Corner of the World 47: Foundations part 1

Incompetence was an old friend by now. It was comfortable almost. After a year and a half of living in Smallville, Lex was used to the fact that his security force still batted twenty/eighty when it came to stopping potentially dangerous persons from getting onto the premises. He was used to the fact that his management team at LexCorp didn't quite understand how to manage. He was used to the fact that the housekeepers thought they could get away with pinching his father's belongings, and he was more than used to the fact that despite an in-depth tutorial with Dominic, Lana still couldn't close out the register at the Talon correctly.

So, on one level, Lex wasn't exactly surprised to hear the one hundred fifty million dollar contract that he'd been negotiating and assured he'd gotten was no longer his. He hadn't been expecting it. After all, just yesterday Gary Hughes, the lawyer in charge of negotiating the buy, had called to give Lex the news of his success.

And now, a scant fourteen hours later, Hughes was in front of his desk, recanting.

Trying to control his anger, Lex pressed the palms of his hands together and leaned forward on his desk. "I was under the impression that the deal had closed," he said as evenly as he could manage.

Hughes flinched. "Mr. Luthor, I'm sorry."

"I don't want 'I'm sorry.'" Crap. That was snapping, but dammit, Lex didn't care. Hughes was lying and Lex was sick and tired of people lying to him. "I want to know how the hell my father beat me out of a 150 million dollar contract that you assured me was a done deal."

"The only way they would have known the exact dollar amount was if they had inside information," Hughes said, this time with an edge of anger to his voice. No, not anger. Accusation.

That fucking bastard. This time, Lex didn't even try to control his anger. There was no way he was going to be accused of ruining his *own* deal when he knew that Hughes was the one to give the information to Lionel. "And since you and I were the only ones who knew about it, and I certainly didn't tell my father, that leaves you in a very uncomfortable position." After all, he thought scornfully, why would he sabotage himself?

Obviously, the realization hit Hughes, because he flinched and paled. "If I no longer have your confidence, I'll tender my resignation in the morning."

Lex wanted this man's balls, that's what he wanted. A resignation? The equivalent of, "Hey, I'm going to pretend to work for you while I feed information to your father. Then, after you lose this pivotal deal, I'm going to give you a piece of paper that says, 'Nyah, nyah.'"? No; Lex wanted blood.

He rose from his desk and clasped his wrist behind his back. He had to think or else he was going to fuck up. His father was stealing information from him somehow. The most likely suspect was Hughes, but Lex didn't have any proof. Until he did, he had to play smart.

"My father would want more than your resignation," Lex said as coldly as he could. "He'd hobble you at the knees and do everything in his power to ensure you'd never work in the corporate world again."

A visceral thrill ran through him as Hughes shrank back from him. Growing pale and sick looking, Hughes nodded slowly, and turned to leave.

"But I'm not my father," Lex continued, stopping him. He let the frost and anger melt from his voice, leaving behind what he hoped was a steady calmness. "All I want to know is how he found out. And how I can stop it from ever happening again."

A look of relief flashed over the man's face. The fear was still there, but he seemed to realize that Lex was giving him a second chance. Lex only hoped he deserved it.

"Yes, sir," Hughes sighed with relief. He gave a nod that somehow turned into an obsequious bow and scurried from the room.

How could he have been so stupid? "Fuck," he gritted out.

Lex was seriously beginning to think that Lionel was omniscient. He knew everything Lex was doing. Nothing was sacred. First, he'd tried to pay off Mark. Then he went for Anne. Now he had some Dominic look-alike running around pressuring Lex's employees to sell their shares. Lionel was dangerously close to having controlling interest now, and Lex still had no proof of any of this. No one ever told him when Dominic/Anthony came to visit them until a few days later. And, in spite of the fact Lex knew that Anthony had been hired by Lionel for the express purpose of ruining LexCorp, Lex couldn't find any connection between the two of them. Dad was too good.

Everything was going so, so wrong. He was going to lose his company before it even made a year and it was all Dad's fault.

And the irony of it all was that a magazine had just published an article about him. *Will the Son Surpass the Father* had been the title. It had been a fairly positive article for the most part, but in the end, the answer had been an overwhelming no. And, truth to tell, Lex couldn't blame them.

Lex's anger erupted violently. With a cry of pure fury, he shoved everything off his desk. The magazine, a vase, his paperweights, his computer, books, everything crashed to the floor with a satisfying sound.

For a moment, Lex simply stood there, gazing down at the mess he'd made. It hadn't been enough. He wanted to break more. Throw things, smash things. Hit and punch and kick until it was all out and he felt better.

He exhaled hard and tried to push the anger away. Then he knelt among the mess and started picking things up.

Like Victoria, Lex's mother's favorite flowers had been tulips. White ones. Every week, another batch was delivered; one dozen went into his office, one dozen in the entertainment room, and one into his bedroom. Once in awhile, he supplemented with roses because he noticed that Clark seemed to relax around the smell. But, mostly, it was tulips.

There was a bug in the tulips.

Lex froze. His heart literally stopped beating. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead and his lungs closed.

There was a *bug* in the tulips. A small, metal, state-of-the art bug in his fucking flowers.

Holy fucking Goddamn motherfucker shit.

Lex stood and set the device on his desk. There had to be more, he thought, looking around the room. A lot more. All over the room. Dad wouldn't have left anything up to chance.

Sure enough, there was another bug embedded in the fabric of his desk chair. Another was in his lamp. Yet another was taped underneath his desk.

"Oh shit," he said, feeling the panic attack rush over him with the force of a hurricane. Lex coughed one before his chest closed completely, cutting off his air supply. He couldn't breathe, couldn't cough, couldn't inhale. No oxygen was getting in and his heart was crushed in his chest like he was having a heart attack.

He was going to die.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Panicked, Lex stumbled to his desk. His inhaler was in the top drawer and he fumbled for it, hands shaking too badly to even pop off the top. Still trying to draw in a breath, Lex slapped the panic button next to the desk haphazardly. It should sound for Damien and his security team. He only hoped someone was awake.

The cap popped off, startling him. Lex lost it as he shoved his inhaler in his mouth and squeezed.

The medicated air hit the back of this throat and hung there, tasting like sour milk. It went up his nose and he coughed, pain making tears rise to his eyes. He tried again with no results. By the sixth time, he was halfway to the floor, the world darkening around him. Stars danced before his eyes dizzyingly. Sweat slicked his skin and his entire body was one huge bruise.

"Anne!" he heard Damien shout. Then he said a bunch of other things that Lex missed, but he didn't care. Damien was here and he'd take care of him.

The next fifteen minutes were a blur. He could hear the entire time, but Lex didn't understand what was going on. He couldn't respond to what sounded like questions and demands and orders. He simply floated on a whirling black haze focused on the inner workings of his body.

"Come on, Lex," he heard Clark's voice. "Baby, you have to breathe."

"Just like that," Anne put in, her voice calm and soft. "Deep and slow breaths, Lex. That's right. Very good."

A familiar hand brushed over Lex's forehead. He opened his eyes and looked up into Clark's.

"Hey, babe," Clark whispered, a tremulous smile on his face.

He smiled wanly back, aware of the mask on his face and the medicated air filling his lungs. His head was in Clark's lap, and a blanket covered him. Next to him was Anne and a whole mess of medical instruments. There was a small computer set up on the floor, attached to the nebulizer, which was hooked to Lex. Behind her was what seemed to be his entire security staff, standing there, looking like stupid fishes with their mouths hanging open.

"That's right, Lex," Anne was saying in a calm, soft voice. "Just keep breathing deep, slow breaths. Just like that."

"Anne," Damien said when Lex met his eyes.

Anne looked up from the small computer screen she was reading and then down at Lex. A look of relief crossed her face. "Hey," she said. She pressed her hand into his forehead. "Back with us?"

Lex coughed involuntarily, and then breathed the medicated mist deeply. His breathing still wasn't entirely clear, but it was easier. He was shaking, though, and nauseated. Lex was truly afraid he'd start throwing up and then pass out again from not being able to breathe.

"Relax," Anne told him. She stroked his forehead and turned to Damien. "You had an asthma attack and blacked out for a minute."

His arm felt as if lead weights were attached to it, but Lex managed to touch the center of his chest.

Anne frowned. "What's wrong? Your chest hurts?"

He nodded.

Her eyebrows rose as she though, and she pulled a stethoscope from her bag and listened to his heartbeat as she felt his pulse. "Dr. Sutton is meeting us at the hospital, and the ambulance should be here in a couple minutes. They'll do an EKG, but I don't think you had a heart attack; I think it was just pain from your lungs.

"No hospital," Lex whispered.

"Of course you'll go to the hospital," Damien said firmly. "But we won't leave you there overnight if we can avoid doing so. If you're all right, I'll ask them to release you into Dr. Sutton's care."

It was better than nothing. He didn't want to go to the hospital, but he knew he had to. It might have been a long time since he'd had an attack this bad, but he knew the drill.

When the paramedics got there, Damien drew Clark aside. Lex watched them together as he was attended to--his pulse taken, an IV administered, and oxygen took the place of the nebulizer--trying to ignore the horrible feeling of being an object that inevitably took over him when he was sick. The paramedics spoke to him with professional disinterest, and even though Clark was in the room, Lex was so alone, so isolated, and in so much pain.

"Do you know what brought on the attack, sir?" someone asked him.

Lex's mind turned painfully. "Dust," he answered very slowly. He didn't want reveal the real reason.

"It's been a few days since housekeeping has cleaned the room," Damien said, retuning to Lex's side. "He's highly allergic to dust."

Damien met Lex's eyes briefly in assurance, then he started conversing with the medical professionals. Feeling alone, Lex turned his head to look for Clark.

Clark was still standing at the side of the room where Damien had left him. There was a look of dazed horror was on Clark's face as he x-rayed the room and saw everything that Lex couldn't. See very violation, every device, every piece of proof of Lionel's long, powerful reach.

Lex had never been so happy not to have Clark's abilities before in his life.

Sensing Lex's gaze, Clark stopped scanning and returned to Lex's side. "How are you holding up?" he asked.

He shrugged and tried to connect to Clark mentally. A searing pain shot through his sinuses.

"Don't," Clark said quickly. "Not right now, you're too weak."

"We're taking him now," one of the paramedics said. They fastened him to the gurney and started wheeling him from the room.

"I'm taking your car and following you," Clark said, following. He took Lex's hand and ran his thumb over the back of his hand.

"Take Athena," Lex whispered, hoping Clark would understand. He couldn't spend the night in this house, couldn't stay here. He wasn't safe.

Clark nodded and squeezed Lex's hand. "Yeah, okay." He hesitated a moment, the, reluctance written on his face, pulled away.

Lex watched Clark longingly until the doors closed in on him. Then, he surrendered himself to the tender mercies of the paramedics.

* * *

It was a little after midnight when Clark and Lex pulled up to the Kent house. Despite the late hour, Clark wasn't surprised to see the light on and evidence of movement inside. Right after Lex had been taken away, Clark had driven home, Athena yowling in her travel box, breaking every speed limit in the short distance. As he'd deposited Lex's suitcase and cat in his old bedroom, Clark had given a hurried explanation of what was going on before taking off again to pace the halls of the hospital and receiving bad coffee and lame words of comfort from Helen Bryce.

Lex hadn't spoken since Dr. Sutton had checked him out of the hospital. Clark had the nebulizer and a canister of oxygen in case Lex had another attack, but that wasn't his main concern. Lex was so pale and so quiet; he looked as if he'd break should Clark look at him wrong. Should *anyone* look at him wrong.

"Lex, are you all right?" Martha asked the moment they set foot over the threshold. She rose from the couch and went to them, wrapping Lex in her arms.

Lex crumpled right away, sagging against her. She didn't try to move him, just stood rocking him gently, rubbing his back.

"It's okay, baby," she whispered in his ear. "It's okay."

Jonathan got up from the couch, where he'd been laying. His hair was flattened on the side, like he'd been sleeping, but he looked alert enough. "What did the doctor say?" he asked Clark soft, looking at the medical equipment Clark had set on the kitchen table.

"He's okay. He needs to take time off to relax, and Dr. Sutton gave him some anti-anxiety medication, but there was no damage done."

"And his house?"

Clark sighed and leaned against his father. Jonathan put his arm around Clark and rubbed his neck soothingly. "The office is riddled with all kinds of electronic devices. They're everywhere. Lex's bedroom and the entertainment room are clean, but Lex isn't..."

"No offense, angel," Lex said, pulling away from Martha. "But you don't know what these things look like."

"Damien showed me the ones you found, and I know enough to know what something electronic looks like, right? Especially things that don't belong, and there was nothing in your room that didn't belong." He reached out for Lex's hand and shivered to feel how cold he was.

"Boys," Jonathan asked hesitantly. "Is there any way to find out what Lionel heard?"

"No," Lex said tiredly. "There isn't. He's not stupid enough to have any of the tapes lying around where anyone might find them, and unless I somehow manage to remember every conversation I've had since October, there's no way to get close." He coughed, a horrible, rasping cough that rattle deep in his chest.

Martha felt his forehead. "Are you okay, baby?"

"I'm fine, Martha." But he leaned into her, eyes closed, like someone who needed a mother.

Clark looked at Jonathan and shook his head warningly. With a grunt of unhappiness, Jonathan swallowed whatever he was going to say.

