[Locked to Clark]
Clark, for once, I'll say it, you were right about Chloe—to a degree, at least. She's smart, and she cares for you, and she knows where power lies and how to cut it down. She doesn't know how to watch out for herself, or when to recognize that she's playing outside of the safety of her own playground, but those are forgivable sins. If I find you, and get you back, based on her information, I will watch out for her from now on.
She knew enough to connect my father to the death of one Virgil Swann. And she knew enough to look into the activities of Patricia Swann. She's compiled quite a case against my father; he wouldn't like the looks of it. I'll have to bet on that.
Molly had mentioned emails from Patricia Swann, cryptic emails--and while it was concerning, I didn't have enough to go on to link it to the letters or to your absence. I should have realized; Swann the elder was your protector. Or so we believed. I hate to instill doubt, Clark, but you had best prepare yourself for the possibility that he was your betrayer from the beginning.
I'm going to meet with Patricia this evening. I put it to her in a way that she could not possibly refuse. I don't yet know the level of her involvement, but if she is behind those letters to my father, it may be high. From her response to me, I gathered that she does not know my investment in the affair, beyond my interest in my father. This will be one advantage--not my only one, but one that may take me far.
Forgive me, Clark, for not stopping this, for not unraveling it sooner, and for the masquerade I will perform this evening with Patricia.
And even if you don't forgive me, not completely, do this much: wait for me.
Every minute that ticks away is eating at me, gnawing away at my insides. I can’t take this anymore. I need more information, more than this itch of memory at the back of my skull. The letters--these letters that suggest knowledge of a visitor, of a secret society, it’s the stuff of Sherlock Holmes novels gone very, very wrong. You’d think I’d seen enough of the unbelievable in my day.
If only they were emails, Molly could track down the source so easily--speaking of the unbelievable. The first time I saw her manipulate wires and code, it seemed nothing short of wondrous. Now I come to depend on it, and I can’t believe I am stumped by something as mundane as paper--that Clark’s well being could depend on something as mundane as paper, and the lack of a paper trail.
Fuck. Veritas. Veritas. Why does that mean something to me, something beyond these cryptic letters?
And here is Chloe, again. On IM, no less. That girl has hubris. How did she even get this username? Clark confides in her too much. It’s dangerous.
[Advisor locked post]
This is much more than I thought it was. What I've learned inspires more dread than were I looking down the barrel of a gun. The pieces don't fit together yet, far from it, but it's enough to ensure I won't sleep again until I can feel my angel, touch him. And until my father is at my mercy.
Bruce, together with my assistant, aided me in getting access to my father's computer system and his inner lair. It was locked up tight, but Bruce... enjoys this sort of thing, and my assistant is quite talented herself.
A series of cryptic emails led the way to a box of letters that have turned my insides out. It's all still illogical--the pieces don't add up, yet--and yet I feel, no, I know I'm skirting around something that I should have known long ago. That maybe I did know, once.
But because my mind is not my own, and never has been, Clark is fucking missing. He's missing and I should have taken care of my father long, long ago.
It was just one word that triggered it, this sense of a memory, like deja vu, that I can't yet grasp. I've been down this road before, but the second time round, I'm blind with rage, with disgust. I don't know how to get past it. For Clark's sake, I have to.
Without Clark, my judgment is off. I told Chloe Sullivan to go fuck herself today. I probably shouldn't have done that.
But I couldn't deal with her. I have a meeting with someone who may help some of these jagged pieces to come together. She'd better be willing to talk.
I'm not feeling much mercy today.
Fuck. It's been days now! And Clark's just gone. There's no sign whatsoever. It could be--he could be--there are too many possibilities, with no leads. Kal could be off fucking everything he sees; but there have been no reports of that from any corner, including all of my and Bruce's reaches into the darkest dredges of the underworld. But Kal... who knows with him?
Or, more likely, Clark's embarked on some journey for Jor El, perhaps voluntary, perhaps not. Fuck, he's been trapped in a wall for months in the past. Who the fuck knows what's happened!
I say I have no leads, but it's not entirely true. I have one. No reason to believe it's related other than my gut and past experience. My father has locked up shop. He's nowhere to be found. Indeed, he and Clark disappeared from Smallville at essentially the same time. Of course his staff indicated he's been busy with meetings and various commitments, but none of those have been public, and I can't get in. All of his security--including his informational security has been locked up.
I need to get Molly in there. If she could get her hands on one of his personal computers... maybe Bruce can help with this.
And finally, I need to get Miss Sullivan off my back. I know she's worried about Clark too, but I fail to see how she can add anything to this search.
[Friends locked post]
If I were truly narcissistic, I'd wonder if this is punishment for my not coming home earlier. I had one more meeting scheduled, just one more, and I did not see fit to cancel it. I could have headed back a day earlier. Maybe if I had...
Fuck. That's pointless. Clark is not here. I cannot waste time on what ifs. I need to locate him.
I never made the meeting, because my angel's parents left a frantic message at 4am this morning. Clark is missing. They assumed he had made an improptu visit to me, but his leaving without informing them was uncharacteristic, and when he didn't return at all that night and didn't call...
