Eclipse

Eclipse
Written By: Arian

Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me; I'm just borrowing them for a little while. I do not profit from their use and make no claim on their ownership.

Author's Note: Huge thank you to svlurker, who beta'd the entire thing once I'd finally finished, to svmaria and oh_i_er_oh who helped out a time or two along the way, and to everyone else whose input and comments helped shaped the story into what it is.

"I wish things were different. That I wasn't out here in chains, that your father hadn't decided to lock me away for his own personal experimentation. That things between you and I hadn't gone the way they did. I faulted you for lying to me while I was doing just that to you, and abandoned you when you needed me most."

Lex was silent long enough for Clark to start thinking he'd been imagining every look of remembrance, every change of tone; all the things that made him think Lex was changing, reverting.

"You lied with reason, Clark," he finally began. "Your secret isn’t one that the general public has a right to know. In fact, I don't think that even I have the right to know. But I do, and there isn't anything to be done about it. Maybe if you'd gotten to me in time things would have been different. If my father hadn't taken those seven weeks away from me, I wouldn't have been forced into being 'the good son' all these years. I'd have liked to see who I would've become without his influence. I certainly don't believe I would be standing in the middle of nowhere with my former best friend cum alien captive at my side in some hair-brained scheme to free him from Lionel."

His diatribe was met with silence as Clark attempted to process what Lex had said. Lex was trying to free him. He'd been under Lionel's watch for so long that he'd started to think he was going mad. He heard his mother's voice in the middle of the night, telling him to hold on, that he would be home soon. He heard the voice of his father, now five years in his grave, saying he'd been right about Lex Luthor all along and Clark had been wrong to trust him. And when things seemed to reach rock bottom and Lionel was particularly cruel, Clark had even heard Lex's voice, calling quietly out of the darkness, telling him to keep going just a few more days.

Lex turned to his old friend, taking in his pale skin and the dark circles beneath dull green eyes that had once been filled with life. He reached for the shackles with one hand, pulling a key from his jacket pocket with the other.

"You see, Clark, I had a bit of an epiphany. The weeks that my father stole from me in his attempt to cover his tracks are mine again. I do remember everything. I know he and Morgan Edge killed my grandparents and that you tried to protect me, tried to save me. I know that you risked exposing your abilities to save my life. If I had recognized then what I do now, Clark, I don't think we would have ever come to this."

The key turned in the lock and the shackles fell to the ground, pooling at Clark's feet. Lex picked them up and tossed them into the back of the van they'd arrived in. Around them the sky was darkening as the moon moved steadily on its course to block the sun from sight.

"I know you need sunlight to regain your strength, Clark, but this was the only time I could arrange to have you alone, and I suspect my father had ulterior motives in allowing it. Lionel's men are located five miles down the road to the north and south. This area is clear. If you go 15 miles due east, you'll find a small shack in the forest. Wait for me there. When the sun is blocked, you have to run. Do you understand?"

Clark continued to stare at Lex. Lex, who had admitted to remembering everything and was now setting him free after years of cruelty inflicted by Lionel. Lex, who was staring at him, waiting for him to understand and acknowledge. Clark nodded.

Fear and hope warred openly across Clark's face; fear that Lex was lying and hope that what he'd just said was true. "Lex-"

"No, don't." He glanced over his shoulder, past the field of waist-high grass and out to the forest where Clark's shelter lay. The sun was more than three-quarters blocked now. "Can you run?"

"My father—I might be delayed, Clark. There are enough supplies for three weeks. If I haven't arrived by then, run far away and don't come back." Darkness unlike any other descended around them. "Go, Clark."

The younger man took a step backwards, started to turn away, but paused. Moving into Lex's personal space, Clark pulled him forward and pressed his lips against Lex's in a bruising kiss. And then he was gone. Lex stood still and watched the horizon even though he knew he wouldn't be able to see Clark in the peculiar half-light of the eclipse. His fingers brushed against his mouth, imagining the feel of Clark's lips there instead.

Still standing lost in his thoughts a few minutes later, Lex shook his head and moved back to the van and pulled a cell phone from the glove box. Punching in the number, he only had to wait a moment before the voice on the other end picked up.

"Your team is cleared to go," he snapped the phone shut and tossed it into the back with Clark's neglected restraints. Climbing into the driver's seat, he waited until a black SUV pulled up next to him ten minutes later. Stepping onto the hardtop, Lex crossed to meet the driver in front of the other vehicle.

"It's done. They've been dispatched, and the clean-up team is working as we speak. We monitored all communications from both groups; they suspected nothing. Are you ready to continue?"

Lex nodded and handed over the cell phone and chains, all business now. Everything from this point forward hinged on Lionel believing they had been ambushed and outnumbered during the eclipse. The other man signaled to the figure still seated in the SUV. A tall, well-built man with close-cropped black hair emerged, greeting Lex with a brisk nod before turning to his superior.

The first blow to his jaw left Lex seeing stars. He held his ground as a second, third, and fourth rained down on his head. He grunted when Collins broke a couple of his ribs and again when his left wrist snapped after a sucker punch to the gut sent him to his knees. And then there was the gun. Lex looked up at the two men before him as blood trickled down from his mouth and a cut to his temple. He spit blood on to the asphalt and nodded his consent. When the bullet ripped through the tissue of his left arm, he cried out.

Collins returned to his seat in the vehicle while Lex's contact pulled him to his feet. "Are you alright to drive?"

"Fine. Your fee has been deposited into the account you specified. As always, Graham, you've exceeded my expectations," Lex slid carefully behind the wheel and turned the key. The van rumbled to life and he pulled back onto the road, heading in the opposite direction from the SUV. Shortly after, he reached into his pocket with his uninjured arm and pulled out his cell phone to call his father.

"Dad," he rasped, not having to fake the grunt of pain as the van bounced over a pothole. "Dad, we were ambushed. Clark's gone and the rest of the team is dead. I'm about five miles past the team's north location," Lex's vision started to grey at the edges. He was losing blood faster than he'd anticipated. Even with his body's ability to heal, he knew he wouldn't make it back to the lab without help. "I won't be able to drive much longer, send someone to get me."

"You're hurt?" The only response Lionel got was the crunching sound of the van flipping onto its side in a ditch as Lex lost the battle to stay conscious.

The sun was visible again as Lionel's entourage sped down the stretch of road to Lex's last known location. In the distance, he could see a black van in the ditch by the side of the road.

Barely waiting for his vehicle to roll to a stop, Lionel was out and running towards the wreck, calling his son's name. Two members of his medical team followed close behind while two more brought up the rear with a stretcher. The van was on its roof, one wheel spinning as a violent gust of wind caught it at the right angle. Falling to his knees by the passenger door, Lionel brushed his hair out of his eyes and peered in to find Lex unconscious and held in place by his seatbelt. His team was already on the other side, pulling the door open, checking for neck and spinal injuries before cutting him free of the belt.

Lionel watched the blur of activity as they prepared to transport his son back to the lab. His face was bloody and sported several large welts, and his left wrist hung at an odd angle. He heard snatches of sentences, phrases like "substantial blood loss," and "GSW to his left arm," and most frightening of all, "massive head trauma." Lionel kept his eyes fixed on his son's face. Through all their ministrations, Lex hadn't stirred once.

"I want the area scoured in all directions, no less than 100 miles each way. Assemble as many men as possible," Lionel was pacing like a caged animal, barking orders at his head of operations. In the next room, doctors worked on his son. They'd staunched the blood loss and had moved on to reconstructing the portion of Lex's skull that had shattered on impact with the window of the driver's side door.

"Yes, sir, I've already issued the order to bring in all available men. I can pull operatives from other locations to increase our numbers if the search area proves too large."

"Excellent," Lionel disconnected and turned to watch through the window connecting the two rooms. Lex was impossibly pale laid out on the table that just two days before had been used for an exploration of the nerves surrounding Clark's spinal cord.

Lex's definition of a shack was very different from Clark's. To Clark, a shack was one room with a door and maybe a window or two. It certainly did not possess electricity and running water. The structure Lex had directed him to looked more like a small cottage. There was a bathroom, bedroom, kitchenette, and living room. It even had a deck attached to the front with a barbeque, two Adirondack chairs, and a small table. Definitely not a shack.

Yet he was in the middle of nowhere, which meant that Lex had planned this rescue well in advance. Clark sat down heavily on the couch and blinked in surprise at the TV and DVD player tucked into a corner cabinet. Clark was confident that if he x-rayed the drawers below it, they would be full of movies.

Exhausted from the effort of running and the headache pounding at his temples, Clark leaned back against the couch, enjoying the sensation of the soft cushions beneath him. It had been years since he'd been this comfortable. Shutting his eyes, Clark ignored the sounds of his stomach rumbling and the desire to drink something that wasn't water and slipped into his first un-monitored sleep in five years.

Dr. James Avery found Lionel still standing at the window shortly after they had moved Lex to the recovery room. "We're keeping him in an induced coma until the swelling goes down."

"All indications so far point to a complete recovery, eventually. The initial blood loss was worrying and the head wound a concern; however, his other injuries were minor in comparison. A broken wrist, gunshot wound to the soft tissue of his left arm, several cracked and broken ribs, hairline fracture on the right side of his jaw and substantial bruising conducive to an attack on his person."

"Thank you, doctor," Lionel turned and left the room, heading for his office and pulling out his phone as it started to ring.

"Sections 1E through 16E are cleared, as are 1S to 17S, 1N to 16N and 1W to 18W, Mr. Luthor. It's getting too dark to see clearly, we'll be switching to night gear shortly. Unfortunately the search will be slowed, but we'll make the time up as soon as the sun starts to rise."

Lionel disconnected without a word. Punching in the password that would allow him access to his office in the compound, he sat wearily on the couch and dropped his head into his hands. "Oh, Lex," he said aloud. "What have you let happen, son?"

The sun was steadily rising against a backdrop of pink, purple, orange, and blue when Clark opened his eyes again. His head was still throbbing dully. At some point during his sleep, he had shifted onto his side and managed to drag the blanket off the back of the couch and over his legs. At first he didn't know where he was and he bolted upright with a start, but it wasn't long before everything rushed back to him.

Lex had freed him from Lionel. He had told Clark he loved him and then told him to run. Clark had kissed Lex, and now Lex was somewhere out there trying to convince his father that his escape had been an ambush. Fifteen miles was certainly not far enough away from the road. Clark started to panic. There wasn't a chance in hell Lionel wouldn't send men to search for him. Extending his hearing, Clark listened for signs of anyone in the vicinity. There was no one. His breathing started to calm and he slid off the couch, running a hand through the long tangles of his hair. He'd made it through the night, and that was a good sign. If Lionel suspected anything was amiss, Clark assured himself, he would have had teams all over the area within a matter of hours. His stomach started to growl loudly, insisting he eat something. Clark went to the cupboards to forage for food.

After he'd eaten, brushed his teeth, and showered, Clark had sat down with the intent to watch a movie. Instead he found himself frozen in fear as voices neared his shelter. Instinct told him to make a run for it. Fear held him in place. Barely breathing, Clark sat rigid on the couch as footsteps approached, halting just steps outside his door.

The crackle and static of the walkie-talkie brought Clark out of his fear-induced state. Focusing his vision, he watched as two men clad in camouflage and armed to the teeth with kryptonite weapons retreated from his front door.

Clark spent his days waiting. Waiting for the wrong person to find him, waiting for Lex to come back, waiting for Lionel to appear at his front door armed with the kryptonite-laced straight jacket that left Clark struggling to breathe because of the meteorite chunk that sat over his chest and caused his lungs to struggle and his heart to slow to a pace that frightened him more than most of the things Lionel did to him.

At the end of three weeks, Clark sat staring at the remainder of his food; just enough for dinner that night. Lex still had not come. He listened carefully, almost expecting to hear the familiar rhythm of Lex's heartbeat growing closer every second. There was silence save for the sounds of the forest and distant roadway. He would have to leave.

He contemplated leaving a note, but what would happen to Lex if it fell into the wrong hands? Thoughts that Clark had been fighting off for days filtered into his mind; what if Lionel hadn't believed him and done something to Lex?

At least he knew where he would go. Neither man knew about the portal in the caves. He had steadfastly kept that knowledge to himself. Attempts to reach the fortress on foot had never succeeded; he knew this because Lionel would rage at him whenever word of the aborted attempts came back. His fortress would be safe.

Packing his clothing and the few books Lex had left him into a backpack he'd found under the bed, Clark ate a quick meal and took to the skies. His fear of heights didn't stop him from using his ability to fly this time. He knew he was still weak and that to make the trip on foot would be risky. He also knew he had to go the long way around. Despite his confidence that Lionel was ignorant of the passage, he knew the possibility was there that he had the caves being watched.

The journey took longer than he had thought and when he arrived, Clark noticed the cold for the very first time. He dropped to his knees when a wave of dizziness spun the icy world around him. His stomach roiled in a very different way then when there was kryptonite present and emptied its contents onto the floor.

