson pushed Klara down from a moving car, and I got to end my Saturday by finding my terrified soulmate running through a crop field screaming her brother’s name.”

Lana shivered at the picture Lex painted. Klara was a sweet girl; Lana had seen her standing up to Jackson and his goons several times. She also tended to seem like one of those strong, independent girls who rebelled for the sake of rebelling. The opposite of Lana. She didn’t deserve something like that and she certainly—wait, soulmate?

“I was originally just going to let you find out for yourself,” Lex said, not caring for Lana’s internal struggle, feeding somewhat off of his soulmate’s dislike of the girl. “Give you a few clues and let Clark be the one to tell you the whole story, necklace included, but you and I are going to get one thing straight right here and right now. Klara Kent is the best thing that ever happened to me and there’s no way I’m going to let your puppy love with a psychotic football player put her or her brother in danger.”

With that, Lex walked away, leaving Lana with her questioning thoughts and a murderous necklace. 

Clark walked into the mansion, this time the gate was just flat out open and there was no Klara to scold him. Besides, he was there for official business, dropping off the produce Lex had bought from them. After threatening to arm wrestle his mother to buy them sans a discount.

“I swear, Clark,” Lex said, looking over a small, ancient city replica, “If you keep this up, I’m going to buy you a cape and super glue it to your neck.”

Clark chuckled, smiling at his new friend. “A cape? Really?”

Lex looked at him, hilariously stone faced. “It’ll have a GPS and heart monitor sewn in. I’ll get Klara one too so I can stop worrying about you both.”

Clark continued smiling. “Yeah, Mom told me about how you showed up at the house while dad and I were out. Sorry we worried you like that.”

Lex shook his head, remembering that those had been his soulmate’s response word-for-word. “You, I can deal with, but I swear I am constantly tempted to just trap Klara here. Keep her safe from the world.”

Clark frowned, worried from the words. “You realize she’d kill you for something like that, right,” he said warily, testing the waters.

Lex shook his head, a fond, loving expression on his face. “She wouldn’t have to. The second she so much as looked disappointed, I’d blow the whole place to smithereens for her.”

Clark smiled, glad that Lex hadn’t suddenly turned out to be one of those creepy controlling soulmates. It happened occasionally. In the older days, the richer or more affluent family would claim the other soulmate and, sometimes, they wouldn’t get to see their other family ever again. Especially because of the anti-feminist laws back in the olden days.

You know, the 50’s.

“So what’s this then?” Clark asked, gesturing to the tiny city below them. “A toy?”

Lex smiled bitterly, and suddenly, Clark felt bad for asking. “Hardly. My father bought it for me back when I was about nine. He’s convinced that business and war are twins. Business just won’t admit it.”

“Because war’s a stripper?” Clark asked, reveling in the confused face he was met with. “Never tell Klara I said this, but she’s a huge Jerry Springer fan. Watches it every morning she can.” Waving his hand, he gestured Lex to continue, knowing Klara would find out he slipped up, but trying to distract the other boy anyways.

“It’s apparently meant to be the battle of Troy.” Seeing Clark had no clue what he was talking about, Lex expanded. “It was started when two kings were so enthralled by the beauty of a woman they swore she was their soulmate. The Greeks were firm believers that you only found your soulmate if the gods deemed it so, meaning that neither of them really knew for sure.” Lex remembered the story well. In the end, Helene of Troy’s bracelets were forced off of her wrists by Zeus, revealing that she had no soulmate at all. His father had also meant to give the story a second meaning. Lex was not to put too much faith in the phenomenon of soulmates or they would lead to his ruin.

“Two men so in love they want to wage war,” Lex said, looking at Clark measuredly. “Kind of like you and Whitney. That’s the real reason Saturday happened, isn’t it? He thought you were putting the moves on his girl.”

Clark looked away, trying not to think about it too hard. Despite Klara’s requests otherwise, Clark spent most of his time trying to ignore what had happened.

He was still dealing with being an alien, ok? Attempted murder (intentional or not) kind of fell to the wayside.

“A war Whitney’s won.”

Lex looked confusedly. Where was this pessimism coming from? “You lost a single battle. Not the war. There’s still time, and Whitney is hardly entrenched in Lana’s heart.”

Clark shook his head, not wanting to follow Lex’s school of thought. “Football team captain praised like a god by the entire town vs. farm boy who barely pops up on anyone’s radar. Game Over, victory Whitney.”

Lex put his hand on Clark’s shoulder, determined to help his new friend. “Clark, you could have left him in that car. A lesser man would have.”

Clark looked at him, shocked. “Would you have?” he asked incredulously. “If Klara was dating him and you’d found him?”

Lex looked into the distance, pretending to think. Because the answer was yes. Yes, he would have. Had it been a nice guy like Clark, the decision would have been harder, but a guy like Whitney? He would never deserve someone like Klara. “I don’t know,” he finally said. “But that’s the point. Most people would have at least hesitated. Word has it you didn’t even blink.” Desperate to distract him, Lex tried to turn the conversation. “Besides, the town’ll turn on him soon enough.”

It worked, and Clark looked at him, shocked. “What are you talking about?”

“The whole town knows what happened. Sure, most of them looked the other way for the tradition before, but you could have died, and everyone who went looking for you knew it. Besides, you remember how bad your sister looked in the hospital?” Clark nodded. “She looked worse when we first found you. Your mom had some extra clothes and a brush in the truck they drove. And, from what some of the workers tell me, the whole town now knows it.” Lex clasped his hand onto Clarks arm in assurance. “Tradition and pranks are all fine and good, but what happened that night was wrong. No one is on their side.”

Clark looked away despondently, not wanting to talk about this anymore. “Look, it was a stupid prank gone wrong, ok? I don’t want everyone fussing over it.”

Lex’s eyes widened. “Clark whatever the hell your middle name is Kent, let me explain something to you.” Lex stood, standing in front of his new friend with righteous vigor. “Had that been me or my father on that stake, virtually no one would have cared. Hell, some people would have thrown a party. But the second I mentioned I was looking for you, every single worker they could get a hold of practically ran out of that plant, flashlight or no flashlight. The people of this town know you’re a good guy, one of the best. You don’t help people because of some need for validation, but because it is the right thing to do. A lot of people don’t.” Lex put both his hands on the younger boy’s shoulders, holding on tightly. “What Whitney did was fucked up. Whether you want to press charges or not, it was fucked up. You could have died, and no school-yard pranks or half-assed, joking apologies are going to make that right.”