"He knows about Dominic," Lex said after a moment. "He knows everything about my business, who my contacts are, what my plans are. He knows everything." Lex swallowed, chin trembling. "He probably has access to all my bank accounts, my personal identification numbers, every password, every... everything. He can ruin me with one phone call, and he's been picking away at my company for months. He sent a man who looks like Dominic to pressure my employees to sell their shares. As of today, this man has managed to get fifty-eight percent of the voting shares in my company. Today, Dad underbid me on a contract I had sewn up." Lex opened his eyes. They were bright and desolate, and Clark had a feeling he was going to have to pull that breathing thing out of Lex's bag. "He probably knows about Clark. Everything. We've talked about it. I mean, I don't know if we've talked about it in the office, but we've *talked* about it. I wanted him to relax about it. To get comfortable with himself. To be able to just say what he is, and because of that, I put him in danger. I..."

"Lex," Martha said, but Jonathan interrupted.

"You didn't put him in any more danger than we have. Nixon did the same thing. He listened in to private conversations and found out about Clark."

Lex licked his lips and shook his head. "Nixon is nothing. He never was anything, not really a threat. I mean he was, but we're talking about my father. Lionel Luthor in possession of this knowledge. Can you imagine..." His voice gave out.

Clark took an alarmed step towards him. "Lex?"

Lips trembling, Lex shook his head. He inhaled deeply and said, "I'm fine, Clark. I can breathe." He pulled away from Martha and leaned against the wall. "I think that the wisest thing to do is for me to..."

"Don't say it," Clark snapped.

"You *know* it's the best thing, Clark."

"No." God, Lex *always* did this. "You think that breaking up is the easiest way to deal with things, Lex, but it's not. We can't let your father control our lives."

Lex hit the wall with his fist. "Goddamn it, Clark, don't be stupid."

"No, you don't be stupid," he shot back, knowing he was fighting with his boyfriend in front of his parents, but not caring. He rose from the couch and went to Lex. "We're not breaking up, end of story, okay? If Lionel knows about me, fine. We'll deal with it. You have contingency plans for keeping us all safe, remember?"

"He might know them."

Clark shook his head. "No, he doesn't. And, if he does, we'll adapt, okay? But we're not going to break up." He loomed over Lex, one hand on his hip, the other resting on the wall over his head.

Lex gazed up at Clark like he was drowning and struggling for something to hold onto. Clark could see the effects of the anti-anxiety drug Dr. Sutton have given him--the slightly unfocused eyes, the laxness of his muscles despite him being upset. His eyes were heavy-lidded, and Clark could see him struggling to stay focused.

"Tell me you're not going to disappear," he whispered, running his thumb down Lex's cheek.

"I won't," Lex promised.

The weight of truth was behind Lex's words, and Clark relaxed. He knew that Lex had just been reverting to type. He always wanted to face everything alone, try to take the brunt of what Lionel and life threw at him and Clark, and it was hard for him to admit he needed Clark. But, in the end, he wanted Clark by his side; he just needed to be reminded of that sometimes. "Good." Clark kissed him. "Sit down, okay?"

Lex nodded and leaned into Clark. Together, they went to the couch, and Lex collapsed on it, eyes closing.

"Lex?" Martha said, sitting on the other side of him. She put her hand on Lex's knee. "I don't think Lionel knows about Clark. If he did, he already would have done something. There's no opportune moment with this kind of information. Lionel could have exploited Clark in over a hundred ways by now, but he hasn't. Unless he doesn't know Clark's weakness, there's nothing to stop him." She squeezed his knee. "Don't beat yourself up. You didn't do anything wrong."

"I did," he said, opening his eyes. "I didn't think. I should have ... I should have been more aware. I knew that Dad would do his best to gather as much information about what I was doing, and I didn't take the steps to block him. I should have been sweeping the mansion weekly for bugs, and I definitely should have checked after Dad took over my office." He snorted and squeezed the bridge of his nose. "I was such a fucking fool. I let his disability lull me into a false sense of security. And he played me."

"How soon can you get him out of the mansion?" Jonathan asked.

Lex laughed bitterly and pressed harder against Clark. "I can't. I can ask him to leave, but legally, the mansion is his. And if I ask him to leave, that'll just guarantee he'll stay. There's nothing I can do."

"Don't be stupid, Lex, of course there's something you can do. You'll just have to move out, and that's all there is to it."

Lex lifted his head and looked at Jonathan as if he'd grown another head. "What?"

"Move out," he repeated. "You can't stay there if you have to live in constant fear of Lionel bugging your home and listening into everything you do. And I know he can bug any new place you move in to, but now you'll be prepared. And you'll be living in a smaller place where you can control the traffic in and out. Plus, you'll be away from him, and I really think you need that."

"I can't move away. My company is here."

"He didn't say move away," Clark said, although he wondered where Dad had in mind. There weren't exactly any penthouses in Smallville, and he couldn't imagine Lex living in anything less than luxury.

Jonathan shook his head and rubbed his chin. "No. I think you can stay in Smallville. Nell and Lana's old home might go back on the market; I ran into the Phelps's last week, and Doug was saying that it's just not working out. There's also the apartment over the Talon; that might work well for you, especially since you already own the building. Renovations to add in an elevator should be relatively simple. I don't know if Damien could live with you, but you're twenty-two, and I think you'd be fine sleeping in your own place. Or there's old Steward place out on Oak Tree Lane. Cole Steward lost his legs in Vietnam, so they built a ramp leading up the front porch. I'm pretty sure there's a chair lift inside, too. It's two stories, eight bedrooms, so both Damien and Mabel could go with you if you can't give them up. They've got a fairly extensive property, and it's beautiful land. You'd still be fairly secluded, so Clark could come visit you without raising too much suspicion. I don't know much about the security, but I suppose you could always build a fence around it."

Lex blinked, looking dazed. "You're kidding, right?"

"It's not a bad idea, Lex," Martha said. She rubbed his leg. "And it's a beautiful house. There's a sun porch on the back, and a swing on the front porch. Athena would have lots of windows to look out of, and the kitchen is roomy enough for Mabel to keep baking for the Talon."

"This is insane. I can't buy a house." He rubbed his forehead. "I can't..."

"Your problem, Lex, is that you're so used to thinking of your life as an extension of your father's, your thinking is boxed," Jonathan said. "It's time to think outside the box and try to imagine your life without him. You have an obligation to yourself, son, and you have the right to live your life without fear."

With a heavy sigh, Lex pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. "I know. But it's just... Even when my dad made me move out on my own for a year, it was all done for me. I don't..."

"You're tired," Clark said, squeezing Lex. "And it's a lot to think about. I think you should sleep now, see how you feel tomorrow. Mom? Can you call the realtor and see when Lex can go look at the house?"

Martha nodded. "I'll do it in the morning." She bent over and kissed Lex on the cheek. "Get some sleep, Lex."

Lex nodded dazedly and rose unsteadily to his feet. Clark stood as well, one arm wrapped around Lex as they went upstairs to Lex's room. "Night," Clark called back down as they walked up stairs; he held his breath, waiting for someone to say something about the rules, but neither parent did. Which was good, because there was no way Clark was letting Lex sleep alone tonight, rules or no.

They got ready for bed silently. Lex stayed glued to Clark's side, even when he was using the toilet. It wasn't Clark's ideal, but Lex needed him, so Clark went with it.

When they were crammed in Clark's old double bed, Athena curled in a ball at their head, Clark kissed Lex's forehead softly and asked, "Do you want to talk?"

Something that sounded like a whimper escaped Lex's throat, and he rested his head on Clark's shoulder. "No."

Not very surprising, but he'd had to ask. Just like he had to say, "Everything is going to be okay, you know," even when he didn't see how. He stroked Lex's back.

"I'll try to believe you," Lex said dryly. He sighed and leaned harder into Clark. "I feel awful," he said after a moment. "I promised to protect you, and now I've proven I can barely even protect myself."

"I know." Clark rubbed Lex's back soothingly. "I know. But it's not the end of the world. You found out that he's been spying on you, and now you're going to take action."

"Do you think I should move away?"

Clark sighed and hooked his leg over Lex's hip. "I think it might do a lot of good for you to get away from your father. It's what we've been wanting, right? A place of our own? I don't know if that place should be a farmhouse or an apartment or just your place without your father, but we deserve a space that belongs to us. You deserve a space that belongs just to you."

"Yeah," Lex sighed, face relaxed. His breathing was evening out, and Clark could tell he was falling asleep. "I could have my own farm. Maybe a horse. And a hammock under the trees to swing in with you."

"No Lionel."

"No Lionel. No parents. Just us," Lex whispered. And, with that thought swimming in their heads, they both drifted off to sleep.

* * *

"Morning, Lex," Jonathan said walking into the kitchen.

Lex was sitting at the table, scowling at the newspaper in front of him. There was a plate of untouched pancakes and a cup of coffee on the table. His cat sat in his lap, purring and rubbing her head into Lex's hands enthusiastically.

"Morning. Can I go now?" he snapped in reply.

"I believe Martha said that all the pancakes had to be gone before I let you. You haven't touched them."

"I'm not hungry." That was definitely a whine in his voice, and Jonathan tried not to smile. "I need to get home and get rid of the bugs now. I don't need to eat."

Jonathan poured himself a cup of coffee. "You sound like a child, you know. I'm beginning to doubt that you're old enough to date my son."

He thought he heard Lex swear under his breath, but when he turned back, Lex had placed the cat on the table and was cutting his pancakes.

Good. Lex looked too thin and too pale this morning, and it frightened even him. Beyond his own concern was Clark's. It'd taken all morning to convince Clark that Lex would be in good hands, and he needed to go to school. Jonathan had promised to take care of him and the last thing he needed was for Lex to faint from hunger. Clark would never trust him again.

"So," he said, sitting down at the table. "What are you going to do now?"

Lex shrugged and swallowed a huge mouthful of food. He'd obviously been hanging around Clark too long; the normally impeccable table manners were gone, and Lex was shoveling food into his mouth. And under a napkin.

Frowning, Jonathan pulled the napkin away and shook the squashed pieces back onto Lex's plate.

Lex scowled. "I'm going to go home and find as many of the bugs as I can, then call in a crew to do the rest. Then I'm going to bug that son-of-a bitch's office and see how *he* likes it."

"Lex, no." He set his coffee mug down firmly. "You can't."

Blazing blue eyes met his. "Of course I can. I have to. An eye for an eye."

"It's unethical, Lex."

"That's the way business is done, Jonathan," Lex shot back. "It's all corporate espionage and high tech bugs and spying. Hell, I've been spying on Dad for over a year by using Dominic, and Mrs. Kent has given me plenty of information on him. This isn't any different."

"Yes, it is."

"No, it isn't."

"Yes, it is."

A look of annoyance crossed Lex's face. That smug, superior, I'm so much better than you look that Jonathan hated. "No, Mr. Kent, it isn't."

"Dammit, Lex, it is." He clenched a fist and tried to stop the anger that was suddenly coursing through him. "I've never approved this arrangement you have with Dominic. If he's going to work for you, he should work for you at your company, not be drawing in two paychecks and betraying Lionel. That's unethical. And the thing with Martha was for self-preservation. We wanted to know what information Lionel might be gathering on Clark."

"Yes, but in the meantime, she's dropped a few hints about business my way as well."

"Well, she shouldn't have done that."

"What does it matter? The information my father has stolen from me far outweighs anything she gave me."

It still didn't sit right with him. Martha shouldn't have been sharing business secrets, even to sabotage Lionel Luthor. But that wasn't the point. "Lex, you can't retaliate like this. It's lazy, selfish, unethical, and morally wrong. That's not the kind of boy you are."

Lex snorted and arched an eyebrow. "It's exactly the kind of *boy* I am," he said scornfully. "And you know it. When I do this, I'll be acting completely in character. And making progress in saving my company."

"No." Why didn't he understand? "Lex, listen to me." Jonathan leaned across the table and looked at Lex earnestly. "I know you don't believe me, but some things in life are black and white. This is one of them. What Lionel did to you is unpardonable. It was despicable. It was wrong of him to do it to you. It will be wrong if you do it to him. Can't you understand that?"

"But I..."

"You are *not* your father. You *don't* have to act the same way he does. Why can't you understand that?"

"I do," Lex protested, but Jonathan knew better.

"No, Lex, you don't. You say you do, you say that you're trying to create your own path in life, but then you do everything Lionel does. And you don't see that it's wrong. Your moral development has been stunted, and I understand that it's Lionel who's done it to you. He's got you all twisted up and confused that you have some kind of block about this. But, Lex, you have to learn to make choices that are completely independent of your father. You need to learn that you don't have to pattern your thinking or your choices after his. When trying to decide what path to choose, you shouldn't ask yourself what Lionel would do. You should..."

"Ask myself what Jonathan would do?" Lex interrupted dryly. "I could get one of those bracelets and everything. I wouldn't even have to change the acronym."

Jonathan sighed. He'd never get through to this boy if he tried for a hundred years. Why even bother?

Because, a stubborn voice said in his head, he's your son's lover. And, when it came down to it, a good boy.

"I'd be flattered if you thought of me before you made a choice like this," he said carefully. What worked with Clark wouldn't work with Lex; advice, commands, common sense, it didn't work with Lex. Jonathan had to learn to play a whole new game here. He really wished Martha were home; he had a feeling that she could get through to Lex much more effectively. "I don't want to be a nag or a dominating figure in your life, Lex. But on the other hand, I know how hard you're struggling to forge your own destiny and path and make yourself into a man you and Clark can be proud of. Now, I'm already proud of you. You've worked and grown and struggled to make yourself a good man, and I'm proud to know you. I'm proud *of* you."