Clark dreamt of his mother's voice whispering in his ear and could swear he felt her fingers against his fevered skin, brushing sweat-damp hair from his forehead. The dream clung to him as he opened his eyes and saw her seated beside him, a small smile on her lips as the cool, blue-tinted light around her reflected off her hair. So vivid was his dream that he could smell her shampoo as she leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to his brow. Clark drifted back into sleep, unwilling to part with her image and return to a reality he couldn't quite recall but knew he didn't want to face just yet.

Lillian Luthor stood by Lex's side, white dress falling gracefully around her slim form and pale skin shimmering in the half-light of the cavernous room they were in. Lex looked around, recognizing it as the empty space that had once held the fruits of his obsession with a fifteen-year-old Clark Kent. They were at the base of the stairs, looking into the dark reaches of the room where the faint light could not penetrate.

When she spoke, her voice was melodic even in its somber tones. "I warned you, Alexander. I gave you the chance to make things different. Why didn't you take it?"

"I'd like to hear it from you." She turned to face him, eyes deep and sad with the memory of her beloved son's lost future.

"For the same reason I've been here before, Lex. You're on the precipice, hanging on the edge between life and death. If you go back, the fate that awaits you is likely grim. If you stay, you'll never have the chance to alter it."

As Lillian stretched out her hand as if to caress her son's cheek, her form began to fade from sight. "I have faith in you, Lex. Don't be afraid of being alone. Don't be afraid of the dark. You'll find your way back in time."

"Wait!" Lex reached for her, longing to actually feel the brush of flesh against flesh, but she was gone in the blink of an eye. "Don't leave me alone here," he whispered as the room grew darker. He sat on the bottom step and stretched his legs out before him, curling his body, dropping his head into his hands.

Clark forced his way to consciousness. He was warm, too warm if he thought about it; however, there was a bed beneath him, a pillow under his head and a blanket covering his body. If he didn't move, the world didn't spin, and if the world didn't spin, he was confident he wouldn't throw up again.

Opening his eyes, Clark took in his surroundings. He was still in the fortress. Ice stretched above his head and out around him on all sides. There was a chair beside his bed. His sleep-sluggish mind wondered briefly where the furniture had come from and why he was so warm in the middle of an ice structure. He closed his eyes against a rising bout of nausea, drawing in deep and steadying breaths, willing his stomach to calm itself.

Focused on his breathing as intently as he was, Clark did not hear the footsteps approaching him. When the hand connected with his shoulder, his eyes flew open in fear and he jerked backwards. The last thing he saw before lunging towards the side of the bed in a losing battle with his stomach was his mother positioning a bucket beneath him. She stroked his back through the worst of it and ran her fingers through his hair as dry heaves shook him, then helped him settle back against the pillows when he stilled.

He smiled weakly. "It's good to see you," he whispered. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again."

She leaned down and pressed a kiss against his cheek. "It's good to see you, too, sweetheart. I missed you."

"How did you get here? How did you know where I would be?" he asked, wondering if Lex had contacted her when he wasn't able to make it back in time. The gnawing worry that had plagued him during the last days of his stay at the shack was flooding back to him.

"The key. The symbols started glowing four days ago. The only thing I could think to do was go to the caves. When I got there, the key floated out of my hand and I followed it. It led me here, and I found you on the ground. You've been asleep this whole time." She stroked her thumb soothingly across the back of his hand as she spoke. "You're ill, Clark. Jor-El said your body is trying to rid itself of the Kryptonite, but you've been exposed to it for so long that the sudden withdrawal is causing your system to go into shock."

Clark made a vague humming noise in response as his eyes drifted shut. He knew what she was saying was important, serious even, but he was already slipping towards unconsciousness again and could do nothing to fight it. His body felt over-heated and heavy, and his stomach still threatened to revolt if he moved. Listlessly he opened his eyes once more, forcing a small smile to his lips.

Martha watched, waiting until she was sure he was in a deep slumber. "Oh, Clark, I thought I'd lost you forever," she whispered when she knew he couldn't hear her anymore. "I was so scared. You disappeared without a trace."

She leaned her head against his shoulder, letting her tears come. He'd been coherent this time. That was a good sign. Jor-El couldn't tell her how long it would take him to heal, and she feared he wasn't strong enough to do it. After five years of exposure to the meteor rock, Jor-El had informed her, his body had adapted and learned to live within the conditions it had been placed. The removal of the element was like a long-time smoker going cold turkey; his body was craving the effects of the meteorite because that was what it had become accustomed to. At the end of everything, all she could do was watch and wait and keep him comfortable.

Lionel stood over his son watching the rise and fall of his chest. The steady beep of Lex's heartbeat on the monitor was the only sound in the room. Lionel reached out to brush a hand over the spot where now-healed wounds had once been on Lex's head. His medical team had kept Lex in an induced coma in an attempt to stabilize him during the time when the swelling was at its worst. Only he hadn't woken up since.

Nearly five weeks had passed since the ambush, and Lionel had yet to discern the true course of events that day; he hadn't located his missing property or the fools who had taken it from him, and that bothered him almost more than anything else. And now, with the sudden disappearance of Martha Kent, Lionel was on the verge of snapping.

"He’ll wake when he's ready, doctor. My son is stubborn like that." Lionel strode past the man and out the door, retreating to the sanctity of the business world where he was still in control.

Back in his office at LuthorCorp, Lionel issued orders into his cell phone. "Bring me Chloe Sullivan. I want her in my office within the hour and I don't care what it takes to make it happen. Just do it."

Lex had taken to pacing the room from one end to the other in slow, rhythmic steps, and action he found both maddening and calming. Calming because he could control them; maddening because they were the only thing he could control. He simply existed in this space, this room, this empty world where his dead mother had told him essentially to straighten up and fly right or else he was fucked six ways from Sunday.

And worse, he'd started hearing things. His mother's voice, whispered from the shadows; Clark begging him to come back to him; his father raging from behind the locked door that he knew would lead him home again if he could just get it open; and the voice of Jonathan Kent, urging him to break from his father's grasp and be the man Clark had always known he could be.

That one had given him pause. He'd expected his mother, dreaded his father, prayed for Clark and in the end, the one voice that made him stop and think was Jonathan Kent.

Lex had once told Clark that when his father died, kings would attend his funeral, but when Jonathan Kent died, his friends would come. His statement spoke to the kind of man Kent had been, and in his current state of existing in between nothing and everything, Lex took comfort in the older man's voice—even if hearing it did make him reconsider his sanity.

Jonathan's voice had come at him from every angle. It'd folded over him like a warm blanket in the cold, empty depths of his prison. Lex almost wished for its return. He felt unsafe in this place. He wanted reassurance that he was on the path to something new, something better. Despite all the years gone by since the man's death Lex was shocked to find that he still wanted Jonathan Kent's approval.

With a sigh, Lex ceased his journey around the room and slumped against the wall, letting himself slide down until he was seated on the concrete floor. He didn't know how long he'd been there and he wasn't sure he was ready to break through the door that separated him from consciousness. The words of his mother echoed in his mind. He wanted the chance to change things, to right his mistakes; most of all, he wanted to feel Clark's lips against his own again. Pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them, Lex sat and waited. For what, he wasn't sure—he just knew he needed to be patient.

Clark was still sleeping three days later. Martha, on the other hand, had barely since she'd arrived—only dozing for an hour here and there. Clark's rest was fitful at best, and he often woke drenched in sweat and breathing harshly. From nightmares or the fever still wracking his body or a combination of both, Martha wasn't sure. All she knew was that Clark wasn't getting any better and she was at a loss as to how to help him.

Jor-El would speak to her from time to time. He had been monitoring Clark's condition, making suggestions, and creating for her whatever she needed to tend to Clark, right down to a large, soft bed and a pocket of warmth surrounding them in the subzero air. What she needed now, though, was sleep. Sleep she was too afraid to submit to.

"If something happens while I'm asleep..." she trailed off. I'd never forgive myself, was left unspoken.

A second bed appeared behind her, the sheets already turned down. With a sigh, Martha gave in. She knew she would be no use to her son if she couldn't keep her eyes open any longer.

She hadn't been asleep more than a few minutes when Clark's scream had her bolting out of bed and to his side. He was sitting ramrod straight, chest heaving as he fought to pull in breath, eyes wide and wild.

"Clark?" her hands were on his cheeks, turning him to face her. "Sweetheart, what happened, what's wrong?" he stared at her, brow furrowed, mouth open and still panting harshly.

"Find Chloe," he finally choked out, hands reaching up to grasp her wrists, eyes pleading. "Please, find Chloe!" he slumped back onto the bed, energy spent, eyes closing once more.

"I don't appreciate scare tactics, Mr. Luthor," Chloe sat on the leather couch in Lionel's office, head cocked to the side, arms crossed protectively in front of her. She radiated anger. Chloe had long suspected Lionel of having a part in Clark's disappearance and struggled daily with her inability to prove it.

"Ms. Sullivan, I must apologize if my men gave you that impression. I merely required an audience with you regarding a pressing matter that could not wait."

"Martha Kent. She seems to have disappeared, and I know the two of you are close. In light of Clark's absence over the last few years, I find myself concerned for her well being. I asked you here to find out if you know anything of her whereabouts."

Chloe fixed him with a skeptical glare. The only thing you want, she thought, is Martha Kent in your bed. "Last I checked, Mr. Luthor, Mrs. Kent is a grown woman who can come and go as she pleases. I know you've cultivated a friendship with her during the last few years, but I don't recall friendship meaning that she has to report her every movement to you."

Lionel, seated opposite the young woman, leaned back into his seat and smirked. "Of course she doesn’t have to 'report every movement' to me, as you put it, but Martha and I are friends and I find her lack of communication a cause for concern."

"I haven't heard from her recently, and if that's all you wanted," Chloe stood to leave. "I have a job to get back to."

"Thank you for your time, Ms. Sullivan," Lionel gestured to the door, ushering her out of the office with a nod of his head. "If you hear from her, please ask her to call me when she finds herself with a free moment."

Chloe was grinding her teeth before she reached the elevator and outright fuming by the time it descended to the lobby. In her heart, she knew without a doubt that Lionel was responsible for Clark disappearance. The fact that she hadn't been able to prove it while she'd had to watch Mrs. Kent form a close relationship with the man over the years, tore her up inside.

She was about to step out into the bright afternoon sunlight when her cell phone rang. "Mrs. Kent, I'm so glad you're calling!" she said, answering the phone after a brief glance at the call display.

"Chloe, where are you?" Martha was unable to hide the edge of panic in her voice.

"I'm just leaving LuthorCorp. Lionel dragged me in here wanting to know where you were. Where have you been, anyway?"

"I need you to get to Smallville as quickly as possible, Chloe. Go to the farm. I'll be waiting for you there."

Chloe pushed open the door and made her way to the sidewalk. "Mrs. Kent, is everything all right?"

"I'll explain when I see you, just please, meet me in Smallville. And Chloe, be care-"

Her words were cut off by the sound of squealing tires and the crunch of crumpling metal as a black van smashed into the bumper of a parked car and headed straight for her. Chloe didn't even have time to scream, let alone for her life to metaphorically flash by her before a whooshing sound filled her ears and familiar arms wrapped around her, pulling her upwards to the safety of the roof of the daily planet.

The tinny voice calling to her from her cell was forgotten as she pulled back far enough to look up into the face of Clark Kent.

"What... Clark?" she whispered, unable to come up with anything more substantial in her state of shock.

"Hey Chloe," Clark whispered back before dropping to his knees. He was too pale, sweating despite the coolness of the mid-fall afternoon. She knelt down beside him and he leaned into her for support. "You better answer her," he said, nodding at the phone still clutched in her hand. "She'll have a heart attack pretty soon if you don't," he closed his eyes and rested his burning forehead against her shoulder, reaching out to clasp the fingers of her free hand in his clammy grasp.

"Mrs. Kent, Clark is... Clark is here," her voice trailed off in wonderment. "I'm okay, he-he saved me."

"He's ill, Chloe, you need to get him home. Please," the desperation in her voice was heartbreaking.

"We'll be there as soon as we can," she disconnected the call and slid the phone into her jacket pocket. "You're really here?" she whispered.

He nodded and pulled back. His skin, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, was tinged faintly green. "Don't feel so good, Chloe."

"You don’t look so good, either. Come on, can you walk? We need to get out of here. Lionel can see the roof from the window of his office," Clark tensed at the mention of the elder Luthor's name. "He had you, didn't he?" Clark nodded, staying momentarily silent.

Clark had curled himself against the door of her car and slept fitfully the entire way back to Smallville. As he rested, greenish tint of his skin faded and left him looking pale in the afternoon light. He didn't stir until they rolled to a stop in front of the yellow farmhouse. Martha had been watching for them and came rushing down the steps when they arrived. Clark pulled himself from the car and stumbled tiredly into her arms.

"You were there one second and gone the next, Clark, you scared me! What happened?"

"I heard them talking," he didn’t elaborate, simply leaned into his mother as she helped him into the house. Pausing in the doorway, Clark looked around at the kitchen he hadn't seen in five years. It was the same, on the whole, but little things were out of place and that jarred him. The flour container was on the opposite side of the room from where it had been. The centerpiece on the island had changed. The curtains were different. A myriad of other little details nagged at his senses.