Clark sighed, shoulders slumping in Lex’s grip. “He didn’t mean to –”

“It doesn’t matter what he did or did not mean,” Lex said, voice hard as stone. “What matters is what he did. He hurt you, Clark. His people hurt and scared Klara. What he and the others did was wrong. And the reasoning behind it was wrong. This wasn’t some class prank, Clark. Whitney assaulted and attacked you because you walked his girlfriend home. That is the reaction of a psychopath. That is the reaction of someone who isn’t going to stop acting like that any time soon.”

Clark shook his head, still not convinced. “Look, Lex, he really wouldn’t do it again. He probably feels bad.”

Lex nodded. “You’re right, he does. He feels bad that he got caught. He feels bad that the town is treating him like the criminal he is Clark. He’s been abusing the fact that his football status protects him from certain responsibilities, and now he’s actually being held responsible for what he did. That’s not your fault Clark; that’s life.”

Clark kept his head down, not sure what to really say in a moment like this. To be honest, he had kind of wanted to report Whitney. There was a tiny, vengeful part of him that was upset, not for himself, but for Klara, who had awoken screaming that night and hadn’t really had a full night’s sleep since. He’d heard her sneaking downstairs to frightfully call Lex, who he suspected kept talking to her until she calmed down. Were it not for the legal questionability of his adoption, he might have, but he was powerless to actually punish Whitney (short of kicking the shit out of him and leaving him beaten and bloody), so he quietly tried to sooth everyone.

For once though, no one seemed to be on Whitney’s side.

He didn’t really know what to do with that.

“Look, I’m not saying you have to actually charge him to the police,” Lex said, “It’s his first offence and, unless the DA actually went for attempted manslaughter, he would serve no time. But the entire debacle is on his record now, and that’s going to fallow him for the rest of his life. That should be enough, but what you do need to do is accept that what happened wasn’t ok.” Sighing, Lex took his hands off of Clark’s shoulders and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Think of it this way,” Lex finally said. “If you would punch a guy in the face for doing it to Klara, you shouldn’t brush it off if they do it to you.”

Clark nodded, understanding that Lex was right. He didn’t have to forgive Whitney. Whitney was an ass. No, he would remember that night, and he wouldn’t just let it slide off of his back. That was what he needed to do. For Klara, if not for himself.

Klara happily walked through the halls of Luthor Manor (as she had taken to calling it), not skipping, but only barely. Her father had not only allowed her to go visit her soulmate, but had actively encouraged it, dropping her off on their way to the store with a “Call me when you’re ready to come home.”

Lex was in his study, as usual, pouring over some papers for the plant. Carefully moving her way behind the desk, sure that her soulmate hadn’t noticed her, she waited until he put his pen down for just a moment before pouncing onto his left shoulder, wrapping her arms around him and planting a kiss on his cheek.

“Jesus Christ!” he yelled, jumping slightly before turning to see . . . his soulmate smiling at him with giddy glee.

“Hi,” she said, smiling more from the fact that she was next to her soulmate than his reaction. “Dad said Clark came back looking better after going to talk to you. He figured whatever you said to him earned you some Soulmate Time.”

Lex moved then, pulling Klara onto his lap and cuddling her into his chest. “Well, then,” he said, smiling into her hair. “I should point out the obvious to Clark more often.” Pulling back, Lex watched Klara look up at him, eyes gleaming happily.

“Hi,” she said again, still smiling.

“Hi Angel,” he said, chuckling.

Klara tilted her head. “Angel? Really?”

Lex’s smile grew. “I died and the first thing I saw was a beautiful woman dressed in light.” He said, running long fingers through her hair, spreading it in the light of the sunset outside his windows. “So yes, really.”

Klara lunged into his chest, rushing the air out of him as she nuzzled into his chest. She’d always been a cuddler (her family was more than a little tactile), but something about Lex had been bringing out the worst of it in her and she’d lost her hold on her self-control.

“I’m hardly an angel,” Klara said, shaking her head.

Lex tightened his grip around her waist as he spoke. “You don’t have to be an angel. Just as long as you’re my angel.”

They spent a good hour and a half just cuddling together, talking occasionally. Klara pulled a small book out of her back pocket, slightly curved from where it had bent to fit, and read while Lex worked on his paperwork, stopping occasionally to just wrap his arms around her waist and nuzzle into her hair once again.

Finally, Klara pointed out that she had class in the morning and should probably be headed home soon. Lex reluctantly agreed.

“But first,” he said, “I have a gift for you.” Standing up, Lex walked over to a drawer in a wooden fixture. Turning back to her, he handed his soulmate a small, intricate metal box. “My mother found it. She was travelling in Morocco. The shop owner said it was melted from the metal of St. George’s armor.”

“Patron Saint of Soldiers,” Klara whispered, running her fingers over the metal.

“And Boy Scouts,” Lex said, smiling. “More importantly,” he expanded, resting his hands on her hips from behind as he leaned down to slot his head on her shoulder, “It’s made of lead.”

Klara turned, looking at her soulmate in confusion. “Why’s that important? It beautiful and sentimental.”

Lex chuckled. “And practical,” he said. “I had to shove that stupid necklace in my pocket and couldn’t go near you or Clark while I had it. This way, you’ll always have something to throw a meteor rock into that should keep you safe from the radiation.” Closing the lid, Lex put a hand on the small of her back, leading her out of the room and towards the main entrance. “Now, let’s get you home, angel.”

Chapter Text

Lana stomped her way over to Whitney the day after Lex had left, determined to get the proper answer, the right answer out of him. Which had better be that Lex Luthur was full of shit. The irate teenager eventually found her boyfriend at his locker, shoulders slumped as he closed the metal door and secured the lock.

“Whitney,” she said, desperate for answers. “I need to know where you were before the game on Saturday.”

