Corner of the World 31: Pulled from the Wreckage

Clark walked in from the far field slowly, feeling tired even though he knew it was more psychological than physical. The past two days had taken their toll on him, and all he wanted to do was curl up in bed and sleep for a long time. But, as always, there was work to do. There was a lot more work than usual, thanks to the storm. And, in many ways, Clark was glad for the work. Work meant keeping busy and keeping busy meant there wouldn't be as much time to sit around and think. And that was good, because Clark didn't want to think about everything that had happened in the past few days: Whitney already gone, Chloe leaving soon, Lionel and his threats, Lex, the tornado...

No. Clark especially didn't want to think about the last. The less he thought about what had happened during the storm, the better as far as he was concerned.

"Clark?" Jonathan said, coming up behind him.

Startled, Clark turned around and waited for his dad to catch up.

Jonathan put his hand on Clark's shoulder, tilting his head. It was very obvious that something was on his mind, and Clark hoped it wasn't the tornado.

"Your mother told me what happened with you and Lana and the tornado."

Why did nothing go his way?

Clark shrugged and turned to the fence. Needing something to do with his hands, he pulled out his toy truck and ran his thumb over the wheels. "The only person who was there, and I can't even share it with her," he said. Which wasn't true, exactly. Even if Lex had been there, Clark wasn't sure if he could share what happened. Of course, Lex would probably have figured out what had happened and tried to force Clark to explain. Then Clark would refuse and they would fight so, overall, it was a good thing it had been Lana and not Lex who was up there with him.

"Well, son, I'm here. You can share it with me if you want."

His words said, "If you want." His tone said, "Tell me." As if Jonathan had the right... no, that wasn't exactly true, and Clark knew it. It wasn't that his dad demanded to be told everything that happened in Clark's life. It was simply that he wanted to be invited in, and for Clark to feel as if he could tell Jonathan anything. After all, he'd been there for all the weird and freaky powers that had popped up in Clark's life so far. It was only natural that Jonathan thought that Clark would want to share what had happened with him.

"Clark?"

Clark sighed and tucked the truck back into his pocket. "Dad, I've survived a lot. Being inside that twister, I've never been so scared in my life. I couldn't see anything and things were bouncing off of me, and I didn't have any control." He hesitated, chewing on his bottom lip. "I was terrified. But, at the same time it was exhilarating. Not that I'd want to do it again, but... but being up there, in the middle of all that power, it was... almost exciting."

Jonathan was silent. He placed his hand on Clark's back and patted him gently, almost absentmindedly.

A frowned creased Clark's brow. "Is there something wrong with me, Dad?"

"No. Not at all," he said quickly, flashing Clark a shadow of a smile. "I just understand the feeling, that's all. When I was your age, I was... reckless." He pulled away from Clark and leaned against the fence. "My friends and I did stupid things to get a thrill. We'd go to a local bar, get drunk, and pick fights with random strangers. We'd car race on the road by the dam. I even ran away to Metropolis at one point. Smallville was too small and I wanted excitement."

Clark flushed, remembering what Lionel had told him about his father. He wished so badly that he could forget the image that Lionel had painted, but it was hard. "I'm not exactly going to go jumping into any more tornados, Dad."

Jonathan shook his head. "No, and I wasn't suggesting that you were. But danger, as frightening as it is, can be exciting. It gets your blood going, your heart pumping. It's easy to get addicted to the rush. And I'm not even saying that it's a bad thing to crave. But, as with everything, you need to be careful. Even you," he added, raising an eyebrow. "You might be strong and hard to hurt, Clark, but you're not immortal."

"I know, Dad," Clark said, trying to keep the annoyance from his voice. He understood where his father was coming from, but he was missing the point. Yeah, it had been thrilling being caught up in the whirlwind and fury of that tornado; and, yes, Clark wouldn't mind to recapture the thrill somehow, without the fear. But, he wasn't going to go seeking it out.

"Clark, what is it?" Jonathan asked after a moment, looking at Clark's expression intently.

He shoved his hand through his hair. "Nothing. I'm just still a little freaked, you know? I guess I keep waiting to be swept off the earth again." Especially since I think I might have been flying and I don't know how to control that, he finished silently.

Jonathan nodded, a look of understanding washing over his features. "Now that I can understand. I've felt that way myself. After tornados, after the meteor shower. It's natural to walk around very carefully the first few days after a disaster hits, and to keep looking over your shoulder, wondering when the next thing is going to come and get you."

"Yeah," Clark said faintly, knowing his father was right, yet knowing that he couldn't understand what Clark was going through. "So, uh, what do I do?"

"Give it time," Jonathan answered simply. "For awhile you're going to flinch at the wind, and fight the urge to grab onto something if it blows too hard. You might get anxious if you don't know where your mother or I are, or any of your friends. You might jump at loud noises and want to rush off to see what happened. But, as time goes on, you'll realize that the wind's not going to lift you into the air, and every noise doesn't mean something horrible has happened. Things will go back to normal and you'll go through your day without that anxiousness."

"When will that be?"

Jonathan squeezed Clark's shoulder and began leading him towards the house. "There's no exact time limit on something like this, Clark. The only thing you can do is give yourself time. Now, let's go see if there's anything to eat; I'm starved."

"Yeah," Clark said, a facsimile of a smile on his face. "Me too."

It was Dominic who first noticed the Damien was missing. He'd arrived just minutes after Lionel had emerged from surgery and laid the fault of his blindness on Lex's shoulders. When he'd stepped into the room, Dominic had taken in the situation with a brisk efficiency that surprised Lex (or would have, had Lex been in a state to notice) and sprung into action.

In a little over an hour and a half after his arrival, Dominic had guided a shell-shocked Lex into an empty room, sat him down, and ordered a passing volunteer to bring him a cup of tea. Then, he'd tracked down Lionel's doctor and spoke to him, Lionel, and the staff of Metropolis General, arranging for Lionel's transfer. He'd called Lionel's secretary and told her to begin interviewing nurses and physical therapists for when Lionel was well enough to go home, and scheduled a meeting of the Board of Directors in two days to advise them of the situation.

Once he had arranged all that, he'd put away his Palm Pilot and looked at Lex seriously. "Now, Lex. Where is Damien?"

Lex blinked and looked up at Dominic dully. Clutching the now cold and untouched cup of tea in his hand, he shook his head. "I don't know," Lex said hoarsely.

"When did you last see him?" Dominic asked, pulling a chair in front of Lex and sitting down.

"Uh." Lex forced his mind to work, which was hard. It had been working, working nonstop for almost seventy-two hours. And now, upon the realization that Damien was gone, it seemed to be throwing its hands into the air and giving up.

"Lex, focus." Dominic squeezed his knee.

He blinked a few more times, trying to grab onto any thought in his head that was coherent. "Uh, he went to Metropolis last... no. The night before the storm. Friday."

"And when did he last call you?"

Lex frowned. "Right before the storm hit. Before Dad came into the room. He was on his way back."

Dominic's eyes went wide, but Lex could see him force the instinctive panic down. "I see," he said after a moment. "And, how close was he?"

He shook his head, unsure. "I don't know. He said he was near... near something. Coming up from the south? Just outside of Grandville or something." Lex got to his feet, feeling as if he were moving through quicksand, but Dominic pushed him back down very gently.

"Stay. I'll call the limo for you; you need to go home and rest."

"But Damien," Lex said helplessly, blinking at Dominic.

He shook his head. "Let me take care of it. I'll check with Search and Rescue. And the hospital staff as well. From what I understand, there's another hospital where they took some of the victims."

"But I should do something."

"Lex, you've done enough for today. Go home and rest. Let me handle this."

"But..."

"He's my lover," Dominic cut him off, fear and frustration leaking into his voice. "I know he's your assistant, and he's important to you, but Damien is important to me too." He paused, composing himself. "I've slept in the last twelve hours. I've eaten in the last four. You have done neither. My mind is working at full capacity, and you are in shock. Let me look for him. Please."

Lex held Dominic's eyes for a long moment, then nodded. "Okay. Yes. I'll go home. But if you hear anything, even just a rumor..."

"I'll call you. Yes. Now wait here until the car comes."

Lex nodded, sipping the tea. He made a face and set aside. "Dominic!" he said suddenly before Dominic left the room

He turned. "Yes?"

A slight smile curved Lex's lips. "I never expected this from you, Dom. You've really come through when it was needed."

Light shining in Dominic's eyes, he smiled back, very obviously trying not to look too pleased. "Yes, well. I was due." Then, with a final glance at Lex, he left the waiting room.

The limo came about ten minutes later. Lex climbed in, and managed to stay awake until the limo pulled in front of the mansion.

The grounds were empty, except for the security guard at the front gate. There was a note on the main banister from Mabel; she was out helping Search and Rescue at the Talon, and the rest of the staff were at their own homes.

Lex didn't care. All he wanted was to sleep. Sleep, a long bath, a good meal, then a few more years of sleep. Right now, nothing else mattered. He knew his room had survived the storm, and that was enough for now.

Except, the entertainment room caught his eye as he passed it. A sinking feeling in his stomach, Lex stopped and entered to find the room in shambles.

As with his office, a few beams had fallen and the roof was destroyed. The windows had blown in, furniture lifted from their proper places and smashed on impact with the walls. Stones had been shaken loosed near the fireplace by the crack Clark had made in the wall the first night he and Lex had made love.

Their place... Ruined.

Lex fell to the floor in front of the fireplace. Glass cut into his skin, slicing through his slacks. He didn't feel it. In fact, he didn't feel anything as he curled into a ball in the small space between the overturned couch and part of the fireplace, and drifted off to something that resembled sleep.

Clark sat on his bed after Lana left, cursing under his breath.

"Clark?" Martha called, appearing at the top of the stairs.

"Hey, Mom." He flopped onto his back.

She was silent as she crossed the room and sat next to him. "Are you all right? I saw Lana leaving just now, and she didn't look happy."

Clark laughed bitterly. "Of course she didn't look happy."

"Did you two fight?"

"Not exactly. But she knows that I'm lying to her about something and isn't happy about it."

Martha grimaced and smoothed some hair off Clark's forehead. "What does she know?"

He hitched a shoulder. "Just that it was a miracle that she survived, and she probably shouldn't have. She knows I was there, too. She said that while she was up there, she saw me and felt me put my arms around her and tell her it was all going to be ok."

"Oh," Martha sighed, breaking a tangle with her fingers.

Clark nodded, then laughed very softly. "I didn't, you know. Tell her everything was going to be ok, I mean. I was too scared. I was... I was screaming; louder than her, even."