His mother was leading him towards the stairs. "Let's get you back into bed, sweetheart."

Chloe waited downstairs as Martha led her son to his bedroom. When she returned, her face was haggard and the haunted look her eyes had taken on right after Jonathan's death and again after Clark's disappearance had returned.

"You're alright, aren't you Chloe?" Surprised by the interruption, Chloe only nodded. "Would you be able to run into town? Clark should eat when he wakes up and most of what's here spoiled while I was gone."

Once the younger woman had left, Martha turned to the phone, debating who to call first. She should alert the sheriff that Clark had been found, but that would bring so many questions her son didn't seem ready to answer. But if whoever had taken him tried to came back... She shook her head, not letting her mind drift to that dark place. There were more than a dozen messages from Lionel on her machine, growing steadily more panicked as the days had gone by. Well, she thought, panicked for Lionel, that is. Reaching for the cordless phone, she settled herself on a stool and started to dial.

Clark woke to find someone standing over him. His eyes widened and his body went cold with shock. He opened his mouth to scream but a hand was clamped quickly over it.

"Make a noise, and I will hurt your mother, Clark," Lionel's voice was like ice. He stared down at him for a moment before removing his hand with a satisfied nod. He settled himself on the edge of the mattress, smiling as Clark scrambled backwards to the far side of the bed.

"Imagine my surprise," he began. "When Martha called to tell me she was home safely and that you had been found. I'm shocked, Clark, that you didn't tell her," he cocked his head to the side. "Or have you been too ill to tell her anything?"

"You’re not going to tell her, are you Clark? If you did, as much as I... care... for Martha, my actions would be on your head," he tightened his grip as he spoke, watching Clark's expression as he was denied oxygen. He didn't let go until Clark grasped his wrist in an attempt to pull him off. "No, Clark, I suspect you will remain perfectly silent about this. Am I right?"

A part of Clark's mind was screaming at him to move, to attack. He was weak, but he was still strong enough to snap Lionel's neck before the man could register he'd even moved. Instead he felt himself nodding, years of submission to this man and his whims forcing the movement against his will.

"You've been using your powers, haven't you? I suggest you stop, it will only kill you faster," Clark stared at him. "It's that rather unique metabolism of yours, son. Your body is trying to rid itself of the kryptonite similar to the way a human body burns off fat. In your case, the increase of your metabolic rate that occurs when you use your abilities in turn increases the speed at which the poison is burned. The side effect of that is an intensified effect on your body," Lionel stood. "Rather than poisoning you slowly, eating away at you a little more every day, the process occurs tenfold. Every action has a reaction, Clark."

Clark watched him leave as the breath seemed to constrict in his chest and panic took hold of him.

Chloe's heart jumped into her throat at the sight of the black limousine parked outside the farmhouse. Lionel had arrived. She regretted not forcing Martha to listen to her before she left and all the times she had held her tongue and not shared her suspicions due to her lack of proof, because now Lionel knew where Clark was and that was just bad. So very, very bad. Climbing out of her car, Chloe forced a look of calm indifference to her face and carried the bags of food to the house.

"You're welcome, Mrs. Kent," she stood in the doorway, unsure of what to do next as Martha relieved her of her packages and set about putting things away. Lionel was seated at the kitchen island, looking as if he thought he belonged there.

"Could you run upstairs and check on Clark?" Martha's voice snapped Chloe out of her uncertainty. Nodding, she turned and forced herself to take the stairs at what felt like a snails pace.

She found Clark curled into the fetal position on the far side of the bed with his eyes squeezed shut, body shuddering as he gasped in great, choking breaths. Rushing to him, she dropped to her knees at his side and reached a tentative hand out to stroke his hair. He tensed at her touch until she whispered to him.

"You can. Focus," she climbed onto the bed behind him, curling close, wrapping her arms around his waist. Stroking her fingers across his chest and stomach soothingly, she continued to whisper to him until his panicked breathes slowed to hitching gasps and finally to an exhausted panting. His body was still trembling against hers.

"He's here, Chloe, did you see him? He threatened to hurt mom if I-if I said-" Chloe hushed him softly as he tensed and started breathing faster again.

"It'll be okay, Clark, we'll fix this. I promise," she didn't feel anywhere near as confident as she sounded.

"Lex? I don't know, Clark, I haven't seen or heard anything about Lex in..." her voice trailed off. "In weeks," she finished.

"He saved me, Chloe. He said he would come back but he didn't," Clark's voice had dropped to a whisper. "Lionel did something to him, he must of, or Lex would have come."

"Then why didn't he come?" There was something in Clark's tone that screamed fear.

Twenty minutes after she went upstairs, Chloe came back down. Lionel and Martha were seated in the kitchen, coffee cups in hand and a plate of the scones Chloe had purchased as an afterthought between them. A third, empty cup sat on the counter next to the coffee maker.

"He's sleeping again," she said as she made her way over to pour a drink. "He was having a nightmare when I went up, and it took a while to calm him down."

Martha frowned. "Is he alright now?" Chloe nodded, looking anywhere but at Lionel.

Sitting across from Mrs. Kent, she reached for a scone and bit into it thoughtfully, wondering if what she wanted to say would be worth the gamble. "He was talking in his sleep. Calling for Lex," here she finally turned to face Lionel. "It made me realize that I haven't seen Lex in weeks."

"He's been in Europe on business since midsummer, Ms. Sullivan. As a reporter at the paper covering the deal he's working on, I would have thought you'd know that," Lionel found the lie effortless after all the weeks he had been using it. The negotiation of the deal he was referring to had been played closely and kept quiet. It was easy to say his son was there because no one involved would be fool enough to say otherwise.

Chloe made no mention of having seen Lex leaving LuthorCorp less than two months ago. According to what his father had just said, Lex had been gone for three months.

"No, there's too much at stake with this particular deal. I expect he'll be there for some time."

"You must miss him," she said, voice growing wistful at the thought of all the time she had lost with her own son.

"I do," he said quietly. Chloe was surprised at the sincerity in his tone. "On the subject of sons," he continued briskly. "You have yours back. Has he spoken of what happened or where he's been?"

Shaking her head, Martha rose to refill her cup. "He's been so sick. I haven't pressed him about it and he hasn't volunteered anything. I don't want to pressure him until he's healthy again."

"No," the lie was sudden. Lionel knew of Clark's origins; he had since before the death of her husband. She trusted this man and yet something in the back of her mind stopped her from admitting to what she knew. She turned back, expression somber and eyes haunted by pain that she wasn't sure would ever really go away.

She offered a small smile that didn't reach beyond her lips. "Thank you, Lionel."

Clark's dreams were like movies playing on a screen while he sat in the very last row of the theatre. They started out with scenes of working alongside his father, baking pies with his mother, sitting in the Talon with Lana, Pete, Lex and Chloe, then moved on to the darker days of his father's death and the day he had been taken. He watched Lex approach him at his father's grave. He knew Lex had been here before he'd arrived. He'd seen the single stem of purple orchids left in a small, black vase.

He could see Lex's lips form a greeting as his movie-screen self turned to his former friend with a faint grin. That their relationship had disintegrated over time had no bearing on the fact that Lex knew what it was to lose a parent. They had met here once before. Two days after they had buried his father, Clark stood alone under a grey sky and surrounded by a fresh blanket of snow. Lex had approached from behind him, paused, and nearly turned back. But Clark had heard him and turned with a broken smile on his lips. Lex had stepped forward, opening his arms. Clark moved at once into his embrace and let his tears fall on the shoulder of the man he'd once saved.

Now Clark shouted at himself to run even as he watched the look of pained confusion cross his own face. He saw himself turn and crumple to his knees in front of Lionel, who stood behind him with a chunk of kryptonite held in one hand, drawing his arm back to deliver the blow that would suck the light out of Clark's world and leave him unconscious in the snow.

He was shaking. No, someone was shaking him. His mother; he could hear her voice now.

"Wake up, Clark!" she shouted at him. His eyes flew open. She was bent over him and his mouth was open and he was screaming. Seeing him wake, Martha wrapped her arms around him, making soothing noises as he fought to catch his breath and hold back the sobs threatening to burst from his throat. He clung to her, the soft, scented waves of her hair falling across his face and neck.

"Don't want to talk about it," he choked out before she even had a chance to ask the question.

"Thanks," he whispered, holding her just a little bit tighter before pulling back. The early afternoon sun washed over his pale skin. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Clark smiled softly. "You're baking," he said.

Gathering up his pillow and quilt in one arm, she held her free hand out to him like she had when he was a child. "Come on, let's get you settled."

Clark was seated on a stool in the kitchen and wrapped tightly in a blanket as Martha bustled around the kitchen, having insisted he eat something. She set a glass of milk and two slices of toast before him, laughing when she saw his gaze flicker between the toast, the oven, and back.

"It won't be ready for a while yet, Clark, and you need to eat something," she took a seat across from him.

He nodded and started picking at his food. "What are we going to tell the police?" he finally asked.

Martha surveyed her son, took in the deep, purple circles present under his eyes despite the fact that he slept almost all the time. He was malnourished and sallow skinned, and even his thick, dark hair had thinned and lost its luster. With a sigh she stood and came around to close him in her arms.

She had put off this conversation as long as she dared in hopes Clark would regain some of his strength before he was subjected to the questions that the law would bring. He seemed ready to break apart at any moment, and her desire to see those responsible for doing this to her son punished warred with her desire to protect him from hurting more than he already did.

"We tell them what we can of the truth and lie about the rest. I spoke with Lionel," she said, not noticing her son tense at the name. "He's helped arrange a cover story. His team received a tip about someone matching your description found wandering the streets in Metropolis. When they investigated, they discovered it was you."

"What about the time we spent at the fortress? Chloe said people wondered where you were."

"I was in Wichita, and it took Lionel a few days to track me down," Clark nodded, staring down at his partially-eaten toast.

"And when they ask how I wound up in Metropolis? Or who took me? What they... what they d-did to me?"

Martha watched her son closely as his emotions played across his face. She was painfully aware that he hadn't shared a word with her about the events of the years he'd been missing, and her heart ached at the prospect of him having to tell someone who didn't love him and wouldn't hold him while he did.

"Tell them what you feel you can, Clark, and when you need to just say you don't remember."

When Sheriff Adams and two deputies arrived an hour later, Clark had fallen asleep on the couch. Martha hadn't the heart to wake him so soon, so she sat in the kitchen with them, cups of steaming coffee in front of each and fresh apple spice muffins on the table. The sheriff had taken one look at Clark and suggested they take Martha's statement first and not wake the young man until necessary. When they began, she was ready, but it wasn't long before their questions for her started drawing to a close.

"Mrs. Kent, has your son said anything about what happened to him?" Sheriff Adams leaned forward as she asked.

Martha nodded. "Give me a minute to wake him and tell him you're here." The sheriff nodded and she and the deputies went back to their coffee as Martha knelt by Clark's side and shook him awake.

"Sheriff Adams is here. I know you don't want to talk about this, Clark," she said softly. "But it'll be ok, I'll be right here beside you."

He shook his head violently. "No, no. Mom, I want you to leave. I don't want you to hear any of it."

"Please don't shut me out," she whispered. Clark sat up, running a hand through his too-long hair before brushing it across his week-old stubble. He was silent for nearly a full minute, just watching her face.

Clark had never been a good liar, but today he lied like a professional con man. He told what he could of the truth, that he had been ambushed at his father's grave, that he had been held against his will in an unknown location while the people who had taken him conducted experiments. When pressed, he gave a watered-down version of events before clamming up and pushing the questions in a different direction.

Clark came as close to revealing the truth about his abilities as he dared. He told the sheriff that, like many of the residents of Smallville, he had been affected by the meteor rocks. Borrowing Lex's ability as a means to explain the lack of scarring on his body, Clark said he healed quickly. He claimed the people who had taken him wanted to exploit that ability and wanted to recreate and enhance it in others.

"Well, that sheds a new light on your penchant for always playing the hero, Mr. Kent."

When Clark started to shake, Sheriff Adams put her hand on his arm and said in a softly drawling voice that he had nothing to be afraid of.

"Do you know who took you? Did you ever see their faces, hear a name? Anything that might help track and identify them?" she finally asked.

"No," Clark whispered, dropping his head, unable to meet his mother's eyes as her gaze cut swiftly to him. "No."

The silence from the other side of the door persisted, and it was starting to scare him. Lex had never felt quite this alone before. He didn't know how long he'd been here, trapped with only the voices of the dead and his father raging to keep him company. Lex could only converse with himself for so long before he started wishing he could smash something. He tried punching the walls only to find he felt no pain in this place.

Lillian had spoken to him only once more. He couldn't remember what she'd said, and he found that odd because he could quote word for word the conversations he'd had with Mr. Kent's disembodied voice. They'd talked about Clark, about life with Lionel after his mother died and where it had all gone wrong. Most importantly, they had talked about Lex regaining the memories Lionel had stolen from him and his subsequent attempt to free Clark. Jonathan had thanked him for that.

