Must be the November air...This'll be the 4th consecutive day of Constellation! And, truth be told, I even have Monday's installment sitting on my hard drive, ready to go.

Rating: NC-17
Characters: Clark, Lex, Jonathan, Whitney, Lana, Gabe Sullivan, plus one.
Summary: The most heroic thing Clark did on a regular basis was to stitch up Taber’s right side whenever he needed it.
A/N:Wow, this makes three days running. And I think the plot is starting to unfold the way I want it to, after only 220 pages of exposition. Yay.

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3:1
Part 3:2
Part 3:3
Part 3:4
Part 3:5
Part 3:6


The three of them met in Whitney’s apartment over Fordman’s. While Justin and Whitney exchanged halting pleasantries, Clark stood and stared out the window, looking across into Lana’s own apartment which still had its blinds closed tight.

“We knew, of course,” Whitney was saying, in response to Justin’s question. “Chloe warned us, and besides, you’d have to be blind not to notice that there’s something weird going on in this town. But Lana didn’t want to leave, and she wouldn’t let me go either, and with my father…”

Justin nodded, fumbling for his cigarettes and then putting them away again as he remembered he wasn’t in a Grandville club. “I never wanted to come back,” he said, “but, then, I didn’t want to really leave, either. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have stuck so close to home for college.”

“Smallville has a way of making people stay,” Whitney agreed, “and the more they want to leave, the more they get stuck here. Look at Clark.”

They both did look at Clark, who felt their gaze on him but refused to return it. “Whit, why do you think they left me alone?”

Whitney was silent for a moment. “I always thought it was because you’d had a run-in with one of them, way back when you were helping Chloe fight. And maybe something you did scared them.”

Clark shook his head slowly, reaching out to set the blinds swaying. Not part of Constellation, as Justin’s compatriots believed, or an overtly dangerous adversary, as Whitney thought – Clark’s best guess was that, somehow, the Constellation people knew that he wasn’t just another meteor freak, and thus outside their project’s scope. But Clark had been raised to fear the curiosity of men in white coats, and he found it nearly impossible to accept that, knowing his secret, they wouldn’t want to understand it.

Which led him back to his father’s strange passion in the barnyard that morning. Your mother and I, he had said, didn’t keep you safe so that…

Clark was slowly circling the phrase in his mind, not yet daring to pick at its edges, to discover what it might mean, how much it might explain. “Who are they?” Clark asked Justin, hoping this time he might get an answer.

Justin shook his head. “I don’t know, Clark. I wish I could tell you. I mean, we know where they work from – but they’re so careful, you never find out what they know, who they work for. Most of what I remember comes from the others, and who knows how much of it was true and how much was just speculation… and, like I said, everything’s all blurry.”

“Where,” Clark began, then cleared his throat against a sudden hoarseness, “where do they work from?”

Justin looked up, startled. “*You* know,” he said, and Clark was getting tired of finding out how much he *didn’t* know. “Where we all go, when we get taken away.”

Clark looked across at Whitney, who, for once, appeared to be as baffled as Clark.

“Belle Reve,” Justin said, and this time when he pulled out his cigarettes, neither Clark nor Whitney stopped him as he tapped one out and lit it. Seeing the blank expressions of his companions, Justin exhaled a lungful of smoke, took another hard draw, and explained. “It’s a mental hospital, supposedly state-run, not far outside town.”

“And that’s where they took Lana?” Whitney asked, rising and pacing.

Justin shrugged. “Probably. I mean, there might be more places. Some people talked about a place in Metropolis, called Spring… something. I can’t remember.”

Whitney cut a glance over at Clark, obviously surprised by this sudden vagueness, but Clark quelled any questioning with a brief hand gesture.

“Well, let’s go,” Whitney said abruptly, making a motion towards the door.

“No,” Justin said, at the same time as Clark.

“Why not?” demanded Whitney hotly. “We know where the fuckers are keeping her, let’s go bust her out. Clark can help to do it, he’s strong.”

Clark shifted his shoulders, instinctively uneasy with the way his powers were suddenly common knowledge.

“You can’t just walk in there,” Justin said, voice taut with anger and fear. “God, you think they wouldn’t just take you too?”

“So we’ll let them take me!” Clark said, excited. “I’ll go undercover, get inside and then rescue Lana. And while I’m there, I might be able to find out more about Constellation.”

“You can’t go,” Justin repeated. “Clark, think about it – you’re the one guy they don’t touch. We don’t know why, but it’s true. Of everyone in Smallville, you’re the least able to go in undercover. They know about you, and they won’t trust you.”