Martha leaned over and kissed him, then leaned on her elbow, gazing at Clark. "What did you say to her?"

"Just that it wasn't me, and I didn't know what she was talking about." He frowned. "I was really put on the spot and didn't know what to say. Maybe I should ask Lex to teach me how to lie." He glanced at his mother underneath his lashes.

She looked thoughtful. "That's not a bad idea. I don't really like the idea of someone teaching you to lie, but... it might help when people get too inquisitive about your powers."

"I hate lying to my friends, but, on the other hand, I don't want to tell them the truth."

"I thought that you always felt keeping secrets from them was hard."

"Keeping secrets from Lex was hard; I felt so connected to him that it felt like I was betraying him by not telling him. And I knew that he suspected something from the beginning. When I started falling for him... well, the only model for a relationship I really have is you and Dad, and you guys are honest with each other. I wanted to be that way with Lex."

"But notice that, after you started going out with Lex, he allowed you to have your secrets," Martha pointed out. "He gave you space to work through what you were going through and let you tell him at your own pace."

He thought about it a moment, then nodded. "Yeah. And he never acted as if he had a right to know. Not like Lana just did. She made it seem like, if I did save her, it was my obligation to tell her that I did. Lex at least realized that maybe I couldn't tell him, and let it drop."

Martha raised her eyebrows. "Except for hiring that reporter."

Clark grimaced. "Yeah, well, he hired Nixon to investigate the crash, not me. And he did it because, well, he's _Lex, and he needed to know why he didn't die. Once we were together, he told Nixon to stop, but Nixon didn't." He sighed and sat up.

Martha sat up as well. "What are you going to do about Lana?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Keep playing dumb and hope she gives it up." Sighing, Clark rubbed his eyes. "I'm just afraid that she's going to latch onto me now."

"How do you mean?"

"Lana thinks I rescued her, and I have rescued her in the past. That means, I keep her safe. And if she decides that I really did rescue her, she might, I don't know. Want to hang around me, because I can protect her. And she really likes being around people who make her feel safe. First Whitney, then Chloe, and now me." He laughed. "To think, a year ago, I would have killed to be in the position."

Martha smiled and stroked his hair. "That's such a horrible way to go through life, though. Not that your father doesn't make me feel safe, or Lex, you. But, Lana just seems... needy somehow. Emotionally stuck." She sighed. "You know, yesterday at the Talon she told me that she wished she was part of our family. When she has Nell, who loves her very much." She shook her head. "I've always wondered why Nell didn't get her some counseling after the meteor shower. Or why she doesn't now. I think Lana needs some professional help moving on."

Clark nodded slowly. "Yeah. She's really fixated on..." He broke off abruptly as he concentration was drawn inward.

"Clark?" Martha said worriedly.

He jerked away from her touch, frowning. Something was wrong, and he couldn't quite...

The ^tug^ took him by surprise, physically pulling at him so he fell off the bed.

"Clark!" Martha exclaimed.

"Lex," Clark whispered, head raising. He gazed off in the distance. There was another ^tug,^ like a giant hook had him around the middle and was drawing him to Lex.

"What's going on?"

"I have to get to Lex." Clark pushed himself to his feet.

"What..."

"No time, Mom!" Clark called before he darted out the door, racing down the lane towards Lex's mansion.

He was there in under a minute, slipping through the gate. The grounds were empty, save for the security guard who was snoozing at the front gate. As Clark breezed passed him, he made a mental note to tell Damien about what he had seen; Clark hated to get anyone fired, but Lex's safety was important.

Throwing open the front door, he paused in the hall, ^listening.^ Lex's presence was very faint, his mind silent. In fact, it hadn't been a mental call that had pulled Clark at all; like during the storm, Clark was drawn to his lover's distress. Lex was hurt, and his pain was calling Clark to him.

/ Lex? / he called, jogging up the stairs towards the faint flicker of Lex's aura.

There was a faint moan, and Lex ^drew^ away from Clark, pulling a shadow around him like a cloak.

Lex's location became clear to Clark, and he raced into the entertainment room, heart pounding in his chest.

"Lex!" Clark exclaimed when he saw his lover curled on the glass-strewn floor.

Lex didn't move.

"Lex?" He knelt next to Lex, caressing his head gently. "Come on, Lex. Wake up."

When Lex still didn't move, Clark swept the glass behind Lex's body clear, and rolled him onto his back. "What's wrong?" he whispered, resting his forehead against Lex's.

A wall of some kind had risen over Lex's mind, opaque and... gooey somehow. Clark couldn't quite figure it out, but the blockage had a rubbery sticky/smooth feel to it, like cookie batter. He had to fight to get his mind through it, and couldn't quite get through. Clark felt as if he were suspended in the middle, halfway towards Lex's mind, yet not quite there.

/ Lex? /

Lex's mind ^jerked^ as if startled, then retreated further. Groaning softly, Lex rolled onto his side, curling back into the fetal ball Clark had found him in.

A little daunted, but still determined, Clark tried again. / Lex / he said more firmly, trying to work through the goo. / Answer me. /

There was a very, very faint answer this time.

/ What was that? /

/ I'm cold. / Then he withdrew again, ^pushing^ against Clark until, gasping for breath, Clark broke free of the wall and sat up, blinking.

"I can fix that," Clark said out loud. He gathered Lex in his arms and, cradling Lex's face against his chest, took off running again, this time towards home.

It was easy to get passed the front gate. The guard was still asleep, and by the time the gate was open enough to alert him, Clark and Lex were gone.

"Clark!" Martha exclaimed when he appeared in his bedroom.

Clark started, surprised, still clutching Lex to his chest. He'd forgotten that he had left her there in his concern over Lex's condition. "Mom, I..." he started guiltily, but her eyes took in the situation quickly.

"Is he hurt?" she asked, walking to him.

"Yeah; he's was lying in glass. There was some blood on the floor." Clark lay Lex on the bed as he spoke, and began taking off Lex's shoes.

"I'll get the first aid kit and call for an ambulance."

"No!" Clark exclaimed, grabbing her arm. "No ambulance."

"Honey, there's something very wrong with him if he didn't wake up when you ran him over." Martha knelt next to Clark, who was unbuckling Lex's belt. "He needs a doctor."

The urge to heal Lex was so strong, Clark was finding it hard to breathe. He needed to get into Kiptin as soon as possible and find out what was wrong.

"Mom, I need to find out what's wrong with him first." He tugged off Lex's pants and rolled him onto his stomach. "But before I do that, I want to clean these wounds and stop the bleeding."

"Clark..."

"Get the first aid kit, Mom!" Clark practically shouted. Then he leapt up and sped to the kitchen, grabbed the kit, and raced back. "Sorry," he mumbled, opening the kit. "I shouldn't have yelled."

Martha looked a little shell-shocked. "Clark, what's going on?"

As he carefully pulled a sharp, jagged piece of glass from Lex's leg, Clark flushed, "Lex is hurt, and I can feel it. But there's more than just these cuts or... or whatever. Something is really wrong, and I have to find out what it is before some doctor locks him away in a hospital room where I can't heal him."

Helping Clark bandage the wound, Martha said, "Clark, I know that you want to help Lex, but you're not a doctor. You don't have medical experience to..."

"I can heal Lex, Mom," Clark said quietly, picking up an antiseptic wipe and moving to another cut.

After a brief pause, Martha shook her head. "Pardon me?"

"I can heal Lex." He risked a peek at her.

"How?"

He flushed and shook his head. "Uh, it's not important? I just can. But... but before I can, uh, heal him, I have to... to ask for permission. And find out what's wrong, because a few cuts shouldn't have knocked him out like this." He swiped the wipe over a cut, then bandaged it carefully.

"How do you intend to find out what's wrong with him?" Martha asked.

Clark glanced up at her. "Um, I'll ask him? Telepathically?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Are you asking me or telling me?"

"Telling you," Clark said, sighing. "Lex and I can communicate telepathically. Sometimes we just... talk. Somehow our minds meet, and we can talk silently and understand what each other says. We mostly do it when we're around each other, because it's harder the further we are from each other. And then, there's Kiptin."

"Kiptin?"

Placing a bandage over the last cut, Clark rose and went to his dresser. "Yeah, Kiptin. It's a... Lex called it an astral plane. Well, sort of. When we first started doing it, we'd meet in this empty space where we could see and touch each other. If we were really far apart, it's how we would talk; our minds would meet or go there or something, and we'd be able to see each other. And then, Kiptin came. It's the same thing, only... only it's like a room. It has a ceiling and bed and fireplace and toys and... it's real. I don't know how to explain it, but it is." He pulled out a long sleeved shirt and sweat pants from the dresser drawer and went back to the bed.

"How long has this been going on?" Martha asked, taking the shirt from him. She helped Clark roll Lex onto his back.

Clark's shoulder hitched as he tugged the sweat pants over Lex's legs. "He's been reading my mind since... I guess since we met. He was a telepath when he was a kid, like Ryan. But after the meteor shower, it went away. And..." Clark hesitated, chewing on his lower lip. Then he shook his head and said, "That's when Kiptin first appeared."

Martha looked up, startled. "I thought you said that Kiptin was where you and Lex meet."

"Yeah, it is. It's where we've always met, even when we were kids." He looked up at her.

She looked at Clark blankly for a moment before understanding dawned. "Are you saying that... that you and Lex have been connected since you were children?"

Clark nodded. "I don't remember much; I've repressed a lot that happened before I learned English. But Lex knew. He was told by a psychologist that Kiptin was like a mental refuge or something; that he created it because of the trauma he went through during the meteor shower. But it wasn't true. Not exactly. Somehow, after I landed, my mind found Lex's and we... connected."

"This is all so hard to believe," she said, brushing her hair from her face.

Face falling, Clark said, "You don't believe me?"

"No, Clark, I do." She made a face, looking distressed. "It's just... A little strange."

"I know. But remember how you said when I was a kid, I used to, like, go into trances or something? Draw into myself and not respond to what was going on?"

"Yes."

"I was with Lex, then. In Kiptin. And that's where I have to go now. Lex keeps pulling away from me when I try and talk to him directly. Maybe if I go to Kiptin where we both feel safe, he'll come to me and tell me what's wrong."

Martha pulled Lex's shirt off and, with help from Clark, put the Clark's tee shirt on him. "What if he won't talk to you?"

Clark frowned as he lay Lex back in the bed, drawing the covers over him. "Then we'll call the doctor and hope they can help."