Lex thought about Clark a lot. He heard whispers of Clark's voice in the deep shadows of the room, but when he raced to their source they always fell silent. He could never quite make out the words, but somehow he knew Clark was calling for him to come home. Or maybe it was just wishful thinking. In his mind he went over the cruelties he had inflicted on Clark. There had been things he'd stopped his father from doing, lines that were not crossed because he intervened; Lex knew that he had been a fool. Blinded by what his father wanted him to think. He'd let Lionel shape his thoughts and actions for too long. If he got out of here-when he got out of here-Lionel would pay.

Clark woke to hear Lionel's voice in the house some time after the sheriff had left. The two deputies had remained behind; one stationed at the front door, the other at the back. He couldn't figure out who Lionel was speaking to; certainly not his mother, not in that tone of voice. Clark listened carefully, searching for any sound of his mother in or around the house. There was nothing save the sounds of three men in her kitchen.

Fear caused his chest to constrict, forcing a gasp from him that caught Lionel's attention. Walking into the living room, the elder Luthor crouched at the side of the couch to meet Clark's eyes.

"Where is she, Luthor?" Clark struggled into a sitting position, furious that the movement left him panting for breath.

Lionel stood and walked from the room. When he returned, he had the cardigan Martha had been wearing earlier dangling from one hand. Clark's eyes zeroed in on the blood on the sleeve.

"I warned you what would happen if you told anyone, Clark. Thankfully, I was able to detain Ms. Sullivan before she made her way to the authorities."

"I did nothing to her, son; you did. I warned you of the consequences if you spoke against me. While my threat didn't explicitly extend to telling Ms. Sullivan, it seems it should have. Have I made the error of thinking you actually cared for your mother's wellbeing?"

Clark launched himself at Lionel, tumbling the man back against the fireplace hearth and grappling to wrap his hands around his neck. Someone pulled at his arms, tugged him backward, and slammed him to the floor, knocking the air from his lungs.

Lionel picked himself up and touched the back of his head. When he pulled his fingers away, they were tinged crimson. With a wicked grin, Lionel drew his foot back and slammed it into Clark's ribs, laughing at the resulting crack that signified bones breaking beneath the blow.

Clark was carried out the front door by two men he recognized from Lionel's security staff. He said nothing as they moved past the prone form of one of the deputies. He watched for the steady rise and fall of the man's chest before turning his head away.

There was kryptonite in the waiting van. Not enough to do serious damage, but enough to keep him subdued and allow his ribs to maintain a steady throbbing beat of discomfort. Clark was tossed unceremoniously into the back and was followed by Lionel climbing in and strapping himself into the lone seat. Drawing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them, he ignored Lionel and focused instead on calming the trip hammer of his heart and his harsh, gasping breaths.

The back windows had been painted black and from his position on the floor, he couldn't see over the seat. The only sounds Clark made now were occasional grunts of pain when the van drove over a bump in the road. Lionel had stopped trying to get a rise out of him forty minutes into their journey and had since been issuing orders into his cell phone. No rest for the wicked, Clark thought bitterly.

When they reached their destination, Lionel withdrew a lead-lined box containing a syringe from his inside jacket pocket. "As much as I've enjoyed watching your discomfort during this trip, Clark, your compliance has become necessary now," he said as he approached. The mixture of fluid inside the needle flared green as he got closer. Clark considered struggling. In the end he closed his eyes and felt the tears roll down his cheeks as the needle pierced his flesh and the liquid burned through his veins. This time Clark welcomed the darkness.

Chloe cried out when Clark's still form was carried into the cell next to hers and dropped carelessly onto a cot in the middle of the space. The perimeter was lined with kryptonite fragments that began to glow in his presence. When they left, Chloe reached through the bars, trying to gain purchase on the rocks nearest her and starting to sob when she realized she wouldn't be able to move them away from her friend.

Clark woke to the sound of crying. Turning his head, he saw the blonde figure curled against the bars with her head in her hands. "Chloe?" he called out.

Lifting her head, she tried her best to smile. "Hey, Clark, fancy meeting you here."

"Not even an hour after I left your house yesterday. I should've been more careful! I was on my way to Grandville to call in an anonymous tip from a payphone," she ignored the look her confession earned from Clark. "When I got out of my car, someone grabbed me from behind and the next thing I remember is waking up here."

Clark accepted her change in subject. "Not really, just a broken rib or two," he tried to downplay the difficulty he was having breathing, not wanting to scare her any more than she already was. "He-I think he hurt my mom."

"He wouldn't hurt your mom, Clark, he's spent the last five years trying to get her to fall in love with him!" She clapped a hand over her mouth quickly. "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking."

"You haven't seen the things I've seen," Clark's quiet voice interrupted her. "You don't have any idea what he is capable of or the lengths he will go to, to get what he wants."

She watched as he turned his head away from her. Lowering her head onto her folded arms, Chloe sat on the cold floor and pressed herself against the unforgiving bars, willing herself as close to Clark as she could get.

With a sigh, Lex heaved himself up from the steps and started to pace the length of the room. Endless pacing, it seemed, was what he was destined for. He reached the far wall and turned. The stairs were in shadow from this distance, but he could see an unfamiliar form waiting just to the side of them. His steps faltered.

Lex tilted his head in recognition of the voice. "Mr. Kent?" he called, feet starting to propel him forward again.

Lex couldn't stop himself. He rushed forward and threw his arms around the man, gasping in shock when he could actually feel Jonathan. Jonathan didn't seem surprised. He simply folded his arms around Lex in return and didn't say anything when Lex started to laugh and choke back a sob at the same time.

Forcing himself to let go, Lex stared into the face of the deceased man and asked the ultimate question. "Am I dead?"

"No, son, not dead. Not quite alive right now, either. Your mother put it well; you're on the precipice, and there are choices to be made. Things are about to change, and you need to be ready. Clark's life hangs in the balance of your actions."

The ear-piercing cries started then. Through the door he could hear someone screaming Clark's name. He listened, frozen in place. Chloe. Chloe was calling for Clark. When he turned back, Jonathan was fading from sight.

"I have faith in you to make the right choices this time. Have that same faith in yourself and you'll be alright. Don't be afraid to open the door."

"Wait!" he cried, but it was too late. He was left alone with the sound of Chloe's anguished cries.

Chloe's voice followed Clark as Lionel's men led him away. He knew exactly where they were heading. The operating room was a large, white space full of gleaming equipment with an adjoining high-tech lab, and, on the other side of that, a recovery room with a single bed. The lab had one-way glass on its opposing walls to allow for observation of both locations and a narrow hallway at one end for transporting Clark between the two rooms.

They bypassed the steel table and led him to a chair that resembled a dentist's chair without the padding and with the addition of restraints. Clark noticed the extra restraints around the head and felt his stomach flip nervously.

Lionel entered the soundproof room, and as the door swung shut behind him the sound of Chloe's cries were silenced. He followed Clark's gaze to the steel head restraints. "Lex always insisted we avoid this particular procedure. He raised the concern that it might blind you and inhibit your use of the unique abilities your eyes possess. Time is short, however, and Lex is not in a position to stop me."

"I saved his life. Whoever was responsible for your escape nearly cost him it," Lionel turned to Dr. Avery as he emerged from the lab, not seeing Clark pale at his words. "Are you ready to begin, James?"

Clark didn't struggle as they strapped him in. He'd been in this chair before, he knew what could happen and what couldn't. He resigned himself to whatever cruelty they planned to inflict on him this time. Somewhere inside his head, a part of him was screaming and demanding he fight back. Clark ignored it.

Metal plates with small green specks glittering within them tightened against his chin and the top of his head until his teeth were ground tightly together. Similar ones were fixed into place just above his ears. The added restraints left his head completely immobile, and Clark knew right away that that was a very bad sign. His breath quickened and his heart rate sped up. When they wheeled something over and slid it in place above the chair, Clark began to panic.

"The lid speculum will keep your eyelids open during the procedure, Clark. You'll feel a slight pressure from it. Given your unique physiology, I'm afraid we won't be able to anesthetize your eyes."

He didn't care about the speculum. He was more concerned with the long, thin needles suspended above him and the tray of scalpels and other surgical equipment that had been moved into his line of sight.

Dr. Avery looked at him. "It's entirely possible you won't feel anything but pressure, Clark. Developments in the surgical field surrounding vision and human eyes have improved by leaps and bounds in recent years."

Lex stood at the bottom of the stairs, head tilted up to look at the door that had been locked to him the entire time he'd been stuck in limbo. Chloe's voice had stopped not long ago, but Lex didn't really trust his definition of time in this place. He raised a foot and moved his body slowly onto the first step.

He clamped his hands over his ears as the screaming started up again. Only, he realized, it wasn't Chloe this time. It was Clark. Lex lunged up the remaining two steps and pulled at the door. It opened easily under his hand and as he moved through the opening he found himself faced with a blinding white light.

The door to the operating room flew open, startling Dr. Avery into dragging the scalpel too deep too fast and too far across Clark's left eye. His recoil snagged the needle currently withdrawing fluid samples from Clark's right eye.

James stared at the damage, dumbfounded, as a guttural scream from Clark drowned out Lionel's string of furious remarks directed at the technician who had stormed in so suddenly.

Lionel froze mid-tirade. Turning to Avery, he spoke rapidly. "Clean up the mess you've made and throw him back in his cell. Remove the kryptonite, and if you're lucky, he'll heal enough to try again. I expect you in there in under two minutes," Lionel strode into the lab and through to the recovery room where Lex lay, blinking rapidly as he struggled to adjust his eyes to the bright, florescent lighting.

Chloe's arms and legs stuck through the bars separating her from Clark. When they'd thrown him back inside, he had sprawled on the ground gasping through sobs for a few minutes while she had called frantically to him. The gauze wrapped around his head held thick bandages in place over his eyes.

Finally he had pushed himself up to his hands and knees and made his way blindly towards the sound of her voice. He'd slumped with his back against the bars a few feet away and she had crawled up behind him to wrap her arms around his waist. Small, choking gasps were the only sound he made now. His hands found hers and he clung to them as if he were drowning.

"Love you, Clark, everything is okay, it'll all be okay in the end," she whispered to him. She doubted the truth of her assurances but kept repeating them anyway; for herself or for Clark, she wasn't sure.

Lionel sat on the edge of Lex's bed. "He should be on his way back to his cell shortly. We recovered him today. Martha Kent was kind enough to confide in me that he had returned. Clark didn't see fit to tell her who was behind his disappearance; I'm sure he regrets withholding that information now."

Lex had felt weak and disoriented upon waking, and now he could add nausea to the list. His father had Clark again, and if Clark had gone home to his mother it meant Lex had been unconscious for weeks or that Clark had simply ignored him when he said to wait.

The door opened and Dr. Avery entered. "I can't tell if there is any permanent damage He has no vision in either eye at the moment, but we'll see how he is once he's had a chance to heal up a bit."

Lex turned to his father. "You didn't," he rasped, his voice sounding rusty from weeks of not being used. "If he's blind-"

Lionel raised a hand, cutting his son off. "It no longer matters. He's dying and I would rather extract what information I can from him before that happens."

"Dying?" Lex asked, his voice sounding small against the booming confidence Lionel's exhibited. "What do you mean he's dying?"

Lex struggled to get out of bed, muscles vigorously protesting the sudden demand for movement. "What have you done, Dad? The greatest discovery in the history of mankind and you've fucked it up, haven’t you?" He didn't have to fake the anger in his voice.

"On the contrary, Lex, you 'fucked it up' as you say. You let him get away. The removal of kryptonite allowed his system to start trying to neutralize the toxin; however, the return of his powers acted as a catalyst when the resulting jump in his metabolic rate released larger amounts of kryptonite into his bloodstream. His body's defense mechanism is effectively killing him instead of helping him."

As he spoke, Lionel reached out a hand to steady Lex when he started to waver. A lab technician appeared with clothing and Lex, not bothering with decorum, stripped off the t-shirt and pajama pants he'd been wearing and pulled on the suit. The pants hung low on his hips and the shirt was loose on him, but he didn't care.

"The last time he was in your presence we nearly lost him. I'm not entirely certain you weren't behind that little incident, Lex."

Lex pinned his father with a glare perfected through the years of being a cutthroat businessman and "golden son" to Lionel Luthor. Lesser men had cowered under this particular look, but Lionel just shrugged it off and motioned for Lex to follow him.

He did not falter. He did not miss a step. He acted as if the sight of Clark, pale face broken by the stark white gauze, curled against the cell wall as Chloe Sullivan did her best to comfort him through the iron bars, had no effect on him at all.

"Congratulations on your latest acquisition, Dad." Lex struggled not to watch Clark's reaction to his voice but found it was impossible to look away. The man tensed and started to tremble, keeping his head deliberately low. He didn't want to consider what Clark had been thinking in his absence.

"Ms. Sullivan was becoming a nuisance. I'd been looking for a way to dispose of her. This was even better."

Lex hummed noncommittally. His head was spinning and his legs were threatening to drop him to the ground if he didn't sit down soon. Gesturing to a guard to unlock Clark's cell, Lex entered and knelt on the ground in front of the shivering man. Chloe seemed to be perfecting her own version of the "Luthor Glare."

