Ellidyay
31st August 2004, 23:34
Repost!!!!
A/N: Someone I’m involved with right now went through this and the image of him lying dead on a table in an ER has been haunting me since I found out. What happens in this fic is based on what my boyfriend told me. All of it except his reaction to the experience. That I changed to fit Lex. So I channeled outward. Please let me know what you think. It means a LOT to me. You all have no idea.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Smallville or any of its characters.
Feedback: Please please please.
Thanks: Sabby, CC, and Kris for their loving support in a time when I truly needed it.
Exorcism
There was no point stitching the kid's tongue back together at this point. Ashen and still warm, he'd been brought in over an hour ago and now he was gone. In the course of the night, he'd flatlined twice and at this point, any hopes for the boy were lost.
The doctor shook his head. Stupid fucking kids. Didn't they ever fucking learn? How many of them had to overdose and die before they started to realize that the shit they took was deadly?
The boy reminded him of so many others brought through Metropolis General. John Doe, roughly sixteen, bald headed, looking just as skeletal as any heroin chic model. Dying of the same drug as those Parisian models.
Well, now he was dead. Another life wasted. He doubted the kid had even really gotten to enjoy the high before the effects of the heroin had started to take its lethal toll on his body.
In the over a quarter of a decade of practicing medicine, it had never gotten easier for Dr. Lloyd to lose the young ones. He sighed and glanced up at the clock. "Nurse, time of death, 3:13 am on December 9th."
There was a loud gasping breath, and Dr. Lloyd nearly had a heart attack. John Doe was sitting up on the table, his eyes wide and blank, clawing at his throat.
"We got a live one!" The orderly who'd been watching his vital stats cried, as the young man proceeded to fall back down on the gurney, and began gagging around the tube in his throat.
The boy could start seizing again. The last thing they needed was for him to do more damage to himself than was already done. Once they got him sedated and out of critical condition they'd have to stitch his tongue back on.
But he was a fighter, this kid. Dr. Lloyd just prayed, as he did his best to help the kid weather the storm of his overdose, that when John Doe came out of this, he'd be smart enough to lay off the H. He had no desire to watch this boy writhing on a gurney in his ER ever again.
~*~*~
He came awake to a world of ache and pain. He was lost. Confused. Where the hell was he? What was going on? For a moment even his name escaped him.
Slowly, little things started floating back. Lex. He was Lex. Lex Luthor. And he was in some serious fucking pain.
His mouth hurt. Raising his right hand to his mouth, he tentatively touched his finger to his tongue. Stitches all the way across, small and tight holding the torn flesh together.
His left arm was sore and throbbing. His elbow still stung from where the needle had gone in at an angle.
Lex let his head sink into the pillows. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. "Fuck."
"You got a filthy mouth, Johnny."
Lex turned his head and blinked at the nurse, a young black woman with smooth chocolate colored skin in green scrubs. Her nametag declared her nurse D. Morris.
"Who?"
"You. John Doe. It is nice to see you up. Three days is a long time to go depriving the world of those beautiful blue eyes."
"Three days?"
"Give or take. Welcome to December 11th."
Lex remembered more now. His "friends" had kindly dropped him at the ambulance bay of the ER. Or rather, pushed him out going 45 miles per hour after his high went south late on…December the 8th.
"Fuck."
"Pretty accurate. You were very dead, Johnny. For a good two minutes. How are you feeling?" D. Morris asked, as she read over his chart and checked the machines that hummed and beeped around him.
So that was what that screaming, burning pain had been. It had been dying. He'd never expected dying to hurt so much.
But dying didn't hurt enough to make him want to live. He offered D. a strained smile and wondered what, if anything, it would take to make that hollow go away if dying wasn't enough.
~*~*~
"So what was enough?"
Lex looked down at his girlfriend. Chloe looked back up at him with scared but open eyes.
"Watching Jude die. Watching that lifestyle destroy someone other than myself." Lex said flatly. "You. You're enough."
"I can't be the reason you stay clean. I can't take that responsibility."
He stroked the side of her face, gently. "I know. I have my own reasons. You just reinforce them."
She smiled at him. "I'm glad you trust me enough to tell me." She sat up a little and kissed him quickly. "But you know that if you touch that stuff again, I'm gone."
"I know."
Chloe smiled again and pulled his head down to hers. "Then I think I can deal with this." She whispered before kissing him again.
