The Snow Queen

The Snow Queen

Flora Winters

I do not own Smallville or the Snow Queen, but my friends do call me the Snow Queen…for many reasons.

Summary: Winter has taken a life in Smallville and everyone thinks Clark has become colder than ice. MM, Language.

Chapter Two

I run off where the drifts get deeper
Sleeping beauty trips me with a frown
I hear a voice you must learn to stand up for yourself
Cause I can’t always be around
_Tori Amos

Clark was laying on the couch and rolled over to see that it was four in the morning. He had been trying to go to sleep for the past hour and he couldn’t. His mind was in such turmoil and pain stabbed at his heart. He had lost his father and his boyfriend, all in one night. His mom was so strong. He wished he could be more like her.

He could hear the wind blowing outside and it made the house groan as if it could actually feel how cold it was. Something raked across the window and his pale green eyes darted over to see shadows dancing across it. His x-ray vision kicked in and he saw that nothing was there. Maybe he would go hunt himself some crazy meteor freak later so he could take some frustration out on he or she.

“Clark,” a sultry voice called to him and it was light and airy.

His eyes opened again and he looked out the window with his x-ray vision to see that no one was there. He could hear his mom and Bart sleeping soundly, so it could not be either of them. Maybe it was his imagination playing tricks on him. Then he heard a beautiful voice humming and he was at the window in a flash to see snow falling from the sky like diamonds. That was when he saw the form of a woman standing outside the gate with long hair billowing softly along her bare shoulders. Was she crazy? It had to be below zero out there.

Clark went to the door and opened it to hear her call to him.

“Clark,” her seductive voice called out to him and it felt like it was pulling him like a magnet without a choice, “Come to me, Clark.”

The closer he got to her the more beautiful she became. That beauty was icy and what he was seeing was only a snowflake on the tip of a very large iceberg. When he got to the gate he froze. His breath was caught in his lungs and he couldn’t breathe.

The woman had become his hearts desire. There standing with all that terrible and regal beauty was Lex Luthor. That skin was glossy. It shone like moonlight through pure ice crystals. He had hair and it was long and white as blinding snow. Those eyes were like a raging storm on top of the highest mountain peak.

“Lex,” Clark croaked out in heartache and felt tears sting his eyes.

Long white hair billowed like waves of ever moving snow around that beautiful face that could strike a mortal man dead if it so desired. Here was beauty that could make a man’s eyes bleed and cause his heart to explode in his chest. A beauty that can make a man’s brain turn to mush and run out his nose. This was the awesome and terrible beauty of the Snow Queen.

The Snow Queen held out her naked glistening arms to him, “Come to me.”

That voice was so alluring, so Lex, and he wanted to. He wanted to throw himself into those arms and never let go.

“No,” he whispered in deep unbridled pain, “You killed my Dad.”

Those eyes turned to soft moonlight on the surface of a frozen lake and Clark’s heart felt like it was being squeezed by a very powerful hand.

“Please,” she begged and it killed him to hear such raw need, such wanting in Lex’s voice, “Come to me, Clark. Embrace me.”

“I can’t,” he said and his voice cracked like a layer of thin ice, “I won’t.”

“Clark,” a voice called and he spun around as if out of a dream to see Bart standing in the door with a quilt around him, “What’re you doing?”

He turned back around to find that what he thought had been Lex was no where to be seen. There was not even any footprints in the glittering snow where he had been standing.

Clark turned back to Bart, “I think I was sleep walking.”

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“Do you sleepwalk often,” Bart asked with concern as he looked at Clark who was now sitting next to him on the couch.

“I use to when I was younger,” Clark told him, “One time I even think I flew in my sleep.”

“What,” Bart asked in shock, “You can fly too?”

“I use to wake up hovering over my bed,” he said, “That’s why it looks so beaten.”

“Oh,” Bart whispered, “I thought it looked that way because of…other reasons.”

Clark looked at him with a tiny hint of amusement in his cold eyes and Bart snickered. There was still some small piece of his golden friend in there somewhere under all that ice. He would just have to drill deeper.

“What were you dreaming,” Bart asked, “That had you outside like that.”

Clark could see all that fearful beauty, “I don’t remember.”

“I can never remember my dreams either,” Bart told him and put his feet up on the table so he could stretch out, “But I’m told that it’s the brains way of dealing with stress and issues that we can’t deal with while awake…or something like that.”

“Interesting,” Clark said, “Did you read a book?”

“Funny,” Bart said and playfully punched him the shoulder, “I use to keep a dream journal when I was Wiccan.”

“Wiccan,” Clark asked in some interest, “You mean like all that new age mumbo jumbo?”

“Earth based spiritual beliefs actually,” Bart said, “But a lot of it is just money making scams.”

“Huh,” Clark said, “Did you ever do spells and make crazy potions?”

