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• Sentimentality	By : AmorArite Category: Smallville > General Views: 1734 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
  Disclaimer: I do not own Smallville, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

• Chapter List
  • 1-Sentimentality
• • 1
• 
  
  
  
  

  Sentimentality

  By Katherine Gibbons

   

  Cover- http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1146/1440722449_255f5ceab7.jpg?v=0

   

  
  
       Clark
  heard the yelling long before he reached the library.  Cautiously he peeked around the door.

       Lionel was angrily
  waving a photograph in the air as he made his way towards the fireplace
  shouting nonsense about the pointlessness of sentimentality while Lex stood by
  near tears, voice small as he tried to reason with his father.

       Whatever that was
  a picture of it must have meant something to Lex because he never tried to reason with his father,
  being more prone to sarcasm and quotations during their usual arguments.

       Lionel tossed the
  photograph into the fireplace and the look on Lex’s face as he did was enough
  to make Clark take action.

       Moving faster than
  the human eye Clark snatched the picture out
  of the air before it could touch the flames and zipped back out of the
  room.  Back in the hall he leaned against
  the wall, shutting his eyes.  Wishing his
  hearing wasn’t quite so good.

       Lex was crying now
  because as far as he knew the photograph was ash.

       The tears running
  down Lex’s cheeks was weakness in his father’s eyes and Lionel muttered the
  word pathetic under his breath as he brushed by his son and exited the
  library.  His eyes falling on Clark in the hall with none of the derision they’d held
  for Lex.  He nodded briefly in
  acknowledgement of Clark’s presence, as if nothing
  had happened, before disappearing into some obscure section of the mansion.

       Glaring in the
  direction Lionel had gone Clark turned away
  and went into the library, saying a soft “Lex” as he entered.

       Lex wouldn’t turn
  around, wouldn’t face him, just stood staring into the
  flames the firelight reflecting off the dampness on his cheeks.

       Standing behind
  his friend Clark raised Lex’s hand just enough to press the worn photograph
  into his palm.

       There was no good
  lie for this.  No tale Clark
  could weave to hide behind.  There was no
  feasible, ordinary explanation for how he could have gotten a hold of that
  picture.

       But for once Lex
  didn’t seem to care about the hows.  He
  didn’t question it, didn’t demand answers. 
  Just clutched the photograph of a woman with auburn hair and eyes the
  same blue as his to his heart and took a shuddering breath.

       It was the only
  picture he had of his mother.  The rest
  having fallen victim long ago to an end he’d feared for this one.

       Turning slightly,
  the photograph still clasped to his chest, Lex gave Clark
  a grateful smile.  “Thank you.”

• • 1
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