Whitney’s face froze. This was it. This was the moment he’d been dreading. By this point, everyone in the school knew that he and the other players had apparently almost killed Kent and that his sister was pretty cut up from when that idiot Jackson knocked her over. The principal was having a meeting with all of them after school, and coach was threatening to skin them all alive. It was only a matter of time before Lana found out.

“Look,” he said, frantic to try and minimize the damage this would do to his relationship. “It was supposed to be just a prank, Lana.”

Disgust came over Lana’s face. “A prank?” she asked incredulously. “Seriously, Whitney? Hanging Clark up in a field? Using the necklace I gave you for good luck to almost kill him? Letting Klara get sent to the hospital for God knows what? That was a prank to you?”

Whitney made sure he looked appropriately abashed. This debacle was going to cost him games, grades, time, and so many lectures from his parents, but he would be damned if he let the Kent siblings cost him Lana as well. “I already told him I was sorry, Lana,” he whined honestly. Sure, the original attempted apology was just to get Lana’s necklace back, but Kent had been absolutely useless, meaning her necklace was probably lost forever and he was going to have to work this very carefully to not let Lana slip from his grasp. “We didn’t know he was allergic, and I didn’t even see Jackson push Klara. It just—it got out of hand.”

Lana frowned angrily. “‘Out of hand?’” she asked. “He could have died Whitney, and I’ve got everyone and their mother calling my aunt and I and asking if we knew!” Lana folded her arms, glaring at him angrily. “You have no idea where my necklace even is, do you?”

Shit. Whitney was hoping she wouldn’t hop onto that train so quickly. “I’ve already told all the guys they’re coming with me after school and looking for it in the field today. I promise, Lana, I’m gonna find—”

“Don’t bother,” Lana said, stomping away. 

On the stairs, Lana bumped into a still-kind-of-hot Greg. She would have apologized, but she was still too upset at Whitney. Honestly, what had he been thinking? She knew he had his problems with Clark, he wasn’t exactly subtle with the less-than-kind treatment of the other boy, but this had gone too far. Now Lana was in the middle of everything at she wasn’t sure how to play things.

She could break up with Whitney, but what would that do? He’d been an astounding boyfriend up to that point, kind, considerate, great in bed, and giving no care for the blossom on her wrist that had bloomed into a weak, under nourished daffodil.

She heard Greg call out to her, but paid him no mind. She was trying to find a way to spin this right.

This all would have been so much easier if everyone had still thought it was a prank, but the hospital visit had thrown a wrench into that plan. Now Clark wasn’t just a nerd who got pranked, but a victim. Victims garnered sympathy and everyone always wanted someone to blame. Whitney, since he’s the one who used her stupid necklace would be the perfect scapegoat.

Unless she found someone else to blame.

Yes, that would work. After all, Jackson was the one who pushed Klara down, right? It would be easy to say he was the one who picked Clark, that the necklace had been his idea too. Whitney was just another teenager who got riled up by his friend. Yes, that kind of story happened all the time. She’d be able to keep Whitney, looking like the forgiving girlfriend, and make a point to everyone that he’s on thin ice. If he manages to keep his shit together until this all blows over, it looks like she’s turning him into a better person. After all, she’s not been wasting the past two years on him.

Quickly making her way to Courtney’s locker. If there was anyone to use to get this rumor started, it was that loose-lipped gossip.

Meanwhile, Greg stared after Lana and stewed. Really? She dared to just ignore him. Rammed into him like some wanton hussy and then just scurried away? No, there would be none of that. 

Klara was checking the wire on the fences when Lana showed up. It was a basic routine that kept her mind busy and, if anything was frayed or torn, it was a nice mental work out to use her powers to make it right.

“Hey Klara,” Lana said, looking sympathetic but unabashed. “I heard what happened Saturday. Jackson is an absolute ass; are you OK?”

Klara tilted her head, not giving away anything. If Lana was going to play a game over this, Klara was going to play it better. Her voice was hard as she spoke, “A couple of scrapes and bruises. Nothing close to the near-death experience your boyfriend gave my brother.”

Lana flinched, but not before Klara saw the look of annoyance on her face. “He’s really sorry about that. The whole thing was Jackson’s idea. He knew Whitney’s been having a rough time lately and got him riled up over Clark.”

Dear god, how stupid did Lana think she was? That misdirection may work on the rest of the town, but Klara knew what she saw. That was really why Lana was there. She wanted to pin everything on Jackson. That was she gets to keep her perfect football playing boyfriend with the nice truck and abs, but doesn’t have to give up the good-girl persona.

Klara thought about punching her in the face.

It was hard not to.

“It doesn’t matter who got who riled up, Lana,” Klara said, making sure she sounded appropriately emotional and traumatized. “My brother would have died if Lex hadn’t found me wandering that road. All because Clark walked you home one night. He may have gotten riled up, but Whitney is the one who put that necklace around Clark’s throat, not Jackson. He made that decision, and I’m not going to forget it any time soon.”

Lana was defiantly annoyed now. Not that she was showing it, but Klara could feel it rolling off of her in waves, despite her appearance. “He’s really sorry Klara.”

Klara fought not to snort, and instead made her lip tremble and her voice shake. “Sorry doesn’t change what he did Lana.”

And with that, making sure Lana caught a tear rolling down her face, she jogged inside, knowing her mom was out buying flowers and her father was getting the new parts needed for the tractor. Clark was in the fortress, but that was fine. Lana would go to him, spin her sad story of being disappointed in Whitney but that it wasn’t really his fault, Clark would fall for it hook, line and sinker, and everything would go on about as normal.

Grabbing the phone by the window, Klara put in Lex’s number, having memorized it by heart. “Hey there Angel,” he answered on the third ring. “Not that I’m complaining, but I thought you said you needed to check the fences today?”

Klara smiled happily. It was so small, but the fact that he remembered exactly what she was doing even though it had nothing to do with him or anything he was interested in made her heart swell too big. “I was, but we got an unexpected visitor.” She let her distaste for Lana leak into her tone. She had no reason to hide this from Lex. He knew why she disliked the other girl.