The door clanged shut behind him. Lex whirled around at the sound of a key turning in the lock, trying to ignore the dizziness the movement brought.

Lex did not shout and rattle the bars no matter how much he wanted to. Instead he faced the room and took in his surroundings. Chloe and Clark had not moved. Lex strode across the room and dropped to his knees in front of the two. "Listen closely, and don't say a word," he whispered tensely. "I will get us out of here, but you need to follow my lead. For now I need you to keep doing exactly what you're already doing." Lex chanced a quick brush of his fingers across Clark's cheek. "Just hold on."

Lex took the cot when he slept that night, leaving Clark to huddle in the corner with Chloe at his back trying to keep his shuddering body warm. It was a precarious game being played and appearances were vital to Lex's strategy, but he did not sleep that night. All he could hear were Chloe's whispered reassurances to Clark as he clung to her in their awkward embrace.

Come morning Lex was groggy and dehydrated. His head was still spinning and his body protested even the slightest movement. Staying perfectly still did nothing to alleviate the dizziness. He laid there, eyes half-closed as the compound came to life around him.

Dr. Avery entered the cell shortly after an almost inedible meal of cold oatmeal and juice had been delivered to the three of them. He had eaten swiftly and fought with his stomach not to bring the congealed oats back up. Chloe did not touch her own meal until after she'd coaxed Clark to eat and drink.

Avery bypassed Clark and moved straight towards Lex. "How do you feel?" Lex kept his gaze fixed over the physicians shoulder. The doctor sighed. "Lex, you've been in a coma for a nearly a month and a half, and your father tossed you in here before I had a chance to examine you. I need you to answer me."

Lex's eyes flicked up to meet the other man's before answering in a voice so cold that Chloe couldn't help but shiver. "Dizzy."

"The ache is normal; your muscles aren't used to movement so take it easy. Your head injury was severe, but it healed remarkably. The dizziness will eventually pass, but you should lay down until I tell you otherwise." Avery moved to clap him on the shoulder but swiftly thought better of it.

Lex sat on the edge of the cot and watched as James moved to kneel beside Clark without a word and started to unravel the bandages. Lex forced himself to watch as the bruised skin around Clark's eyes and across the bridge of his nose was revealed. When the pads covering Clark's eyes were removed, Lex visibly flinched but continued to look on.

"I need you to open your eyes, Clark," Avery said as he roughly prodded the abused skin under his eyes. Clark shook his head minutely. "I need to see the damage, which means you can open them yourself or I can do it for you."

For the first time in years, Lex actually thanked God. He thanked him for Chloe not being able to see the destruction Lex could see from where she sat. Clark's eyes fluttered open and squeezed quickly shut again against the harsh, florescent lights. Dr. Avery didn't give him a second chance. He forced Clark's eyes open and Lex had to fight to keep his expression neutral. Both were filled with blood, the left one secreting a thick, mucus-like substance, the right one crusted over with dark flecks of dried blood.

When Dr. Avery began to scrape the dried blood off his right eye, Clark jerked his head back hard enough to draw blood when it connected with the bars behind him.

The doctor raised his voice, calling to someone in the shadows outside the cell. "I'll need to restrain his head so I can get a better look." Lex was not surprised when his father stepped out of the darkness and nodded. Clark was led silently away, stumbling only once when Lionel brushed roughly past him to stand in front of his son.

"Well, son, you've had a night to collect your thoughts. It's time you and I have a conversation," and with another nod two men entered Chloe's cell and dragged her into Lex's. "We're going to play a little game. You tell me what happened that night, and every time I think you're lying, Ms. Sullivan will have one less functional finger. She only has ten, Lex, so I suggest you do your best to make me believe you."

Three mornings in a row Lionel had Chloe pulled from her own cell and into Lex's. Three mornings in a row, Lionel had three of Chloe's fingers broken. Three mornings in a row, Lex failed to convince his father and in turn, failed Chloe.

Chloe had grown increasingly still as each day progressed with no sign of Clark or an end to Lionel's game. She had gone from pacing rapidly from one end of her cell to the other in a fit of pain-filled anger, to sitting still in the far corner with her head down and her knees tucked up to her chest in absolute resignation. Lex's chest ached to see her like that, but he could offer no comfort under the watchful eyes of Lionel.

The fourth morning started the same as the others. "Ms. Sullivan is running out of fingers, Lex. I suggest that before you begin you take into consideration all the other bones in her body that can be broken."

"Why bother, Dad?" Lex bit out, his body tensed as if waiting to strike out. "I've told you what happened and you've chosen not to accept it as truth. By all means, continue your head game; however, I stopped playing before you broke the first bone."

Lionel watched Lex carefully. Lex did not move. Finally he nodded. "Alright," his voice was strangely soft as he turned to leave. "It's time to move on to the next stage of the game, then. Don't say I didn't warn you, Alexander," and with that he was gone. Chloe was returned to the other side of the bars. It wasn't until his father's footsteps had faded that Lex chanced a look at Chloe. She was watching him intently.

Clark lay with his face turned towards the sun as it rose on his seventh day in the recovery room. The roiling kryptonite-induced nausea had receded enough to let him rest almost comfortably when the doctor had inched the rocks back slowly until he had begun to show signs of healing. Lionel appeared in his line of sight, blurry even at close range; but Clark recognized the mane of hair falling close enough to brush against his face. He flinched at the contact.

He was ignored. The bustle of activity started the moment Lionel moved away from him. His clothes were stripped and replaced with a hospital gown and he was moved to a gurney and wheeled into the operating room. Clark was laid on his stomach and a sheet was pulled up to just under his hips. Someone spread the back of the gown open and his back was swabbed with a cold liquid.

"Please," he said again, louder this time. "Please don't do this!" No one listened. His head was propped up so that it was slightly raised. Restraints were fitted into place across his legs, hips, shoulders, and head. His ankles and wrists were enveloped in padded cuffs and locked into place. Clark could not move.

The first prick of the blade froze him in place. As it dragged deliberately and carefully down his back in line with his spine, he felt as if every movement had slowed to a crawl. The first cut was not deep enough. Sounds were blending into one another and he could no longer distinguish one voice from the other. When the screech of a bone saw filtered through the cacophony overpowering Clark's senses, he was too far gone to be afraid. He fainted when they cut into his spinal cord.

Clark's eyes blinked open to find a solid green mass in front of him. As it moved, he realized it was a person wearing pale green scrubs. He knew they were still doing something to his back. He could see his vivisected flesh and bone on a monitor out of the corner of his eye; but, he couldn't feel anything.

Lionel bent down in front of him so that his face was level with his own. "Hello, Clark. I'm sure you're wondering what we're doing at the moment," Lionel delighted in explaining their procedures to Clark. "As we discovered shortly before you were taken from us, your spinal nerves are unique in their makeup; similar to a human's, but with a few added points of interest. For instance, instead of a single layer of grey matter and a single layer of white matter, you have two of each. Each has its own set of two dorsal roots and ventral roots. Twice what a human spinal nerve contains."

Lionel glanced up and nodded. "Dr. Avery is going to start removing samples for further study, Clark. Until now we have been photographing and otherwise documenting your spinal cord and nervous system; however, the situation now requires further, more detailed examination. You may lose sensation in your lower body if you haven't already, but I'm confident your abilities would allow you to heal over time. It's a shame I won't be able to test that theory."

Clark closed his eyes and willed his panicked breath under control. "Don't do this," he finally choked out. "Don't do this, please!"

When sensation ceased altogether—and as Clark was slipping into the darkness that had been creeping in on the edges of his mind—something flitted through his limited line of sight; long red hair cascading over a flowing, white gown.

"Who are you?" he whispered. No one in the room heard him; to them, he was already unconscious.

"Hello, Clark," the woman said as she bent to ruffle his hair. "My name is Lillian."

Lex watched in silence as Clark's still form was wheeled back into the cell and transferred to the cot, face down. He could see the bulk of bandages under the thin, cotton t-shirt and sweat pants Clark wore. Lionel appeared in the doorway and gestured for Lex to follow. He did.

Lex breathed a sigh of relief as he walked through the door to his penthouse. After his father had ushered him into his office and spent two hours grilling him further about Clark's escape—trying to catch him off guard—he was more than ready to sink into a bottle of Scotch and not stop until he saw the bottom.

The first thing he'd done upon escaping Lionel's barrage of questions was arrange to have the penthouse swept for bugs, not trusting Lionel to leave him to his privacy. Then he had sat on his couch and stared at the wall for nearly an hour, lost in thought, until his phone rang; the penthouse was now clean. Lionel had been trying to trip him up at the same time he'd been trying to bend Lex to his will again. But he wasn't going to fall for it anymore.

Numbing himself against the experiences of the last few years was not what he should be doing right now. He should be on the phone with Graham, making arrangements to free Clark and Chloe before either of them were hurt further. Instead he opened a fresh bottle of Scotch and sank into the haze of broken memories.

Lex stood in front of an easel, paintbrush clutched tightly in one hand, the other hanging loosely by his side. Across the room, Lionel stood beside Dr. Foster watching his son drag the paintbrush sluggishly across the paper.

"The electroshock therapy, combined with the suggestions planted in his subconscious, has left Lex in a state similar to partially formed clay. All he needs is someone willing to shape him."

"Very well, doctor. Start the release process. I will be leaving with him shortly."

"And doctor? Before you go, may I remind you that we have an agreement? I wouldn't want to see any harm come to your family should you..." he paused. "Forget any of our terms," he finished smugly as she continued on her way.

"Son, will you sit down with me?" Lex turned at the sound of his father's voice. Overjoyed to see his father standing behind him, he nodded vigorously and led the way to an empty table.

"It's time to go home, son," Lionel put his hand over top of Lex's and noted that Lex did not flinch or move away like he would have before his recent treatments.

"Really? You're sure?" Lionel nodded and stood to leave. Lex rose from his chair and followed his father through winding corridors and formerly locked doors and out into the bright light of the midday sun.

Lex sat across from his father, shock written clearly across his face, not sure he had heard the man correctly. "Alien?" he repeated, dumbstruck. "I would have bet money on meteor mutant, but an alien? Are you sure?"

"I've seen his abilities myself, Lex. He stopped the elevator Martha and I were in from crashing, he got into the room by going through a concrete wall. He ran through fire unscathed and at such a speed no human could possibly match."

"I want to see what he's made of, son. I want to know what makes him seemingly indestructible. I want to put that knowledge to use for the good of mankind."

The old Lex would have scoffed at this last comment and walked out of the room. The new Lex, the one Lionel had molded into the perfect son, merely looked on with interest. "If he really is everything you say, just how do you plan to restrain him?"

"I know his weakness, son. The meteor rock hurts him, weaken him," Lionel leaned forward. "Think of the possibilities, Lex."

"It's amazing what money can buy, Lex," Lionel spoke over his shoulder as he strode inside the building that would soon house the labs. "The compound is nearly finished."

"It's amazing. The blue prints were one thing, but seeing it built is a whole other level!" there was admiration in Lex's voice. Lionel smirked.

Lionel continued to lead the way through winding passages, pointing out areas of interest as they went. Finally he stopped between two sets of looming, double doors fashioned out of rich mahogany wood. "The finishing touch," he said, throwing his arms wide in a gesture of grandeur. "Our offices. They are connected by a conference room that can only be accessed by a private elevator on the lower levels, or by entering through the offices themselves."

He gestured to the doors closest to Lex. "Go on in son, have a look around. If there's anything you don't like, I'll see to it that it is changed."

Lex pushed open the doors and walked inside. The room was twice as long as it was wide. A fully stocked bar stood to the left, just behind a seating area. An open door behind that gave him a glimpse of the conference room with its sleek table and ergonomic chairs. To the right sat a large, glass desk and another open door that led to a private washroom complete with a shower stall.

Lex watched Clark approach the grave. His red coat and denim pants stood out starkly against the pure white of the new snowfall. Clark brushed a hand against the top of the tombstone. Crouching, he reached out to gently caress the orchids Lex had left in a heavy, black vase just a few hours ago. It was time.

Clark heard his approach, even as he faltered. Something was telling him to turn around and go back. He ignored it and pressed on. "Hello, Clark."

Lex shrugged. "I had a feeling you might be here today, Clark. I wanted to talk to you."

Over Clark's shoulder, he could see his father approaching. Clark felt the effects of the meteor rock and he fell, turning to find Lionel's fist bearing down on him, clutching a glowing chunk of kryptonite.

Lex paced the length of his office. Half-formed thoughts, memories perhaps, had been plaguing him for the better part of six months now, and he was growing tired of feeling like he was missing something that should have been right in front of him. His father was in Tokyo on business and Dr. Avery was out of commission with the stomach flu. With both James and Lionel temporarily out of the picture, experimentation on Clark had ceased.

Lex thought back, trying to remember when the feeling started. He'd been at the penthouse, watching the late news. There had been a story on Morgan Edge, years in his grave now, and a connection to an organized crime ring that had recently been busted in Suicide Slums. Lex had not thought of Edge in years. But seeing his picture, the one of his new face, had triggered something in Lex's subconscious. He just couldn't figure out what.

