Sentimentality

     Lionel was angrily
waving a photograph in the air as he made his way towards the fireplace
shouting nonsense about the pointlessness of sentimentality while Lex stood by
near tears, voice small as he tried to reason with his father.

     Whatever that was
a picture of it must have meant something to Lex because he style='mso-bidi-font-style:normal'>never tried to reason with his father,
being more prone to sarcasm and quotations during their usual arguments.

     Lionel tossed the
photograph into the fireplace and the look on Lex’s face as he did was enough
to make Clark take action.

     Moving faster than
the human eye Clark snatched the picture out
of the air before it could touch the flames and zipped back out of the
room.  Back in the hall he leaned against
the wall, shutting his eyes.  Wishing his
hearing wasn’t quite so good.

     Lex was crying now
because as far as he knew the photograph was ash.

     The tears running
down Lex’s cheeks was weakness in his father’s eyes and Lionel muttered the
word pathetic under his breath as he brushed by his son and exited the
library.  His eyes falling on w:st="on">Clark in the hall with none of the derision they’d held
for Lex.  He nodded briefly in
acknowledgement of Clark’s presence, as if nothing
had happened, before disappearing into some obscure section of the mansion.

     Glaring in the
direction Lionel had gone Clark turned away
and went into the library, saying a soft “Lex” as he entered.

     Lex wouldn’t turn
around, wouldn’t face him, just stood staring into the
flames the firelight reflecting off the dampness on his cheeks.

     Standing behind
his friend Clark raised Lex’s hand just enough to press the worn photograph
into his palm.

     There was no good
lie for this.  No tale Clark
could weave to hide behind.  There was no
feasible, ordinary explanation for how he could have gotten a hold of that
picture.

     But for once Lex
didn’t seem to care about the hows.  He
didn’t question it, didn’t demand answers. 
Just clutched the photograph of a woman with auburn hair and eyes the
same blue as his to his heart and took a shuddering breath.

     It was the only
picture he had of his mother.  The rest
having fallen victim long ago to an end he’d feared for this one.

     Turning slightly,
the photograph still clasped to his chest, Lex gave Clark
a grateful smile.  “Thank you.”