“From your tone I’m going to guess an unwanted debt collector?” Lex joked, voice sounding bouncy and jubilant.

Klara snorted, “Worse,” she said, “Lana Lang. She wants to apologize for Whitney’s behavior and check up on us.”

Lex smirked into his phone, moving the papers around his desk into their necessary piles as he read and signed off on them. “Normally,” he said, “people would be happy to hear something like that.”

Klara leaned up against the window seal, putting her arms around herself, keeping an eye on the barn for a walking Lana. “The problem is Lana’s apology doesn’t mean shit as long as Whitney doesn’t actually mean it, and even then it’s still full of shit. She just wants us to blame Jackson instead of Whitney.”

Lex paused, hand hovering over his desk. “She came out and said that?” he asked, confused. Lana had seemed conniving and vicious when he met her, but also weak and small. She had the mind to play The Game, but not the strength or power to back it up. Maybe one day she would have it, but that day wasn’t today. That wasn’t what got him, though. Lana was smart enough to not say something along those lines so plainly, but Klara had picked up on it?

“Oh, no. It was well-framed. She’s so sorry. Whitney’s so sorry. Jackson’s an ass. It’s all Jackson’s fault.” Klara growled and Lex fought not to shiver. “It’s a damn good play. Everyone knows Jackson and I can’t stand each other. Most of the time just putting his name into the conversation makes me a ball of raging fury, and he’s not as well-liked as Whitney. Not many people are going to go to his defense.” Klara sighed, realizing more and more points as she talked through the whole thing with Lex. “Not only that, his dad is a fancy defense lawyer. He can probably make sure the whole team doesn’t even get this on their records.”

Ah, that made sense to Lex. It was a common trick he and his friends used to play. Everyone knew Lex himself would never get into trouble, so a good half of the time, he would take the fall for one of his friends who were already on thin ice with their parents. It always worked out the same. “I could step in,” Lex offered. He wasn’t sure what he could do in this case, but he was sure he could come up with something appropriately—

“No that’s—oh, gimme a second and ignore what you hear.” Suddenly, Klara cut herself off with some soft sobbing. She had seen Lana walking out of the barn, face red from who knows what, and decided to make one final show for her. Placing her hand hat her face, like she was trying to muffle herself, she cried into the phone, thinking of every sad moment in every movie she could think of until she was crying freely. She didn’t see Lana’s face, too focused on her act. That was how you sold it. You had to just keep it up until you were sure the other person had left. The only people who look for a reaction have a specific one they want.

Eventually, Klara peaked through the curtain she made with her hair and saw Lana’s back going down the road, far enough away that she was no longer paying attention to Klara.

“Ok,” she said, voice completely normal as she wiped her crocodile tears away. “Sorry about that. I’m fighting fire with fire.”

Lex was frozen in shock. Finally, letting his own amazement slip into his voice, he whispered, “Did you just fake a sobbing fit to guilt the girl who tried to get her boyfriend off for what he did?”

Klara looked down at the floor, digging her toe into the ground anxiously. “Maybe?” she said cautiously. She knew Lex might not like this. After all, he was surrounded by two-faced people every day, and while Klara often tried to keep herself as real and honest as possible, there was just something about Lana that brought out her dark side.

Lex whispered in awe, “You’re absolutely amazing.”

Truly, she was. He understood that there was a certain kind of person you had to be to survive his family and his line of work. He’d actually been worried that Klara might be a bit too honest to survive. Thankfully, it looked like she was just honest with him.

Klara smiled at his words, relief flooding through her veins. She didn’t notice the Columbine flower on her wrist become a more vibrant blue than before. “I don’t do this often, I promise.”

Before Klara could hear Lex’s answer, Clark came in, looking sad and dejected. Klara was surprised to say the least. After all, she’d be expecting some conflict, maybe, but dejection?

“Hey, Hun,” Klara said, not realizing how southern she sounded for a minute, “I’ll call you right back, ok?”

“Yeah,” Lex said, understanding, “Sure.”

With that, Klara hung up the phone and walked over to her brother, putting her arms around his chest since she couldn’t reach his shoulders. “Hey Beanstalk,” she said comfortingly, hoping the nickname would get him to open up. “What’s wrong?”

Clark shook his head. “Lana showed up. She said Lex had told her what happened and brought her necklace back, but that I should forgive Whitney.”

Klara’s blood boiled in her veins. She could feel the flames on the side of her face as she imagined grabbing Lana by the hair and dragging her back into the house to apologize. “What did you say?” she asked.

Clark sighed. “The truth. What happened . . . it wasn’t ok. You could have been really hurt. I could have died. Besides, Jackson didn’t rile him into this, he got himself riled up. I don’t understand why Lana thinks—”

Klara cut her brother off. “Clark, Lana probably doesn’t even like Whitney all that much. But she’s put two years into that relationship and she doesn’t want to let it go. She wants you to like her because she likes the attention, and probably wants a backup in case Whitney really screws up.” Putting her hands on her brothers, Klara waited until he raised his head to look at her. “You’re a good guy Clark. You do good things just for the sake of doing them. You’re sweet and generous to the point of having no sense of self-preservation whatsoever. You deserve someone whose going to appreciate all those thing, but not take advantage of them like Lana already has.”

“She’s a nice girl she just—”

“No Clark,” Klara said, keeping her voice firm and hard. “She plays a nice girl very well. She plays the part of someone you like, but if you had done something that awful to someone, even on accident, would you want your girlfriend to go straight to the person you hurt and apologize for you while blaming someone else?” Clark was silent. “Would you want to date someone who has seen the way Whitney treats you and still stays with him? That’s not being understanding Clark, that’s being willfully ignorant. You deserve better. Now say it.”

Clark was silent for a moment, wondering what this would do. This conversation alone was so hard. He was convinced he was in love with Lana, or at least really far into like, but what had happened . . .what both Klara and Lex had said. . .

“I deserve better,” he whispered, his throat tight with emotion, making the words strained but strong.

“Again,” Klara said, determined to break this cycle now.

“I deserve better.”

“Again.”

“I deserve better.”

“Again.”

“I deserve better.”

