Summary: Lex remembers. Kind of. (Assumes he really lost his memory in Asylum) Disclaimer: Still not mine.
Synaptic impulses connect briefly, spider-jumping in an erratic tickle and fading again. Lex reels up in bed, struggling to retain the image long enough to forge a memory he can recall later.
blood. on the floor. copper in his mouth. pain...somewhere.
He reaches to the bedside table in the meager light and grabs for the pen and paper. Writes down the words. They don't make sense. They never do, but he still writes them down, because he knows they are all.....important, and if he doesn't make them into reality with the pen as soon as he can, they will be forgotten ghosts in his mind by morning. Lays back down against his body-warmed sheets and pulls distractedly at the fading images. Thinks about the other words on the paper, born of unnamable night terrors and desperate determination to remember.
colors....red, blue, and another one, maybe yellow
hand on my face, unwanted, despised
blood on my hands....and white
shuffling, faceless bodies, crowding me
"You'll never have to work again as long as you live."
"...coming to fry your ass in about five minutes..."
"do it again"
"Do it again," Lex repeats softly into the dimness of the bedroom, and his stomach turns savagely, he barely makes it into the bathroom before he vomits violently.
Erases those three words from the paper as soon as he feels sturdy enough to stumble back to the bed. They aren't worth the trouble they cause. Goes to sleep again, fitfully, because there is no medication in the entire mansion; no sleeping pills, no aspirin, not so much as an antihistamine, because he can't swallow them. Throws up every single time he tries. Has to rely on fatigue to sleep, and his mind doesn't seem to get tired anywhere near as often as he'd like.
His body does, he makes sure of it, but his treacherous intellect never rests. Tells him things he hasn't been able to figure out yet.
Sleeps again now and jerks awake sometime nearer to dawn. More words for his half-empty paper and Lex wonders how many pages he will have to fill before he puts the pieces together.
"all this time, I was right about you."
"let's get you out of here."
"i've got your back."
saving him.....but not
warm skin under his hands as he grips the sides of Clark's face desperately, and it's like drowning all over again
"i know your secret."
Except he doesn't. Not yet. But he will.
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