Lex sat straight up in bed with a strangled gasp. He had been dreaming about Clark, about the day he'd pulled him from the river and breathed life back into him. He had seen the Porsche being pulled from the churning water with the roof bent back and away in a manner that had no explanation. And then it had all come flooding back to him. Clark pushing him out of the way, stopping Edge's speeding car with his body; the way the vehicle had folded around him. He remembered telling Clark in Belle Reve that he knew his secret and hadn't told anyone. He remembered screaming for help as his father ordered the doctor to administer electroshock therapy.

Sweating and panting, Lex threw the covers back and paced the room as his thoughts churned chaotically. Pulling on a robe, he strode into his office and reached for the phone, initializing a secure line.

Lex woke on the couch the next morning with the first hangover he'd had in years. The two empty bottles of Scotch on the coffee table explained the raging headache, and in the back of his mind he thanked Clark for the meteor shower and his healing abilities. That much Scotch would have killed any other man. Stumbling to his feet, he made his way to the bathroom and set the shower to as hot as he could tolerate. Stripping, he climbed inside and let the heat melt away the tension that seemed to have taken up permanent residence in his neck. He emerged twenty minutes later, and much like he had months earlier, Lex wrapped a robe around himself and headed to his office to use the secure line.

"Graham, this is Lex. I need your team again. Lionel's reacquired his prized possession, and I plan to divest him of it."

Lex did not falter. "Every last one of them needs to be inside. The staff lives on site; your team will need to ensure no one leaves."

"Clark Kent and Chloe Sullivan are to be clear of the building and unharmed. I will be escorting them out. Your team's primary directive is to secure and destroy the buildings. Their assistance removing the subjects will be on an as-needed basis only."

Lex disconnected and strode over to the bar, heedless of the early hour. He opened a fresh bottle of Scotch and poured.

Martha Kent sat curled in the corner of the couch as the TV played mutely in the background. Discarded in her lap was a photo of Clark and Chloe taken during their senior year of high school. Clark had an arm draped over her shoulder and was looking down and laughing at something she had said. Now, however, they were both missing.

It had been eleven days since she'd come home from the Smallville Medical Centre to find the deputies who had been left to protect her son unconscious at their posts. She hadn't wanted to go, not even when the feeling in her sliced thumb had started to disappear. She'd been chopping vegetables when the blade slipped and sliced clean through to the bone. The deputies had insisted and called for someone to drive her there.

She turned her head slightly, debating whether or not to put on a pot of coffee. As she turned, she caught sight of a familiar face on the television screen. Lex Luthor was pushing his way through a throng of reporters outside LuthorCorp as they tossed questions about the company's latest upcoming merger at him.

"But Lionel said he was in Europe indefinitely," she said out loud. Things started to tumble into place in her mind and the realizations were enough to make her jump to her feet and rush towards the phone. Searching frantically through her address book she finally came up with a number she prayed was still in service. Fear threatened to choke her, anger at herself rose up and burned at her throat. It all made sense. She was a fool for not having seen it sooner.

The orchids found by the police at her husband's grave, the three sets of footprints. Martha began to pace in a tight circle as she listened to the phone ring in her ear. Lionel's close watch over her through the years, his persistent questions about the investigation, and putting his own team in place to search for Clark. The way he was there whenever she felt she was getting close to finding the answers, pushing subtly until she moved in the direction he wanted her to. Lex's heavy silence and carefully kept distance. All of it made sense now on a whole new level.

"Mrs. Kent?" Lex's voice was in her ear as he called her name. She hadn't noticed that the ringing stop.

"My father and I did, yes. I won't make excuses to you Mrs. Kent, but I wasn't acting entirely under my own free will; I'm working to free Clark and Chloe. Please," his voice became soft and sad. "I just need a couple days, and I'll have them both home safe."

"Because I love your son, Mrs. Kent." She listened as his voice cracked and he drew in an unsteady breath. "I will bring him home to you. I swear on my life."

Lex pulled up outside the compound in an SUV, cut the ignition, and turned his cell phone to vibrate. His father's limo pulled up to the front doors as Lex exited his own vehicle.

"Lex, I trust you slept well last night? It's a big day today. Clark regained sensation in his extremities last night, and we'll be opening him back up to see the results of the regenerative process. If we can keep him alive long enough, I'd like to focus on cloning possibilities."

"Looking forward to it," Lex responded, falling into step beside his father. His men would have been in their final positions two hours ago. Time was counting down. "I'd like to meet with you and James first to discuss an idea."

"Of course, Lex, send for the good doctor and I'll meet you both in the conference room in ten minutes." Lex paused and watched his father stride down the hallway towards their offices before turning to look for Dr. Avery in the lab.

When Lex ushered James Avery into the conference room a few minutes later, Lionel was already waiting. "What's this idea of yours, Lex?" he began as each man took a seat.

Lionel stared at his son for a moment before breaking into laughter. "Funny, Lex, but time is short so get to the point."

"That was the point, Dad. I'm very serious. Clark Kent will be leaving this place today."

Rising from his seat, Lionel began to walk towards the door. "I don't have time for your delusions, Lex. Perhaps it's time you paid a visit to Dr. Foster at Belle Reve?" He reached for the door and tried the knob. It was locked. He came around the table, glaring at Lex, to try the other exit.

"It's locked, too, Dad," Lex leaned back in his chair, resting his hands behind his head. Dr. Avery looked decidedly uncomfortable with the current turn of events. Lionel strode to the elevator, which started to rise when he was still a full five feet away.

The elevator slid open to reveal three fully-armed men. One stepped forward, his gun trained on Lionel. "Mr. Luthor, I suggest you sit back down," Graham said as he gestured to Lionel's abandoned chair. Lex smirked as his father was forced into the seat and his arms bound behind him. Dr. Avery was being similarly taken care of.

"Are you sure about that? After all, you thought you'd gotten away with wiping out my memory and turning me into your own personal puppet, didn't you?" Lex rose from his seat and moved to stand over his father as his legs were secured. He leaned in close. "You failed, Dad. I win. You lose. Goodbye."

"Lex! Lex come back here now!" He ignored Lionel's demand and exited through the now unlocked door to his office. Graham followed.

"This isn't about what you feel, Graham. Your men need to stay out of sight until it's time to blow the fucking place up. Today is a procedure day," Lex said, grimacing at the word. "Every one is here, and they are all going down. I don't want anyone but your team, myself, and Chloe and Clark making it out of here because someone saw one of your guys and raised the alarm."

Graham nodded and headed back inside. "Good luck, Lex," he called over his shoulder. "Call if you get into trouble."

Chloe sat with her arms curled around her legs, damaged fingers hanging limply, cheek resting on her knees. She watched the up and down motion of Clark's back as he breathed. His head was turned away from her—had been since they'd brought him back—and she was desperate to see his face again, to look into his eyes and see what was going on inside him.

She didn't raise her head. "You asked us to trust you, Lex, and look what happened."

"Chloe, we're getting out of here right now. I know you're hurt, but I need you to help me with Clark." This time she looked up. Lex was unlocking her cell door and coming inside, stretching a hand down to help her up.

He reached down and grasped her wrist gently and pulling her up. "Help me with Clark."

Clark moaned when they touched him. His eyes opened and cut to Lex's face. Lex was relieved to see they seemed to have healed completely. "Wha's goin' on?" he muttered, groaning when Lex got his hands under him and began to sit him upright.

"Don't think I can walk, Lex," he said and hissed when they each worked an arm over their shoulders and wrapped their own around his waist.

"I need you to try, okay? Your mom misses you, and I promised her I'd bring you home."

Lex led them down a deserted hallway to the private elevator at the end. "We're coming up," he barked into a communicator he removed from his pocket.

They shuffled Clark onto the elevator and emerged on the upper levels of the compound. Clark flinched at the sight of Lionel in spite of the man being tied and bleeding from a wound on each leg. Avery's body was slumped in his seat with a hole in his forehead.

Lionel was left alone, which as far as he was considered was Lex's only mistake in his impressive foray into disobedience. Jerking forward until he could reach the table with the fingers of one bound hand, Lionel slide back a panel and depressed a panic button. It was less than one minute later when his head of security broke through the locked door and entered the room with his gun drawn.

"Untie me and clear the alarm, no one else is to know about this. I want you to stay here and wait for my orders," Lionel commanded. The man snapped into action and Lionel was soon out of his bonds and limping from the room at a remarkably fast pace.

Graham's team had done a thorough job. The three escapees passed no one on their way out of the compound. Reaching the SUV, Lex and Chloe carefully loaded Clark into the back seat and within seconds Lex was roaring away from the buildings. Had they been just a few moments more in their task, they would have seen Lionel rushing from the building and climbing behind the wheel of one of the security vehicles. His escape was shrouded by flames and flying debris as the compound went up behind him.

"Where are we going?" Lex had barely gotten Chloe's seatbelt fastened around her and pulled away from the compound when the repercussion from the explosion jolted them forward.

In lieu of an answer, Lex pulled out his cell phone and dialed. "Martha?" he said after a pause. "Meet us at the caves. Bring the key."

The journey to Smallville was silent; Lex kept his eyes focused on the road, and Chloe turned her head from him and watched the scenery blurring by. Clark slept, and neither Lex nor Chloe dared to wake him. He'd passed into a fitful rest as the vehicle bumped over worn dirt and gravel roads. It wasn't until after they'd made it onto the highway that he slipped into a deeper sleep, waking when the vehicle rolled to a stop outside the Kawatche caves. Martha rushed forward as Lex stepped out and pulled open the back door. He reached in to slip his arm under Clark's shoulder, helping ease him out of the vehicle.

"Clark, sweetheart?" Martha struggled to hide her fear as she slid her arm around him, encouraging him to rest his weight against her.

"I thought you were d-dead," he stuttered, his voice strained as he tried not to cringe at the pressure against his back. "I thought Lionel killed you. There was blood on your sweater," he tightened his grip on her and leaned heavily on Lex.

"Mrs. Kent?" Chloe appeared at her side looking small and frail, completely unlike the young woman who usually filled an entire room with her presence.

Martha pulled her into a quick, one-armed embrace. She touched her tear stained cheek and pushed her hair back from her forehead. "You'll be safe now, Chloe, you both will."

Lex had never actually seen Clark's fortress. Clark had given them the location against his will, but he had never spoken of the portal in the cave; he'd learned of that from Martha just hours before. Expeditions had been mounted on six separate occasions to find the fortress, but extreme weather conditions had resulted in one failure after another. Both Lionel and Lex had known the caves were connected to Clark, but without the key—which had been safe in Martha's care for years—they'd had no way of discovering the portal's existence.

Lex's steps faltered as they entered the cavernous ice fortress, and he craned his neck trying to take everything in at once. "You described it, Clark, but I never imagined..." his voice trailed off.

"Kal-El," a deep voice rang out from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. As had happened before, a bed appeared in the centre of the cavernous space, and the air seemed to warm around them almost instantly.

Once he was settled on his side as comfortably as possible, Clark finally let his emotions break free. With a choked sob, he buried his head against his mother's lap and shook as she ran her fingers through his hair and whispered reassurances while her own tears fell into his ebony curls. Lex felt distinctly out of place.

The light surrounding Chloe disappeared as abruptly as it had come. She moved to stand next to Lex, flexing her fingers in wonder.

"I'm sorry you were hurt, Chloe" he said, eyes downcast and hands shoved into his pockets.

"You did some saving of your own. He would have let go if you hadn't been there."

"What makes you think that? He's strong, Lex; strong enough to have survived all this time."

"Clark tasted freedom and had it taken away. Lionel broke him. You held him together. Without you, he would have crumbled into a million pieces." She seemed to accept this explanation as they lapsed into silence, watching as mother and son held each other.

"What a touching reunion," a cold, strained voice said from behind them, accented by the click of a gun cocking. "Too bad it will have to end in bloodshed."

Martha's head shot up at the sound of Lionel's voice. Anger clouded her features, and she rose quickly to position herself in front of her son. "You'll have to kill me if you think you're getting your hands on him again," she ground out.

"As much as it would pain me to lose you, Martha, I'm willing to do so. And Lex, betraying me was a foolish mistake. You should have known better, son."

"You're right, Dad, I should have. If I'd stopped to think about it, I would have realized years ago what you were doing to me. If I'd stopped to think about it, the mind fucks would have ceased long ago and Clark would have been spared your sick curiosities."

Lionel stepped forward, leaning close to Lex, tapping the gun against his son's shoulder. His voice dropped to a deliberate whisper. "I'm not the one who wanted to see how long it would take his lung to heal if we removed a piece."

Lex let out a guttural cry and lunged for his father. He had barely moved when he was knocked backwards by a blinding light piercing Lionel's chest. It lifted the elder Luthor from the ground as his head fell back, arms and legs splayed out and dangling limply. The gun thudded dully against the ground beneath his feet.

"Lionel Luthor," Jor-El's voice boomed out, echoing off the icy walls. "You have held my son against his will and taken him down the path to death. You must now face the consequences of your actions; your life will pay the balance."

"Wait!" Lex yelled. "Wait, don't kill him. It's a far greater punishment for him to face the courts and publicly pay for his actions."