"Very well. What should I do?" Martha asked.

"I don't know. I'm going to be in my mind for awhile; I don't know how long. I don't want you to worry. Maybe... maybe go in the house? Give me and Lex some privacy for awhile, until we can sort out what's wrong."

"Very well. But if I don't hear from you in two hours, I'm going to come out and see how you are. Is that ok?"

"Yeah, that's fine." Clark smiled and climbed into bed next to Lex. "Thanks, Mom."

Martha smiled and kissed him on the forehead. "Bring Lex back," she said. After a moment, she leaned down and kissed Lex as well. Then, brushing her hand over Clark's hair tenderly, she turned and left.

When Clark lay down, Lex rolled into him immediately, as if he'd been waiting for Clark all along. His body fit snugly against Clark's, head tucked beneath Clark's chin, arms wrapped around his waist. He was no longer in the fetal ball that Clark had found him in, which was encouraging, but there were still lines around his eyes, and Lex was far to pale for Clark's tastes.

Exhaling in a long, silent sigh, Clark closed his eyes and tried to force himself to relax. He was so on edge from everything that was happening, it was impossible to calm his mind. Random thoughts kept intruding, breaking his concentration and preventing him from getting to Kiptin. Daunted, Clark released Lex and sat up.

"Ok," he whispered, rubbing his eyes. He took a couple of deep breaths and tried to think of the most calming thing possible.

The image of the tornado filled his mind, startling him. Yanking his hands from his face, Clark opened his eyes, trying to sooth the pounding of his heart.

Next to him, Lex's face creased into a frown. He began to curl in on himself again.

"No, Lex," Clark said immediately, sliding back down so he could gather Lex against his body. "Stay with me, love. Please." He kissed Lex's forehead a few times, then each eye. "Stay." His eyes squeezed shut again, and Clark ^let go^ falling out of consciousness as if he'd leapt off a cliff.

His stomach clenched in fear as he fell, but Clark kept his concentration focused on Lex, not letting the terror take over. Something was very wrong; normally, Kiptin felt up. Or, at least, it wasn't normally a terrifying descent like this. Yet he knew that he was going there, falling feet first towards the astral plane at speeds so fast, his thoughts were almost a blur as well.

An object appeared under him. It was domed and solid and made of something like glass. Clark braced himself, covering his head. He crashed through, the glass shattering, cutting into his skin. Tiny fires of pain burned where the glass bit in, distracting him from the fact that he was still falling.

Without warning, Clark slammed into the ground, grunting as the wind was knocked out of him.

For a moment, Clark lay still on the cold, hardwood floor of Kiptin, breathing in ragged gulps. He felt heavy and bruised, somehow, the trip taking a lot out of him. If it weren't for Lex, Clark would simply close his eyes and drift off, repairing the hurts that had sprung up all over his body. But, he couldn't do that; ice and snow were falling on his back, and Clark knew that there was a lot to do before things would be ok.

Heaving a sigh, Clark pushed himself onto his arms and looked around.

"What the heck happened?" he breathed, looking around the room in disbelief.

Kiptin was a wreck. The snow Clark had noticed fell through several large holes in the ceiling; a few had icicles hanging from the openings. Outside, the sky was inky black and formless, wind whistling over the holes in an eerie wail.

"Ah, man." Clark rose to his feet, brushing snow from his jeans. For some reason, they were torn, and his knees were scratched and bleeding. He frowned, and looked around at the rest of the room.

The toy chest was turned on its side, the toys flung haphazardly around the room. Many were broken, as well; it looked like a graveyard of doll parts, broken trucks, and crushed Legos.

The fireplace had fallen in on itself. The mantel was broken in half, each side seeming to frame the hearth. One of the walls next to the fireplace was cracked, part of it on the floor. The lavender scented candle that Lex kept on the mantel had melted in a pile of wax.

A horrible, sinking feeling in his stomach, Clark turned to survey the rest of the room.

The bed was broken as well, the two end legs were gone so it was tilted in a downward slope. The satin headboard cover was ripped, chunks of padding pulled out and strewn on the bed. The comforter was thrown on the floor, sheets torn and in disarray.

Clark sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Lex. What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything! It was like this when I got here."

The hair on Clark's neck stood on end as he whirled behind him, trying to find the source of the voice. The _child's_ voice. The voice of a little boy that _couldn't_ be Lex... could it?

"Lex?" Clark said cautiously, not sure what to believe.

"Go away!" the child snapped. "I don't want you here."

Releasing a shaky breath, Clark sat down on the edge of the broken bed.

The voice sounded a little familiar, like something out of a dream or... or a memory. And, this was Kiptin; it wasn't like Kiptin was a real place. It was a mental projection of sorts. Clark supposed that he and Lex could appear looking however they wanted.

But, why was Lex a child? Or was that really Lex? But, who else would it be if not Lex?"

"What's going on?" Clark muttered under his breath. He cleared his throat and rose, walking to the fireplace. "Why don't you want me here, Lex?"

"Because I don't! I want to be alone and... and I can't get in anyway."

Clark fought down the urge to grimace as he studied the fireplace. He wondered if he could fix it.

"What do you think happened to Kiptin?" Clark asked.

"It fell apart." There was a sob on the edge of the child's--Lex's voice now. "It fell apart, just like everything falls apart."

"Did you try to put it back together?" Clark asked.

"No. Why bother?" There were very light-sounding footsteps on Clark's right.

Clark turned quickly, but there was no one there. Frown on his face, he turned back to the fireplace and closed his eyes. The image of how the fireplace should look sprung into his mind. A moment later, the fireplace was fixed, mantel whole once more, wall repaired, and a small fire burning almost cheerily inside. Clark felt his heart skip a beat, but other than that, felt fine.

"There, you see?" Clark said to the listening air. "It's easy to make it right again."

"Stop! I don't want it fixed. It's just going to fall apart again," Lex said angrily.

"I don't see any reason to sit around being uncomfortable." He turned his attention to the ceiling. "I'd rather fix it and have it fall apart again, then have it like this."

A heavy pressure engulfed Clark as he tried to fix the ceiling. It was a repeat of earlier when he'd tried to get into Lex's mind: the heavy, goo-like substance was pressing against him. After a few moments, Clark actually had to fight to breathe, but, bit by bit, the holes began to close. It looked as if glass was slowly creeping over them.

A sweat broke out of Clark's forehead. "Lex," he gasped, falling to his knees. "Stop fighting me."

"Go away!" Lex practically screamed, ^pushing^ Clark.

"No!" Clark shouted back. He ^shoved^ Lex out of his mind and away from the holes. The pressure eased slightly. Quickly, Clark sealed the holes, blocking out the sad wailing of the wind and cold of the emptiness outside.

"God," he gasped, falling to the floor. He rested his head against the wood, exhausted.

There were tiny, tentative footsteps that approached Clark from the left. "Are you... are you ok?" Lex asked softly.

"Yeah," Clark breathed back. "Just give me a minute, ok?"

There was a sniff, and then Lex whispered, "Ok. But I still want you to go, though." And he ^pushed^ Clark very gently.

Eyes closed, Clark ^pushed^ Lex back, and then drew away from his surroundings slightly, gathering his strength, and preparing for round two.

However, no one seemed to know what Damien had been doing in the city, nor when he had left. At a lost, Dominic had decided his best course of action was to search through the unidentified victims, starting with the morgue. It wasn't that Dominic believed that Damien was dead, though. He couldn't let himself believe that. It was simply the most logical place to start; once Dominic was certain Damien wasn't dead, he could expand his search into anyone who hadn't been identified and was still living.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," a young man said, coming up to Dominic. "I'm Mike Patterson."

Dominic smiled tightly and shook the man's hand. "Mr. Patterson. I am Dominic Senatori."

"Call me Mike. Now, are you sure that your friend isn't anywhere else? I'm told we have about ten people in the ICU that haven't been identified yet. And that's not even touching on the people they took to Grandville. You have at least twenty living bodies that might be your friend." Mike pulled a key out of his pocket and began unlocking the door.

"No, I wish to start here. There are only three unidentified bodies inside."

Mike frowned and pulled the door opened, walking inside. "It just seems a little morbid, you know? Looking at dead people while your friend might be right upstairs, lying in a bed and waiting for you to come and identify him."

"If I start here, I know he isn't dead," Dominic replied. "Please show me the bodies."

Shrugging, Mike nodded. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Now, I don't know if they told you, but we have three bodies. The first two are in pretty good shape, but number three was found crushed by a tree." He pulled the first slab out, unzipped the bag, and glanced at Dominic. "Do you know him?"

Dominic took a deep breath and forced himself to look at the body. The sigh of relief escaped him before he could help it. "No." His throat was very dry, and he swallowed hard. "Next body, please."

Mike looked at him carefully, and nodded. "Do you want to sit down?"

"Just show me the body," he answered crisply. Then, swallowing, he added a soft, "Please."

"Sure." Mike pulled the second body out, eyes intent on Dominic's face.

"It's not him." Dominic's knees were shaking now. He grasped onto the slab, holding himself steady.

"Ok." Mike put his hand on Dominic's arm for support then slid the second slab back into place. "This guy is in real bad shape. If--and I'm sorry to say this, but I have to--if you start feeling sick, please try to turn away from the body."

Dominic nodded, breathing very shallowly.

Mike pulled the third drawer open, and uncovered the body to the waist. "Here he is."

Panic flooded through Dominic and he swayed on his feet. It was him. It was Damien, he knew it.

He inhaled sharply and closed his eyes, unable to look at the mangled corpse.

"Hey, are you ok?"

Dominic sniffed and silently scolded himself. The truth was, he hadn't gotten a good look at the body; it could be anyone. Damien, while very handsome, also looked like many other men: dark brown hair kept short and neat, strong jaw line, thin, yet sensuous lips, and beautiful brown eyes. He was ordinary, not quite nondescript, but in no way memorable.

And the man on the slab didn't have a face. All he had was brown hair and tanned skin. It was possible that the similarities ended there, and all Dominic had to do to discover that was to open his Goddamn eyes.

"Look, why don't I get you some water, ok? And have a seat."

"No," Dominic managed to get out. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed his forehead with it. Then, taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes and forced himself to look at the body once more.

His stomach turned over as he gazed at the disfigured form. Fighting back nausea, he studied it for tell tale clues as to whether this was his lover or another man.

Dominic began breathing easier. "No scar."

"What?"

A smile broke out on Dominic's face, one he tried to fight away, but failed. "Damien has a scar under his right nipple. It's very prominent. This man hasn't any. This isn't him."