Lex looked away, eyes very bright. There was a moment of dead silence as he swallowed a few times. When he finally spoke, his voice trembled. "And if I bug my father's office, you won't be proud of me anymore."

Jonathan sighed and rubbed his face. If this was Clark, Jonathan would hug him, tell him how loved he was and that nothing would change that. It wasn't that it was untrue in Lex's case, but Lex wouldn't believe him and Jonathan couldn't make it sound sincere, even if he was.

An idea came to him and he rose. "Stay here. We're not through." He jogged upstairs to his and Martha's bedroom and went directly to the closet. The object he was looking for was in a box on his side of the closet; he grabbed it, and went back downstairs.

Lex was resting his chin on the table, in deep communion with his cat. The kitten was head-butting Lex playfully, mewling after each bump. At the very least, some of the lines of tension had eased from his face, and his eyes shone with love as he played with his pet.

Jonathan sat back down at the table and turned the compass around in his fingers. "This is a Kent family tradition of sorts," he said, trying to not sound as awkward as he felt. "We, uh, give a compass to the bride or groom on their wedding day so they don't get lost, either down the aisle or in life." He held the compass up for Lex to see. "I got one for Clark ages ago. A father's dream for his son, you know, even with the complication of his secret. Over the summer, I decided to get you one, too. But I think you need it now."

"I... I don't understand." Lex's eyes were wide, and he grabbed Athena, pulling her off the table as if Jonathan was about to start swinging her by the tail.

"It's a symbol, Lex. No matter what you choices you make, I won't cut you out. I won't shame you, I won't hurt you, and I won't try to make you feel like less of a man. I will try to make you see the other choices you might have made. I'll be upset. I'll be disappointed. But being disappointed and not caring aren't the same thing."

Athena howled loudly as Lex squeezed her too tightly. Startled, he dropped the cat. After she scampered from the room, he asked, "What if Clark and I had broken up? Last summer, I mean. When we... What if we hadn't gotten back together, or what if it happens in the future?"

"You've made me a believer, Lex," Jonathan answered truthfully. "You and my son are devoted to each other completely. But, if something did happen, you can't just leave the family. Not that easily. You strike me as the marrying kind, Lex. I think you want the stability that marriage can bring, and even if you don't get it with Clark, you'd still seek it out."

"You'd still give it to me even if I wasn't with Clark?"

"You're a good man, Lex. A good boy." He let that word standing, wanting Lex to see where his mind was. Pete was close to family, but he had parents of his own. Lex had no one to look after him properly, so it fell to the Kents. It fell to Jonathan to be a father for this child.

With a trembling hand, Lex reached out and took the compass. He opened it. "What do you want me to say? That I won't do it? That I'll let him violate me like this and not retaliate?"

"Yes, I do. Because that's the right choice, and you know it." He sighed. "But, it's your choice. So all I can tell you is I hope you do what's right, I'm here if you want to talk further, and I..." Damn. He had to say this, because he knew Lex didn't hear it enough, but it was hard. "I care about you."

The startled eyes returned to his face and were immediately clouded by wariness. He didn't trust Jonathan, but, then, there were so few Lex did trust.

But, finally, Lex swallowed and closed his fist over the compass. "Thanks," he said quietly.

"You're welcome, Lex."

* * *

There was a taxi in front of the mansion when Lex pulled up. Intrigued, confused, and too tired to continue around to the garage, he pulled up behind it and parked. The taxi driver nodded at him when Lex passed, and then continued to load suitcases and boxes into the back of the taxi.

Dammit Damien, Lex thought angrily. You're scheduled for surgery in three weeks. Couldn't you hold off on firing Anne until after?

He hoped he was wrong. Maybe Mabel was visiting her daughter, or one of the housekeeping staff was leaving. Perhaps Dad was moving out. That taxi could be for *anyone*.

But it wasn't. It was for Anne. The moment he stepped inside, she exited the elevator carrying a suitcase. There were two more suitcases and a pile of boxes by the front door.

He sighed and set Athena's carrying case on the floor. He *hated* putting her in there; it was emotionally damaging, he knew it, but he couldn't risk her life by letting her free when they went driving. She was getting used to the box when they went to the plant together, but it still broke his heart to put her inside.

"Hi, Anne," he said softly as he let Athena out. The kitten shot out quickly, skidded across the polished floor, and then bounded up the stairs without even saying good-bye.

He rose and brushed his pants off. "Are you going somewhere?"

"Yes," she replied, sounding fragile. "I am." She sniffed and rubbed her nose with the back of her hand. "Damien fired me last night."

To do: 1. Kill Damien. 2. Debug office. 3. Raise Damien from the dead, have him kill Dad, kill Damien again, and dance on their graves.

He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling weary. His chest still ached from his attack the last night, and he was exhausted from the drug-induced sleep. He knew that he should be resting, sleeping if possible, but what he really wanted to do was get started on his office. What he *didn't* want to do was deal with Anne.

"Did he give you a reference?" he asked, unsure of what to say.

Wow. He'd never seen anyone's eyes turn crimson that quickly without sniffing ammonia or something. Victoria had taught him that trick, but Anne didn't have anything near her face. Which meant those were real tears. Wonderful.

"I don't deserve a reference," she told him, voice trembling. "I'm so ashamed of what I did."

"Don't be," Lex said tiredly.

"It was wrong. I knew it was wrong." Her hands were clasped together tightly in front of her stomach, and her cheeks were pink. Anne crossed the floor until she was standing in front of him. "I'm sorry."

He should have stayed away longer. If he'd known that Damien was going to fire her, Lex would have waited for her to be gone. Anne was, at heart, a good person. That meant, of course, that all the guilt and self-recrimination that had been building since taking the money from Lionel to spy on Lex would come pouring out when she was caught. As far as Lex was concerned, it was Damien's job to listen to it, not his.

And yet, here he was. "Anne..."

"No, Lex, please. Whatever you're going to say, don't." She pulled a tissue from her pocket and wiped her eyes. "I was going to say no. Really, I was. I mean, what kind of person spies on.... Well, we're not friends. But," her face crumpled, "I have to admit, a part of me had hoped..." She stopped talking as more tears fell from her eyes.

Oh, great. A weepy apology *and* a confession of attraction. His day was just getting better and better. What next?

"But, he offered me the money, and, dear lord, it was more than I make in a year. Even with what you and Damien pay me. And, I have debts that I need to take care of. And I've had my eye on this house since forever, and I knew with the money, I could afford it." She wiped her nose. "I swear, I never told him anything that he didn't already know. Damien never discussed business in front of me, and I never knew anything."

"We knew. We've known for a long time," Lex finally said. "So, we took precautions so you were never put in the sort of situation where you might pass on something important."

Her blue eyes widened, mouth falling open. She wasn't as pretty as Helen, but, had Clark not been in his life, Lex probably would have fucked Anne. Multiple times; she looked like the kind of woman who was inventive in bed, and she was innocent enough to actually, perhaps, care for him instead of his name.

But, there was Clark, and, in the end, Anne was just as fallible as any human he'd ever met. All in all, Lex was satisfied with the way things had turned out.

"You knew," she finally said. "Why didn't you fire me before?"

Lex shrugged nonchalantly. "You're an excellent nurse and you suited Damien's needs perfectly. You were all we could ask for, and since we knew that anyone we hired would be susceptible to my father's money and charms..." Anne winced, confirming Lex's suspicions that Lionel had at least started making overtures that she was falling for. He sighed and continued, "We decided that the devil we knew was better than an unknown."

"I'm so sorry."

Lex waved her off. "I wish you luck, Anne. If you ever need a reference or a helping hand, give me a call. I'd be glad to help you out."

Anne shook her head as she took Lex's hand. "You're something else, Lex. No one should be this obliging to someone who's betrayed them."

"Trust me," he said with a wry smile. "This betrayal is nothing compared to others I've gone through." He squeezed her hand. "Take care." He kissed her hand quickly, then turned and climbed the stairs. He wouldn't miss her, exactly, but he was sorry to see her go.

Damien was in his office, pulling books off the shelves he could reach and going through them. The room was a mess: cushions overturned, books on the floor, contents of his desk drawer spread across the floor. Damien was adding to the mess by tossing each book he rifled through onto the floor, carefully, though, so he could still maneuver his chair.

"Hey," Lex said, stepping carefully inside. He picked a magazine off the floor, paged through it and tossed it aside. "Did you call Dominic?"

"Last night after you went to the Kents," Damien replied, not looking at Lex.

"When's he coming back?"

"Not until tomorrow, most likely," Damien said. He tossed another book aside and turned his chair around. "There are some loose ends to tie up, and there is something going on with Victoria that he's not telling me." He sighed at that and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"What's she up to, anyway?"

"She's still administrative assistant to the lawyer who got her cleared of the charges brought against her. He's keeping all information about her under tight wraps, so I don't know any of the particulars."

"Ah." He nodded and rubbed the back of his neck. "Have you found anything in here?" Lex asked.

"Eight so far."

He nodded. "Let's take a walk."

Damien carefully rolled through the path he'd made in the chaos of the room. When they were out, he said softly, "I told Dominic that we probably won't be sending him back to England. The loss in stock we've suffered in LexCorp makes the idea of expanding an unlikely possibility. His efforts and attentions would be better suited out here."

"He can't play double agent anymore."

Damien smiled dryly. "I think he relinquished that role the moment Lionel hired this Anthony to impersonate him. I'm interested to see how long it will take for Lionel to actually do anything about it. He seems content to keep Dominic with him, if only as a glorified accountant and almost competent manager. But, on the other hand, I don't want to risk Dominic that way."

"I know." Lex clasped his arms behind his back. "This is your call. I'm willing to bring him on to whatever is left of LexCorp."

"I'll speak to him when he arrives."

"You going to be okay until then? I mean, without Anne?"

"Of course. Aimee will spend the night and help me with anything I might need. She's also volunteered to help find a new nurse." He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I do wish Anne had not confessed to me last night. She really was the best nurse I could have hoped for, but there was no way to keep her on." Damien sighed again. "She's left some names of health care professionals she recommends to take her place. I'll start interviewing after Dominic arrives."

"Christ. This is such a mess. The next time Dad wants to move in with me, remind me to say no."

"Yes, sir."

They were silent as they rode down the elevator; Lionel may have bugged the room, but even if he hadn't, security had. Damien and Lionel had been trapped inside one too many times for Lex to be comfortable with anything but three separate ways to hear and see inside the elevator. They didn't speak until they'd entered Lex's meditation room and closed the door.

"If Lionel has bugs in here, I give up," Lex said, closing the door.

"I don't think he knows about it," Damien replied. "It was a very well guarded secret. Besides, I think he only placed the bugs in areas you talked business. His number one objective has been to bring you back to the fold. Anything else can wait until then. And, as interested as he is in Clark, I'm not sure he realizes how special Clark really is."

"Maybe. I don't know. I agree with you about Dad's number one objective, but as to Clark.... Something tells me that Dad knows that there's something there, and he's just biding his time until he really starts digging." He rubbed his forehead, feeling the pain pulse behind it. "Christ, I'm going to have to monitor everything constantly from now on." Lex bit his lip and sat on a bench. "The Kents think I should move out."

"Move out?"

He nodded. "I don't own the castle, Damien. I'll inherit it, but Dad's not going to die any time soon, and until then, he can do whatever he wants. I can't kick him out, and if I try, that'll just encourage him to stay."

"Your needs are very particular, sir," Damien said carefully. "Neither of us can cook to any particular satisfaction, and I'm going to be spending the next few months convalescing. Again. We need Mabel; I need room to recover, unless I return to Metropolis until I am fit for service. But you need housekeepers and privacy, and enough room for you and Clark to... enjoy yourselves without worry."

Lex actually felt his cheeks heat at the delicate way Damien stated the last. "The Kents said that there's some old farmhouse that's for sale. There are ramps already there because the previous owner was in a wheelchair. We can add on so Clark and I can be in a separate part of the house from you and Mabel." He shrugged. "You wouldn't have to leave."

"Is that what you want?"

"I don't know," Lex answered honestly. He rubbed his arms and tried to ignore the shivery feeling inside him. He was completely fucked up, so much so, that he could hardly even think. He was on autopilot, just reacting to stimulus and waiting to wake up from this nightmare. "God, I don't know." Headache pounding at his temples, Lex pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes.

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah. No." He dug his nails into his skin and slowly dragged them. He could hardly feel the pain as red streaks appeared on his arms.

"Lex," Damien said sharply. He grabbed Lex's hands and held them tightly in his own. "Don't."

He swallowed bile, eyes squeezed shut. "I want to kill him," he whispered hoarsely. "I want.... How dare he do this to me? I'm his *son*."

"Lionel doesn't know what that means, Lex. His definition is radically different from anyone else's. You used to understand that, but you've been with the Kents for so long, your views are shifting." Damien loosened his grip on Lex's right hand and slid it up his arm. "Lionel has never viewed you as anything but an extension of himself. He's tested you, pushed you, belittled you when you didn't rise to his expectations, and taken credit for any of your accomplishments. None of it had anything to do with who you are. You never deserved his treatment, never..."

"I think I'm going to throw up."

