Debt in the Blood

I probably shouldn't have been using the fireplace until the extent of the structural damage had been properly assessed. But, I wanted a fire. And if the house wanted to burn down around me, it could just fucking well go ahead. In my eyes, it didn't qualify as shelter from the storm.

I sat and watched the fire as I had on that other night, when I watched my juvenile criminal records go up in flames. I'd known that I would have to get my hands on those records before beginning my political career, but it wasn't a priority yet, and I hadn't worked out how to do it.

Then, Roger just walked into my house and tossed them on my table. The originals. My features had registered only contempt, but honestly, I could have hugged the man. From the day Roger came into my life until today, no law enforcement division in the state had me in their files.

Although that wasn't how he meant it, that was the best material gift anyone ever gave me. (Sorry, dad, but it was.) I poured another shot, and raised my glass to the memory of Roger Nixon, and wouldn't it be ironic if I were the only person who did that.

Roger's death had given me another gift: a second chance to save my father. Well, he was really Clark's father, but any father of my lover's is a father of mine. This time, I hadn't hesitated. This time, I'd gotten it right. This time, the price was even higher.

Another shot, and I raised my glass to the other casualties of the storm: my father, and the man I had been. I looked at the bottle. It was still fairly full. I could raise a lot of glasses without even getting up.

So, how about one to Jonathan Kent? 'You saved my life, and I want to say thank you...' The ellipsis had hung in the air so tangibly, that I'd waited for the blow to fall. I didn't wait as long as he did, though, and I got the most expensive handshake that I've ever gotten in my life.

Mrs. Kent had beamed, clearly convinced that this would make it easier when Mr. Kent found out about Clark's relationship with me. I alone saw the backlash building behind Mr. Kent's eyes. This wasn't over.

My thoughts had been circling around Clark all night, and now they came in for a landing. All right, I understood his anger, but I was pissed off, too. It wasn't as though he didn't lie to me all the time. And I had never thrown something he confided in me back in his face.

He still had my last cell phone, the one he took from me in the woods, just before he took back his flashlight and stormed off, leaving me in the dark. I'd had to buy a new cell phone and activate it first thing this morning, which was just an aggravation, but I didn't need any more.

And then. And then.

I hadn't meant to repay Clark with my soul for saving my life; it just worked out that way. It wasn't even a conscious decision. I hadn't had time to think it through before firing.

Yes, I had planned to take whatever Roger had on Clark away at gunpoint. And I had planned on going to the State Prosecutor in the morning, with the carefully preserved file folder that hadn't gone into the fire. I had considered the possibility that Jonathan might be dead. I would not kill Roger Nixon for that. Not for any reason. Except, as it turned out, for Clark.

Afterwards, I stood over Roger's body, trying to understand what I had done. Watching the abyss that took the place of Roger's life. Trying to see what had taken the place of mine, given that the idea of trading Roger's life for an abyss didn't seem entirely a bad deal to me. Trying to feel the mark of Cain being branded on my soul. For Clark.

And from that moment to this, Clark had yet to say one word to me, on that subject or any other. He'd left the woods with his pure and happy family, and I hadn't seen him since.

I had expected him to show up at the hospital to wait with me. We were lovers. And, much as I hate hospitals, I'd waited with him. And I don't kill people for just anybody. What more did he need? Whatever it was, he didn't get it, and he didn't show.

It's a very long vigil, when you're waiting for the truth. And sometimes, it just goes downhill from there. Now, I was stretched past the point where I could make myself go looking for Clark. I needed him to come to me. Or not. I raised my glass to Clark, for reasons that I'd work out later, sometime when I wasn't feeling quite so raw.

It seemed to me that something of the file folder still survived in the flames, but I knew it was impossible. Tomorrow, I needed to go looking for entertainment. Maybe I'd talk to Lana. I had no idea how my killing Roger bore on the fact that she'd lost her parents in the meteor shower, but I was positive that I'd find out. I raised my glass to Lana, just because I needed a laugh.

I dreamt that I was in a storm, looking down at Roger's body, the blood washed away by the rain that pounded him. Someone ran into me from behind. I turned around and saw my father stumbling around with his hands over his eyes.

"I can't see! I can't see!" he called, his voice sounding thin and distant in the wind.

"Dad, you've got your hands over your eyes," I called back, moving close to make myself heard. I grabbed one of his arms and tried to pull it down.

I let go in shock when someone grabbed me from behind. I thought it was Roger, but I looked over my shoulder, and he was still lying there, dead.

"This makes no sense," I thought. "Everything changes. Why is he still dead?"

The unseen entity that had grabbed me lifted me off the ground, out of the storm, and over to a cloud that drifted in a bright, blue sky. My wet clothes fell off of me, and my skin dried in the warm sunshine.

That's when I realized that my face was wet with tears. I wiped the tears off with my hands. My face was still wet. I wiped my face again and again. My hands got wetter and wetter, but my face would not dry off. This really annoyed me.

Strong hands tucked me gently into the cloud as if it were a bed, pulling part of it over me. I snuggled into the pure white warmth, still annoyed that I couldn't get rid of the tears.

I rolled over and turned off the alarm before the thought even registered that I shouldn't be in bed. I hadn't gone to bed. Yet here I was. Naked.

I sat up and looked around. I was alone in my room. My clothes were neatly folded on a chair. My cell phone, the one Clark took from me when he caught me trying to reach Roger, was lying on top of them.

I ran my hands over my face. It was completely dry.

- End -