"Lex Luthor, you took part in his plot to hurt my son. It is only Kal-El's wishes that prevent me from ending your life as well. Why should your system of law be allowed to mishandle what I am able to rectify immediately?"

"Because he doesn't deserve an easy death, that's why!" Lex shouted back. "He deserves to spend the rest of his life rotting in a jail cell!"

"He does not deserve to draw another breath. He certainly does not deserve to draw a lifetime of them."

"Lex!" Clark's scream was enough to pull the other man's eyes in his direction. "If he goes to jail, he will take you down with him."

Lionel's body shuddered as he struggled to speak. "Why would the boy c-care what happens to y-you, Lex?"

Lex moved to stand closer to his father. "Because I helped him escape, Dad. Because I love him," he watched the anger building in Lionel's eyes.

Before he could respond, the light moved, morphed, and became a noose around Lionel's neck. He screamed, his legs started kicking and he fought to bring his hands to the beam as if he could pull it away from his neck.

"You have sealed your own fate, Lionel Luthor. You will suffer as my son has suffered."

No one moved as a narrow strip of flesh peeled from Lionel's cheek, revealing the musculature beneath and starting the flow of blood down his neck. Lionel's eyes bulged as the noose tightened, cutting off his cries. A second strip pulled itself away from his forehead and a third from the back of his hand.

Lex stumbled backwards as a drop of blood landed on the crown of his head. Lionel's clothing started to tear with his flesh, long, narrow strips of flesh and fabric separating and running vertically down his body.

Chloe turned her head into Martha's shoulder as the woman stood frozen in anger. She could not bring herself to feel fear or repulsion as the man who had taken her son from her was flayed alive.

Lex kept backing up until his legs hit the end of the bed and he was sent tumbling onto it. Clark reached for him, whimpering too softly to be heard at the movement. Fingers reached and found purchase as Lex's eyes stayed riveted on what was left of his father. Grasping Clark's hand tightly, he did not move or make a sound as Lionel's struggles slowly stopped and he was dropped to the floor in a bloody lump.

Lionel's ruined face turned, eyes searching wildly and finally resting on his son. "Lex," was the last strangled sound he made before his life drained from him in a spreading red stain on the pure white ground of Clark's fortress of solitude.

The beam of light swung and caught Lex, lifting him high above the others. "Tell me," Jor-El began. "Why I should not kill you despite Kal-El's desire to protect you?"

"Let him go!" Clark's scream sounded as if it were coming from a great distance instead of twenty feet below him.

Lex felt the beam snake around his neck and start to squeeze. "He's dying, and I know how to save him!" The steadily increasing pressure paused.

"No. I don't know. I don't know if it will work. You have to let me try!" Lex was turning red now, fighting for air.

"Very well, Lex Luthor, I will let you live. If you fail to save his life, your own will pay the price. Do you understand?"

The light disappeared and Lex dropped back to the ground, grunting at the impact. He sat up, stunned for a moment, before pulling himself back to his feet. He looked over at Clark's tear-streaked face and smiled grimly.

"Clark's blood contains healing properties. It's been poisoned from prolonged kryptonite exposure, but if we can purify it, he should start to heal as it moves through his body."

Lex and the AI worked on schematics for nearly three full days, during which time Clark slept almost continuously while Martha and Chloe took turns sitting with him. Lex did not stop to rest once.

The problem they were confronting was how to modify a generic dialysis machine to work with Clark's unique physiological structure. For every design they created, Jor-El ran a simulation. Each simulation failed. By the end of the second day, Jor-El had reissued his threat.

Lex snapped. "I would gladly give up my life for his, and this would go a lot faster if you'd tap into that extensive database of resources I know you've got and helped me find a better way to do this, damn it!"

Lex threw his hands up in frustration. "I'd have thought you would be doing it anyway. You don't want him to die any more than I do! You healed Chloe, why the hell can't you heal Clark?"

Jor-El paused as if considering his response. When he finally spoke, his voice no longer boomed around him but seemed to emanate from just to his left, loud enough that only Lex could hear. "Illness such as this did not exist on Krypton. What I know of Earth, I learned from one brief visit and through Kal-El. Kal-El does not possess the knowledge to heal himself, and as such nor do I."

Lex was equally quiet in his answer. "The solution is simple. Use my knowledge."

After their outburst, the two settled into a stoic pattern of give and take. By morning they had found a successful design. Jor-El was able to generate a functional model within minutes.

Lex made his way over to the bed where both the Kents and Chloe were fast asleep. He smiled slightly at the way Martha's hand stayed protectively on her son's shoulder and how Chloe had curled into Clark's other side and wrapped an arm around his waist. He almost didn't want to wake them.

"Clark," he whispered, leaning over Chloe and gently shaking the sleeping man. "It's finished, time to wake up now." He paused before shaking him again a little more forcefully. "Clark, wake up."

Martha raised her head sleepily. Lex pulled back as Chloe's eyes opened and she sat up.

"It's finished, but he seems to be sleeping rather soundly." There was a hint of humour in his voice, but Martha could see a deep weariness in his eyes.

She looked down at her son and noticed the change immediately. Clark's skin was paler, his eyes sunken. His breath was shallow. "Clark?" She shook him violently. He did not stir. "Clark, wake up!"

"Move!" Lex ordered. As the women scrambled off the bed, Lex scooped Clark up into his arms and carried him over to the waiting machine. Laying him down on the soft, padded chair and reclining the seat slightly, Lex began to hook Clark up. He kept missing Clark's vein and didn't realize he was muttering under his breath for him to hang on until Martha's hand fell on his shoulder and hushed him gently.

Lex took a deep breath, steadied his shaking hands, and tried again. This time the needle slid in easily. He repeated the action on Clark's other arm and hooked up the tubing. Flicking the switch that would start the pull of blood from Clark's body, Lex moved back to stand next the Martha and Chloe.

"I don't know. It might take minutes, or days, or it might not work at all." He started to pace, a nervous habit he'd begun resorting to frequently. "From this point forward, we just wait."

"In the news today, Lex Luthor, son of corporate magnate Lionel Luthor, has finally surfaced after a series of buildings linked to his father were destroyed in an explosion three days ago. Lionel Luthor—along with all employees on site at the time of the explosion—is suspected dead. Rescue workers have not recovered any survivors from the disaster.

"There is no word yet on the cause of the blast, but investigators have indicated a leak in a gas main may have been the initial cause. While the Luthor heir has spoken to authorities, no statement has been made to the press at this time.

"Early investigations into the compound itself have led to connections in the disappearance of Smallville resident, Clark Kent, son of former Kansas Senator, Martha Kent. Kent went missing just over five years ago and recently resurfaced only to disappear again. While the whereabouts of the young man are as yet unknown to the public, authorities have issued a statement confirming that he was not on the compound at the time of the explosion."

Lex sighed and scrubbed a hand across his mouth before turning the television off. He had spent almost the entire day at the police station, barely able to hold himself together, and he still didn't believe they had let him leave at all. After telling them everything he knew, he'd been positive that he'd be tossed in a jail cell and never see the light of day again.

But a surprising twist of fate had worked in his favor. Dr. Foster had stepped forward upon Lionel's death and provided police with evidence regarding his actions against Lex. She presented proof positive that Lex had been acting under the influence of his father and not of his own free will. Her statement had coincided with Lex's own admission to returning memories of events in the past. Lex was allowed his freedom.

He was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of his cell phone ringing. He glanced at the call display and smiled briefly. "Hello, Chloe."

"I think that can be arranged. We'll have to wait until the media circus outside my building is handled by security. I'll call as soon as I can leave."

The drive back to Smallville took almost no time at all. It was well after midnight by the time Lex had felt it was secure enough to leave, and now the roads were nearly deserted. In just over two hours Lex was guiding the silver Porsche into the shadows outside the Kawatche caves.

Chloe stopped him just inside the entrance with a hand on his arm. "I need you to be honest with me, Lex. What do you think is going to happen?"

He pushed his hands into his pockets and pursed his lips before answering. "I think that-" he cut himself off. "I don't know what to think, Chloe. I don't know if Clark will be alright. I don't know if the police will believe the story I told them. I don't know if anything will ever be right again. I just-"

This time Chloe cut him off by tugging him forward and wrapping her arms around him. Lex dropped his head and took comfort in her warmth pressed tightly against him. She made a quiet, soothing noise and stroked a hand up and down his back. Lex hadn't let anyone hold him like this in years. He let himself break long enough to let a single sob fall into the curve of her neck.

Martha watched the machine work the steady push and pull of blood through the tubing as Clark slept. She jumped when Lex's hand fell to her shoulder.

"The same," she said wearily. Standing, she pulled Lex into an embrace. He stood stiff and motionless for a moment before his shoulders sagged and his arms moved to return the gesture.

"You brought him back to me. He would have died without this," she answered, gesturing to the machine.

"What happened, Lex? How did it happen?" There was no malice in her voice, only a desire to understand.

"I-my father..." Lex's eyes moved instinctively to where Lionel had lain. The AI had removed the body and any trace of blood, but the image would be forever burned into his mind.

"His father brainwashed him," Chloe spoke up. "Dr. Foster from Belle Reve went to the authorities today."

She ignored him, continuing. "Lionel messed with his head, turned him into the perfect son. Lex started to remember how things used to be, and that's when he began to plan Clark's escape."

Martha brushed a hand across his cheek in a gesture that came very close to breaking the precarious facade of strength Lex was trying to hold on to. "Please, can we not talk about this?"

"We can stop for now, Lex, but eventually you need to tell me. I need to know." He nodded silently.

Clark's soft moan brought their attention back to where he lay. His eyes were still closed, but his head turned and he expelled a soft sigh. The three crowded around him, watching anxiously. It wasn't long before his eyes fluttered open, unfocused, staring up into the cavernous ice formation above him. He moaned quietly again as his left hand twitched.

The colour had returned to his complexion and even his hair had regained some of its former luster. Glazed green eyes slid from the ice to Martha and blinked slowly as recognition crossed his face. He took in both Lex and Chloe slowly, a half-smile gracing his lips.

Lex leaned down over him, unable to stop himself, and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Looks like it, Clark."

Clark remained hooked up to the makeshift dialysis for another two days, until the readouts indicated the level of kryptonite in his system to be zero percent. During the course of that time, Lex allowed himself to fade into the background as Chloe and Martha fussed over Clark. He made daily trips back to Smallville and Metropolis until Clark was brought home one week after his second rescue.

The authorities converged on him; the media camped out at the edge of the farm's drive, and Smallville residents—friends and neighbors—knocked on the door steadily from 7 a.m. to 9 p.m.

In the weeks that followed, Lex allowed himself to fade further and further away. He had his own affairs to handle: the transition of LuthorCorp into LexCorp, the dismantling of illegal or immoral projects, the complete reversal in business practices and more.

When the story behind Clark's kidnapping came to light, the media frenzy intensified. Lex had told the authorities a lie as close to the truth as possible. His father had kidnapped Clark under the pretense of the boy being affected by the meteor rocks and conducted experimentation with the rocks that had left Clark gravely ill. Smallville's oddities fell under intense media scrutiny and the government stepped in to sweep the town of kryptonite under the claim that it posed health risks. Over time, the news turned to other events, the reporters went away, and life in Smallville quieted down again.

Clark, while no longer ill, had been left weak. The kryptonite had been purged from his system, but extensive exposure had taken its toll on his body. When Lois, Lana, Pete, and Chloe had arrived two days after his return, they found him curled on his side in bed. When neighbours arrived and wanted to visit, Clark would make his way slowly down the stairs to sit in the kitchen and share a cup of coffee. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed simple things like coffee and fresh-baked muffins.

Months passed and Clark found himself watching carefully as the strangers in town slowly went away and the media no longer took up residence outside his front door. Things went back to normal. Lex, however, continued to keep his distance. A phone call once a week, a visit every other weekend, each growing abruptly shorter as three months passed and he and Martha had finally sat down to talk about what happened. Soon six months had gone by and Lex's phone calls lasted all of ten minutes, his visits not much longer.

Clark did not talk about what had happened to him. On the outside, he seemed to be slowly returning to the person he had been before his life had been turned upside down. Those who knew him well, though, understood that this was just another lie in the life of Clark Kent. But they did not push. They did not pressure. They simply watched and made sure he knew he could turn to them when he was ready.

Seven months passed and spring was slowly drawing to a close. Clark was stronger now. His powers had returned to full-strength and he was talking about applying to college. Something in him was still missing. His mother and Chloe could see it. They suspected that Lois and Lana could as well. Even Pete seemed to suspect as much through only their weekly phone calls. Lex seemed to be so lost in a world of guilt and sorrow that he was falling for Clark's outward attitude of "all is well."

Chloe climbed the stairs of the loft and paused to watch Clark as he stood staring out at the night sky. "Hey," she called, moving up the last couple steps and crossing to stand next to him.

He waited for her to stop at his side before tilting his head to look down at her, smiling gently. "Hey."

He turned and leaned a hip against the closed lower portion of the window. "Know what, Chloe?"

"How did you know that I needed to be saved that day in Metropolis? You were in the fortress, Clark. Super hearing or not, that's a hell of a distance."