Damien backed up and allowed Lex to stumble to a trashcan in the corner of the room. The pancakes burned his throat as they came up, snot dripped from his nose and tears leaked from his eyes. He wanted to die.

"What do you want to do?" Damien asked softly. He'd taken a bottle of water from the refrigerator in the corner and was holding it out to Lex.

Lex rinsed his mouth out and took a sip. His stomach rumbled ominously but it stayed down. "I want him out," he said, voice raw. "I want him out of my house, I want the house burned to the ground. I want every room torn apart by three different teams of independently hired contractors. I want... I want vengeance." He took another drink and then set the bottle on the floor next to him.

The compass Jonathan gave him felt heavy in his hand. When he opened it, the needle spun randomly for a moment before settling on its direction. Lex had no way of knowing if it was north or not.

"I want to bug my father's office," he said, caressing the face of the compass. "Jonathan says that would be unethical."

"And he would be right. But sometimes ethics must be eschewed in order to be a success," Damien said carefully. He gently wiped a bead of sweat that was rolling down Lex's forehead with his thumb and said, "It would be fair turnabout, sir. It would help you regain the ground he stole you're your business. And Jonathan Kent needn't ever know."

Lex swallowed hard, bile rising in his throat again. If only he could think. If only he could actually give Jonathan's words the weight and time they deserved. If only he could be *good*.

But he wasn't. He wasn't a good man, and he wasn't a Kent. He was a Luthor and he had to play by Luthor rules. Otherwise, he'd never feel safe again.

With a brisk movement that belayed the weakness he was feeling, Lex snapped the compass closed and met Damien's eyes. "Bug that bastard's office. Now."

"Tomorrow," Damien said. "I'll give you the number to contact a highly recommended group; they should be able to go in tomorrow."

"Good."

* * *

"So," Chloe said, flopping on the couch in the Torch's office next to Clark. "What happened?"

Clark looked up from his laptop. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, what's going on? You're totally distracted today. Did something happen?" She perched on her desk, feet on a chair, cup of coffee on her knees. "Is something wrong with Lex?"

"Yeah. Lionel is wrong with him." He saved his file and turned the laptop off.

"What this time?"

"He bugged Lex's office. Lex found out and had the mother of all asthma attacks. When I got there, Anne had him hooked up to some kind of breathing machine. He wasn't even conscious. Lex was just lying there on the floor, all white and not moving. His lips were blue, Chloe, and all I could do was sit there and hope that he'd wake up. And then, he did, but he couldn't talk. And I had to let the ambulance take him away. I couldn't go with him and he was all alone and so scared."

Chloe set her coffee down and went to Clark. Wrapping her arms around him, she held him tightly and stroked his hair. "Is he okay?"

"They let him out of the hospital, but only because Dr. Sutton thought that it'd be better for him to come home with me. That he'd rest easier. She gave him some drugs that made him really relaxed, but it didn't settle his mind at all." He swallowed and leaned against her. "They had to train me to hook Lex up to the oxygen tank. And the... the nebulizer. Just in case."

"Did anything else happen?"

"No. He was okay. Sort of."

Chloe sighed and rested her head on his shoulder. "God. Poor Lex."

"Yeah."

"Is he okay? I mean, will he be okay?"

I don't know, Clark wanted to answer. He just didn't. For all he knew, by the time Clark got out of school, Lex would have completely broken with reality, murdered Lionel, and would be dancing naked on the lawn.

And that was the best-case scenario.

He just shrugged and sighed heavily.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

He thought about it before answering. The truth was, he felt as if he should be angry and upset more than he actually was. Right now, he was feeling kind of numb, and that scared him. Right after Lionel had tried to rape him, he'd felt the same way. Numb. Disconnected. His other emotions had flown out of control, especially lust, but he hadn't been able to focus any feelings on Lionel's actions. Or Lionel.

"I don't know," he finally answered. He swallowed and pressed the palms of his hands together. "I don't know. He, uh, didn't do this to me. He did it to Lex."

"And you don't think that you had anything to do with it? I mean, that Lionel didn't take into account that you and Lex might talk in his office? That he might be able to get information about you?"

He looked at her closely. She seemed pale, eyes wide and frightened. "Information?" Clark asked warily. Sometimes, he felt that Chloe knew more about him than she was supposed to. She certainly never commented when he disappeared from a room, or knew something he shouldn't. She just accepted it, and that was just wrong for someone like Chloe.

"Yeah. Information," she stuttered. "Like, on you guys' relationship. Or, um, information about your family. You know he's always looking for ways to screw you guys over."

"Oh. Right. Um, yeah, I thought about that. But, so far, it seems like he's just bugged Lex's office, and not anywhere else. So I don't know if I actually had anything to do with it this time." He closed his eyes. "Lex is *so* freaked out."

Chloe put her arms around him and held him tightly. "He'll be okay," she whispered. "Lex is strong."

Clark wished he could believe her. Not that he didn't think that Lex was strong, because he was. Really. Stronger than Lex himself knew. But things like this threw him so much, and his reactions frightened Clark. The anger, frustration, fear, and self-loathing churned in Lex's mind, in his whole body practically. And, because Lex didn't have much control when he was like this, it all rolled into Clark. Clark was too afraid of what would happen if he cut Lex completely off; he wanted to monitor Lex's mood, just in case.

"Hey, look at it this way," Chloe said after a long silence. "Only two more periods, and then you can go see him."

"This is stupid," Clark groused. "I shouldn't even be signed up for gym, I can't participate half the time. I should get to do something else."

"Like what? You're already taking metal shop until the semester ends, then you move to... what?"

"Woodshop," he said gloomily. He sighed. "It was the only semester class available. Stupid Font wouldn't let me sign up for anything more interesting last spring, like Philosophy, which I wanted. He said it was an upperclassman class."

"Well, I think that you should go to the new counselor and see what you can do about dropping gym and signing up for journalism. I mean, you're always here anyway, and you can use the time to work on the literary magazine."

"Except, then I'd call attention to the fact that I've skipped every one of my sessions for the past three weeks, and I don't want to do that. I figure that it's time to stop lying to people who don't really care about anything I have to say, and she seems to feel the same way."

She had that look on her face. The one that let him know that he was doing something wrong and only she had the answer to what he was actually supposed to be doing.

He started counting silently in his head.

"Clark," she finally said.

"Four."

Chloe blinked. "What?"

"Four. Four seconds before you had to open your mouth and tell me what to do."

"It's advice, Clark, and you're my friend. I just want to help."

"Chloe, I don't want advice, okay? I just want to live my life in peace. It's not like I can tell her about most of my problems anyway. I've worked through my grief about Ryan to the point where I can deal with it on my own. I can't tell her about Lionel what did. I didn't even tell Font. Whitney's not an issue anymore, since he's alive, and, except for Lex, my life is fine. And I can't talk about him."

"You could come out and talk about him without mentioning his name."

He rolled his eyes and hit his head against the back of the couch. Why? Why was he plagued with such a pushy best friend? It's times like this Clark wished he hung out with Pete more. But Pete had his own life, and that life didn't have anything to do with Clark most of the time. "No."

"Babe, you have issues, okay? Big ones."

"And I prefer to talk about them with my friends."

"Do you?"

Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap.

His phone rang. Salvation! "Hello?"

"Hey, handsome. Skipping class again?" Whitney asked.

Clark raised his mental shields to screen Lex out; he was destroying something right now and didn't need Clark anyway. An irrepressible smile crossed his face, and his day just got a thousand times better. "They're playing indoor gym hockey."

"Good. I missed you."

"We just talked yesterday."

"And then I spent twenty-four hours staring at the walls listening to doctors walk around and talk to everyone but me. I'm bored, Clark. There's only so long I can read and watch TV before I need entertainment."

"Hey, I'm not complaining," Clark said with a smile.

"Good. I'd hate to think I was wearing on your nerves."

"No. Never."

Whitney laughed softly. "I'm glad," he said in a low voice. "I can't imagine going a day without talking to you. I'd go crazy."

Clark blushed as Whitney's voice rolled through him. It wasn't quite the same as Lex, but damn if it wasn't close. "So, um, how are things?"

"Good. Okay. My leg is killing me, and I ran into a wall when I was going to the bathroom because I couldn't see the depth."

"You'll get used to it."

"I hope so." He sounded momentarily despondent, but when he spoke again, it was gone. "So, how's Mark today?"

"Good. I didn't have much time to talk to him today. Lex was sick last night and I didn't get to school until the last minute. And I was spaced during class."

"Is Lex okay?"

"He'll be fine," Clark said uncomfortably. He hated talking about Lex to Whitney just as much as he hated talking about Whitney to Lex. It felt unfair to both of them. "Um, Mr. Townsend looked good today, though."

"What's he wearing?"

"Um... green shirt, black pants, and a tie with books on it?"

"Is that Whitney?" Chloe asked from her computer.

Clark nodded and stretched out on the couch.

"And he looks cute?" asked Whitney.

"Well, he's not really my type, but yeah, I guess." He stretched out on the couch and gazed at the ceiling. "How's that whole thing working out for you? I mean, you and him?"

"Good. I think. I don't know." Whitney sighed, and Clark could *hear* Whitney's blush. "We talk every night when he gets home from school. And he wrote me a ten-page letter that got here this morning. God, Clark, he's so smart. He knows everything, and he doesn't seem to care that I don't know as much as him. And it's not weird, either, you know? The age difference. He's older than Lex is. We're nine years apart, when but when we talk, it's like we're the same age."

Clark tried not to be jealous. There was a part of him that still felt that Whitney belonged to him, and the fact that Mark was going to get Whitney when he came back rankled. It was completely unfair and he knew it, but he couldn't help the way he felt. "Do you think you're going to get together when you come home?"

"I hope so. I think so. We've, uh, talked about it some. I'm just afraid of, well, you know."

"What?"

"The age difference. Difference in experience. Life experience and... other stuff. He has his masters in English, and I barely graduated from high school. And now I have a smashed kneecap, fingers missing, and probably blind in one eye. I'm a real catch." Now he really did sound despondent.

Clark sighed and closed his eyes. "Lex is jealous of you. He knows that the moment I see you, I'm going to kiss you and hold you until I know you're real. And I'm sure Mr. Townsend is going to be fighting me for that honor."

"I'm causing a rift between you and your mentor, aren't I?"

"Whitney, I'm happily in love. I mean, yeah, I've got a crush on you, but I know that you're not mine. And I want you to be happy."

"Thanks Clark," Whitney said softly.

Clark cleared his throat, blushing. He loved it when Whitney used that soft, gravelly tone on him. He knew that, soon, it was going to belong to Mr. Townsend, but right now, it was all his. "So, um, any word on when you're coming home?"

"Sounds like another month. They're going to operate on my knee in two days, and that's got some recovery and PT time at the hospital. After that, I don't know. It's going to depend on how my knee is."

"Your mom must be going crazy."

Whitney cleared his throat. "She's coming out on Friday."

"Really? I thought you said that the military wasn't going to fly her out."

"No, not the military. Um, Lex is paying for it. He made the arrangements."

"He didn't tell me." If it was possible to love Lex even more than he already did, he would at hearing that news. Lex really was perfect.

"Well, uh, I guess he wanted to keep it a surprise. I know he feels weird about me and you. Or at least me. He'll never trust me after what I did to you."

"You more than made up for it, Whitney," Clark assured him. "You saved me from Lionel. That outweighs the whole scarecrow thing."

Whitney sighed. "You have so much forgiveness in you, Clark. You amaze me."

He squirmed in embarrassment, cheeks on fire. "Yeah," he answered honestly. "You too. I mean, you amaze me, going through what you did. I'm glad you're alive."

"Yeah. So am I," Whitney laughed.

The bell rang and, instantly, the halls erupted in a torrent of noise.

Clark sighed. "I've gotta go."

"You only have two more classes, right?"

"Yeah. I'll try to call you tonight, but Lex and I are in crisis, so I might not get to you."

Whitney sighed. "Are the two of you ever *not* in crisis?" he asked.

Clark rose and slung his backpack over his shoulder. "I think there was a hour or two last summer when we weren't. I really have to go."

"Bye, Clark."

"Bye, Whit."

"Hey," Lana said, walking into the Talon. "You were talking to Whitney?"

Crap. Why? Why did this *always* happen? Did she have some kind of radar or something?

"Yeah," Clark said as he waited for Chloe to get her things together. "He calls sometimes during gym."

"What do you talk about?" she asked, clearly jealous.

"Stuff."

She smiled tightly at him. "Ah, the ever eloquent Clark Kent. Always typing away on your laptop, but never able to actually articulate anything at all."

"You might want to dial back on the bitchiness, Lana," Chloe said. She put her hand on Lana's arm and steered her out of the Torch office. "Unless you want to start telling him all of our private conversations."

Lana's cheeks turned pink. "That's different," she said, allowing herself to be pushed backwards down the hall. "We talk about a lot of private stuff."

"And Whitney and I publish transcripts of our conversations on the Internet?" Clark shot back, anxiety making his stomach twist.

"Chloe and I talk about *girl* stuff. And about guys. Or, you know." She glanced at a passing girl in a short skirt, and then widened her eyes at Clark significantly.

Clark bit his tongue hard, because if he didn't, he'd just tell her that he and Whitney talked about boys too. But that wasn't the way either he or Whitney wanted her to find out that Whitney was gay. "Look, just because we aren't girls doesn't mean what we talk about is all football and beer and stuff. For all you know, we talk about sex. We *are* guys."