He never yelled it. Not for all the many times she had him say it that afternoon. His voice never got above it’s normal speaking level. But as they went through their own cycle, Clark’s voice got stronger, harder. Yes. He did deserve better. He had a soulmate somewhere in the world for him. Even if it was a platonic relationship, they deserved for him to wait, and he deserved someone who didn’t treat him like a second option.

He deserved better. 

Klara heard a shout from the barn that night.

She ran to see what was going on and came in just as her father was flying towards the saw blades below him. Thinking quickly, Klara pushed the blades out of the way, still too afraid to try and use her powers on anything organic. Moving the pile of hay, Klara softened her landing, just in time to see a shadow disappear above her.

Looking up, she saw a glimpse of a leather jacket before turning to look at her father and brother. “What the fuck was that?” she asked harshly.

“Language young lady,” Johnathan groaned as Clark helped him up from the floor.

“Sorry not sorry,” she said, moving closer to make sure she’d managed to stop her father’s fall well enough. Whiplash was still a thing after all. Not that they would have the money for a hospital visit.

“What on earth is going on here?” Martha asked, running into the barn. She’d heard Klara dart out of the house from her room and became worried. “Johnathan, my goodness! What happened?!”

“Greg Arkin,” Clark said.

*“That’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time,” she said, running her fingers through her hair. *“You and Pete used to hang out with him in grade school.” She thought back to the tiny boy with the short, black hair and thick glasses who was over at the farm rarely. “He had the biggest crush on Klara. Used to pull her pigtails all the time.”

Klara shivered. “Ugh, don’t mention it. He finally switched over to Lana like everybody else, but he was the worst. Never washed his hands after messing around with those bugs!”

Johnathan looked between his kids. “Have you guys had any problems with him?”

Clark shook his head. “Not that I know of. We run into each other around town and at school, but people change.”

*“I remember his mother used to keep him on a short leash,” Martha admitted, feeling guilty for not having said something about it years ago. *“But I can’t believe he’d hurt a fly!”

*“Maybe because he was too busy collecting them and every other bug he could get his hands on,” Clark grumbled. It had been a point of contention. Like Klara mentioned, up until about 7^th grade, after his parents got divorced and his dad went on to have a really good relationship with a bartender named Jack (they’re happy with an adoptive daughter now), Greg had switched over his obsession with Klara to Lana and pretty much stopped calling. Probably because after all the fights over Greg not putting his hands on Klara, she’d finally pissed him off by saying that Greg shouldn’t hate his father for why he left. After all, the guy had done what he could. He’d told them both when it started, he hadn’t had an affair. He’d just come to terms with himself and admitted the relationship between him and Greg’s mom wasn’t healthy. Which made sense considering Clark doubted Mrs. Arkin herself was healthy.

Greg hadn’t taken it that way though and cut all ties with Klara, Clark, Pete, and his father.

“This still doesn’t explain what happened. *Kids don’t just leap off the ceiling and attack people.”

*“This coming from the man who’s been hiding a spaceship in his storm cellar for the last 12 years.” With that, the matriarch of the Kent family wandered away, ready to just lay down and forget.

Klara nodded. “She is right Dad, we live in a word where you can generally guess how you’re going to meet your soulmate by magic writing on your wrist. It’s possible.”

Klara then followed her mother’s footsteps, too tired to really care. 

“So,” Chloe said as they took her car to investigate Greg’s home, “We gonna talk about the Wall or . . .”

Klara sighed, knowing someone needed to have this conversation with Chloe. Now, before it got too bad. “Look, I get that you want to be this big, hard hitting journalist who makes every corrupt CEO shiver in their boots, and I want that for you, but you have a problem with boundaries.”

Chloe flinched at the tone in her friend’s voice, heart stinging from the sharpness there. “Jeez Klar, tell me how you really feel.”

Klara didn’t back down though. “I mean it Chloe. There’s trying to tell a story, and there’s forgetting that those stories are people. I don’t like Lana way more than you do, but the little girl in that article didn’t deserve to have her grief plastered all across America, let alone to be put in the same place as two headed calves.”

Chloe keep her eyes on the road, but hear what her friend was saying. “Yeah,” she finally said, letting Klara’s words sink into her mind. “You’re right. I just . . . I see there’s something big here and—”

“And you want to tell the world,” Klara finished understanding. “You want everyone to know, and that’s fine. Just understand that not everyone wants to truth to be as obvious as you do.”

At this, they pulled up to the house next to Pete’s car. “We’re good?” Chloe asked, voice uncertain and face filled with remorse.

Klara smiled, glad the conversation went as simply as it had. “We’re good,” she answered, reaching over and hugging her friend tightly.

This probably wouldn’t be the last conversation either of them had about this, but Chloe was trying. And that’s always what counts.

Chapter Text

The house was a complete mess when they looked through the windows, which was disturbing in and of itself, but Klara could feel the heat coming off the windows, making her tilt her head in confusion. Greg’s mom was obsessive about keeping the house freezing (made the bacteria die faster and move slower she always said) and never would have let the house stay in this state. She’d have died in shock.

“She wouldn’t let you guys in with shoes?” Chloe asked, blatantly shocked. “Wow. Is that what destroyed the friendship?”

Klara answered. “Not really. Greg had a lot of hate for his Dad after he left in 7^th grade with his soulmate Jack. I wasn’t quiet about how his dad wasn’t all that bad, you know? The man never actually cheated, he tried to stay, and he never said anything bad about Greg’s mom, even though she gave him plenty of fodder, what with the whole homophobic slant she took on after it happened. I’ve heard of way worse, but he didn’t see it that way. He stopped calling.”

Chloe nodded, understanding. Even though almost all countries were accepting of same-sex soulmates, many religions and people tried to claim these were platonic soulmate bonds. There’d been an issue a few years ago about a company purposefully being discriminatory against same-sex bonds, and the stigma had destroyed them. Chloe kept the clippings tacked on her wall at home. That was the kind of journalist she aspired to become.

“You couldn’t have just been a little nicer about it, though?” Pete groused jokingly. “He had the best tree fort that his dad made for us in the woods.”

Klara and Clark rolled their eyes. “Sure, the best.”