Clark, obviously uncomfortable with the subject, turned his head to look back up at the sky. "I heard them. I was listening for Lionel, and he told them you were coming. Chloe, I don’t really want to talk about this."

"I know, but I think it's time you did. It's eating you up inside. You don't need to be afraid to tell me, or your mom, what's going on in your head."

He pushed off and strode over to the couch, pacing in front of it instead of sitting down. "I said I don't want to talk about it." Agitation radiated from both his voice and body language.

He whirled on her, anger flashing in his bright green eyes. "And what if I don't want to?" he shouted. "What if I just want to forget it all, put everything in the past and not have to think about it anymore? None of you seem willing to let me get on with my life! I just want to move on, Chloe. I don't want to talk about the shitty things that happened to me. I don't want to think about how much it hurt when they cut me open just to see what I looked like inside! I don't want to remember how it felt to have someone's hand rooting around inside my stomach after I was forced to swallow kryptonite so they could see how it affected my internal organs! I don't want to talk about what it felt like when they blinded me, or set me on fire, or starved me for a month to see how long I could survive without food!"

Chloe's mouth dropped open in shock and before she could regain her composure, Clark was gone.

Lex sat on the leather couch in the penthouse office, a glass of Scotch in one hand. The sun had set hours ago, and he had made no move to turn on a light. The three-quarters empty decanter sat on the table before him. He had been staring blankly forward, shifting only when his glass required a refill. Lost in his own thoughts, he did not hear the quiet tapping at his balcony door until it had been going on for nearly a full minute.

There was only one person who could possibly be knocking on his penthouse balcony door. Rising a little unsteadily, Lex placed his drink on the table and moved to unlock the door. Clark stood there looking like heartbreak personified. Wordlessly, Lex pulled him inside and wrapped his arms around him. He held on tightly as great, shuddering sobs began to wrack Clark's frame.

Neither man could be sure how long they'd stood there, Lex silent as Clark let his frustration out in tears. Eventually he calmed enough for Lex, feeling much less inebriated, to lead him to the couch. He sat down next to him, taking a moment to consider his next words.

"The bedroom, Clark. You're exhausted. The bags under your eyes are so dark they're practically black. You need to sleep." Clark accepted the hand up and followed him out of the office and down the hall to Lex's bedroom.

"Lay down," he said, gesturing to the bed as they entered the room. "Get comfortable," Lex disappeared into the bathroom, shutting the door softly behind him and leaning back against it. Ignoring the feeling of helplessness that had settled in his chest, Lex closed his eyes and drew in a deep, steadying breath.

When he returned a few minutes later wearing black pajama pants and a white t-shirt, he found Clark had stripped to his t-shirt and boxers and already appeared to be asleep. Smiling, he sat down carefully on the bed and brushed a stray curl off Clark's forehead. Leaning forward, he planted a quick kiss in its place.

Clark half-opened his bloodshot eyes and nodded, reaching out to tug on Lex's hand. "C'mon."

Late morning found Clark on his side with his head nestled into the curve of Lex's neck, one hand gently fisting the fabric of his t-shirt. Lex was awake and watching him with one arm settled comfortably across Clark's hip, the other-tucked up beneath his own head.

"Hi," Clark greeted, moving his head back to look at Lex. "Sorry, I didn't mean to climb all over you."

Lex tugged him out of bed and didn't let go of his hand as they made their way to the kitchen. He set the coffee brewing and turned to ask Clark if he was hungry. The first kiss was gentle. Startling. Lex hadn't seen it coming. Clark pulled back slightly, a range of emotions rushing across his features.

"The things Lionel forced you to do. Lex, it's over. I've missed you. I used to want to hate you. It took a long time to realize that what Lionel was manipulating you into had nothing to do with the real you. All that time I saw what he was doing and the one thing on my mind every day was how I missed my best friend. How much I wanted him to come back to me. And then you did. It was slow at first; a look in your eye, the tone of your voice. Lionel was too wrapped up in himself to see what I saw. It gave me hope when I'd nearly forgotten what hope was."

Lex leaned up and brushed his lips against Clark's. "We're still talking," he answered. Tilting his head to regard Clark, he continued with an almost imperceptible tremor in his voice. "You've been home for a few months now, but you haven't talked about any of it, have you?" Clark gave a silent shake of his head in response. "You need to, you know that right? Chloe, your mom—they want to help."

"According to who?" Clark tried to turn away, but Lex stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm. "Who said you had to do this on your own? I was there, Clark, you can scream at me, hit me, fight me, and get angry with me all you want; I won't turn my back on you."

Wide, green eyes fixed on his face. Lex met his gaze, unflinching. Clark's facade began to crumble. His voice came out in a harsh whisper. "I can't-" Lex pulled him close. "You're right; I can't do this on my own."

The coffee was forgotten as Clark crumpled in a heap in the middle of Lex's sleek, expensive kitchen. Lex was on his knees beside him in an instant, wrapping his arms around shaking shoulders.

He'd been rubbing gentle circles on Clark's back and froze at the words. "You did?"

"When they were cutting open my back, she was there. She told me you were coming for me and that I needed to hang on."

"I saw her, too, you know." Clark lifted his head. Lex hesitated to go on, but Clark sensed as much and nodded encouragingly. "She said it was time to make a choice, that she was sure I'd make the right one this time. It's not the first time I've seen her."

"You did get yourself into a lot of life and death situations in Smallville, Lex."

He chuckled, wiping away a tear that had strayed from Clark's eye. "I also saw your Dad. He told me I'd make the right choice this time. He thanked me for freeing you. I remember it like it actually happened. They say coma patients don't often remember their dreams, Clark, but I remember every word of our conversation."

Clark looked at him with a slight smile playing at his lips. "I'm willing to bet you still wanted him to be proud of you. Even after all these years."

A snort of laughter followed Clark's statement. "You're too damned perceptive for your own good, Clark Kent."

The next week passed in long conversations about the future and the past, soft touches, fleeting kisses and the warmth of bodies pressed together in sleep. Clark spent each night in Lex's bed, close, hands always maintaining contact as if he thought Lex might disappear during in the dark if he dared let go.

The morning of the eighth day found Clark waking with a curling heat in his stomach and a wet patch on his boxers. Lex's eyes were wide, lips parted, cheeks stained faintly pink. One hand was wrapped around the back of Clark's neck, the other clutching convulsively at his hip. Clark could feel the hard heat of Lex's erection pressing against his now softening cock.

Clark rolled his body slightly on top of Lex's, rocking down and causing the body beneath his to grind frantically upwards. He worked a hand between them, fingers brushing across hardened nipples, wrenching a whimper from Lex's throat. He was getting hard again. Trailing a hand downwards until his fingers brushed the elastic of Lex's pajama pants, Clark held the other man's gaze.

Fingers slid below the waistband. "Do you?" Breathless whisper as his body responded to the man cradled beneath him.

Lex laughed, and it was unlike any other laugh Clark had ever heard from him. "I would give up everything, turn my back on everyone, and walk away from the only life I've ever known. I would do it without hesitation if you asked it of me."

"You would?" Fingers dipping low enough to brush the dripping head of Lex's cock.

"Ye-es!" A gasp and a shudder broke the word in two and it was all Clark needed to fill Lex's mouth with the explorations of his tongue. His hand found purchase, gripped hard, twisted up with a flick of the wrist at the head—the way he liked himself—heart filled with hope that Lex would like this, too, want this for now, maybe for forever.

"Clark?" He pulled back and looked at the man splayed beneath him. Lex's eyes were wide, pupils dilated, breath coming in harsh gasps. "Want you inside of me. Please?"

Clark had to close his eyes and count to ten. He went so still that Lex started squirming out from under him, fearing he'd gone too far too fast. His movements froze when Clark whispered, "Yes."

It didn't take long. Lex stumbled from the bed and into the bathroom, returning with a bottle of lube. He pressed it into Clark's hand, gripped his neck, and pulled him in for a kiss.

"Do you know what to do?" A minute nod of affirmation followed by a blush he hadn't seen in years and the briefest flicker of uncertainty in his eyes; Lex held him close. He knew instinctively that Clark needed to be the one in charge here, needed to feel in control. He was more than willing to give him that.

Lex stood between Clark's spread knees as he sat on the edge of the bed. When Clark's lips started to suck biting kisses onto the skin of his abdomen, he knew he was lost and prayed that if it meant he got to have the beautiful man in front of him for the rest of his days, he would never find his way again.

His head dropped back as Clark's kisses moved lower, shuddering when a tentative flick of a tongue swept across the head of his cock. Lex may have cried out when moist heat slid over him. He may have even screamed. It didn't matter anymore.

When release came in the form of white-hot sensation zinging through his body and ropes of ejaculate hitting the back of Clark's throat, Lex thought he might collapse. If Clark hadn't caught him and cradled him close, he would have.

"Now would be a good time to start stretching me," he finally managed to say, pulling gently out of Clark's arms, moving onto the bed and laying flat on his back.

Clark slid up over him and pushed his pants down in a swift, fluid motion. Lex shivered slightly as his shirt was removed just as quickly and his body was suddenly laid bare to Clark's intense scrutiny.

"You're wearing too many clothes, Clark," he said quietly, tugging lightly at the hem of his t-shirt. With an amused grin, the clothes were gone and the sudden revelation of golden skin and defined muscles left Lex speechless.

The first penetration of Clark's finger elicited a small, satisfied gasp from Lex. The second finger caused his back to arch slightly and his pelvis to push down, seeking more contact. When the fingers began to gently scissor inside of him, Lex thought he might really have lost his mind.

If he'd thought Clark's fingers were beautiful inside him, Clark's cock felt like coming home. He watched the other man's mouth drop open as the tight, sucking heat surrounded him. He reached a hand up to tangle in Clark's curls when his head dropped in a full-body shudder. He watched the young man between his knees bury himself to the hilt in his body, kept his eyes glued to the golden, muscular form as Clark pulled out slowly and slid back in.

Clark laughed. Lex's grin faltered, but only for an instant. He hadn't heard a genuine laugh from Clark in more years than he cared to consider.

"Only if you're trying to kill me," he said, solemn. There was an impossible pause before Clark moved inside him again. Lex's heart started beating again.

He arched his back when Clark trapped his hands above his head and shifted his knees wider, pressed them further back against his chest so that his cock rocked against Lex's prostate on every thrust. He didn't realize he'd been uttering a steady stream of "oh, fuck, Clark" until he was silenced with a crushing kiss.

"You talk too much, Lex," Clark panted on a particularly forceful inward plunge.

Feral grin followed by a "fuck yes," and Clark's mouth latching onto his nipple to bite and lick at the hardened flesh. When his hands started stroking Lex's sides, he thought he might die from the gentleness of the touch—until Clark's hand moved to his cock—then it was game over. Lex threw his head back and arched his body off the bed, convulsing tightly around Clark's cock. It was enough to wrench free Clark's own climax. Lex didn't have the energy to even grunt when nearly two-hundred pounds of alien dropped on top of him.

"I think we've both had enough of being hurt," he pulled Lex's pliant body closer to his own. "I finally have my friend back; you're the only thing I've needed for a long, long time."

The quiet knock at her door went almost unnoticed. If Chloe had been anywhere else in the apartment, it would have. Instead, she was walking past on her way to the kitchen to make her third cup of coffee of the morning when the hesitant tap caught her attention. She opened the door without looking to see who was there, knowing instinctively that she would find Clark on the other side.

He returned her embrace, his warm strength surrounding her. "It doesn't matter anymore."

"Where have you been?" She hadn't let him go and he'd made no move to break their embrace.

"Well, it’s about time!" Now he did move away, just enough to see her face. "Once the clue bus hit him, Clark, it was pretty obvious that all the things he used to feel came back to him. I just hope you two aren't going to let guilt ruin what was meant to be."

Clark let out a swift burst of laughter. His smile gentled. "I missed you, Chloe."

Martha Kent was growing used to seeing Lex turn up at her kitchen door, usually armed with brochures and pamphlets from places designed to help Clark get his life back on track. Everything from college packages that Clark would devour with intense interest to counseling services they all knew he would never consider.

She was also growing used to seeing them seated closely on the living room couch sharing touches, laughter, serious conversations and intimate looks. On one occasion when she had come home earlier than expected, she had found Clark pressing Lex up against the wall in the front hall, both men looking heated and decidedly tousled; she wasn’t sure she wanted to get used to that.

Finally, she was even growing used to the moments when either man would lean in close and murmur an affectionate "I love you" to the other. Her son was home. He was safe. His smile reached his eyes now, and he had learned to laugh again.

Soon enough she would have to grow used to him being gone again. He was putting his life back together. He'd be going to school in Metropolis. Lex had asked her just that morning if she would consider letting Clark move into his penthouse while attending Met U. She had replied that it wasn't up to her to let her son do anything. He'd smiled, kissed her cheek, and gone to ask Clark to take the next step with him.

Her son was alive. He was happy. He was in love. She smiled as she watched them through the window as Clark paced the length of the porch and talked a mile-a-minute while Lex sat back in his chair and grinned. Turning back to her pie crust, Martha Kent understood that everything was going to be alright in the end.