"And *you're* Clark Kent. You don't talk about sex."

"Not to you."

Lana tossed her hair over her shoulder. "What? You trying to protect my sweet innocence or something? Think I can't *handle* listening to you talk about sex?"

Clark's face went hot and he averted his eyes. Was he seriously having this conversation right now?

"Okay, this conversation is officially over," Chloe said. She grabbed Lana's wrist tightly. "Clark, have fun in metal shop. Lana, I'll drop you off at French, and then I can get to Algebra and fail my test."

"I'm sorry," Clark said hollowly as he backed away from the girls. He had scheduled a tutoring session with Chloe to go over the chapter the night before.

She flashed him a sunny smile. "Don't you know that emergencies involving loved ones gives you an automatic free pass out of study sessions? As does a family emergency, getting laid, and anything to do with either chocolate or coffee." Her nose wrinkled and she stuck out her tongue. "See you later!"

"Bye." He watched until the girls disappeared and then took off at a moderate pace for metal shop. He was already getting a C in the class; the last thing he needed to do was add another tardy on top of it.

Clark hated fighting with Lana, especially over Whitney. Not that she was entitled to know what they were talking about; Clark hardly even told Lex the details. But there was one thing she probably should know about and that was Whitney's sexuality. Clark knew that Lana was afraid that Whitney would want to get together with her again when he got back, and Whitney talked of Lana enough to Clark for him to see how she might be confused. Whitney worshiped Lana, even now. He thought she was beautiful, sweet, supportive, and wonderful. He loved her, only now he realized he loved her more like a brother or something. He wasn't in love with her.

The problem was, he hadn't really explained that distinction to Lana. He felt that the fact they'd been broken up for almost a year spoke for itself, and Clark didn't know how to tell him that Lana didn't see it the same way even though she really didn't want to get back together with him. The problem was, Whitney didn't know Lana's confusion. Clark didn't feel it was his place to tell, but, at the same time, he wasn't sure it was fair for Lana to be strung alone like he was being. Or whatever was going on.

It was a very tangled web.

"Kent!" the shop teacher barked when Clark stepped into class. "Nice of you to join us."

He flushed and ducked his head. "Sorry, sir." He quickly crossed the room and took his seat beside Pete. As difficult as it was, he tried to force himself to concentrate on class; he couldn't solve all the problems in his life right now anyway. They were all just too big for him to manage in one afternoon.

* * *

"Hey." Chloe dragged Lana into the bathroom as soon as they rounded the corner. "What the heck was that?"

Lana threw her hair over her shoulder and tightened her grip on her books. "I just wanted to know what he and Whitney talk about. I don't understand why he bites my head off every time I ask."

"Maybe because he doesn't want to talk about it with you! He doesn't even talk about it with me."

"Don't give me that," Lana said, tears rising to her eyes. She blinked them back viciously. "He tells you everything. He tells you even more than he tells Pete."

Chloe got an annoyed look on her face. "But not everything. Not the particulars of the conversations. And he only tells me more things than Pete because I'm not uncomfortable about the idea of him and Lex having sex." She sighed. "You know that Whitney caught Lionel molesting Clark, right?"

Lana's stomach rolled and she grabbed the wall.

"Yeah. Well that, among other things, created a bond between them." Chloe sighed and tucked hair behind her ears. "You know, even though, when he's around us and other people, Clark doesn't talk about sex and is all embarrassed and uncomfortable when people act crudely around him? That doesn't mean he's not a teenage boy. He and Whitney both are teenage boys, and even if Clark's a little gun shy around some people these days, when he's comfortable, he's comfortable." She leaned into Lana with a crooked smile on her face. "I mean, come on. *You* saw him with that journalist."

"You mean Grant?"

Chloe nodded.

A flush warming her cheeks, Lana admitted, "Watching them flirt actually got me a little hot. I mean, Grant was so cute, and Clark's gorgeous. He usually fades into the background but, in that moment, he sort of came alive."

"Exactly." Chloe straightened. "Let the boys have their privacy, Lana. They're entitled to it. Just like we all are."

"Yeah," Lana replied softly. "I guess." She leaned against the wall. "I guess I'm just tired of feeling like I'm being left out of everything."

"We don't mean to."

"But you do. Everyone does. You're all allowed to be normal teenagers, and then you treat me like I'm some kind of virginal princess who's too delicate to know about sex."

Chloe blinked. "That's because you've always made it seem like it made you uncomfortable. And I know that I was tired of having my head bit off for daring to think about sex."

"That was last spring. And I'm sorry for my behavior, but I was freaked out."

"We all were. And we all learned our lessons, which was if we wanted to have a pleasant time with you, we'd better keep our conversation clean."

Lana sighed and banged her head softly. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. It's in the past. Besides, there's not like there's anything wrong with not wanting to talk about sex. Just like there isn't anything wrong with wanting to." Chloe cleared her throat and readjusted her shoulder strap on her backpack. "Does any of this have to do with Tina?"

"No," she said sharply. "It has nothing to do with Tina."

"Look, Lana," Chloe said hesitantly. "If you ever want to talk about what happened, I'm here for you. You know that."

Slowly, Lana counted to ten. Then she exhaled slowly. "Chloe, I know this is hard for you to believe, but I'm fine."

"Yeah, it is hard for me to believe. I mean, Tina..."

"Tina helped me enjoy something I was afraid of by making me think I was doing it with someone I love. I'm not thrilled at the deception, but I can live with it."

"But you totally freaked out when it was me last spring."

"Well, I wasn't ready then. And I couldn't remember it, and that terrified me. I handled it badly, I admit that, but this... Just let me deal with it my own way, okay."

"But..."

"I've got to get to class, Chloe. I'll see you tonight." Without another word, Lana brushed past Chloe and went to class. She tried to ignore how badly her legs were shaking as she did; it was just one more weakness she had to overcome.

* * *

School stretched on interminably, but, at long last, it was over. Clark ducked out of his last class before the bell rang, neatly avoiding Pete. He felt bad about it; after all, he and Pete hadn't hung out in nearly a week. Every day Pete asked, and Clark either gave him some vague answer or just a brush off. It wasn't fair and Clark knew it. Pete was his oldest friend and had been through a lot with Clark. The problem was, he still didn't like to hear about Lex and, on a day like today, Lex was all Clark could think about.

When Clark got to the mansion, he found Lex in his gym. Anger clouded his face, which was screwed in concentration as he pounded his punching bag. His clothing was soaked in sweat, which rolled down his face in beads. His movements were sharp and precise as he worked the bag and it contrasted oddly with the intense rage burning inside of him.

As he got closer to Lex, he saw that there was blood crusted around his nose and staining his chin. When he looks, he also could see the blood on the bag. Obviously, the careful restraint was a result of a painful backlash.

"Hey," Clark said. He stripped out of his jacket, tossed it on a bench, and crossed the room to stand behind the punching bag.

Lex nodded in acknowledgement, swiped his face with one of his wrists, and then let a flurry of punches loose on the bag. This time, he wasn't controlled, and the punches flew all over the place. He threw himself at the bag, face twisted with rage. Every muscle, ever sinew was tensed as he pounded his rage out, each punch coming harder and harder.

And Clark held strong. He stood there, holding the bag, allowing Lex to work out his rage and anguish. After all, Lex could do whatever he wanted, and he could never force Clark to move, never push him from his path. Clark wouldn't ever budge.

The responsibility was almost overwhelming. Especially in the face of this pure, raw pain and anguish. Ryan had warned him. He'd felt this darkness--this *anger*-- in Lex. He'd asked Clark to take care of him, and right now, Clark wasn't sure if he'd be enough.

With a final roar, Lex threw himself against the bag. His arms wrapped around it, legs shaking, body trembling. For a long moment, he lay against it, panting. Sweat rolled down his face, pooling on his collarbone, dripping from his wrists. He looked exhausted.

"Better?" Clark asked softly. He released the bag and leaned against it as well. Reaching around it, he ran his knuckle down Lex's cheek, feeling how hot and wet it was.

"Never," Lex said hoarsely. He pulled away, took three steps to the benches then fell to the floor.

"Stay," Clark told him. He got water and a towel, and came back towards kneel at Lex's side.

The boxing gloves were tightly bound and gave Clark a bit of a struggle. He didn't want to hurt Lex's hands as he pulled them off. Lex grunted as he tried to assist, but he had about as much strength as an overcooked noodle. But after a minute or two both gloves came off.

"Drink slowly," Clark warned, handing Lex the bottle of water.

Lex nodded and sipped from the bottle as Clark blotted the sweat from him. The gray hoodie and tee shirt ripped apart easily, baring Lex's skin. Clark rubbed Lex down, drying sweat and massaging muscles that were slowly beginning to tense.

Lex was so beautiful. Every inch of him was sculpted and chiseled as if from marble, enhanced by the perfect paleness of his skin.

"Stop it," Lex snapped when Clark twirled one of the chest hairs that had managed to reach full length. "I forgot to shave my chest this morning."

"Are you shaving every day?"

"No. Just when something tries to sprout, which it has all week. I hate my stupid body."

"No you don't." Clark kissed Lex's chest, tasting the tangy flesh. "You don't hate your stupid body because I love your stupid body and you don't hate anything I love."

"I hate Whitney."

"That doesn't work. I mean, first off, I don't love Whitney. Secondly, you don't hate him. If you did, you wouldn't be paying for his mother to be flown out to see him."

Lex lifted his head. "I'm not paying for her to be flown to him."

"But Whitney said..." Oh shit.

Lex's head slammed back to the floor. In impact caused his nose to start bleeding again. "I will fucking kill him."

"But what can he possibly gain in helping Whitney?" Clark asked. He raised the towel to Lex's nose and forced Lex to sit up. "If he wants to punish Whitney for helping me, you'd think he keep his mom away."

"But this way, Dad wins Mrs. Fordman over, putting Whitney in an uncomfortable position. Not only will Dad flirt, charm, and otherwise seduce Mrs. Fordman into thinking he's wonderful, he's also given Whitney back to her. Dad looks like a hero, and when Whitney tries to tell his mother that Lionel is a bad guy, she won't believe him. It'll cause tension between the two of them, thus hurting Whitney."

"He can just tell her what happened to me."

Lex shook his head. "He doesn't want to hurt you anymore than you have been. He won't tell her, and Dad will find a way to use Mrs. Fordman against Whitney."

"Or he'll use her as leverage," Clark added glumly. "He'll try to control Whitney's life by using her."

"Right." Lex leaned heavily against Clark. "I'll never be as good as him. He's always ten moves ahead of me, and I can't think..." He trailed off and closed his eyes.

Clark sighed. "Babe, it's not a matter of being as good as him. It's not even a matter beating him. What's more important to me is that you're as good as you can be." He pressed his lips into Lex's forehead. "I don't need you to be the best CEO in the world, or to be a multi-millionaire. I need you to be Lex."

"Without the money, I can't protect you," Lex whispered. "I can barely do it with money."

"I'm here. I'm not hurt."

"He tried to rape you."

"Months ago. And that wasn't your fault, either." He kissed Lex again and readjusted the bloody cloth on Lex's nose. "You aren't your father, Lex. You're not responsible for his actions, okay?"

"But because of me..."

"Whitney chose to help me, Lex."

"And he wouldn't have had to..."

"Would you rather we weren't together?" Clark asked angrily. "Would you rather you not know about me? That we not have this bond, that we didn't have Kiptin? Would you rather just be two guys who once had a near-death experience together and havesince gone our separate ways?"

Lex opened his eyes and looked at Clark dully. "Would you?"

After checking to make sure Lex's nose had stopped bleeding, Clark dropped the towel and gathered Lex close to him. "I love you, Lex. I want to build a life with you. It's not going to be easy, I get that. There's so many obstacles in our way, so many problems, but that doesn't mean we're not worth it." He reached for Lex's right hand and twisted his ring slowly. "And I know that's what you want, too."

"I do," Lex said. He twisted so he could press his forehead into Clark's neck. "God, I do. I'm just... I think I'm going insane, that's all. And I think..."

"You're not insane..."

"I don't even want to go into my own house, Clark. I feel as if the walls are watching me. I can't get comfortable. I can't sit, can't sleep. I threw up. I can't..."

"Your father just violated your privacy in a major way, Lex. Of course you can't feel comfortable in your own home. That doesn't make you insane." He kissed Lex's temple. "Did you go look at the Steward house?"

"Yeah. I went and looked earlier."

"And?"

Lex's hot breath washed against Clark's neck, and Clark knew the answer without Lex having to say anything.

"Why not?" Clark asked.

"It's not home," he sighed. "It's not us. Clark, I know we won't live here forever, but in Smallville, this is our home. This is where we first made love, where we've fought and played and hung out and made memories. I'd hate to give all that up and leave it to Dad." He picked his head up. "This is where we belong, you know?

He did know. And felt the same way. Even though he knew Jonathan was right, and it made sense for Lex to leave. Even though the mansion was so huge it was impossible to feel cozy. Even though there was a part of Clark that wanted to be with Lex in a place untainted by parents, a place that was uniquely theirs.

But the Steward farm wasn't that place. Clark didn't know if there was a place in Smallville, but a renovated farm just wasn't it. Not unless the farm bore the Kent name.

"I understand," Clark said. He kissed Lex softly. "I do. So, do you want me to stay here with you tonight or do you want to come over and stay with my family?" Clark asked.