“Well, I’ll do it, then,” Whitney offered.

“No,” said Clark, this time in unison with Justin. “No, Whit, you can’t, it’s too dangerous.”

Whitney clenched his jaw and shook his head briefly. “Justin can’t go back, they won’t take you – if we’re gonna get in there, it’s gotta be me.” He squared his shoulders, standing tall. “Besides, if they’ve got Lana, how long before they come back to collect the full set?”

Justin appeared confused, and Clark hastened to explain. “He and Lana are psychically linked,” he said. “That’s their power.”

Justin’s eyes opened wide with surprise, but he didn’t speak, only ashed his cigarette onto the floor.

“I wonder how they found out about her,” Whitney mused, “without finding out about me, too.”

“That’s why,” Justin said, almost to himself. “That’s why they never took you.”

“Me?” Clark asked, shocked.

“No,” Justin said, shaking his head. “Him. Whitney.” He stubbed out his smoke and looked up to meet Whitney’s eyes. “I wondered, when I saw you on Friday…because I thought for sure they’d taken you by now.”

Whitney frowned, confused.

“They make you say names,” Justin said, and the plates in the cupboards rattled gently. “I said yours.”

“You ratted on me?” Whitney asked, blinking with shock. Clark recalled the strange look on Justin’s face when he’d seen Whitney in town, and suddenly it made sense. Justin must have been torn between guilt and immense relief, to see Whitney still free.

“But they must have investigated and not found anything – but then they wouldn’t, not if your power is psychic. It’s not like there are obvious symptoms to that,” Justin added hastily. “I knew – well, I suspected. That you were one of us.” When they both looked askance, Justin elaborated. “I saw the article on the explosion in 2002, the one with you and Lana. And I thought you might have been made then.”

Whitney seemed unable to decide on fury or bafflement. “You -- *told* them? What, to come and get me?”

Justin shook his head. “No, of course not. But they ask for names. And the way they ask – you don’t say no.”

Once more, Clark made a quick gesture to signal to Whitney that this wasn’t to be pursued. The plates rattled again.

“So – did you tell them Lana’s name?” Whitney asked.

“No,” Justin said. “Everyone said Lana, at first, because of how her parents died… but they must have decided there was nothing to it, because they never took her until now.” Suddenly, Whitney’s assertion that people seemed to disappear for no reason made more sense – Constellation was using insider information from their captives to help them track down more freaks.

“But why –” began Clark, puzzled by how Lana should have suddenly become a target, then he blinked and realized that they were losing track of the point. However Lana had been discovered, the fact was that she was in trouble, and they needed to save her. “Whitney,” Clark said, “I think we have to go with your plan. Justin, how do we get him in?”

“Nothing so easy,” Justin said, regaining his earlier calm. “Whit, all you have to do is go psycho and try to kill someone.”

***

It was difficult to keep mulling over what Thibidault could have meant, especially when Lex had a visit from LuthorCorp’s top security tech.

“And you’re done,” she announced, standing up and closing a window on Lex’s laptop. “There’s a magnetic card and an ID badge, but those will take a couple of days to process. Still, with your new passwords, you can access any platinum-level electronic files on the corporate servers, and of course anything below that.”

“Are there any restrictions on this?” Lex asked, slipping into his chair and quickly logging into the server.

“There are a few,” she nodded, to Lex’s surprise. “It’s privileged information, obviously… so certain files can’t be mailed or printed.”

Lex accepted this mutely. “Anything else?”

“Yeah. There are some side projects which have separate security clearance codes, and unless you’re acting in some supervisory capacity, you’re not cleared for those.”

Lex couldn’t give himself time to think. Instead, he followed quickly on the heels of this remark, hoping to catch the tech off-guard. “Like Constellation?” he asked, not looking up from his e-mail inbox.

Her quick intake of breath told him that she recognized the word, but Lex kept his gaze fixed, not wanting to give away his interest. “Y-yes. Like Constellation,” she said. “Are you – did you – I wasn’t aware that you were involved, I can check on getting you clearance for –”

“It’s fine,” Lex assured her, feeling his pulse thump as he realized that he may have just made a critical error – what if she went to Lionel with the news that Lex knew about Constellation? “I’m not directly involved, I’m just peripherally aware.”

“I see,” she said, after a pause. “Well, I should –”

Lex took her by the wrist as she prepared to leave, her head down and clipboard clutched to her chest. She froze, obviously frightened, and Lex knew from that instant that he had the power in this situation. He just had to use it. “I didn’t get your name,” he said, smoothly.