Pete scoffed. “They both always hated it. Pretty sure they’re scared of heights.” He poked at Klara, smirking as she danced away. “They’d both get dizzy and barely ever went the whole way up.”

“It’s right next to where a meteor fell,” Klara explained, having made sure she looked into where most of the major meteors fell so she knew where to avoid on their sibling runs. “There’s probably some radiation left over.”

That made them all quiet. It seems none of them were as over the incident on Homecoming as they tried to be.

“Guys,” Chloe called, opening a window, “This way!”

Inside was worse. Klara blanched at the smell of . . . whatever that was. Her skin became clammy under the wet heat of the building. God, the entire place was disgusting.

Klara walked through the kitchen, raising an eyebrow at the empty bottles of honey and the opened bags of sugar. It didn’t look like Greg’s mom had cooked in the last couple of days, so what on earth had they been eating? Greg’s mom abhorred fast-food with a passion, so they couldn’t have—

Pete screamed. 

Whitney walked over to Lana, face downcast and contrite. “Your aunt said you would be out here,” he said.

Lana tried to frown at him, but couldn’t bring herself to. Her anger had melted away slightly, especially after seeing poor Clark, of all people, so hurt by what happened. She couldn’t bring herself to care too much about Klara (she had Lex Luthur for a soulmate for fuck’s sake), but Clark had always been a sweetheart. “How’re you holding up?” She asked, looking him over. For all that she’d been angrily thinking over their relationship the way a master looks down at a chess board for the last few hours, she did genuinely love Whitney, but Luthur’s visit had her in a pretty fucked up place and she wasn’t quite sure how to crawl out of it.

“That doesn’t really matter,” Whitney said, putting a gentle hand on Lana’s elbow. “How are you holding up? You said you and your aunt were getting phone calls?” And God, did Whitney feel bad about that now that his head was cleared. Sure, he was pretty fucked over, but he’d heard Courtney Trainer talking about some of the rumors that Lana had been the one encouraging him the whole time and had immediately worked on shutting them down. He felt like such a tool. Sure, Kent and his sister deserved what they got (except for the whole almost dying part), but Lana was an absolute sweet heart. She didn’t deserve getting dragged down because he was a fuck up.

“Better,” Lana answered truthfully. She was still reeling from her conversation with Luthur earlier, but she would deal with it the same way she dealt with everything. “It’ll blow over.”

Whitney nodded. “Look, Lana. I . . . I’m really sorry. About everything. I know I shouldn’t have just gotten jealous over you and Kent, but I just . . . I can’t lose you.” Like I lost her.

The words are unspoken, but Lana can hear them anyways. Whitney’s own flower, once a beautiful sunflower was withered and dead, a pale reminder of what was, but only for a year. Though Lana supposed it was better to have a dead reminder of a beautiful Sunflower than a wilting daffodil, but that’s why they worked. Two sad broken people just clinging to each other in a world full of happy soulmates.

The moment was broken, however, when Greg came out of the shadows. “You already have,” he hissed sinisterly, looking at them both with an inhuman glare. “She’s mine now.” 

Klara rubbed up and down Chloe’s back, grimacing at the putrid smell of the teen’s mac and cheese lunch coming back up for another visit. She quickly tied a hair band around her friend’s blond hair, keeping it out of her face. The whole time, she was trying not to puke herself. Greg’s mom, what was left of her anyways, wasn’t a pretty sight. Looking over at poor Pete, she figured none of them would be getting sleep any time soon.

“So,” Klara said, “I’m assuming one of you called the cops?” After all, Greg’s mom would be found eventually. Might as well admit they broke in for a reason than have the cops show up on their doorsteps asking why their prints are everywhere.

“Yeah,” Clark confirmed. “Called them from next door. Mrs. Johnson says she’s been seeing Greg come in and out of this place. He definitely knew.”

“Knew?” Chloe coughed, rubbing her fist across her face as she finally calmed down. “Clark, there’s no way he didn’t do this!”

“Well, that’s our job to figure out Ms. Sullivan,” said a voice from the doorway. There stood Sheriff Miller, hands on his belt with a disapproving look on his face. “I’m assuming I don’t need to tell you kids how terrible an idea it was to break into the house of a suspected murderer?”

Klara shrugged, not really worried. She figured that after the meteor incident last week, they’d met their near-death quota for the month. “If it helps, Chloe threw up and Pete screamed bloody murder,” she said, nodding to the puke-filled sink. “I think that should constitute as punishment enough.”

Ethan Miller shook his head, not really knowing what to say. Klara Kent had always been an odd duck. She was certainly bright, took after Martha that way, but Ethan had always been able to see a little bit of John in her. However, none of the four of them had ever managed to get into trouble like this. Well, not since Homecoming.

And wasn’t that a doozy. Ethan had been friends with Martha and John for years, so hearing about what happened and finding poor Clark strung up in that field . . . Whitmore was a damned fool if he thought he could flout his lawyer status and keep this off the boys’ records. Sure, there was nothing he could do as long as Clark didn’t press charges, and Ethan could understand why he wouldn’t want to, but that didn’t mean those boys should get away with what they’d done.

It also didn’t mean that Clark and Klara could just run around breaking into houses and finding dead bodies.

“Alright. So why exactly were you four breaking and entering?” he asked, not really sure he wanted to know the answer.

Clark spoke up this time. “Dad and I were in the barn and we could have sworn we saw Greg Arkin running around. We came over to figure out why. Figured maybe he was just messing around, but we’ve got some expensive machinery out there, you know? Not to mention dangerous.”

“We just wanted to know if he messed with anything,” Klara jumped in, backing her brother up with the story they’d come up with on the way to school. “We didn’t want to get you guys involved if he was honestly just running around. Figured you’re probably tired of our ugly mugs by now.”

Ethan sighed, rubbing his fingers across the bride of his nose. He loved the Kents, but this was gonna be a hell of a lot of paperwork.

“And when exactly did you decide to break and enter to ask him about his trespassing?” Ethan asked, making his disapproval clear in his tone.

“The window was already open,” Chloe argued, rubbing her hands over her arms, “and the place looked . . .off.”