FIN
A/N: Someone I’m involved with right now went through this and the image of him lying dead on a table in an ER has been haunting me since I found out. What happens in this fic is based on what my boyfriend told me. All of it except his reaction to the experience. That I changed to fit Lex. So I channeled outward. Please let me know what you think. It means a LOT to me. You all have no idea.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Smallville or any of its characters.
Feedback: Please please please.
Thanks: Sabby, CC, and Kris for their loving support in a time when I truly needed it.
Exorcism
There was no point stitching the kid's tongue back together at this point. Ashen and still warm, he'd been brought in over an hour ago and now he was gone. In the course of the night, he'd flatlined twice and at this point, any hopes for the boy were lost.
The doctor shook his head. Stupid fucking kids. Didn't they ever fucking learn? How many of them had to overdose and die before they started to realize that the shit they took was deadly?
The boy reminded him of so many others brought through Metropolis General. John Doe, roughly sixteen, bald headed, looking just as skeletal as any heroin chic model. Dying of the same drug as those Parisian models.
Well, now he was dead. Another life wasted. He doubted the kid had even really gotten to enjoy the high before the effects of the heroin had started to take its lethal toll on his body.
In the over a quarter of a decade of practicing medicine, it had never gotten easier for Dr. Lloyd to lose the young ones. He sighed and glanced up at the clock. "Nurse, time of death, 3:13 am on December 9th."
There was a loud gasping breath, and Dr. Lloyd nearly had a heart attack. John Doe was sitting up on the table, his eyes wide and blank, clawing at his throat.
"We got a live one!" The orderly who'd been watching his vital stats cried, as the young man proceeded to fall back down on the gurney, and began gagging around the tube in his throat.
The boy could start seizing again. The last thing they needed was for him to do more damage to himself than was already done. Once they got him sedated and out of critical condition they'd have to stitch his tongue back on.
But he was a fighter, this kid. Dr. Lloyd just prayed, as he did his best to help the kid weather the storm of his overdose, that when John Doe came out of this, he'd be smart enough to lay off the H. He had no desire to watch this boy writhing on a gurney in his ER ever again.
~*~*~
He came awake to a world of ache and pain. He was lost. Confused. Where the hell was he? What was going on? For a moment even his name escaped him.
Slowly, little things started floating back. Lex. He was Lex. Lex Luthor. And he was in some serious fucking pain.
His mouth hurt. Raising his right hand to his mouth, he tentatively touched his finger to his tongue. Stitches all the way across, small and tight holding the torn flesh together.
His left arm was sore and throbbing. His elbow still stung from where the needle had gone in at an angle.
Lex let his head sink into the pillows. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. "Fuck."
"You got a filthy mouth, Johnny."
Lex turned his head and blinked at the nurse, a young black woman with smooth chocolate colored skin in green scrubs. Her nametag declared her nurse D. Morris.
"Who?"
"You. John Doe. It is nice to see you up. Three days is a long time to go depriving the world of those beautiful blue eyes."
"Three days?"
"Give or take. Welcome to December 11th."
Lex remembered more now. His "friends" had kindly dropped him at the ambulance bay of the ER. Or rather, pushed him out going 45 miles per hour after his high went south late on…December the 8th.
"Fuck."
"Pretty accurate. You were very dead, Johnny. For a good two minutes. How are you feeling?" D. Morris asked, as she read over his chart and checked the machines that hummed and beeped around him.
So that was what that screaming, burning pain had been. It had been dying. He'd never expected dying to hurt so much.
But dying didn't hurt enough to make him want to live. He offered D. a strained smile and wondered what, if anything, it would take to make that hollow go away if dying wasn't enough.
~*~*~
"So what was enough?"
Lex looked down at his girlfriend. Chloe looked back up at him with scared but open eyes.
"Watching Jude die. Watching that lifestyle destroy someone other than myself." Lex said flatly. "You. You're enough."
"I can't be the reason you stay clean. I can't take that responsibility."
He stroked the side of her face, gently. "I know. I have my own reasons. You just reinforce them."
She smiled at him. "I'm glad you trust me enough to tell me." She sat up a little and kissed him quickly. "But you know that if you touch that stuff again, I'm gone."
"I know."
Chloe smiled again and pulled his head down to hers. "Then I think I can deal with this." She whispered before kissing him again.
FIN