“M-molly. Molly Griggs,” she stammered, wetting her lips nervously.

“Molly,” Lex said, releasing her wrist gently. “Molly, have you heard of Belle Reve?”

Her eyes were wide and terrified as she looked back at him, and Lex stood, quick to reassure her.

“I’m trying to find out more,” he said, earnestly. “My father, he’s hurting people there, and I need to know more.”

She backed away, tripping a little as she did so, eyeing Lex like he was insane. “I – I don’t know anything.”

“But you can get me in, can’t you?” Lex asked, trying to sound soothing in spite of his urgency.

She shook her head, still backing away. The way she was reacting, it was as though she expected Lex to hurt her. “Please,” she whimpered.

“You – were you at Belle Reve?” Lex asked with a sudden flash of insight.

She shook her head again, “N-no.” It could just have been fear, except that she sounded like she was telling Lex a fact, not denying one.

“But Constellation – you’re involved somehow.” Lex didn’t know what else to do – everything he said only seemed to make Molly even more frightened. Desperate, he took her by the shoulder and forced her to meet his eyes. “I can protect you,” he promised, feeling the weight of the promise suddenly settling onto his shoulders. “You’re safe, you just have to trust me. Help me.”

“Why should I trust you?” she said. “Mr. Luthor said the same thing before –”

As shocked as Lex was, he managed to keep his focus. “I am not my father,” Lex said. “Molly, look at me. You can trust me.”

She was still. She didn’t resist Lex’s touch, but her eyes were silently begging Lex to let her go.

“Whatever he did to you, to the others,” Lex said, feeling certain that he was right, “he’s going to pay.”

She searched his eyes for a moment, her fear slowly ebbing. “Are you – are you sure? You can protect me?”

“I just need your help,” Lex nodded.

Molly paused, then moved towards his computer again. “It’ll just take twenty-four hours.” She looked up at Lex, and for the first time, he noticed that she was quite beautiful, behind the horn-rimmed glasses and the serious expression. “I’ll get you in.”

***

After the plans were laid, it was nearly dark again. At Clark’s insistence, Justin came back to the farm again and though Clark had planned to make up the couch for him this time, they found that it was already occupied.

“That’s kind of – cute,” Justin offered.

Clark wasn’t capable of the same kind of offhand commentary.

Jonathan was stretched out on the couch, snoring lightly, and Brodie was snugged into the space between his father and the back of the couch, a slight smile curving his lips. Jonathan’s hand rested on Brodie’s head as though he’d coaxed the little boy into sleep before succumbing himself.

Three years, and Clark hadn’t really ever expected it to happen – but he’d been right, feeling like he was walking away that morning. He’d been right to leave.

It felt like ages had passed since yesterday morning, when Lex had told Clark that his father was broken, beyond recovery. So much of what Lex had shouted seemed to be true but maybe this last thing, this vital thing, wasn’t exactly as Lex had seen it.

Clark watched his brother sleeping, wondered what their day had been like when Clark hadn’t been there to buffer or to blame, when Jonathan had known that Clark wasn’t coming back, not really. It had probably been horrible and exhausting and Brodie would be acting out, testing his father, not just sweetly reveling in Jonathan’s attention as usual, but sensing that something was amiss and reacting to it. And Jonathan hadn’t walked out. He hadn’t come to find Clark and he hadn’t called on May Schafer. He must have fought Brodie, interacted with him, waited out his temper tantrums. Clark doubted that either of them had eaten enough or gotten any farmwork done or had a moment’s peace during the long day.

If Clark had been there, in the barn or in his room, he wouldn’t have been able to stand it, the noise and the disorder. He would have long since taken over, carrying through on his long-ago promise to care for Brodie, even if he did it with resentment.

But he hadn’t been there, and Jonathan had gotten through on his own.

“You can go upstairs,” Clark said quietly to Justin. “I just want to grab something from the barn.” Justin nodded and headed up the stairs, and Clark spent long moments willing himself not to disturb the picture before him, not to scoop up Brodie and scold his father and put everything back the way it used to be.

Clark hadn’t expected it would hurt this much to see Brodie, finally where he belonged.

He eventually forced himself away, heading for the loft, deliberately avoiding looking at the various items of Brodie paraphernalia that littered the scene. Touching the baby monitor was unavoidable, however – that was where Clark kept Chloe’s –

The red binder with the butterflies was gone.

***