Lex pulled away and stretched back out on the floor. "I want to stay with you. Away from here. We haven't been through all the rooms yet, and my skin is crawling."

"Then stay with us."

"You sure your parents wouldn't mind? I mean, I'm not exactly one of the family, and..."

"Don't play martyr, Lex, please. You know my mom loves you to death, and Dad's used to you."

Lex snorted. "You know, he gave me a compass today."

Clark blinked. "The marriage compass? When did we get married?" A horrible thought rose in his mind, and he asked, "Did *you* get married?"

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," he said dryly. "It's on the bench. And he gave it to me because he thought I needed it now. To keep me on course." Lex threw his arm over his eyes and said, "He said he bought it over the summer for me."

"It's a family tradition, you know," Clark said, turning the compass over in his hands. He walked back to Lex and straddled him. "Family. And he gave one to you."

"Maybe he's hoping I use it to find the next horizon away from you."

"Not everyone is Lionel," Clark said. "Some people actually love you."

He felt the hurt slash through Lex so keenly, tears rose to his own eyes. Crap.

"Sorry, Lex," Clark said. He stretched out on Lex and kissed the parted lips softly.

"What for? I know he doesn't love me," Lex said dully. "Never has, never will."

"I don't think it has anything to do with love," Clark sighed. "I think Lionel thinks he loves you, I just don't think he knows how. How it's done, what it looks like. I think there's something wrong with him, and it has nothing to do with you."

"And this is the best he can do at loving me. Raping my boyfriend, threatening the people I care about, stealing my business, and bugging my office. That's the best he can do."

Clark nodded. Gently, he traced Lex's collarbone, caressing the skin sticky with drying sweat. "It's not your fault, Lex, and that's what you have to remember. Just because he can't love like a normal person, doesn't make you unworthy." He nipped Lex's lower lip. "In fact, considering how well you've turned out, I think you are more worthy of love than anyone else I know."

Blue eyes peered from beneath pale lashes. "Really?"

"Do I lie?"

"Constantly."

A smile bloomed on Clark's face, and he bit Lex's neck. "Do I lie about the man I love?"

"Constantly." He groaned loudly when Clark bit him again. "You do. You lie... Clark!" he shouted as Clark started tickling him. Lex convulsed, giggling hysterically as Clark continued his assault. "You are a liar," he laughed. "You lie about me all the time."

"But not about important things. I..." He stopped, startled when Lex managed to push Clark on his back and pin him down. "Never about how I feel about you," he said as Lex leaned over him, putting all his weight on Clark's wrists.

Lex looked happy for the first time in twenty-four hours. The fear and anger had melted away and was replaced, at least momentarily, with a rosy glow.

"I love you, Lex," Clark said.

Lex's smile was sweet and tinged only slightly with melancholy. "I love you too, Clark. I don't know what I've done to deserve you, but now that I have you, I'm not giving you up."

"Trust me. I'm not giving you up either."

* * *

"Chad!" Chloe's bubbly, happy voice floated from downstairs. "Come in."

Lana closed the door before she could hear Chad reply. It wasn't that she had anything against Chad; she just really didn't want to be around two of them right now. They were her friends. Lana liked hanging out with both of them, but they *cuddled* when he was over on the evenings, and Lana felt like a fifth wheel.

She wanted a... someone. Now more than ever. Chloe had moved on three times and Lana was stuck in the same place as she'd been since they'd broken up.

Sighing as she heard Gabe's muffled voice through the wall, Lana locked her door and went to her dresser door. From underneath piles of pink cotton, flowered, or striped underwear, Lana pulled the Hello Kitty vibrator and went to her bed.

If only Nell hadn't thrown her a Hello Kitty birthday party three years in a row, Lana thought ruefully as she turned the vibrator on. If only she hadn't been in the Best Friend's Forever Hello Kitty Club with Emily. Then she might be able to actually use the thing.

Lana could, of course, buy a new one. One that looked less like a happy, childhood friend and more like a...

She flushed violently, thinking about what she wanted it to look like.

Chloe had porn on her computer. Not a lot. But some. And a magazine in her room. Lana had no idea how she was getting it, but it was porn of both the female and male variety. And Lana got very hot looking at both kinds.

She sighed and threw the vibrator aside. Life sucked. She hadn't meant to fight with Clark, she really hadn't. It was just that even though Whitney talked to her, it felt like he was hiding something from her. Or holding back. Not that she expected him to tell her everything about his experience, but there was *something* hanging between them and she had no idea what that something was. And it was driving him insane.

And Chloe had started wearing sexy underwear. Lana's life sucked.

* * *

"Are you comfortable?" Clark asked Lex, running his fingers lightly over Lex's scalp.

"Yeah," he replied, stretching his back. He glanced up at Clark and flashed a small smile before his eyes returned to the television set.

"If you need anything," Clark said as he continued to pet Lex, "just ask."

"And lose my pillow? I'd rather go without."

Clark smiled, found Lex's hand to lift to his mouth, and kissed it.

The evening had been pretty much perfect. They'd made it to the farm just in time for dinner, had eaten as a family, and now, as a family, were sitting in the living room, watching a movie and just... hanging out.

Clark loved moments like this, loved when they were at home together going about the business of living without pursuing any particular task. The domesticity of it all calmed Clark and made him feel both grown up and childlike at the same time. On the one hand, his boyfriend was there, cuddling with him; on the other, his parents were there, doing what parents do. Dad was sitting in his chair, glasses on, reading a magazine on organic faming. Mom was in the chair next to the couch, working on a new quilt. They were watching *The Princess Bride*, a movie both Mom and Lex loved, and it was fun watching them watching it.

Life was almost perfect.

But not quite.

The afternoon had not gone satisfactorily. Not really. Yeah, they'd had fun messing around in the gym, and yeah, showering had been enjoyable. They'd been able to forget, or at least ignore, what had happened.

But the moment Lex had stepped inside the house, his entire attitude had changed. His shoulders had stiffened and anxiety crept into his eyes. No matter what he did, he couldn't relax, couldn't sit still, couldn't unclench his muscles. He'd wound up with a blinding headache and a blood pressure that was so high, Dr. Sutton had considered hospitalizing him again.

Instead, she'd shot him up with some sort of relaxant or sedative and sent him home with Cark.

It had relaxed Lex, all right. Lex was so limp and passive that he didn't even feel like himself right now. His mind was muzzy and slow, and his beautiful eyes unfocused. He was calm, which was good. He'd be able to sleep tonight, which was also good. But he wasn't himself and couldn't be dealing with any issues, which was bad. But the thing was, Lex shouldn't *have* to deal with an issue like this, at least not from Lionel. It wasn't fair.

Lionel was a bastard and Clark wanted to hurt him very, very badly.

The doorbell rang suddenly, startling Clark.

Jonathan looked up from his magazine and checked his watch. A puzzle frown crossed his face; it was only six-thirty, but almost no one visited in the evening during winter. Especially not their family.

"Now who could that be?" Jonathan said as he eased himself from the chair.

"Maybe Chloe," Clark said, but he wondered why she'd use the front door. Chloe normally came through the back, and she only remembered to knock about seventy percent of the time.

Jonathan opened the door. A woman was standing on the front porch, wearing a neat suit, her purse slung over her shoulder.

"Can I help you?" Jonathan asked as Clark's stomach tightened.

"Lex," he hissed, pushing at the noodle-like boyfriend sprawled across his lap.

Athena mewled softly in protest as Lex jarred her.

"Good evening," the woman standing on the front porch said. "My name is Dr. Carvey. I'm the new school psychologist at Smallville High."

"Oh. Well, nice to meet you." Jonathan stuck his hand out, which she took and shook. "Is there something I can do for you?"

"I was just wondering if you might have a few moments to talk about Clark. With Clark, of course," she added, meeting Clark's eyes around Jonathan.

Dammit. Why couldn't they just leave him alone? "Lex," Clark hissed again, more urgently this time. "Up."

The cat protested loudly as Lex sat up; she leapt off the couch and bounded across the coffee table to jump onto Jonathan's chair. Clark saw that Dr. Carvey looked surprised to see him, but she said nothing as Lex picked up Athena and left the room. He probably could have done it a little more gracefully, Clark thought ruefully as he rose and straightened his clothes, but he was drugged. What could he expect?

"What's this about?" Martha asked, going to stand next to her husband. "Is Clark in trouble?"

"No, not at all," Dr. Carvey assured them. "He just hasn't been coming to his appointments since we've come back from break, and I thought that, in light of Mr. Font's unethical behavior, I should come see your family personally. If I've offended you, I'm sorry. I probably should have called beforehand."

"It's all right," Jonathan said, waving her inside. "Please, come in."

"Can I get you anything to drink?" Martha asked as Dr. Carvey sat on the couch.

"No, thank you. I don't want to take up too much of your time."

Clark tugged at the hem of his shirt and glanced desperately at his mother. Martha smiled encouragingly at him and took his hand. She pulled him over to her chair and sat on the arm, keeping him close by.

He appreciated the support.

Dr. Carvey folded her hands in her lap. "Let me start out by apologizing for my predecessor's actions. I know I had absolutely nothing to do with them, but I can imagine how violating it must have been to discover that the man you were told you could confide in was selling information about you."

"Yeah, well," Clark said bitterly. "Lionel Luthor excels in violating people."

Martha squeezed his hand. "Thank you, Dr. Carvey. We appreciate it."

She nodded and then turned her attention to Clark. "I can guess at the reasons why you haven't been coming to see me, Clark. And I haven't pushed because I imagine that you don't feel safe in that office anymore."

Hmm. Clark wondered if Lionel had bugged the office. Or maybe the Torch. He'd have to check it out when he went back to school.

"Yeah, well," he said with a shrug. "It's not so much I don't feel safe as, um, I don't feel like I need to go anymore. It's just a waste of time."

"Well, if you feel that way, then we could stop the weekly sessions. But I've read your file, and it seems as if you've had a hard year. This isn't a new thing, either. You ran away from home last year, you have almost no extra curricular activities outside the Torch and the magazine, and many of your teachers report that you've been quiet in class."

"I've always been quiet in class."

"Not according to your cumulative record. Many teachers have commented on your active participation, your stellar schoolwork, and your general friendly disposition. You've been described as a quite, introspective child, but that's different from what many of your teachers are seeing now. Now, I know you've had a loss in your family recently, and you seem to have other issues going on in your life as well." Her eyes flicked at the stairwell, then to the chipped nail polish on Clark's fingers. "Clark, talking to someone--a professional with integrity--can help you sort out and learn to deal with the issues that are going on in your life right now."

"I'm fine. I don't want to talk to anyone."

She hesitated a moment, obviously wanting to say something. For a moment she seemed to think better of it, then she quickly said, "You can talk to me about Mr. Luthor."

Clark blinked, thinking for a moment that she was talking about Lionel. *How did she know*? he wondered, before he realized that she talking about Lex.

He sighed and leaned against his mother. He was so tired of people trying to butt into his life. Especially the school. It wasn't fair, and he wasn't the only kid at school with problems. Look at Chad; he cut himself for God's sake. That was more serious than being a little withdrawn.

"I want to try and not see anyone for awhile," he finally said. "I have people to talk to, people I trust. I have my parents, and Mr. Townsend." Her eyebrow quirked at that, but she didn't say anything. "I don't feel comfortable talking to strangers. And it isn't like I'm going through anything alone. I have enough support without having to feel like the school is butting into my business."

"Clark," Martha said softly, but he just shrugged.

"No, it's fine," Dr. Carvey said. "If that's the way he feels, that's perfectly all right. I appreciate your honesty, Clark. But I want to remind you that my office is, well not always open, but open to you when I'm there. Smallville High has me on Tuesday and Wednesday, and in the afternoon on Friday. If you ever want to drop by and talk, you're welcome to."

"Thanks." He stood when she did, and shook her hand. His parents thanked her for coming and showed her the door.

When she was gone, Martha turned on him. "Why haven't you been going to your appointments?" she demanded.

Clark sighed and flopped back on the couch. This was so stupid. "Because they're dumb. I hate talking to people I don't know."

"You talked to Grant Robinson, and you didn't know him. Dr. Carvey is a professional."

"Yeah, but Grant's gay," Clark said.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Jonathan asked.

"It has a lot to do with everything, *Dad*."

"Watch your tone," he said warningly.

Clark flinched and mumbled, "Sorry." He sat up and tried to look like he wasn't feeling completely defensive. "But it makes a difference. I feel like I have fifteen million secrets sometimes. It's not just being an alien. I've also got the gay thing hanging over me, and I've got the fact I'm with Lex Luthor hanging over me. Not that it's a burden!" he added loudly, calling up to Lex, who was listening at the top of the stairs. He sighed at Lex's complete apathy to anything that was being said, and turned back to his parents. "It's just like, I have all this stuff pressing down on me, and I don't want to talk about it with a stranger."

"I understand that, Clark, but you need to talk to someone."

"I *talk* to people," Clark snapped. "I talk to Lex and Mark and Whitney and Grant about things. Maybe not everything to each person, but at least it's something."

"Clark," Jonathan started again, but Clark cut him off.

"What is your problem, anyway? I mean, you're the one who always wants me to stay away from people and not expose my secrets. What is your hang-up about me talking to the stupid school counselor?"

"Clark! What is with your attitude?"