Mike grinned. "That's great!" He patted Dominic on the shoulder. "You really had me worried there for a moment."

"Yes. They resemble each other superficially, but even that... this man's hair is much longer than Damien's. And he's thinner as well. I'm sorry for my reaction."

"It's perfectly understandable." Mike slid the slab back into the place, and turned to Dominic. "So, now you can start searching the ICU. And keep checking with the Search and Rescue; I heard that they're still bringing people in."

"I will. Thank you for you help." Dominic tucked his handkerchief away and shook Mike's hand. Even though Damien still hadn't been found, he felt more light hearted than he had when he'd walked into the room."

Mike shook Dominic's hand, smiling widely. "Glad I could be of help. And good luck."

It felt like hours later when Clark stirred. Lifting his head to gaze around the room blurrily, he blinked, trying to clear the gum from his eyes. By this point, he was confused. He'd always assumed that Kiptin was it; if he were in Kiptin, he was asleep, so he couldn't lose consciousness. If he did, it meant he'd drifted out of Kiptin and back into the sleeping part of his mind.

And yet, Clark knew that he hadn't left. He'd been drifting around formlessly, trying to gather his strength. Then again, nothing was making much sense right now. Kiptin was a mess, Lex was a kid, and Clark... Clark was sore.

He groaned and pushed himself up.

"You're awake." Lex still sounded very young. He also sounded... echo-y. Distant.

Clark rubbed his eyes and glanced around. "Lex? Where are you?"

"I don't know." Small feet pattered behind Clark.

He whirled, heart pounding, but no one was there. "Are you having trouble getting in?"

"No."

"Then why can't I see you?"

Lex sniffed. "Because I don't want to be here. You're making me."

Clark rose to his feet, closing his eyes when a wave of dizziness washed over him. "No I'm not."

"Yes, you are. You came and you're not leaving. I keep getting drawn here, and can't leave no matter what I try."

"Well," Clark said, running his hand through his hair. "I want to talk to you."

"Maybe I don't want to talk."

The room was still a mess, but Clark didn't have the strength or the will to fix it right now. But, he could tidy things a bit, so he decided to put the toys away. Grabbing the overturned toy chest, Clark tried to upright it. For some reason, it weighed a ton, and he had to strain, but, after a long moment, Clark managed to fix it.

"You really aren't being very nice to me," Clark said, feeling breathless. He began tossing the toys into the chest.

Lex snorted. "Maybe that's because I want you To Leave!!!"

Rolling his eyes, Clark put the head back on his Barbie. "I'm not leaving and acting like a baby isn't going to help anything. Why don't you want to talk?" He tossed the Barbie in the chest, and continued gathering toys.

"Because." Lex sounded as if here were getting closer, some of the strange echo leaving his voice.

"Because why?" Clark picked up the last toy and put it away. He closed the lid to the toy chest and turned to survey the rest of the room.

Everything seemed to be in order now, except for the bed. Clark went to it and grabbed the comforter. Then he went to the throw rug before the fireplace and sat down, pulling the comforter over his shoulders.

"Because... because I don't want to make you fall apart," Lex said after a moment. Now he sounded as if he were directly behind Clark, and the distant, echo sound was completely gone.

Clark tensed, then convinced his shoulders to relax. "I'm not going to fall apart, Lex," he said in a soothing voice, hoping the coax Lex nearer. "I'm pretty tough."

"But I made your knees bleed."

"Just because you're fighting me. You can't normally do that."

"I know, but... but I was thinking it would be better to stay here. Not here, maybe, but not... not awake. Not out there. But if I'm here, that means I can hurt you and make you fall apart, so I don't know what to do."

"I don't want you to stay here. I want you to wake up."

"I can't," Lex answered with a sob on his voice. "Because everything fell apart out there, too."

Very slowly, Clark turned.

A child was standing behind him, about five or six years old by Clark's estimation. He had bright red hair, piercing, Lex-blue eyes, and pretty bowed mouth. He was wearing the purple shirt and black slacks Lex had been wearing when Clark found him. Lex was gazing at Clark through wide eyes, tugging on the fingers of his left hand anxiously.

Despite his worry, Clark's face broke out into a soft smile, touched by the absolute adorability of Little Lex. "Hey," he said softly.

Lex's lower lip trembled as he answered, "Hey."

"Are you cold?"

"No," Lex replied, shivering.

"Not even a little?" Clark opened the comforter he had wrapped around him, inviting Lex to sit in his lap.

One small shoulder hitched. "Maybe a little." Hesitantly, he walked to Clark, eyes fastened on his face. When he was close enough, Lex slowly sank down into Clark's lap and allowed Clark to hold him tightly.

Rubbing his cheek on Lex's hair, Clark asked, "What's the matter?" He just managed not to call Lex "baby."

Lex sniffed and snuggled against Clark. "Everything. It's all falling apart."

"You said that. Can you tell me what it means?"

"It is!"

Clark blinked at the fierceness of Lex's voice. "I'm not saying it's not, Lex. I mean, I know everything here fell apart, but look around: it's almost all back together."

"You can't put things back together at home. Not even you can." Lex shivered harder, pressing back against Clark. "I'm cold."

"You'll warm," Clark said, running his hands over Lex's thin arms under the blanket.

Lex sniffed. "Where am I?"

"My house, in bed with me. If you don't feel warm soon, tell me, and I'll wake up and call Dr. Sutton. How does that sound?"

"I don't know. I don't want to wake up."

"But I want you to." Clark kissed Lex's hair, then his temple. "Please tell me what's wrong, Lex. Please."

"Everything!" Lex hesitated, then began shaking harder. "Dad's blind. He c-can't see anymore and it's all my fault. Damien's missing, and I think he's probably dead. I killed a man. I sh-shot N-Nixon. He's dead. And now my house is a mess. The windows are broken, and the walls are broke, and... and it's all falling apart!" He turned and buried his face in Clark's chest, clutching the shirt tightly in his fist. "I'm so tired," he whispered.

Clark bit his lip, running a soothing hand over Lex's back, nuzzling the silky red hair. He didn't know what he was supposed to say; there was so much. Where was he supposed to begin?

He thought a moment, tying to decide what was probably bothering Lex the most. The answer was pretty simple. "What happened with your dad?"

Lex pulled his face away from Clark's chest so he could look up at him. "Dad's blind," he said, chin trembling. "He can't see. And it's all my fault."

Wow. Clark had known Lionel was injured and in the hospital, but... wow. Blind.

He cleared his throat. "Uh, how did that happen?"

"When he was trapped under the pillar, there was damage to his optical nerve. And there were two doctors at the hospital. One said to wait, and the other said to do surgery. I didn't trust... I thought that because he worked in Smallville, he wouldn't know as much as the doctor I flew in from Metropolis. So I told them to operate. And I was wrong." A few tears leaked out of Lex's eyes, flowing down his cheeks.

Clark wiped them away with his thumb. "Would he have been blind anyway?"

Lex sniffed. "I don't know. I didn't ask what would happen if we waited. I just thought that I should probably have them do something, rather than wait and do nothing." He wiped his nose on Clark's shirt. "I told my dad that I thought it best if I took immediate action. I knew it's what he would do. And..." Lex broke off, swallowing hard.

"And what?"

The small face crumpled. "I was afraid that if I waited, it meant that I wanted Dad to die. Or, at least, that it would mean I didn't want him to recover. And I thought that I should do what he would have done."

"It does sound like something your father would do. You know, man of action and all that. Sitting around and waiting doesn't seem to be his--or your--thing."

Lex nodded. "I know. And he told me it's what he would have done. But that we were wrong. And it's all my fault."

Clark shook his head. "It's not all your fault, Lex. You did what you thought was right, what you dad would have done if it had been you; you gambled. At least he's alive."

"No," Lex moaned again, burying his face in Clark's chest. "He said it would have been better if I'd let him die. He'd... he'd... he'd rather be dead than blind, and now he has to live with my decision."

Heart aching, Clark dropped the blanket from his shoulders as he held Lex tightly, practically crushing him in his embrace. He could ^feel^ Lex's pain, feel how heartrending and... physical it was, knowing that Lionel would rather be dead than live with the fate that life had given him.

Wait, that wasn't right. Lex believed that it was his fault, and now Lionel had to live with the fate that Lex had given him.

It was unfair. Absolutely and utterly unfair for Lex to be given the blame. So much had to have gone into Lex's decision: his guilt at letting Lionel be hurt; the prejudice against small town medicine inherent in Lex's upbringing; the fear of losing a parent, no matter how confused Lex's feelings towards Lionel were; Lex's desire to do the right thing, to prove to himself that he could do what was right. All of that, plus more, had gone into Lex's choice to operate, and to have Lionel reject the decision.... Suddenly, the form that Lex had taken in Kiptin made a lot of sense.

Clark kissed the top of Lex's head, still holding him tightly. "It's not your fault, Lex," he whispered. "It's not your fault."

Lex didn't answer, merely clutched Clark's shirt in his tiny fist.

Understanding Lex's need to simply be held while he cried--once again, the kid thing was totally clear--Clark held him tightly. Every few minutes he'd kiss Lex's hair, or temple, and whispered a word of encouragement. Clark needed Lex to know that, no matter what impression Lionel had given him, it wasn't Lex's fault. He just wasn't sure if he was getting through to Lex.

Gradually, the sobs quieted down and Lex stopped shaking. When the only sounds in the room were the occasional sniffle, Clark asked, "Are you ok?"

"I don't know." Lex wiped his nose in Clark's shirt, and tilted his head to look up at him. "I should have acted faster," he said, voice dull. "During the storm, I shouldn't have hesitated."

"I would have," Clark admitted. "Hesitated, I mean."

"No, you wouldn't have." Lex sniffed again. "You're a hero."

Clark shook his head. "No, Lex. Not where your father is concerned. I saw him while I was going for Lana. I saw through your eyes what was happening, and I... I realized that I wouldn't know what to do. That I'd have the same thoughts about how easy everything would be if we didn't have to worry about him."

"You can say that because you weren't there, Clark. You can doubt yourself. But in the heat of the moment, you would do what was right. I had to think about it. He's my father, and I had to think about it." Tears leaked out of the corners of his eyes once more.

"Lex," Clark whispered, kissing his forehead, "your father has done a lot to hurt you over the years. And he's hurt me too. You're feelings about him are conflicted even when things are going well. During the storm... there was so much going on: you were hurt, you were angry at him, the storm itself made everything confusing. I understand why you hesitated."