They weren't happy to hear that he wasn't with me. I flew back as soon as I knew he was missing, and have just now returned from visiting them. I told them I had everything in hand, and that no doubt Clark has his reasons for absenting himself. Perhaps another trip to his birth parents. He's made those before without explanation. Or perhaps he's indulging his more reckless side... not a happy thought, but at least one we've dealt with before. In my gut, I question either explanation. I need to take stock. I need to think.
Fuck. In times of crisis, my angel focuses me. Molly's attempts to appease me only set me more on edge. But I will enlist her help. At least I know I can trust her.
[Locked from Clark]
It's been too long since I've been home. I've allowed it. Perhaps I shouldn't have. I have things to deal with on the home front. My father. Certain problems that I believe lead to my father. I've done all I can to maintain security in my absence, but I need to hold him accountable for previous infractions.
And then there's my angel. We've barely repaired our relationship. We have so much work to do. I have to make good on a promise, follow through on a sharing of information that he deserves. But I anticipate that his reaction will not be positive. I think it will hurt him, scare him, force him several steps backward. I can think of no way to sugar coat it--and believe me, I've been trying. He wants honesty from me--but does he really?
All of this awaits me upon my return. Perhaps it's no wonder that I've stayed away so long.
I do miss him. When I wake up early in the morning, alone in an anonymous bed in an anonymous if choice suite. Maybe I should have asked him to come with me. But he has family, friends, and responsibilities. Still, I'd give about anything to feel his hands on me now. I have been away too long.
How easy it is to fall back into old patterns with Clark. I value those patterns, having lived without them. Elements seem new--or more. Having him here, all the time, changes things. I feel as if I experience life differently. It's almost a shock, after so much time alone.
Pragmatically, it's harder to maintain privacy regarding secure issues. Soon, he will push me on what happened with Sasha, I am sure of it. It may be better to act preemptively and take him on that tour of 33.1 that I promised him. However, to do so opens up a potential host of problems. But the deed is already done, and I could only hope to maintain privacy from him regarding 33.1 for so long. Better that he thinks favorably of me when I show him the scope. Whether his favor will last... that I can't say.
Fuck. I was hoping to acheive clarity on this issue this morning. Instead, I feel as if I'm setting myself to be attacked coming and going. Molly already had her say--I'm not doing enough to protect 33.1. No matter what he says, Clark will be disturbed by its very existence.
[Friends locked post]
Despite the chill of February, the city does not seem so bleak today. You can all feel free to proclaim that you told me so, but I suppose it does not take enormous vision to see that I belong with my angel. For better of for worse--isn't that how it goes? Though our version of for worse was pushing the limits, even for me, this past year. I needed time. I still do, as I keep telling him. But cutting him off completely--and taking actions meant to hurt him--there's no solution there, either. I can't yet pinpoint my motivations, except that I was angry, angry at the complexities which always haunt us, but which had taken away my will far more than ever before. And with no side benefits.
Because you know me. I enjoy a little removal of will--as long as there's pleasure in store. My angel has his moments--and I of course know how to recognize them by now. I think it was just what we both needed. Sometimes it helps to be grounded in your body. The moment I saw the gleam in his eye, not to mention his less-than-subtle leather attire, I knew what the game was and why. Kal is like an old friend of mine, and I welcome him when I get the chance.
Today, he seems to have returned more to his normal self. I've continued to insist that we need to take things between us slowly. We can't just pretend that the past six months never happened. But he refuses to go home, and I'm not in the mood to argue. So, for the meantime, I'll keep him.
[Friends locked post]
It's beautiful, Clark. You know me well.
We need to take our time, but for what it's worth, I'm glad that we've said what we've said. Without you, I head down a path that only masquerades as necessary.
Let's give it time and see if we can't heal what's been broken.
[Locked from Clark]
His warmth is dizzying. It makes me feel alive, and sends an ache right through me. His love, it would appear, is unconditional, even when I tell him things I shouldn't, things for which he should be angry with me.
I kept him at arm's length for all this time for just this reason. And I suppose I knew that even opening up dialogue would lead me here.
He insisted on seeing me, and had seemingly no hesitation in seeking me out at home once I had opened up dialogue online. Once he was there with me, determined to break down the distance I had gone to such pains to erect, I knew I would end up here: as lost to him as I ever was.
His emotions are so pure, so basic. He trusts me. He needs me. I had thought to protect him from afar, but I cannot set those terms. Nor should I. Not when he needs me like this.
I would do anything for him. Not for one moment did that ever change.
Did I do things that hurt him? Perhaps purposefully to hurt him? Without a doubt. How could I?, you might ask. I don't have an answer for you.
It must have something to do with the anger I still feel, burning in my gut. It's not directed at him; it's impossible to be angry with him, when he is so loving and so innocent and so hopeful, his whole life before him. But it's there, fostered by circumstance, by the circumstances of my life.
Maybe I should direct it to where I have always in the past--my father. I have little doubt he is behind a recent security breach, the same that brought Clark knocking on my door, intent on blaming me--or perhaps intent on acquitting me.
Maybe my anger should safely find a target in Queen, who put the idea in my angel's head that I could be capable of willful atrocity. He'll pay for that.
I do not know how to reconcile this anger with the sweetness of him, with the forgiving euphoria of his kiss. He's like a drug that promises to solve everything, but leaves you only wanting more.