"This is because Grant's gay, isn't it?" Clark exploded, unsure of where his rage was coming from but not caring. He was tired of being told what to do. "You still have a problem with my sexuality, and now you want me to see some stupid psychologist who's going to try and convince me that I'm not gay."

Jonathan blinked, looking baffled. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about how I'm sick and tired of having to lie to everyone all the time. I can't tell them what I am, I can't tell them about Lex, I can't tell them what Lionel did. Everything about me is dangerous and everyone keeps getting hurt."

"Lionel bugging Lex's office wasn't your fault," Martha said.

Clark turned on her. "How do you know? Lionel wants to know about me. I managed to get some sort of cooling off period when I was on the red meteor rock, but that's not going to last forever. How do you know that this had nothing to do with me?"

"For the same reasons you do, Clark. Lionel bugged Lex's *office*, not his living space. If this was about you, he would have gone for the bedroom and the entertainment room," she said reasonably.

He was too agitated to be soothed by logic. "But I still can't talk to anyone about it. And I don't want to talk to *her*."

"Then you should have gone to her and told her that," Jonathan said. "Ignoring your appointments only got her more tangled into our lives."

"Oh, big deal. So she came to our house to talk to you."

"Clark, she *saw* you cuddling with Lex."

"There's nothing wrong about Lex and my relationship! Who cares what she saw?" Clark shouted.

Jonathan blinked and grabbed his head. "*You* do. He does. Jesus Christ, Clark, we *just* went through what happens when reporters start suspecting that Lex is in a relationship. The two of you were photographed at the cemetery, and reporters dogged you for weeks. Do you want to start all of that again? And can Lex really afford to be under that kind of scrutiny? No, I don't think there's anything wrong with your relationship, but the world isn't going to look kindly on an adult who is in a sexual relationship with a teenage boy."

"I *knew* you had a problem with us!"

Jonathan threw his hands in the air. "I can't talk to you right now. You're not listening to me." He turned away and took a few steps towards the kitchen. Then he turned back. "Clark, I will do whatever it is you want me to do to let you know I support you and Lex. I'll go to the PFLAG meetings in Grandville. I'll take you up to Metropolis for the weekend to participate in one of those father/gay son things they sponsor at the center. I'll go out to dinner with you and Grant or you and Lex, get you a subscription to a queer magazine--not porn, but something like the Advocate or Queer Youth. Whatever you want, but, dammit, Clark, I will not tell you that now is a good time for you and Lex to come out as a couple. Because that's a lie."

Clark bit his lip and didn't say anything.

His father sighed and shook his head. With a beseeching glance at Martha, he finally said, "Go on up to Lex. You're too upset to listen to reason right now. We'll talk tomorrow."

Clark jumped up from his seat and ran to his old room. He couldn't be around his father anymore right now.

In the bedroom, Lex was stretched out on his stomach in bed. His head was propped on one forearm and he gazed disinterestedly at Athena, who was frantically batting at a string Lex was dangling in front of her.

"Hey," Clark said. He carefully collapsed onto Lex, placing a kiss into the nape of his neck.

"You owe your father an apology," Lex said, still playing with the cat. "You were way out of line."

"*He* was out of line."

"Clark, he gave me a *wedding* compass. I don't think he's having problems with the fact that you're gay. Not now."

"In case you didn't notice, we're not getting married right now."

Lex just sighed.

Clark sighed as well and pressed his forehead into Lex's neck. "Maybe you're right," he said, some of the anger of before draining from him. He felt cold and weird; not quite himself. There was an uncomfortable itch underneath his skin, and he was queasy. "How are you?" he asked, not lifting his head.

"Oh, wonderful. My brain is wrapped in cotton and is moving at about the speed of a glacier. I hate not being able to think.

"Since when?" Clark asked. "You used to do this to yourself all the time."

"You are a bitch tonight, aren't you, Clark?" Lex asked icily.

Yeah. He really was.

Clark rolled off Lex and covered his face in a pillow. "I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me tonight."

Lex grunted as he pushed himself up and climbed on top of Clark. "You're stressed. Same as me." He pulled the pillow from Clark's face and stroked his hair. "This has been hard for you, too."

"Yeah," Clark whispered. He slid his hands underneath Lex's shirt. "But that doesn't mean I'm not here for you. I am, you know. All the way, anything you need."

"I know." He tucked a curl behind Clark's ear. "Dad's coming home tomorrow."

"Where's he been?"

"New York." He kissed Clark's cheek. "I'm never going to be as good as him."

"You're already better."

Lex chewed on his lower lip pensively and then said, "I've already hired someone to bug his office."

"Yeah. I figured."

"Are you angry at me?"

"I don't know. Ask me in a week." Clark kissed Lex and held him close. "But do me a favor?"

"Anything."

"Really think about it before you go through with this. Make sure that it's really what you want to do. You know that you don't have to, and that you don't have to be or act like your father. You can be whoever and whatever you want to be. You can make your own decisions." He cupped Lex's cheek. "I want you to be proud of yourself for all your actions."

"What about you?" Lex's eyes looked beseechingly into Clark's.

"Me?" Clark shrugged and caressed Lex's face. "I'm always proud of you, Lex. Always."

"Why?"

"Because I know how hard you fight to do the right thing. And, even when it's wrong, you still try and you never give up."

* * *

The bed creaked. In the stillness, it sounded like a gunshot going off. Jonathan started awake, convinced that something was wrong, that the inevitable had finally happened and that he and Martha were about to start a night of hell.

"Martha?" he said, sitting up.

"Go back to sleep, Jonathan," she replied, her voice low and calm. "Nothing's wrong."

He didn't listen to her, merely sat up and turned to her.

Martha was sitting up in bed, all but one of the pillows stacked behind her. There was a book in her lap, the text illuminated by a small book light that Jonathan had bought her years ago to help get her through her frequent bouts of insomnia. Her eyes, however, weren't on the book. They were focused on the door, every muscle tensed in anticipation.

He sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Honey, you have to get some sleep."

"I'm not really tired." But she managed to tear her eyes away from the door. "I'm sorry I woke you."

"To tell you the truth, I'm not exactly sleeping all that well myself." He lay back down and stared up at the ceiling. "What time is it?"

"Two twenty-three."

"What time did they go to bed?"

"Early. I heard Lex snoring when I came up, and that was around ten."

He did the quick calculations in his head. "So Clark's been asleep for four hours."

She shrugged. "About that, yes." She closed her book and pulled her hair from her face. "Do you think I should go in there?"

"*No*," Jonathan said emphatically. "No, definitely not. That never works, remember? It only disturbs Clark more, gets into his subconscious, and makes the damn nightmares worse. Don't go in there." He rolled onto his side. "And don't worry about him, Martha. Remember, he has Lex now. Let *Lex* deal with Clark's nightmares. That's what he wants to do, isn't it?"

Martha gave Jonathan a sour look. "I'm his mother, Jonathan. And Lex is hardly capable of handling this himself, not in the state he's in. You saw how unreasonable Clark was being earlier. You know that when he gets that out of control, he has the worst dreams."

"I do know. But, right now, he doesn't want to be with us. He's with Lex. And he seems to be fine. If he has a nightmare, then we can worry about it. Then we can go in and do what we can to calm him down. But, until it happens, I don't see any reason to worry."

"He's our son. That's why we should worry."

"Our son is growing up, Martha. I don't like it any more than you do. I want him to stay that innocent kid he used to be forever, but the fact is, he isn't. He's grown up, found someone he's probably going to spend the rest of his life with, and isn't as dependent on us. We have to accept that."

Martha's lips were pursed and her eyebrows were almost at her hairline. "Fine," she said coolly. The book light flicked off and she put her book aside. "Good-night."

"Martha..."

"*Good-night*, Jonathan." She turned away from him and pulled the blankets tightly around her.

Wonderful. Damned no matter what he did, it appeared. For months he'd gotten the cold shoulder for not accepting Clark and Lex's relationship. Now that he was finally on board, he'd apparently taken it too far.

More likely, she was simply stressed over this whole situation. She'd been in Lionel's employ for months. She'd spied on him for Lex. She was under the stress of fending off Lionel's gentle advances. Now both her children--and, yes, Jonathan had conceded months ago that Lex was as much her child as Clark was now--were under attack by Lionel. Had always been under attack by him, of course, but now it was even more blatant.

He sighed and turned to face the wall. She'd be over it in the morning, he hoped. Especially if they managed to get through the night without Clark having a nightmare. Sometimes they did. Every once in awhile, a temper tantrum was just a temper tantrum and didn't herald a night of terror for Clark. And it'd been awhile since Clark had had a major nightmare; a few months at least. Maybe he was past them.

Maybe. A man could hope. And Jonathan tried to be an optimist, even when it was hard. Clark was sixteen now. He had a boyfriend and what constituted a wedding ring. There was no need for nightmares anymore.

Right. And maybe tomorrow morning when he got up, the cows would be flying.

* * *

"Good morning," Lana greeted Clark when he stumbled wearily into the Talon. "Rough night?"

Clark looked up, vaguely surprised. He didn't exactly remember coming here. He remembered getting out of bed and rushing through his chores so he didn't have to talk to his dad. He wasn't angry at Jonathan anymore--not as much as he'd been last night, anyway--but he definitely didn't want to talk to him. Or see him. Or have anything to do with either one of his parents.

Not that he was sure that putting up with Lana was going to be any better. She was so hot and cold with him, her mood and temper always changing. Clark never knew what to expect, and even though she seemed to be behaving right now, that didn't mean she would continue on with this good mood.

At the same time, Clark knew that the best thing to do was to accept things as they came. She wanted to talk and she wanted to tease him. He might as well play along.

"You have no idea," Clark said. He approached the counter warily and thudded his head on the counter.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Clark heard the sound of liquid being poured into a cup, and the smell off coffee hit his nose. Right, this was why he'd come: coffee. Good coffee. The Talon had the second best coffee in town, right after the coffee Mabel made, and problems with Lana or not, Clark was addicted.

"I don't know," he replied, yawning. "Do I?"

She made a small sound in her throat. "Well, I won't freak out on you, if that's what you're asking. I promise. Even if you tell me that Whitney called you last night and the two of you talked all night. I won't say anything about it."

He lifted his head. "Promise?"

"Cross my heart." She made the gesture. "And I'm sorry about yesterday."

Clark was tired of forgiving her for getting in his face about Whitney, but he wasn't going to say that right now. He'd just roll with it because that was all he could do. "It's okay."

"No, it's not. And I know that. But, yeah. Thanks." She handed him a cup of coffee that was sweetened with caramel and cream. "So, what happened?"

"Lex had about a million nightmares last night," he said after taking a long drink of his coffee. Sometimes, he thought that Lana was a mutant and her ability was making the perfect coffee. "He was given anti-anxiety medication because his blood pressure was really high, and it made him really sleepy so, when he had the nightmares, he couldn't wake up. I'd shake him and stuff, and get him out of it for a second, and then he'd go back to sleep and a half an hour later, he'd have another nightmare. So I barely slept all night." He took another drink of his coffee. "Have you ever taken anti-anxiety drugs, Lana?"

Nodding, Lana walked around the counter and sat next to him. The Talon was empty except for them, which was nice. Clark liked not having to censor either his words or how loudly he was speaking. Times like these, he could almost forget he was hiding anything and instead feel like a normal kid complaining about his boyfriend to a friend. There were no worries about discovery.

Lana tucked her hair behind her ears and said, "Yes, I have. A few different times. Um, in seventh grade, I had really bad insomnia and got migraines all the time, so the doctor prescribed me some. And then again last year after... everything. And, yes, I have problems waking up when I'm on them."

"Did you have nightmares when you took them?"

"Sometimes. Not often, just when I got really stressed or scared."

"But I thought they were supposed to relax you."

"Well, the mind is a scary, confusing place and it doesn't always follow the rules." She shrugged. "Is he going to be on them long?"

"I don't know. I hope not. Damien really hates it when he's on medication because... of reasons. And he just kind of freaks me out. He freaked me out last night. It was like he wasn't even himself. He was too calm and too.... He couldn't think. It was weird. And then, when we went to bed, he kept having nightmares."

Lana cleared her throat, opened her sketchbook, and picked her pencil up. A few light, indiscernible marks appeared on the page. "So, um, you guys just sleep together? Like, in the same bed?"

He shot a look at her. "Yeah. We do. I mean, technically, when he's at my house, we're not supposed to. We did, like, once or twice last summer. But, he's been so stressed out since this thing with his dad, that I'm afraid to leave him alone."

"But you're not..." She trailed off, cheeks bright pink.

"Did you not hear the part where he's stressed out beyond belief and having nightmares?" he snapped.

"Sorry. I guess it's a little more adult than I'm used to, that's all." Lana shrugged and kept drawing. "I mean, mostly you just hear about people our age spending time for the sole purpose of having sex. If they had a bed and had the opportunity to spend the night together, they wouldn't waste the time *sleeping*. What you and Lex do seems really grown up to me." She bit her lip and continued sketching.

Maybe she had a point. But, then, it wasn't like everyone else at school had the chance to be so comfortable with someone they were with that they just could sleep together. Well, technically, Lana and Chloe could, but he wasn't going to touch that with a ten-foot pole. "So," he said, changing the subject. "It's pretty dead in here."

"It always is on Saturday morning. Business doesn't start picking up until around ten."

"So why open it early?"

Lana shrugged and looked around the place. "I like it. I like being in here alone, able to hear my thoughts and just be for awhile. I don't quite get that at home anymore. Not that I mind living with Chloe and Gabe, but it feels crowded sometimes. Especially since Chloe is getting more serious with Chad."