Lex shook his head, obviously not appeased. "But Dad won't understand."

Clark sighed, conceding the point. He brushed some hair off Lex's forehead, then played with one of the silky locks. "Actually," he said after a moment's contemplation, "he might. He knows how he's raised you, and what he's done to you. And, while he may not appreciate the fact that you thought about letting him get crushed, he probably understands the motive behind it. And, who knows? Maybe now he'll treat you better."

Lex snorted. "He'll see it as me being weak. All of it." Making a face, he dashed the tears from his eyes and shook his head. "I thought I didn't care anymore what he thought. Months ago, before Victoria, I said good-bye to him. I wasn't going to let him do this, and now... Now all I want is for him to take it back."

"Take what back, bab... Lex?"

"That he wants to be dead. That I should have let him die. I don't want him to think that, and I... I don't know what to do." He sighed and leaned against Clark. "What should I do?"

Confused, Clark replied, "I don't know, Lex. Do for what?"

"About Dad? I don't want him to hate himself, and I don't want him to hate me. I don't want him to think I'm weak for not letting him die. I don't want him to think that I don't make good decisions. I don't... I just don't know where to go from here. I'm lost." Lex looked up at Clark, eyes beseeching. "Find me."

Lifting Lex, Clark kissed his cheek, then hugged him tightly. "You're not lost, Lex; you're just tired. And I have you. I'll keep you safe."

"But," Lex whispered into Clark's neck, "what about Dad?"

"Your father is a grown man. And a strong one. He'll come to terms with what's happened to him. From what I know of him, he's not going to let being blind slow him down; it'll just take awhile for him to get used to it. And if he blames you... It wasn't your fault. Just remember that. You did what you thought was best. You made a difficult decision in the heat of the moment, and you need to stand by that, especially since you know it's what he would have done. He raised you and, even though I know you are your own person, I also know that your thinking is influenced by him. Your father raised you to make that decision, and even though it didn't accomplished what you had hoped, it was the decision that was made. And it's not going to change." Clark pulled Lex away from his neck so he could gaze into Lex's eyes. "You're not the type of person who can stay still, Lex. You can feel bad for what's happened, but don't let yourself get bogged down in guilt. It's not going to help anything."

"But Dad..."

Clark shook his head, cutting Lex off. "Don't. Please. Because you know your dad, Lex. Months from now, he'll be trying to figure out how to work all of this to his advantage. Maybe he already is. He wants you under his thumb again, and making you feel like this is your fault is a good way to make that happen."

A troubled look crossed Lex's face. "Someone will need to run the company, though," he said after a moment's thought. "Until Dad gets better, someone needs to. And if I was a good son, it would be me. I would... step up. Take control and make things right. I would..." He trailed off, looking helpless.

Heart freezing in his chest, Clark managed to ask in a steady, neutral tone, "Is that what you want?"

There was a long silence as Lex contemplated it. The lost look left his eyes and they became thoughtful. They grew older and, although Clark wasn't positive, it seemed that the child in his arms aged a few years. He didn't grow any, but a look of maturity settled over the features.

"No," Lex finally said. His voice was so soft, Clark almost didn't hear.

"No?" Clark repeated, just to be sure.

Lex shook his head, meeting Clark's eyes. "It's not what I want. But we can't always do what we want to do." He shrugged helplessly. "I don't know what to do, Clark."

"You don't have to decide right now." It wasn't what Clark wanted to say; he wanted to tell Lex that he wasn't allowed to leave, that he had promised not to leave Clark. But... that had been before, when things were simpler. When Lionel was trying to force Lex to leave because he demanded it, and not because Lex wanted to. Now everything was different, and Clark knew that he had to prepare himself to let Lex go without any recriminations. Even if he didn't want to. Even if he wasn't ready.

But that wasn't the issue now.

"Lex, right now you need to worry about getting better," he said, pushing everything else away. "You need to know that even thought everything's falling apart, it's not going to stay that way. It's going to get better. But, in order for them to do that, you have to wake up, Lex. You have to be willing to face everything and make it right. If you don't, you'll be trapped here, and the guilt and bad feelings are just going to grow. Is that what you want?"

Shaking his head, Lex pulled away to look up at Clark. "No. But I'm scared."

"I'm with you," Clark replied simply.

After a moment, Lex nodded slowly. "You won't leave?"

"I'll be there, Lex. I promise, I'll be with you. Just, please. Wake up."

Lex began twisting the fingers of his left hand again, shifting his weight anxiously. A myriad of emotions flitted over his face before Lex shook his head. "No."

"No what?"

Anxiety filled eyes gazed up at Clark, and Lex said, "I can't wake up. Can't face it. I don't want to."

Clark reached out and took Lex by the waist. "Why not?" he asked as he pulled Lex back to him.

Lex rested his head on Clark's shoulder, fisting Clark's shirt. He didn't say anything for a long time.

It was difficult, but Clark let him be. He had known that Lionel wasn't the only problem Lex was dealing with now, but Clark had hoped that the other problems might seem smaller once Lex knew that Clark was going to help him get through everything. But Lex's body was still tense, breathing not quite even. He was, however, in better control of his emotions now; Clark could ^feel^ the difference. Whereas before Lex had been almost hysterical, now he was withdrawn and frustrated. Sad, angry, but more in control.

There was a sound from above; Lex tensed at the noise.

"What is that?" he asked, tightening his hold on Clark.

Clark glanced up, trying to feel what was going on with his body. "It's Mom," he said after a moment. "I told her I would only take a couple hours."

"Are you going to leave me?"

"I don't want to," Clark told him. "But I don't want Mom to freak." He sighed, running his hand down Lex's back. "Wake up with me."

Lex shook his head, leaning harder against Clark.

"Why not?"

"Because out there Damien's missing and I killed a man," Lex replied, turning his head so it was buried in Clark's neck.

"You killed a man to save both me and my father. I know it wasn't easy; I wish you hadn't had to do it. But I'm glad you were able to make that decision. I'm glad to know that you care about my family that much."

"I heard you." The tremulous voice had an accusatory tone.

Clark frowned, glancing in annoyance at the ceiling. His mother had just shaken him; he really hoped that she'd get the hint soon, because he couldn't leave right now. "You heard me what?"

"Heard you say to your dad that you were glad he didn't shoot Nixon. And him say how hard it was not to, but he didn't. And you were proud of him. Hell, he was proud of himself for not doing it. Meanwhile, it doesn't matter that I fucking killed a man, because I'm just a Luthor and you all were waiting for me to."

It was very disturbing to hear the word "fucking" coming out of a six-year-old's mouth with such heat under it.

Even worse was the betrayal that ran so strongly.

He felt ill. "That wasn't what I meant," Clark said, throat tight. "Lex, God." He buried his fingers in Lex's hair. "Lex, I never meant to imply that... Shit."

"It's what you said."

"No." Clark tried to move Lex so he could look at him, but Lex refused to budge. "Lex, I only said that to my dad because I knew he wouldn't have been able to handle it. If he had had to kill Nixon, it would have destroyed him."

"Unlike me, who it wouldn't even phase because I'm a heartless monster," was Lex's muffled reply.

"That isn't it at all. I just... I just knew that you would have me." Clark shrugged, feeling helpless; he didn't know what to say.

Lex sniffed. "Huh?"

This time, Clark was able to pull Lex away from him. He set Lex in his lap again, tracing the little face with his finger. "You and Dad are two completely different people. And you view the world in completely different ways. To my dad, life is simple. The sun rises in the morning, sets at night. You go through life working hard, and trying to do what's right. You make friends with good people, feel guilty for what mistakes you have made, and try to do the best you can." Clark sighed, forehead creasing. "It's hard for him, having me in his life."

"No." Lex shook his head, but Clark caught him by the chin.

"It is," he said very seriously. "Because when they found me, my dad's perfect little word suddenly fell apart. One day, he was trying to live his life by this personal code he'd created for himself, and the next... the next, he had to lie to everyone he knew. I know he doesn't regret it--at least, I hope he doesn't--but that doesn't mean it's easy.

"You, on the other hand, know that the world isn't simple. It's not as black and white as my dad sees it. Or," he corrected when Lex opened his mouth, "would like to see it."

Lex closed his mouth and nodded.

Smiling softly at Lex, Clark caressed his cheek with his knuckle. "You see the... the variations and complexities."

"You can just say 'shades of gray,' Clark."

"I was trying not to be cliched. Anyway, my point is that, in some ways, you have a more realistic view of the world. You can make a tough decision, like killing Nixon to save my father, and see the necessity of it. He knew what I am, Lex, and no amount of threatening or bribing was going to make him be silent about it. Killing him wasn't the coward's way out; it wasn't easy. It wasn't something that you did lightly, and I know that. I'm capable of understanding that; I don't know if my dad is, but he's not the person who's going to be standing by your side.

"And that's the other thing," Clark continued. "I'm here. I never expected you to feel good about this. Or that you'd just casually get over it. But I had hoped that you would know that I'm here for you. Dad wouldn't have that."

Lex made a face. "Your dad has your mom."

Clark shook his head. "Dad would have never been able to accept my mom's support. And that's because he'd never be able to forgive himself. I believed that you could forgive yourself. And accept my love."

Lex sniffed and wipe his eyes, glancing away. "You make it sound so simple."

"It's not. But you don't need to do this alone."

Sniffing again, Lex said, "You're just saying that to make me wake up."

"Well, yeah." Clark smiled. "But that doesn't make it any less true."

"But... but Damien's still missing. He's probably dead." Lex looked down at Clark's chest, picking at the material.

"How long has he been missing?"

Lex shrugged. "Before the storm. He was on his way to Smallville when the storm hit. And... and I haven't heard from him since."

Clark frowned. "I know that Damien is amazingly punctual and reliable, but there are still people out there who haven't been found. He could still be out there. Alive."

"You're still trying to get me to wake up!" Lex whined, pulling away from Clark. He went to the fireplace and began kicking the wall. "Now you're going to tell me that if I wake up, you'll go look for him."

Rolling his eyes, Clark stretched out on the floor. "I will."

With a final kick, Lex turned around, arms crossed over his chest. "This is blackmail."

"Do you want to sit here and argue, or do you want me to find Damien? Because I'm not going anywhere until you're awake and eating chicken soup."

Lex visibly perked up. "I get chicken soup?"

"You're sick, aren't you?"

"And your mom's going to make it?"

"If you wake up and ask nicely."

He thought about it a moment, then sighed. "Ok; I guess I can do that, then."

