Forbidden Love

Forbidden Love

Flora Winters

I do not own Smallville or any of its amazing characters.

Summary: Kal fell in a crash of booming thunder and hisses of lightning but he was not the only being to fall from the heavens on that night. This takes place at around and about the beginning of Season Four.

Chapter Seventeen

Clark was now locked up in a cell and he was not happy. He was somehow stuck in Lionel’s body and had some freaky stone in his hand looking at drawings and cave symbols all over the wall of the cell. What in the hell had he gotten himself into this time?

“I’ve been meaning to look at the one for quite a while,” a voice said from behind him.

Clark turned to look at the little man who froze, “You must be, Lex?”

“Lex,” Clark asked in confusion, “I’m Clark Kent.”

“Oh, dear,” the strange little man said, “Why do these things always have to happen to me?”

“Not just you,” Clark muttered and held up the stone, “Where did Lionel get this stone?”

He simply hated looking at his hands now. They were so wrinkled and he felt like throwing up. It was no telling what all these evil hands had done.

“I don’t know,” the man stuttered and Clark knew he was lying.

“You have to tell me,” Clark said and moved towards him, “Please.”

The man pulled him over to the wall away from the bars, “It came from a Mayan Rain God statue. One of his teams found it in an underwater ruin off the coast of Honduras.”

“How did he know that it was there,” Clark asked looking at the statue and the magical stone.

“He’s been running around the globe for years,” the man told him, “These ancient symbols have showed up in Egypt, Central America, and even in a sacred Indian cave right here in Kansas.”

“These symbols,” Clark said turning his back to him, “Looks like they mean something.”

“You bet,” the little man said following behind Clark, “The mark on that stone means water, the element of transformation.”

“How do you know that,” Clark asked needing to know. He needed to understand so he could change all this. He wanted his body back. It was no telling what that evil man might do and who he might hurt.

“I’m just that good,” the man said.

He then pointed to two more behind them, “This one means air and that one is fire. You take the three and put them together.”

“What will happen,” Clark asked.

“Power,” the man said, “The power of a God.”

Clark almost trembled. He could not let Lionel have power like that. He already had his body…that was enough.

“At first I didn’t believe it,” the man said, “But now I see that it is real, Clark.”

“How did you end up in here,” Clark asked.

“If you ask the DA,” he said, “I embezzled 14 million dollars from the Princeton University Pension Fund.”

“Oh,” Clark said assuming that was a shit load of money and a no-no, “Did you do it?”

“I’m a mathematician,” the man said looking at him, “I’m looking for hidden patterns in the Dead Sea Scrolls. Money means little to me. You know what happened? Well, I shall tell you what happened. I was framed, that’s what I was!”

“And you just magically happened to end up in this prison,” Clark said putting the puzzle pieces together, “In Lionel Luthor’s cell?”

“Lucky me, huh,” the man said cocking his head to the side, “All I have to do is help him play “God” and he sets me up with his lawyers. I just hope he lasts long enough for me to get out of here.”

That caught Clark’s attention, “What are you talking about?”

“He’s dying,” the man said, “Lionel’s dying.”

Clark turned to look at himself in the mirror and reached out to touch his reflection, “If he’s dying,” he said, “Then that means…I’m going to die.”

He was not going to cry. He was not going to cry!

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Lionel was digging around in the loft trying to find some nice fitting clothes. He had a sweet young body and was going to fucking show it off. There was no way in hell he was going to hide behind that stupid plaid.

“This is Lionel Luthor,” he said into his cell, “Account number 4757212. I would like to liquidate my entire account and purchase bearer bonds.”

“Mothers maiden name,” the voice asked, “Mr. Luthor?”

“Meehan,” he said picking up a football and stretching his sweet new muscles.

“And what is your,” the voice asked and then said, “I’m sorry, Mr. Luthor, there seems to be a problem with your voice verification.”

The football exploded in his hand, “What?”

“Clark,” Martha called coming up the steps.

He hung up the phone and turned around, “Martha?”

“I know you think you’re all grown up and everything, Clark,” she said in that motherly tone, “But, please call me Mom, not matter how old you are.”

“Sorry,” Lionel said, “Mom.”

“Dinners ready,” she said looking at how he was dressed, “Are you going out?”

He turned to put on a nice blue dress shirt, “No,” he said, “I just wanted a change. I’m bored with plaid.”

“Well,” she smiled, “I’ll see you inside.”

He moved to stop her only to rush by her in a blur to grab a lamp. What the fuck was that?

“Clark,” Martha asked in question, “What are you doing?”

“I, uh,” he stuttered, “I just wanted to tell you how lovely you look today…Mom.”

“Something is not right,” she said looking at him, “I can see it in your eyes.”

Oh, shit!

She leaned closer and he slowly leaned back, “Is it because of that ringing your heard?”

Thank you Gods!

“I don’t know,” Lionel lied and was totally lost on what to do, so he just simply threw out his arms and looked really sad, “I need a hug.”

Lionel held her close and suddenly began to fell really hot, fire hot. Fire shot from his eyes and a cow mooed in pain.

“Clark,” Martha said pulling back to race to the window to see the tractor in flames, “What’s the matter with you?”

“I, I don’t know,” he said in honesty this time, but that was so cool.

“Well,” she said, “Jump down there and put it out.”

“Put it out,” he asked looking up at her, “How?”

“With your hands,” she said.

Lionel did as he was told and it was fun. He held his hands in the fire and felt nothing at all. Was Clark a God? He had all these amazing powers. It didn’t matter. He was God now. God of the fucking corn patch!