He suddenly saw his three girls as witches again and mentally groaned at what a bitch that had been to have to deal with.

“I can run faster than lightning striking a tree, Clark,” Bart said, “I was simply looking for answers. I thought that maybe some god had either blessed or cursed me with the gifts I have.”

Clark nodded and went on to ask questions about such gods and faery folk. Maybe what he thought he saw or dreamt was one of them. Bart was a data base of mythological lore and Dungeons and Dragons whatnot. I do declare, Mr. Potter.

Clark sat in silence for a few moments to process all the tales and legends Bart had told him. The fae at one time were worshipped as gods. They would steal humans away from this world if they were extraordinarily beautiful or highly gifted in some way that they were jealous of. He was very gifted.

He was about to ask another question when he suddenly felt something land softly against his shoulder. He turned his head to see that Bart had fallen asleep again. Clark gently positioned himself so Bart would feel more comfortable. He did not want him to wake up with a crick in his neck. Bart was now resting in the crook of Clark’s arm and was breathing softly. Clark leaned his head back and closed his eyes. All he wanted was for a dreamless sleep to take him.

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Martha silently made her way into her son’s bedroom that morning to find that Bart was not in bed. She guessed that the young man might be downstairs or simply gone again. She quietly made her way down the stairs to find her son and Bart on the couch sleeping peacefully. The picture she saw broke her heart.

Bart had his head resting in Clark’s lap and was sleeping soundly. Her son had his long legs propped up on the table with his head resting on the armrest snoring softly. A memory of Clark doing this with Ryan flashed through her mind, only Ryan had been a lot younger than Bart. There was not a day that went by that she did not think of her little angel that had brought her and Clark such joy. Her and Jonathan had another little boy and Clark had a little brother. Those few days of joy with Ryan had been a blessing and she wouldn’t trade those memories for nothing.

She left the two of them to sleep and made her way into the kitchen so she could put some breakfast on. She put the coffee into the filter and added the water. That was when she froze. She had gotten down two coffee cups, again.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she sat her glass down so she could hold Jonathan’s close. She quickly put a hand over her mouth so she could smother the scream that wanted to escape. Pain bubbles to the surface and she fought not to sob with all her might. She would not do this. It would scare Clark and Bart. It would not bring Jonathan back.

She quickly sat down at the table and put her head down. The silent tears streamed from her screaming eyes as she grieved in complete silence. It would heal in time. Her heart would be strong again. She had to be strong for Clark. He was not allowing himself to grieve and she had to be there when that impenetrable dam finally explodes.

She sat up and wiped the tears away. She had a breakfast to make and she was sure that Bart would be starving from only haveing chicken soup and medicine. When was the last time she saw Clark eat, anything?

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Clark softly woke to the delicious smell and sound of bacon sizzling in a skillet. He felt his tummy rumble and stretched out for Bart to groan from being disturbed. Bart must not be much of a morning person.

Clark moved his arm as carefully as he could but Bart was wide awake and looking at him with big doe eyes.

“Morning,” Clark said, “You passed out again and I didn’t feel like moving.”

“Is that bacon,” Bart asked while lifting his nose up to sniff the tasty aroma that had his mouth watering.

“Yes,” Clark said getting to his feet, “Are you hungry.”

He blinked and saw papers from the table scatter everywhere, “Bart?”

“In the kitchen,” he called, “Oh my god, real bacon!”

Clark appeared in the kitchen to see Bart hovering over his mom’s shoulders practically drooling at the bacon. Why was he so excited? It was only bacon.

Martha softly laughed, “I see someone has an appetite. Are you feeling better, dear?”

“Much,” Bart said and was suddenly sitting next to Clark at the small table, “Clark kept my nicely drugged.”

“How else was I going to get any peace and quiet,” Clark asked and Bart stuck his tongue out at him.

Martha smiled and put some eggs on to, “How do you like your eggs, Bart?”

“Scrambled,” he said in delight.

“Excellent,” she said and made a big skillet of scrambled eggs.

Clark leaned over and whispered in Bart’s ear, “Don’t tell Mom about this morning.”

Clark’s breath tickled and Bart nodded, “Okay.”

“So,” Martha said while tending to some biscuits, “Were you two up watching television and just passed out?”

“Pretty much,” Bart said, “I wanted to introduce Clark to Mulder and Skully.”

“The truth is out there,” Clark deadpanned.

Martha snorted, “It sure is.”

She took the eggs and bacon off the stove to put it on the table and took a seat. The biscuits would be done shortly.

“Clark,” Martha asked and he looked up at her, “Are you going to go to class today?”

“Class,” Bart asked, “I thought you were done with school.”

“College,” Martha smiled.

“Oh,” he said and looked at Clark. College must be a blast.

“No,” he whispered and moved his spoon so it looked even with his fork.