"Uh, Lex?" Clark said before Lex disappeared.

"Yeah?"

Unsure of how to phrase his concern, Clark asked bluntly, "Are you going to, uh... be yourself when you wake up?"

Lex looked at him like he was insane. "Of course. Why?"

"Well, because you're a kid right now."

"Clark, don't be... Holy shit." Lex said, looking down at his body. When he looked up, his eyes were wide and shocked. "I'm a kid!"

"Yeah. That's what I just said."

"Have I always been a kid?"

Clark nodded. "Since you showed up. You didn't notice?"

He shook his head. "Wow." Lex was holding his hands before his eyes, studying them. Then he lifted his hands to his head. "I have hair!"

Clark laughed. "Yeah. It's cute."

"We need a mirror in here." Lex looked around, trying to find a mirror. "I'm too tired to make one."

Gathering his strength, Clark created a hand mirror and handed it to Lex. "Here."

Eagerly, Lex took it and studied his reflection. After a moment's contemplation, he made a face. "I'm better bald," he announced, setting the mirror aside.

"I don't know. You are so cute like this."

Lex raised his eyebrow archly. Placing a hand on his hip, he asked, "Would you rather I stay like this, or wake up and be the sexy man you..."

"Lex, don't finish that sentence. You're five; I don't think I could take it," Clark begged.

Smirking, Lex blew him a kiss. "See you in the real world." Then he closed his eyes and disappeared.

A moment later, Clark felt someone kiss his head gently. "Clark," Lex sang, sounding tired. "Wake up."

Immediately, Clark was back in his body. He opened his eyes to find Lex gazing at him lovingly. "Welcome back, beautiful," Lex whispered.

Mouth dry, and exhausted, Clark replied. "Same to you, baby."

Lex's lips twitched. "Call me that again, and we're through."

Which, of course, only made Clark want to give Lex a pet name more, but, since his mother was now hovering over the two of them, looking frantic, let it drop. "Whatever you say, Lex," he replied, trying to cover up his smirk. "Whatever you say."

"Two days," Dr. Sutton said as she drew blood from Lex's arm. "At least," she added.

Martha nodded. "He's welcome to stay here as long as he wants, of course. And I can certainly make sure he stays in bed."

"Excuse me," Lex said calmly, looking at the two women. "But I can't stay in bed for two days. I'm..." He broke off, yawning, his eye fluttering shut. To Martha, it looked as if he were having problems opening his eyes again, but he finished his sentence with a defiant, "Fine."

Dr. Sutton exchanged an amused glance with her. "Mr. Luthor," she said as she placed a cotton ball over the puncture she'd made in his arm, "you are not fine. You're exhausted, you've lost weight again, and you're dehydrated. Now, you're not so bad off that I need to put you on an IV, but you're pretty close. You've told me that you're tired, you're dizzy, and you look like hell."

"I've had a rough couple of days."

"And you had a concussion," she added pointedly.

Lex's ears turned bright red.

"Lex," Martha scolded gently. "You never told us that you had a concussion."

He hitched his shoulder. "I wanted to help. I needed something to do besides sit around and worry about Dad."

"I understand that, but we could have put you on phone duty." She clicked her tongue and stroked his shoulder. "You should have said something."

Lex glanced at her, then down at the quilt spread over him. He didn't answer.

Dr. Sutton put the vial of blood in a case, then set it in her bag. "Of course he can walk around the house if he feels better, but don't let him overexert himself. I'm going to run the blood sample and see how you look. I'll be back probably tomorrow afternoon. If he gets worse, take him to the hospital first, then call me." She rose and smiled down at Lex. "Make sure he drinks plenty of fluids and relaxes."

Martha nodded. "Of course."

"I hope you feel better, Mr. Luthor."

"Just call me Lex, already," he said crankily. "You're my doctor, and I'm not going to fire you, so you might as well." He rubbed his eye with one fist.

"All right, Lex. I hope you feel better. Good-bye, Mrs. Kent."

"Are you sure you won't stay for some coffee?" Martha asked.

The doctor shook her head. "No, thank you. I want to run the blood tests, then head down to the Talon at some point to see if there's any news about Damien."

"We can call you. My son is looking for him now."

Dr. Sutton shook her head, her smile very small. "I'd like that, but I'd still feel more comfortable down there. He's my nephew, and I'm worried. But, I must do my duty to Lex first."

Lex, whose eyes had fallen shut, said, "You can wait; I don't care."

"No, but Damien would. And it won't take much time; I'll have my assistant run the test and call me with the results."

"Ok." Lex was obviously mostly asleep by now.

"I'll be off, then. Good-bye." Dr. Sutton turned and left, almost bumping into Jonathan as she did. "Excuse me."

"Sorry." He moved aside for her, then looked at his wife.

Martha pulled the covers over Lex, and caressed his face lightly.

Lex stirred. "Thank you, Mrs. Kent," he muttered, eyes still shut.

"You're welcome. Sleep, now."

"Ok."

She shut off the light and left the room, leaving it open slightly.

"How's he doing?" Jonathan asked softly as they walked down the hall.

"He's exhausted," she told him. "I've never seen him so tired. He reminds me of a child, how when they get too tired, they can't keep their eyes open and they're so cute." Martha smiled, feeling a surge of fondness when she thought of Lex looking vulnerable and sleepy as he did now.

Jonathan smiled down at her, obviously amused. "I dare you to go in and tell him that you think he's cute. I'm sure he'd appreciate being compared to a child."

Grinning, she swatted him in the stomach gently. "Can I help it if I feel motherly towards him. You know," she added, becoming serious, "there are times I wish that we had raised Lex. He needs love so badly, and I wish we could have been the ones to give it to him."

"Well," Jonathan said after a moment's pause, "he doesn't seem to be beyond hope. You can shower him with all the love he thinks he needs, and I'm sure he'd feel grateful."

"I don't want him to feel grateful, Jonathan. I want him to feel loved."

He smiled softly and kissed her on the cheek. "He will, eventually. Give it time. So," he asked as he entered their bedroom. "How long is he going to stay?"

"At least two days. Perhaps more."

Jonathan raised an eyebrow. "Why more?"

"His home isn't exactly livable right now, Jonathan," Martha replied, her voice a bit sharp. "The rooms he uses are destroyed. He's in shock. So many things have happened to him in the last two days, and his home is a wreck. The least we can do is give him a place to stay, at least for a few days."

"A few days," Jonathan repeated skeptically. "I know you, Martha, and you aren't suggesting he stay for a few days. You want him to stay until the mansion is repaired."

"Would that be so bad?" she asked, not denying the charge.

"I don't know," he replied. "I honestly don't know. On the one hand, he needs a place to stay, and we're his... friends, I suppose is the right word. But, on the other hand, he and Clark are sexually active, and I'm not sure how comfortable I am with the idea of them living together, even for a few weeks."

Martha rolled his eyes. "I'm not saying they'll sleep in the same room. Clark sleeps in the barn. Lex can stay in Clark's old room. And it's not as if they'll be spending all their time together. Lex has a job that eats up a lot of his time. He'd just be sleeping and eating here, maybe spending time on the weekends. And, as you said, it'll just be a few weeks."

"Unless Lex decides to add an entire wing to the castle, prolonging construction for over a year."

She shook her head. "Then we'll put a limit on our hospitality. Lex can stay however long it takes to repair the damage and no longer." When Jonathan still didn't look convinced, she exhaled hard and said, "Lex is family, Jonathan; it's the least we can do."

"I know, and yet... Clark's so young. While I know that Lex isn't trying to force him into a relationship that Clark isn't ready for, I'm still a bit uncomfortable with the idea of them... living under the same roof, however short a time it might be. If they were older, it wouldn't bother me so much. But right now, no matter how they feel for each other, they're both still very young."

"Jonathan, I... I understand your objections, but, no matter how young they are, they are good boys," Martha said. "Lex has just been through a very hard time. His father has been injured badly, and Lex is probably feeling lost. I think that being close to Clark for awhile might help him find himself again."

Jonathan sighed and sat on the bed. "You aren't going to take no for a answer, are you?"

She sat next to him. "No. But... I need to tell you something. Another reason that I think they need to be together for awhile, for both their sakes."

"What?"

"I was going to wait until we could all discuss this, but..." Martha trailed off, then shook her head. "We will all talk about this later, but I'm sure Clark will understand. Otherwise, he wouldn't have told me."

"Told you what, Martha? What's going on?"

She looked up at him, gaze steady. "Lex is a telepath, Jonathan. Like Ryan, only... only I think that Lex can only hear Clark's thoughts. And Clark can hear Lex, too. Clark told me that they communicate telepathically. When I was with Clark earlier, he somehow sensed that Lex was hurt. Or... or maybe Lex called him, I'm not sure."

Jonathan rubbed his forehead. "I don't... I don't understand. How?"

"I don't know how. I don't think they know either, but, Jonathan, it makes sense. How else does Clark always know where Lex is? And, haven't you noticed that sometimes when they're together, they don't talk, but... it seems like something else is going on? And when Clark was having the nightmares and running over to Lex's in the middle of the night, he said that Lex helped his mind calm. What if this is why?"

"Because they can talk to each other in their minds." It was hard for Jonathan to accept what he was hearing.

"Not just that, but... maybe the closer they are, the more soothing it is for Clark. And I'm sure it's the same for Lex, too. Their minds... connect, and they can feel each other's presence, and it calms them. There's more." Martha took a deep breath. "Do you remember when Clark was a little boy, and he used to go into those trances? Curl up on the carpet and withdraw into his mind?"

Jonathan nodded.

"He told me today that he used to go to a place in his mind called Kiptin. And there was a little boy there. And that little boy was Lex."

"What?" he said, startled.

"They still go there now. When Clark brought Lex over, he said that he had to draw Lex into Kiptin and find out what was wrong. And, two hours later, they were both awake."

Jonathan sighed. "Why haven't they ever said anything about this? Why keep it a secret?"

She shrugged. "I don't know; we'll have to ask them. The only thing I can think is that... that they wanted something of their own. And it was so intensely private, they didn't want to share." Smiling softly, Martha ran her fingers through the hair above Jonathan's ear and said, "When we first fell in love, would you have told your father if you could read my mind?"

He returned her smile, kissing her cheek. "I don't know."

"You do, too. You wouldn't have told anyone, not until you had to. Because it would have been our secret. Our... our something. You remember how exciting it is when you're first falling in love, and to be able to... to be as connected at Clark and Lex are..."