“Yeah,” Pete agreed, eager to avoid his mom hearing about his first arrest. “The house is completely trashed, and I know how big of a neat freak Mrs. Arkin is. She’d have never let Greg turn this place into a pig sty.”

As they continued talking, the four students mentioning Greg’s odd behavior and change over the past few days, deputies began searching the house, collecting as much evidence as they could. Finally, Ethan declared them free to go.

As they walked out of the house, however, Klara caught a glimpse of Greg’s TV. With a video of an obviously oblivious Lana playing.

Dear God. 

The twins rushed over to Lana’s house, not willing to tell Chloe or Pete what they’d realized in case they’d get hurt. Obviously, Greg had been effected by the meteor rocks the same as Jeremy Creek, and there was no telling what effects, besides the mental ones, they would find. Obviously Greg didn’t have a problem with killing, so neither twin could really get behind bringing their more human friends into it. Not to mention there was something different about Greg and Jeremy. Jeremy thought he was doing the right thing, helping those who couldn’t defend themselves. Greg? Greg was a nerd with a lot of bottled up anger and no way to let it out. Until now.

Running into the barn, they both saw an unconscious Whitney. “Well that’s just great,” Klara muttered, feeling no sympathy for the football player whatsoever.

“Whitney,” Clark called, shaking the other teen as his sister looked around for any sign of Lana or Greg. “Whitney, what happened?”

Whitney groaned, pulling himself up. “That bastard Greg Arkin showed up. Talked a lot of crazy about how Lana was his and then . . . threw me over here like a rag doll.”

Klara jogged over to her brother’s side. “There’s no sign of them, but I saw some footprints headed out to the woods.”

Clark nodded, seeing where his sister was going. “You think he’s headed to the old treehouse?”

Klara thought of it for a second. “It’s pretty secluded since the Foundry was shut down after the meteor hit it. Nothing else is out there and no one who didn’t know Greg would think to check there in the first place. The cops won’t check it out for a while considering that childhood treehouses don’t tend to make good hiding places for people on the run. Yeah, that’s probably it.”

The twins nodded to each other, a silent understanding between them. For all that the area made them sick to their stomachs, they had to go. Clark was the only one who could match Greg’s strength and wouldn’t be hurt.

“I’ll drive,” Whitney declared, storming out of the barn, not noticing that neither of the twins were behind him until he looked up. 

Klara wound up getting to the treehouse after Clark, having accidentally broken her flying branch on the way there. Looking around, she couldn’t find any sign of her brother or Greg. Figuring they had to be around somewhere, she made her way up the treehouse, belatedly realizing that she probably should have called and told Lex about the situation at some point. The way things were going, he’d hear about her finding the body from the local grapevine instead of her. He certainly won’t be happy about that.

Eventually, she found Lana wrapped in layer upon layer of web like a sleeping beauty frozen in time. Obviously, Greg didn’t appreciate it when she gave him a solid “no”. Asshole.

Klara ran over to free her, only to have Greg Arkin drop in front of her, his face uncomfortably close to her own. “Hey there Klar,” Greg whispered, leaning even further into her personal space. “It’s been forever since we spoke. What have you been up to? You know, besides being a floozy slut for Luthur.”

Klara frowned at the dig at her soulmate. Seems someone let it slip. “It’s none of your business,” Klara managed to growl, taking a step back. For all that she was brave, Greg was majorly creeping her out and she didn’t know where her brother was.

“Do you know how so many insects manage to thrive in such large numbers Klara?” Greg asked, completely ignorant to her palpable discomfort, leaning in to run a finger across her face, only to have it slapped away.

“Don’t touch me Greg,” Klara growled, hackles raised. “I’m only telling you once.”

Greg smiled, continuing on like she hadn’t spoken. “It’s simply really. See, scientists don’t really have a word for it, but I like to call it spray and pray.” With that, he grabbed Klara’s hands, binding them beside her in an iron grip as he leaned in closer, almost pressing his body against hers. “See, they spread their genes as far as possible and hope they make it. And they do. So, for all that Lana is my main mate, I could always use another c—”

Whatever sick, twisted thing was about to come out of Greg’s mouth, Klara wasn’t about to hear it. Screw possible effects.

Reaching into her mind, Klara imagined a red, angry shield like the ones of old shooting forward. The second she did, Greg flew off of her and out the other side of the treehouse, the wind firmly knocked out of him. Much to her dismay, though, the other teen simply got up and brushed himself off, glaring up at her before blatantly preparing to jump off again.

Not in the mood for his theatrics, Klara blasted him once again, this time through the fence and walls of the foundry, where and unsuspecting Clark had apparently been waiting. Not that she cared. No, she was going to beat the ever loving shit out of Greg Arkin. 

“You can’t fight natural law Clark!” Greg called, looking around. “Evolution was made so that deficiencies like your and Klara’s little allergy could be eradicated. Only the strong survive! I am the pinnacle of human evolution!”

Clark was about to reply himself, more confident now that he was in an area surrounded by lead to keep the radiation at bay, but Klara beat him to the punch.

“Pinnacle of online troll evolution you mean,” Klara growled, angrily throwing a chunk of wall at Greg, knocking him off his feet. “You know, you’d think that with the way society has been evolving, we’d be past the era where men think they can ignore a woman when she says things like ‘no’ and ‘Don’t. Fucking. Touch. Me.’”

With every word, Klara angrily slammed Greg into whatever surface was farthest from him. Walls, ceilings, equipment, it didn’t matter. She just wanted to see Greg Arkin bleed for what he had dared to presume about her and Lana.

“Klara,” Clark called, seeing that Greg was barely even awake anymore, his wounds pretty bad. “Klara, stop!”

Hearing her brother’s voice, Klara dropped Greg, huffing with emotional upheaval as she looked at her brother, hair wild around her like a murderous aura. “What!” she yelled, still furious. “That—that bastard put his hands on me! Thought he could tell me – He had no fucking right Clark!” Klara was plainly upset, emotions visibly flickering between righteous fury and terror. “He had no fucking right! Just because some damn bugs threw him back some evolutionary steps doesn’t mean he gets to – ”

“I know,” Clark said, putting his arm around his sister and wondering just what the hell Greg had done to his sister. Her clothes were a bit wrinkled, but he figured that was from the fall she’d taken in the woods. “I know, but he’s just a kid. He’s not older than us. You can’t just kill him. You’re better than that.”