“What about tomorrow,” she asked and that was when Bart decided that it was time to go wash his hands, upstairs.

“No,” he said and folded his napkin.

“You have to go to school, Clark,” she said.

“I withdrew,” he said, “Right after Dad died.”

“Clark?”

“Mom,” he said looking up at he with his bottom lip trembling, “You need me here to help with the farm.”

“I can get people to help,” she said.

“Its done,” he said, “Its just not for someone, like me.”

“Your father would want you to have a higher education,” she said looking at him, “Sweetheart, you can do so much. You can be anything.”

“I’m an alien, Mom,” he said, “My father was ruler of my planet. If you wanted, I could make you queen of this world…after breakfast.”

Martha’s eyes widened, “I’m not saying that, Sweetheart.”

“I know,” he said, “I can do anything. I don’t need some little piece of paper to tell me so.”

She knew he was right. He could easily do whatever he wanted but he wouldn’t. He had been raised better than that.

“You’re hurting,” she said reaching across the table to take his pale hands in hers, “Why won’t you let it out?”

“Because,” Clark whispered and Martha heard the fear in it, “I’ll hurt him if I do.”

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Bart was standing in the shadows not meaning to hear what all he had. Clark was, is an alien. He had always wondered why Clark had so many amazing powers. Now he knew that one question that had always plagued mankind was answered. His only friend was an alien…and he thought that this was the coolest thing in the world, literally. No wonder Clark is so much better than most people. His body was alien, but his heart, was a Kent.

Before he thought he asked, “Can I see your spaceship?”

“I blew it up,” Clark said and then froze.

“Bart,” Martha asked in fear, “Were you listening just now?”

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, “I was coming down the steps and I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“So you did listen,” Clark said with big scary eyes, “Now I’ll have to kill you like all the others and bury you in the garden.”

Bart’s eyes widened in horror and he took a step back.

“Clark,” Martha said, “You‘re scaring him.”

Clark was in front of Bart in a flash and had him by the arms so he couldn’t lightning speed away, “Promise me you wont tell anyone, Bart.”

“Why would I,” Bart flinched because Clark’s iron grip was hurting him, “You’re my only friend.”

Clark realized what he was doing and released him, “You don’t know what people would do to me, or my mom.”

“Lock you away, dissect you like a lab rat,” Bart asked in a dry voice, “Try to figure out what makes you tick?”

“Bart,” Martha asked in deep concern for the way the young man was talking and saw the tears in his eyes.

Bart closed his eyes and lifted the shirt Clark had given him to wear to expose his chest. Martha and Clark both watched as distortions of light played along his smooth toned skin to reveal angry scars across his midsection and down his chest.

He looked up at them, “I know what it feels like.”

“No,” Clark whispered as he traced his fingers along the hateful scars, “Your parents, how could they?”

“Not all parents love their children, Clark,” he said and lowered his shirt, “I lied to you that day about them because I was ashamed. You have such a loving family that accepts you and mine turned against me the moment I called from New York just ten minutes after I vanished. They were offered money and they took it.”

Clark was in shock. Bart had lived one of his greatest fears.

“How did you do that,” Clark asked, “Hide it like that?”

“I told you,” he said, “I have gifts.”

Martha got up from her seat and went to take Bart in her arms.

“No,” he said, “I don’t want your pity.”

“I’m not giving it,” she said holding him close, “I’m giving you a safe place to stay, if you want it.”

“Safe,” Bart whispered and he could feel that blade cutting into him and trembled.

“How did you escape,” Clark asked wanting to scorch everything Bart’s parents had bought with the money they got for allowing people to torture someone they were supposed to love.

“After I healed,” Bart said and let Martha lead him back to the table while she saved the biscuits from burning, “I took a risk and ran through a wall.”

“What,” Clark asked.

“I can move so fast,” he said, “That sometimes I can pass through solid objects.”

“Sometimes,” Clark asked looking more icy than usual.

“I took a risk,” he said wiping a tear away, “It would be better to die than to live like that.”

Clark looked down at his hands and then at the red marks his hands had left on Bart’s arms. He felt so bad. He didn’t know what to do. He wanted to smash things. He was hurting. His mom was hurting. Bart was hurting.

He reached out and traced his fingers along the angry red marks his hands had left on Bart’s soft skin, “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

“I’m fine,” Bart said, “I’ll just kick your giant butt later when I have a full stomach.”

Clark forced a smile, “Well, you do know my one weakness.”

Martha looked up and Clark explained the incident in the loft when Bart thought he rock collected.

“And I wont need it,” Bart smiled and bit into a piece of bacon, “I’ll just run circles around you until you get so dizzy you’ll fall flat.”

“Uh huh,” Clark said looking around, “Now where did I put that medicine?”

Bart glared and Martha passed the biscuits.

TBC…

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