"I would have been frightened," Jonathan admitted, sliding his hand up Martha's back until it tangled in her hair.

"I'm sure they were too," she responded. "But that's what love is anyway."

With a sigh, Jonathan kissed Martha gently, and rested his forehead against the side of her head. "How did this happen?"

"What? The telepathy, or them?"

"Either. Both. I don't know how comfortable I am with the fact that my son--my young, teenage son--is telepathically linked to anyone. He's sixteen. And we don't know if this bond can be undone."

"Why does it have to be?"

He shook his head. "Clark is sixteen; I hate to think that he's, in essence, married? Mated? Connected with Lex--with anyone--for who knows how long."

Martha rubbed his back. "Clark may be young, but he's not human. Maybe this relationship has moved fast, or maybe this level of commitment is natural to Clark. We don't know, none of us do. So, all we can do is be supportive, or risk losing him."

"I don't want to lose him. But I want to know more."

"We'll talk, hopefully tomorrow. Lex could barely keep his eyes open with Dr. Sutton was here, but hopefully he'll be feeling better tomorrow by dinner."

Jonathan nodded. "Then I'll hold off my questions until then." He kissed her again.

"And Lex stays until he wants to leave. Or," Martha added, a wry smile on his lips, "until his home gets repaired."

Grudgingly, Jonathan nodded. "All right. As long as he helps out with something when he's well. This is a farm, not a hotel."

"I'll let you tell him that. Somehow, I think that it will shorten his stay considerably."

A feral grin spread across Jonathan's face. "Let me be the one to tell him, then."

Nodding, Martha just laughed.

In the end, it was actually pretty easy to find Damien. Sure, it was like looking for a needle in a haystack, but at least Clark had some advantages. For instance, he went alone so he didn't have to be encumbered by not being able to use his powers. And he also had a vague idea where Damien might be. Since he had been coming home from Metropolis when the storm hit, he would most likely be somewhere near the road. Also, Lex had remembered that Damien had said something about the bus station. Now, whether that meant he was near it or had only heard that the cyclones were supposed to set down somewhere near there was unclear but, since Whitney's bus had made it to Metropolis without getting caught, Clark was pretty sure that Damien hadn't been caught up in the actual funnels. The hypothesis Clark was working off of was that the winds had picked up so much, Damien realized it would be safer to find some form of shelter.

Which meant Clark had to search every shelter near the road from a starting point he was going to have to choose by instinct.

But that was fine. He could do it.

He decided to start about ten miles outside of Smallville. Wanting to be systematic, he decided to sweep the area in arcs. He'd start on the road, and run about fifteen miles east, scanning the terrain and any shelters, ditches, or fallen houses he could find. Then he'd sweep back and search the west side of the road before starting over.

Luck was obviously with him because about five minutes after he'd started, Clark found Damien.

He was lying face down in a storm drain, trapped under his car. Of course, Clark couldn't tell it was Damien until after he'd gotten rid of the car, but, once it was gone, Clark recognized the inert body of Lex's assistant.

"Damien!" Clark exclaimed, kneeling by the body. He frowned; Damien looked dead. As Clark scanned him using X-Ray vision, he saw that several ribs were broken, as well as both legs. When he switched so he could scan the skin, Clark saw there were huge bruises on Damien's torso, and blood on his legs.

"Don't be dead," he begged softly, feeling for a pulse. "Please don't be dead."

And he wasn't. Damien was alive, but just barely. His pulse was weak and thready, and breathing uneven. But he was alive.

"Ok." Clark tugged his jacket off and lay it over Damien's body. He didn't want to move him, just in case there was a break that he hadn't seen. The last thing Clark wanted to do was injure Damien any more. "I'm going to call for an ambulance, Damien," he said, fighting to keep his voice steady as he pulled his cell phone from his pocket. "They should be here soon."

"911 emergency. Please state the nature of your call," a woman answered in that forced calm voice that dispatchers always had on television.

"I need an ambulance off Highway 9. I'm in a storm drain that's right off the highway and there's an injured man here."

"Can you describe his injuries?"

"Uh..." Clark hesitated, looking down at Damien. "He's unconscious, but breathing. And he's got a pulse. I don't really want to touch him; he looks pretty bad off."

"Ok, sir, then don't. Can you give me a better idea of where you are?"

Clark rose and went to the road. "I think I'm about five minutes south of the bus station. By the big ditch."

"Very well. I've dispatched an ambulance; there's one about a mile from the bus station right now, so they should be there soon."

"Ok. Thanks." Clark hung up and thought for a moment. Glancing at where he had thrown the car, he looked back at Damien's body. Then he sighed; they would want to know what happened to Damien's legs, and if the car was so far away...

The car, while light, was a bit unwieldy to carry down the steeply angled slope of the ditch. Clark chastised himself for throwing it quite so far, and made a mental note to be careful of that in the future. Sure, he had superpowers and could toss a heavy vehicle as if it were a baseball, but it wasn't always the best idea to do so.

He slipped once as he descended, but kept his grip on the car. The last thing he wanted to do was accidentally drop it on Damien. This was a rescue, after all. But, Clark made it down without any further mishap and placed the car at the very end of Damien's feet. If anyone asked, Clark would say he dragged Damien's body from underneath the car and swallow whatever, "That was stupid, young man," lectures he received.

When Clark crouched next to Damien's head again, he found that Damien was awake. He'd moved one of his arms down from around his head so it was under the jacket. Tears were streaming from his eyes, and he was blinking rapidly, coughing every few seconds.

"Hey," he said softly. "It's me. Clark."

He blinked and nodded very slightly. "I. Know."

"Sorry. I just thought... Are you cold? I can put my sweater on you, too."

"No. But." He broke off, coughing. Dirt and blood stained his lips.

Clark tore off part of his shirt and lay next to Damien. "Let me get some of that." He began wiping away the tears and junk that had collected around Damien's eyes and nose. Then, pulling off another part of his shirt, he gently wiped the blood away from the cracked and bleeding lips, breathing a silent 'thanks' that the blood seemed to come from the cuts on the inside of Damien's mouth and not his lungs.

"Lex?" Damien asked, voice faint.

"Lex is fine," Clarks said, continuing to wipe away the gunk. "He's at my place, sleeping. The storm hit the mansion, tore up a couple of rooms pretty badly. He was hurt, but not much. Mostly, I think he's in shock. His uh... Lionel was there, too." He grimaced and glanced at Damien's dark eyes, which were locked on his face. "Lionel was hurt pretty badly. He's blind now, and I guess his legs are hurt. The doctors think that his legs will heal, but he probably won't recover his sight."

Damien gave a long, slow blink. "You?"

Clark paused, unsure of what Damien was asking. Damien didn't say anything further, just continued gazing at Clark, almost expectantly.

"Uh..."

"Just. Talk," Damien said after a moment of silence. His breathing was becoming labored, but he pushed on. "Helps me. Focus."

"Ah. Ok. Um, I'm fine." Clark put the rag into his pocket, wishing he had thought to pack any first aid accoutrements. The cut over Damien's eye looked nasty, and Clark wanted to clean it out before it got infected. Unfortunately, he had left too quickly to think of such things. "Lana got sucked up in the storm, but she's ok too. I mean, she's shaken and everything, but she'll be ok. Mom's good, too. She was in the storm cellar when the twisters hit. And Dad..." Clark frowned. "Dad got stuck in a crypt with Nixon."

Damien blinked. "Nixon?"

Nodding, Clark said, "Yeah. Lex shot him. To stop Nixon from taking me and killing my dad."

"He's dead?"

"Yes."

Damien sighed, his eyes falling shut.

In the distance, a siren wailed.

"I'm going to flag down the ambulance. Stay... Stay awake," Clark finished, narrowly avoiding telling Damien to stay where he was.

A faint smile curved Damien's lips, as if he knew what Clark had almost said. "Yes," he whispered, opening his eyes.

Grinning at Damien, Clark took off for the road. The ambulance was slowing, the driver looking out the window, obviously trying to find where he was supposed to go.

"Hey!" Clark called, waving his arms.

With a nod of his head, and sharp wave, the driver turned off the road and followed Clark as he ran back to the drain.

"He's awake," Clark said as the EMT's leapt from the back, pulling the stretcher out with them.

"Is he lucid?" one asked asked, reaching in to pull out a big orange box.

"I think. He seems to know who he is and stuff."

"Ok. Let us get him out then."

It took them about a half an hour to get Damien strapped to the body board and out of the ditch. He was immediately hooked up to an IV, three men carrying him out of the ditch as a fourth held the IV.

"He'll be fine, kid," the woman told Clark as she ushered him into the ambulance.

"You sure?"

She nodded and smiled. "He's survived this long, hasn't he? This is the easy part. Now get in."

Clark smiled at her, climbed inside, and they roared away.

"Dominic, I think you should go home and get some sleep," Mabel was saying. "Or at least find a quite place here and close your eyes for awhile."

"She's right," Dr. Sutton put in. "You look much too tired."

Dominic shook his head, rubbing his eyes wearily. "I won't be able to sleep." He sipped the coffee that Martha Kent had gotten everyone from the hospital cafeteria almost forty-five minutes ago, making a face at the taste. "I'll wait until Damien is out of surgery before I do."

Mabel, Dr. Sutton, and Martha exchanged glances.

"Honey," Mabel said delicately, "we don't know how long he'll be. I understand that you don't want to leave, but at least try to sleep. We'll wake you when we hear anything."

"No!" Dominic snapped, angry at the situation and the fact that, no matter how many times he had asked Mabel not to call him 'honey' since they had first met, she still persisted. "I'm fine, really." He bolted back the rest of the coffee, and rose.

"Dominic..." Dr. Sutton started, but Dominic cut her off.

"Do you really think I'll sleep comfortably?" he asked, pacing. "Leave me alone."

"Dom..."

"Let him be," Martha said quietly but firmly.

Mabel and Dr. Sutton fell silent.

They'd now been at the hospital for almost two hours; Damien had been in surgery for nearly three. Dominic, Mabel, and Dr. Sutton had been waiting for any word of Damien at the Talon when Martha arrived, bearing the good news. Or, news, at any rate.

"He's alive," she'd told them, her face drawn and worn, but eyes happy. "My son, Clark, is at the hospital now, and said that the doctor thinks that Damien will be ok. Damien's legs are broken, and there are some internal injuries, but he was conscious when the found him, and knew who he was and where he had been going. Apparently, when he saw the cyclones, he got out of his car and hid in a ditch. The car landed over the ditch, but only hurt his legs."

