Prompted by ladydey
a/n: i like where this ends but i can see it becoming something larger. y/n in comments
Out of Ice Cold Ashes
He’d been raised with a vigorous disbelief in God. His father only believed in himself and his own powers and refused to let his son be raised under what he’d considered to be a mass delusion. There was enough public posturing to counter the atheism of his household; Lionel Luthor understood that people flocked more readily to those they could identify with and religion was the great mask every public figure had to wear. His catechism was taught, he’d been baptized and every Easter and Christmas he’d find his way to some church or another to be photographed.
Lex didn’t know if there was anyone out there, looking out for him, and if there were he considered just how useless they’d been at their particular assignment. If he’d been given a guardian angel, that creature was the most apathetic or sadistic of all the heavenly hosts, he was sure.
Now he was going to die and he was going to find out, for better or for worse if there was more to the world he’d grown to hate so much. If there was, he was sure there was a hell with his name engraved on it but somehow, he didn’t care. He wanted to be punished. At least it meant someone, somewhere, has been watching his life, all this time. Infamy was better than invisibility. His father had instilled that into his son more than anything.
He held Clark in his arms and welcomed everything unknown.
If there was a God, he hated him. There was no welcome to infinite darkness of religious apathy or the clawing viciousness of Hell. Instead there was just the blare of bright white light and bone-chilling cold. He had wanted to die but he was alive and the sun was reflecting off the snow and burning his corneas. He was being dragged; slowly dragged across sheets of ice and snow. Rolling his blue eyes away from the bleak horizon he looked to his feet and all he saw was the back of a red jacket.
No. This was supposed to be over, this was supposed to end. They were both supposed to be dead. “Why?” He breathed, his lips dry and cracked. He pulled on his legs and kicked as hard as he could, sending Clark tumbling forward. His eyes burned but he couldn’t bring himself to tears, not even angry ones. He stared up into the expansive, empty blue sky. “Why are you always trying to save me?” He choked out.
Other than the whistling wind his only reply was a small moan. He rolled to his side and struggled to his knees. The scenery was barren. There was nothing and no one for miles, just the rush of the empty arctic sea. He sighed, curls of white fog rising from his lips. “I wanted this to be over.” And he had no energy left for anger or pain. He just wanted to give up and go wherever people like him went when their world had ended. He finally turned to Clark, expecting those green eyes to be on him, looking sorry for how weak he was, looking at him like there was something inside him worth saving. Looking at him like forgiveness was possible enough that he would have dragged him so far, so long. But Clark was face down in the snow and he wasn’t moving.
He crawled to him, his blue fingers were numb and it hurt to move but he crawled to him and with difficulty he turned him onto his back.
Clark was as white as the snow. He looked made of it. His face was calm, peaceful and still. Small rises of mist were the only things telling him he was even still breathing. Lex’s hand passed over his face. “Why couldn’t we just die?” He sat back on his heels. “I don’t want to remember you.” He rolled his head back and closed his eyes to the sky. “I don’t want to remember me.”
When death refused to come in the minutes he sat there pleading with the God he wasn’t sure was there, Lex bent towards Clark again and saw that the red of his coat was darker in one place than it was anywhere else. For the first time since waking in this desolated wilderness, Lex Luthor felt real fear. Pushing back the jacket he saw the jagged holes in the thin blue undershirt. Peeling back the t-shirt he saw the wounds. Crushed under the weight of one of those sharp ice crystals or any other falling debris, Clark’s entire left side was torn open, what little blood that hadn’t escaped fast enough was frozen on his skin.
It was then that Lex Luthor lost his ambiguity about the existence of God. If he was all loving, all caring then there was no chance this situation was even feasible. There was no chance he’d be allowed to survive this, to live however many years were left in his empty life every day punished by the memory of ever-self-sacrificing Clark Fucking Kent.
“You’re not going to haunt me you shit!” He screamed, finding the energy to get to his aching feet. He spun around, not knowing where to go. There was no where to go. There was nothing to do. This was Hell. This was his hell. “NO!” He screamed, his face contorting. The future was as bleak as the horizon before him.
He collapsed, light fading, hoping darkness or demons would save him.
Prompted by ladydey