Klara was silent, not really sure if her brother was right this time. 

The police took Greg away, strapped to a gurney more to keep his spine straight than to keep him contained.

Ethan Miller looked like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to kill Klara or hug her. She was starting to think that was going to become the norm.

“I asked you not to go around breaking and entering anymore,” he said, once again rubbing the bridge of his nose to try and avoid another migraine, “and instead you track down a known killer and beat him half to death with a pipe.”

Klara took a deep, shuddering breath. “Not exactly,” she said. Eventually, she spun an elaborate tale, making sure Clark could hear her so he could keep up with it. Shortly after leaving Whitney to go tell Lana’s aunt what had happened, Greg had snatched Klara, running into the forest with her. Clark had followed, but lost them about halfway there. Klara had escaped while Greg went out looking for Clark and hid in the foundry until the unsuspecting kidnapper came around a corner.

“I just . . . I just hit him til—til Clark came over and stopped me,” Klara whispered, her eyes looking out into the distance. As much as she would have loved it, this wasn’t an act.

She’d almost killed Greg. She’d been perfectly willing to. If Clark hadn’t stopped her . . . she wasn’t sure what she would have done. He would have deserved it, don’t get her wrong, but he was still, mostly, a human being. What happened to him wasn’t his fault. Sure, what he chose to do after wasn’t either, but Klara had no way of knowing what was Greg’s decision and what was the meteor rock damage.

No one could.

Ethan sighed, putting a comforting hand on the teen’s shoulder. “You defended yourself,” he said, his voice firm and clear. “Even if you think you might have gone too far, you defended yourself. The first rule we teach anyone in self-defense is that, if you legitimately think your life is in danger, you put the person on the ground and you do not let them get back up.”

The sheriff cringed at his own words. Those were things you told soldiers, policemen and women, people who would be in dangerous situations. It wasn’t something he wanted to have to explain to a teenage girl.

Nodding, Klara took the sheriff’s words to heart. Yes, it had been self-defense. She may have gone too far, but Greg had earned every hit the second he touched her. She wasn’t to blame. 

“So,” Lana said, walking over to Klara with a contrite look on her face. “I hear I’ve got you to thank for keeping Greg off me.”

And that thought would probably haunt Lana for the rest of her life. Had Klara not been taken as well, had she not stood up to Greg and just ran, who knows what that bastard would have done to Lana. After all, she was pretty grateful to Whitney for being there when she woke up, but she still owed that happy awakening to one of the biggest problems in her life.

“He was gonna kill Clark,” Lana explained, not wanting there to be any misunderstandings and, frankly, not willing to be nice at the moment. “He deserved it.”

“Yeah,” Lana said, nodding along with a hard look on her face. “He really did.” With that, she left. Let Clark pick up the pieces of his sister while she put herself back.

Her thoughts were broken by a flash of black and gray rushing past her, straight towards Klara.

It seemed Lex Luthur had finally caught wind of his soulmate’s kidnapping.

Lana looked with green eyes as the older man curled himself around Klara, like he was trying to shield her from the world. His hands ran over her hair while he clutched her to him, probably so tight Klara could barely breath. The teen didn’t look like she cared though, gripping Luthur right back, clawing at the back of his suit like she was falling and he was the only thing she could grab. Even from afar, even knowing they’d only known each other for a few days, they looked so fucking in love.

And Lana felt the daffodil on her wrist burn as it shriveled more, a permanent reminder that she would never find a love that deep and strong, knowing that she’d lost her chance at it before it even existed. 

Klara knew that Lex was probably saying something, but she couldn’t really bring herself to care. He was here, with her, and everything was going to be alright now. She wasn’t sure how, but as long as her family and Lex were still there, she’d be fine.

“—and then I got a call that you’d been fucking kidnapped and Jesus Christ woman, I am never letting you out of my sight again!”

Klara nodded into his shoulder, knowing her eyes her watering and her voice would shake as she spoke. “Ok,” she said, gripping him as tightly as she could. “I’m ok with that.”

And Lex frowned. Not really sure how to respond. Klara was a strong girl, he lo-liked that about her (now is not the time for this revelation Alexander), but this girl in his arms, still his beautiful angel, didn’t seem like she had the will to be strong at the moment.

Then again, she had pretty much used up that will power beating the ever loving shit out of her kidnapper, so Lex figured it was an acceptable trade off considering the alternative.

“No you wouldn’t,” Lex eventually said, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice and failing. “You’d be bored after three days. No, you were made to be worshipped—” he kissed her forehead “—not watched.”

Klara sniffled, wondering just what she’d done in a past life or was meant to do in this one that meant she deserved such an amazing man as her soulmate.

Eventually, Clark came over and, not caring about whatever moment Lex was having with his sister, wrapped his arms around them both. He would be eternally grateful, not only that his sister was still with them, but that she had a soulmate who would stand by her, even in times like these.

What Clark hadn’t been expecting was to Lex to loosen one hand from around Klara and bring it around Clark, making their three-way-hug less awkward. “I’m serious about that GPS tracker now,” Lex said, his voice still raw with relief. “Literally sewn into your skin.”

Clark chuckled, seeing the jest for what it was. “I’d like to see you try.” 

The Kent farm was quiet that night, a pleasant end to the hours long cuddle session that had followed along with the explanation of what had actually happened once Lex had left, thankfully with no complaints between him or Johnathan.

It seemed almost losing Klara was a decent way to get those two to agree.

“So,” Clark said, sitting on the edge of Klara’s bed with trepidation. “You gonna be okay or . . .”

The older twin trailed off, leaving the decision to his sister, who shook her head affectionately and opened her arms invitingly. “Come here Beanstalk,” she said, waiting for her brother to crawl into bed next to her, arms caging her to his chest like when they were little. “Thanks big brother,” she said, leaning her cheek against his chest.

Clark chuckled, moving around until he was comfortable on his side. “Any time little sis.”