“Hey, Mom,” Lionel said walking into the house, smelling the yummy dinner.

“Hey,” Martha said smacking his hand for daring to use her nice dish towel to wipe off his hands, “Go clean up in the bathroom, Clark.”

He snorted.

“Hey, Clark,” Jonathan said walking in with Jason, “Look who came to check up on you.”

“Hey,” Jason said.

Jonathan walked by Lionel and patted him on the back and Lionel did the same. That threw Jonathan for a loop.

“How are you feeling,” Jason asked, “Because it’s good to see you up and about?”

“I feel just fine,” Lionel shrugged. What next?

“You sure,” Jason asked, “Because you’re looking at me like you have no clue as to who I am.”

“No,” Lionel said and started acting goofy.

“I know who you are,” he said looking at Jason’s jacket and poked at the symbol on it, “You’re my coach.”

That was smooth Lionel. He gave him self a diamond star for that one.

“I’ll see you at practice tomorrow,” Jason called to him as Lionel walked up the stairs to clean up. Martha was a great cook. He could eat her cooking everyday. She used to bring him all kinds of goodies when she worked for him at Luthorcorp.

That stopped him and he put a hand on his hip in annoyance. Why in the hell did he put his hand on his hip and then cocked it to the side? Oh, my, GOD! Never mind!

Practice? Oh, hell to the nah! He shook his head and turned to look down at the annoying man.

“I’m not going to be able to make it,” he said and turned to go back up the stairs.

“It’s really important that you do,” Jason said wondering just what in the hell had gotten into him. Did that headache fuck up his mind again? He had been so excited earlier. Amnesia is such a bitch.

Lionel stopped again. Did this body get no privacy at all? Did people not know how to take a hint? He wanted to scream, “Get the fuck out of here so I can eat my damn dinner! I’m fucking hungry you little worm, and Mar…Mom’s food is getting cold! AHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

“Considering that you could get a scholarship Friday,” Jason told him.

Lionel leaned against the banister with his hand on his hip and he just bet he looked as gay as hell, but he didn’t care. Let someone call him a fag, and he would send their asses flying through a brick wall.

“Coach,” Lionel said coming down the steps looking like some deadly predator and took Jason by the arm leading him to the door, “I just, I need to rethink my priorities.”

He practically almost threw Jason out the door, “I have no interest in football, whatsoever.”

“Clark,” Jason yelled spinning around out of his grasp, “Hey!”

Count to five Lionel. You are a God now. Act like it! So he blasted Jason to itty bitty bits…in his head.

“You realize that every player would kill to be in your position,” Jason told him, “And you get a free ride to any college you want.”

“I’ll lend them some shovels and pitchforks,” Lionel said with a big grin, “And you can tell them to fight it out. Victor takes all.”

Jason blinked, “You’re quitting the team?”

“Uh-huh,” Lionel said and slammed the door in Jason’s stunned face. He let out a small laugh and did a victory dance up the stairs to clean up. Dinner was getting cold and he did not know how to work a microwave.

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“Edgar,” Clark said, “I’ve got to make a call. How do I do that?”

“You get a turn once a week,” Edgar told him, “Unless you know how to work the system like I do.”

“Edgar,” Clark begged while he followed him looking around nervously, “Please, I need your help.”

“What’s in it for me,” he asked.

“I can get you out of here,” Clark told him.

“If the real Luthor can’t do it,” Edgar asked, “How can you? You have no money and no power.”

Clark closed his eyes to keep from smiling and leaned forward, “I have more power than you think.”

“Looks like its time to play, who wants to beat a billionaire,” a voice called out.

Edgar ran for his life and Clark was going to kill Lex’s dad once he got his body back.

“You got my five large,” a very large man asked.

“A five what,” Clark asked in confusion when he saw the guards leaving. He was going to bring this place down when he got out of here…if he got out of here.

“What are you talking about,” Clark asked in fear. He was vulnerable and could be killed. He didn’t want to die. He wanted his mom.

“The senile act is not going to work old man,” the big man said.

“Things have changed,” Clark said thinking fast, “I don’t have any money.”

The man punched and Clark ducked. He threw his own punch only for the man to catch it, and it took Clark to his knees in pain.

“Don’t play with me, old man,” the goon said, “I’m in here for three life sentences.”

He punched Clark in the face and he went down hard, “What’s one more?”

Another man kicked him in the back and Clark cried out in pain. He curled up into the fetal position in fear.

Everything suddenly froze in mid-motion and the man with the neck tattoo looked around in confusion. Everything and everyone was frozen in place. He could see water that was spilled from a glass frozen into water droplets that floated along in the air.

He jumped when an icy voice hissed like a cold winter wind, “How about we play another game instead?”

The man spun around to see a glorious being floating five feet off the floor a little ways off. That luminous white flesh was clothed in dark spider silks that hissed like deadly snakes around his lithe muscular frame. That long onyx hair was billowing like the surf on a violent ocean.

What the fuck!

“Who are you,” the man trembled in fear as he backed away.

“In fact,” Loth said ignoring the vermin, “I’ve always wanted to play Wheel of Fortune.”

“Hey,” the man yelled, “What the fuck are you? What the fuck…?”

His head was suddenly spun clean off and everything crashed back into motion. Clark just laid there as people ran in terror as a headless body fell to the floor. He turned to the side to see the man’s head rolling across the floor for someone to kick in horror.

TBC…

Please review and tell me what you think.

Flora.