Damien had been in surgery when they'd arrived. Clark had been in the lobby, pacing, and informed them that there was no new word.

There had been no word for too long, putting them all on edge.

And then, Clark, who had been running errands for random strangers the entire time, suddenly appeared. "He's out!" he practically shouted, face glowing. "I saw the doctor when I was taking flowers to Ms. Cassidy in ICU, and he told me that Damien's out of surgery and in the ICU and we can see him now. The doctor's on his way there now. Come on!" He urged them to follow him as Clark practically ran back down the hall.

Dr. Sutton followed Clark quickly, so quickly it was all that the rest of them could do to keep up. Strangely, Dominic felt as if there were weights attached to his heels; as much as he longed to be at Damien's side, he was suddenly afraid.

"Here." Clark stopped in front of a room. "He's in here."

Dominic hesitated at the door as Dr. Sutton and Mabel brushed past him.

"He's ok," Clark said.

He looked up at the boy.

Clark smiled slightly. "I mean, he's hooked up to machines and not awake, but he's ok. He's really strong and I bet he'd like you to be with him."

There was a hand on his back. "Come on," Martha said, pushing him slightly. "Let's go in and see him." She glanced at her son, then drew Dominic inside the room.

Damien lay in the bed, looking fragile and weak, which was odd. Normally he looked so strong and full of life. It was one of the things that attracted Dominic to him. Not only was Damien physically the strongest lover he'd ever had, but there was a mental strength and endurance that Dominic admired, envied, and loved.

But right now, attached to machines, tubes protruding from his arms and nose, the commanding presences was hidden and replaced by something that made Dominic ache with the need to protect and care.

"Are you all right?" Mabel asked softly from his side, placing her hand on his arm.

He glanced at her; Mabel's eyes were wide ands shiny with unshed tears.

Patting her hand, Dominic nodded and pulled away. He went to the bed, pulling a chair next to it. On the other side, Dr. Sutton did the same, her eyes glued to her nephew's face.

"Damien?" Dominic said softly.

"He's asleep right now," the doctor said as he entered.

Dominic looked up, wanting to thank him for stating the obvious, but refraining as he realized the doctor was probably making the distinction between being asleep and being in a coma.

"How was the surgery, Doctor?" Dr. Sutton trailed off, looking up at him.

"Dr. Abrams. The surgery was successful. The breaks in his legs were extremely bad; the car fell directly on his legs. Luckily, the rest of his body wasn't crushed. He does have three broken ribs. Apparently, as he was running to the ditch he took shelter in, he was hit by debris."

"Thank you, Doctor," Mabel said.

Dr. Sutton rose and went outside with Dr. Abrams, presumably to talk more about Damien's condition.

Dominic could care less. All he cared about was that Damien wasn't dead and would, presumably, make a full recovery. And, if his recovery was less than full, if he spent the rest of his life somehow crippled from the experience, it didn't really matter.

Still gazing intently at Damien's face, Dominic reached out and took his hand. Damien's was cold and lifeless in his, but Dominic still held on.

"Dominic," Mabel started, but broke off with a gasp when Damien's hand closed around Dominic's.

Breath catching in his throat, Dominic leaned forward, gazing into his lover's face intently.

Damien's lips moved, eyes still closed. His tongue emerged, wetting his lips. "Dom?" he whispered, voice raspy.

"I'm here, Damien," Dominic answered through a tight chest.

Lips curving slightly, Damien's hand tightened once more around his. "Good." Then his face when slack as he drifted off to sleep once more.

For the first time since he'd realized that Damien was missing that morning, Dominic breathed easy.

Eyes squeezed shut, Clark banged his head gently on the wall, falling into the rhythm of it. It was, frighteningly enough, soothing, and Clark really needed something soothing right now. His insides were twisted into a tight knot, and his hands were shaking. He wanted to go home, had been dying to go home for hours now.

At first, when Damien had been in surgery, Clark had needed to stay, because Lex wanted him to. Clark had distracted himself by finding things to do for the patients in the hospital. Now he had nothing left to do. Damien was out, and they were leaving soon but it wasn't soon enough for Clark. He would run home, but Martha had asked him to stay at the hospital so she could drive him home.

"It's not that I don't think that you'll be fine running home," she had told him when he'd pointed out that nothing could hurt him. "It would just look strange. I came here to see how Damien was, yes, but my main concern was you. If you leave without me, it will look odd to Mabel and Dr. Sutton."

There had to be some flaw in that logic, but she was his mother, and Clark wasn't going to win. So, he'd nodded, tried to force a smile, then found the nearest wall to bang his head against.

Lex was going to be fine. Intellectually, Clark knew this. There was nothing wrong with him that modern science couldn't heal--or, for that matter, a little bed-rest. Lex would sleep, eat, rest, and in a few days, be perfectly fine.

"But it hurts," Clark whispered, still banging his head.

It did. Every fiber of his being was screaming at Clark to find Lex and heal him. To reclaim the flesh that had been abused by the storm, ease the hurts and sooth the fears. To make everything right.

And he couldn't. Because, not only was Clark at the hospital and Lex wasn't, but Lex was at the Kents' farm, two rooms down from Clark's parents. Maybe, just maybe, it would be possible to make love to Lex without them finding out, but doing it in his childhood room so close to his parents... And then there was the fact that he and Lex had never been exactly quite when they were together, even if they tried... not that they tried much, because what was the fun if they couldn't hear what they were doing to each other?

Clark sighed and began banging harder.

There was another possibility, of course. When he got home, he could wait until Mom was asleep, then whisk Lex away to the barn. Or maybe even the tree house, for better distance; the way Clark was feeling right now, he doubted that he could be gentle if he tried, and the rougher he got, the louder Lex tended to be.

And that was a problem, actually, because Clark could ^feel^ how exhausted Lex was, and doubted that Lex would be able to stay conscious long enough for them to make love. No matter how aroused he might be.

Clark wondered if Lex would allow Clark to have sex with him if Lex were asleep, then immediately dismissed the notion with a viscous bang against the wall. It was a really depraved and slightly disgusting thought.

But Lex needed to be healed...

"Clark?" Martha interrupted, sounding incredulous.

"Hey, Mom," Clark replied weakly, turning. His cheeks were burning and he flashed her a wane smile.

Her brow was furrowed and mouth open slightly. She took a few breaths, as if trying to figure out what to say. Finally, she decided on, "What are you doing?"

"Uh, it's like meditation, only with loud thumps instead of steady breathing," he tried. Then, when all he got was a raised eyebrow, Clark shook his head and said, "Nothing. Can we go?"

"Yes," Martha replied after a short pause. She adjusted the strap of her purse. "Dominic is going to stay in the guest room tonight so he'll be coming home with us. He's ready now."

Clark nodded. "How's Damien?"

"Stable. And asleep. I'm very proud of you, Clark; you know that, right?"

Flushing Clark nodded, and began walking. "Thanks."

Martha stopped him and kissed him on the cheek. Then, without another word, she began walking back down the hall. They collected Dominic--who looked as if he were about to fall asleep on his feet--said farewells to both Mabel and Dr. Sutton, and left the hospital.

They drove quickly through the dark night. It was a little past midnight by now, and Clark was glad that he didn't have school the next day. He would get up early to do chores, then go back to bed, preferably with Lex, even if they couldn't have sex. School had been cancelled until Thursday, and, even then Clark was pretty sure there wouldn't be much taught. It was more to get them back into the routine of normal life until school let out for the summer.

"Here we are," Martha said as she pulled into the driveway.

"Thank you for allowing me to stay here tonight, Mrs. Kent," Dominic said, sounding weary.

"Please, call me Martha, and it was my pleasure."

They got out of the car and went inside. Once they were in, Clark turned to Martha and said, "I'm going to check on Lex, ok?"

"Ok, but don't wake him up," she warned.

"I won't!" he called as he ran up the stairs and into his old bedroom.

Lex was sound asleep when Clark opened the door. He was sprawled across the bed, one foot wrapped around on top of the covers, one arm flung over his eyes, mouth opened, and snoring slightly.

He was adorable.

Toeing off his shoes, Clark climbed into the bed and wrapped himself around Lex. His body calmed slightly, pain easing, but it wasn't enough. Being close wasn't enough, and Clark knew he would feel this way until he had a chance to heal Lex properly.

Unfortunately, it didn't look like he was going to get to do that any time soon.

He sighed, kissing Lex lightly on the bridge of his nose.

"Clark?" Lex whispered, rolling into him.

"Yeah," Clark whispered, tracing Lex's face as he lay his head on the pillow. "How do you feel?"

"Sleepy." Lex yawned, blue glinting from between his eyelashes. "How's Damien?" Clark had ^told^ Lex everything earlier when Damien had been in surgery.

"He's going to be all right. The surgery went well, he woke up before we left, and the doctors think that he'll recover. He might not ever walk right again, but he'll walk."

Lex smiled sleepily. "Good."

The door cracked open. "Clark?" Martha whispered.

Clark looked up at his mother. "Can I stay here? Please? I promise we'll be good."

"Please?" Lex added groggily.

She smiled. "Just for tonight. But tomorrow, you're back in your room, Clark, understand?"

"Yeah."

Martha walked in and kissed both Clark and Lex on their heads. "Good-night," she said softly.

"'Night," they answered.

The door closed as she left.

Burrowing his head into the warm space between Clark's chin and neck, he kissed Clark. "I want you."

Clark groaned softly as Lex rubbed against him. "I want you too. But we promised."

"I can break my promise." Lex sounded as if he were still asleep, his speech was slow and heavy.

"No, hon; not right now."

"Why not?" Lex hooked his leg over Clark's hip, pressing harder into him.

With a sigh, Clark ran his thumb over Lex's cheekbone. "Because you're still half asleep. Or, all the way asleep. I can't tell." He looked down at Lex's closed eyes, and ran his finger over the red/gold lashes. "I promise that we will soon, though. There's always the tree house."

"I like the tree house," Lex said quietly. "We kissed there. We..." Lex woke up a little more. Blinking, he said, "Happy anniversary."

Clark frowned, then realized what the date was. "You too," he replied, kissing Lex deeply.

Lex moaned, even as he began drifting off again. "Please?"

"No." Clark dropped a kiss on Lex's throat, fighting his body from ravishing Lex then and there. Lex was asleep. Clark's parents were in the house. He could wait. "I love you, Lex," he whispered instead.

"Love you too," Lex mumbled.

Clark smiled, kissed Lex, and fell into a peaceful and dreamless sleep.



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