"How so? I mean, from where I am, I haven't seen any change, unless they started sleeping with each other." And that thought shouldn't hurt, except for the fact that Chloe hadn't told him if they had. It seemed like something she should tell him; they were best friends.

"No, I don't think they're sleeping together yet. In fact, Chloe complained one day about how he won't even take off his shirt when they make-out." A frown line appeared between her eyes. "I thought about telling her about the cutting then, but I didn't. I don't know why."

"I told you, I'm taking care of it. I mean, sort of. I've talked to him and I'll talk to him again. But I don't want to push things, and you know Chloe will push."

"Yeah, I know." She sighed. "Anyway, they're always hanging out together. He'll hang in the Torch until he has to go to work, and she usually goes to the ME's office before coming home to see him. And then, when either one of them isn't working on whatever they work on, they hang out in the basement, watching TV. And then, he always comes over on either Saturday or Sunday morning for breakfast. So, I try and cut out and come here so I don't have to watch them be domestic." Her frown deepened. "I know Chloe and I aren't together, but it was nice, you know. The domestic moments."

"Yeah. I know exactly what you mean. They make your relationship feel like more than just... a surface teenage romance thing," Clark said.

Lana nodded. "Exactly. Anyway, even though it's not exactly economically advantageous to open early, we still get some business. There are a few early birds in Smallville. Plus, this way, I'm able to get everything ready when the rush hits. It's just me working, so I'm not paying anyone. And Lex doesn't seem to mind."

He might not say anything if he did, Clark thought, but he kept the thought to himself. There was no reason to tell her that; it'd only stress her out. And he had enough stress and didn't need to add hers to his. "So. How are you doing?"

She shrugged and glanced up from her sketchbook. "Good."

There was something off about her tone. He jostled her with his elbow. "Good?"

"Yeah. Good. Not great. Not bad. Just good." Lana sighed and erase the mark she'd made when Clark had moved her. "Henry is introducing me to his wife today."

Ah, Henry, of course. The two most important things in Lana's life right now were Henry and Tina. Of course, she never talked about Tina, but Clark knew better. He'd been in her position, sort of. And he knew what happened. Although neither Chloe nor Lana would tell him what happened between Lana and Tina, Clark had seen Lana right after it. She'd been wearing a bathrobe, and it was all messed up. He'd seen her boobs hanging out of it. Plus, she'd, uh, smelled like sex.

"That's good, right?"

"I don't know. What if she doesn't like me?"

"Why wouldn't..." He trailed off. His own grandfather didn't even like him; what did he know? "I'm sure it'll be okay."

"Maybe. But, God, what is it going to sound like? What must she think of me?"

Clark bit back a sigh and took another long drink of coffee. "It wasn't your fault."

"I know, but..."

"It *wasn't* your fault," he said sternly. Hey, if she was going to act like Lex and not listen to reason, then he was going to treat her like Lex. Except without the sex. "Henry and this woman hadn't even met when he and your mom hooked up. And then, she didn't tell him about you. Maybe she didn't even know that you were his kid. But none of that matters. Because you're a nice person who is trying to get to know your birth father. If Henry's wife doesn't like it, tough. She doesn't have to. She's not your mom, and that's okay. As long as Henry wants you, and he seems to, that's all you need. I mean, I think it's great that you're meeting her, and I hope it works out, but if it doesn't? It's her loss."

Her eyes were huge and hesitant as she looked at Clark. He hadn't seen her look like that in awhile. "Really?"

Clark put her arm around her and gave her a light squeeze. "You know you're fantastic, Lana. Don't worry about it. Just be yourself."

"Thank you," she whispered, relaxing against him.

Clark's phone rang, startling him. Figuring it was Lex, he answered without pulling away from Lana. "Hey."

"Who's Grant?" Whitney demanded.

Dammit.

Clark smiled weakly at Lana and mouthed, "I have to take this."

She nodded, and closed her sketchbook. Rising, she disappeared behind the counter and started doing something with the coffee grinder.

"Um, what?" Clark asked, weaving though the tables to the couch on the far side of the Talon.

"Grant? Who is Grant?"

A part of Clark had hoped Whitney would forget the reason for his call in the thirty seconds it took to untangle himself from Lana's presence. Apparently, Whitney had a longer memory than Clark gave him credit for.

He sighed and rubbed his forehead. "He's a reporter from this queer teen magazine who wrote that story about me. Us. I told you about it, remember?"

Whitney exhaled hard. "Sort of. I remember you telling me about the article. I don't remember you saying much about the reporter, though."

And the reason, of course, had been the fact that the last thing Clark had wanted to do was open that can of worms. Because mentioning Grant meant the possibility of Whitney pursuing it and then somehow getting back to the fact that Mark and Grant had slept together. Despite what Clark had said to Mark, it still weirded him out. "What do you want to know?"

"Is he dating Mark?"

How had he found out? "Why would you think that?"

"Because I just tried to call him, and that girl he's living with, said that Mark spent the night in Metropolis with Grant. So I'm just wondering if they're together and I've just been a complete idiot."

"No, you haven't been an idiot. I mean, Mark likes you. I know he does. Grant's just..." Frantically, Clark tried to scramble around for the reason Mark was in Metropolis this week. Grant had come down the weekend before to work on the article, and he and Mark had spent some time together. But it hadn't been like last time; at least Clark hadn't thought it had been.

It clicked. "There's a fundraiser that Grant's participating in. Some kind of charity walk to raise money for a gay-friendly homeless shelter in Metropolis. Grant invited me to do it too, but Mark and Lex thought it'd be better if I laid low, especially since the article is coming out next month. It wouldn't be smart being seen around with Grant, and then have him publish an article about a queer teen in a small town. An adopted queer teen."

"True. But. Mark and Grant?"

There was no way to get around this, was there? And, maybe Whitney had a right to know. Or something. Clark didn't know, the whole situation was too confusing for him. And the fact he was jealous didn't exactly help his objectivity. "They aren't dating. They had a little bit of a thing, though, when they first met, but we didn't even know if you were alive then. And, um, I guess that in gay culture, it's, like, common to sleep around."

There was a beat of silence and then Whitney said softly, "Man, you are like...." He trailed off, sounding wondering and admiring and ... loving all at once. "I have no idea how Lex doesn't spend his day just worshiping your innocence."

Clark's face went up in flames. Squirming in embarrassment, he pressed himself hard into his seat. "I'm not that innocent?" Oh, fuck, he'd just quoted Brittany Spears. He was in hell.

"It's just... it's not just gay culture, Clark. Straight people do it, too."

"I know," he said defensively, feeling stupid.

"I did it. You know, before."

Whoa. "What?"

"Before Lana," Whitney said, sounding casual. "I fooled around with a lot of girls. I only really dated one or two because, surprise, surprise, I really didn't enjoy sex all that much. I mean, it was okay, but it was missing something. That's why, even though a part of me was taken off guard when I fell for you, I knew I was gay. Bi never even entered my mind because I knew what I wasn't thrilled with, and that was women."

"Yeah, but, okay, so you didn't like fooling around with girls in high school. But you're older now, and girls'll be more experienced, right? Maybe you'll like it now. And maybe, um, you won't like fooling around with guys, you just think you will."

Whitney cleared his throat.

Clark's face turned crimson. God, he was so stupid. *So* stupid. It was like, even though he could handle Lex and all his problems, and Lionel and all the stupid grown-up shit that he put up with every day, Clark just couldn't start thinking like an adult.

Or, maybe it was just he couldn't quite think like a human. "Oh," he said softly.

"Yeah."

"Who?"

"Just a guy who was stationed with me. While the other guys were off playing with prostitutes, he and I snuck off a few times."

"Is he..." Clark couldn't bring himself to say dead.

"He's fine. He's back in the States now, training to be an officer."

"Oh." Oh. Okay. "That's good." He cleared his throat. "Um, so..."

"So, it was really casual. The only reason we hooked up was because we managed to read each other's signs and then find a few moments together. I mean, yes, he's got a hot body, because, dude, he's a Marine, but, um, I think I'm more into intellectuals."

"But you were into me before Mark."

He laughed softly and Clark thought he heard the words, "So adorable," or something close, before Whitney said, "Yeah, Clark. I was into you."

It took a moment before Whitney's meaning penetrated his stupidly thick skull. When it did, he blushed harder and pressed his forehead into his knees. "Thanks."

"It's the truth, Clark. You're amazingly smart, introspective, and have a unique view of the world. And I'm still half in love with you, but you know. I've got Mark now. Maybe." Whitney sighed. "Does he ever talk about me?"

"All the time. Mostly to Lex, I think, but yeah, he talks about you."

"So he and Lex are friends."

"Yeah. Good friends, actually." Then he remembered about Lionel. "Oh, and I have to tell you something. You have to promise not to freak out, though."

"What's the matter?"

"It's about the plane ticket that your mom got. Lex didn't pay for it."

"Shit," Whitney swore. "The two of you talk about everything, don't you?"

Clark frowned; that had not been the reaction he'd been expecting. "What do you mean?"

"I know it was Lionel who did this. Mom told me. I didn't want you to know because I know how freaked out you get about him. I thought it might make you feel better if you thought Lex did it, but I didn't think about you going to him."

"I wanted to thank him," Clark said. He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling itchy and uncomfortable, like his skin didn't fit. "Look, Whitney, thanks and all, but don't try to protect me, okay? I'm not some weak, stupid kid. You don't need to hide things like this from me."

"I'm sorry. It's just you're so.... You know. When it comes to Lionel."

"That was last spring," Clark said with a bitter smile. "I've grown up since then. He doesn't scare me quite as much."

"I'll remember that. And I'm sorry."

"I mean, it's fine, okay? I get that your intentions are good. Just don't do it again."

"I won't, Clark. No more trying to protect you. Cross my heart."

* * *

Lex rolled the compass Jonathan had given him gracefully over his hand, making the heavy metal dance through his fingers. It caught the early afternoon light and gleamed as he played with it, calling upon long neglected skills. When he'd been young, about six or seven years old, he'd gotten pneumonia and had been confined to bed for months as he'd convalesced. To help keep him entertained, Pamela had bought him a book on magic. He'd been fascinated by the coin tricks and trained himself to do them. It had come in handy when at Excelsior; quite often the lectures had been exceedingly dull and Lex, whose mind worked faster than many of his professors, not to mention students, had been forced to find ways to keep himself awake during class. Playing with the coins under his desk discreetly had done the trick.

He hadn't practiced the easy tricks in years. Lionel found Lex's habit intolerable. He'd done anything he could to break Lex of the habit, from smacking Lex's hands with anything heavy enough to leave a bruise to paying Lex's roommates to do the same. It was a weakness, Lionel had claimed. A tell. Anyone looking at Lex while he did his magic tricks could tell that Lex had a weak mind and short attention span, and that simply wasn't the Luthor Way. Even when Lex tried to do it in the privacy of the laboratory while working on a particularly puzzling formula, or even in his room studying, Lionel would find ways to stop him.

But now, he was blind and Lex could do his magic tricks all he wanted. And he needed to know, needed a way to settle his mind and make the world feel more manageable. Lex still felt vaguely sick in his own office, even though it'd been swept through three times. Right now, he was staring at his bookshelf, wondering if there were bugs hidden in the pages of his books. Playing with the compass, while it didn't fix everything, helped make him feel a little steadier.

There was the sound of a cane thumping outside, which was Athena's only warning. She was leaping out of the way when the doors swung open and smacked her in the behind. The little kitten yowled loudly as she skittered across the slick floor, her nails clacking on the polished wood, tail swelled to the size of a bottle-brush.

All the anger and annoyance Lex had felt towards Lionel came rushing back through his body a thousand fold. He palmed the compass angrily and made it disappear into his pocket. It was hard to perform the easy trick, shaking with adrenalin and rage as he was, but he did it.

"All right, Lex," Lionel said to the room in general, not seeming to notice the cat glaring down from the upper level, hissing at him. "What's so urgent?"

Calm, Lex reminded himself. He had to stay calm.

"Remember the new American embassy in Moscow?" he asked as casually as he could. He leaned against the railing of the landing, gazing with a blank face down at his father.

Lionel turned his face towards the sound of Lex's voice briefly. "Uh-huh."

"It was so riddled with surveillance hardware, the State Department had to abandon it," he continued. He pulled away from the railing and slowly descended the stairs, taking it one step at a time. He moved slowly, gracefully, and seductively, the way he always did when dueling. Fencing and platform shoes had done a lot in teaching him how to move best when facing an opponent.

Lionel sighed. "I've got a meeting, Lex. I don't have time to chat about foreign affairs."

"Actually, the topic is very much domestic," Lex countered with a tight smile. "I've discovered a bug problem right here in my very own home."

He watched carefully, but Lionel's face didn't twitch a muscle. Not that Lex had expected him to; Lionel was too good for that.

Lionel did, however, laugh, an amused smile coming to his lips. "Corporate espionage? It's a fact of modern business, Lex. I'm surprised your security was so lax."

Lex's mind flashed back to the gadgets and gizmos his father had installed in his office the two days he'd taken it over, and he tried not to give into the pulsing, red rage that darkened his vision. "Still," he said as Lionel turned and started walking away, "it's hard to imagine how the perpetrator could have gained access to the mansion."

Lionel froze. "Do I detect a faint hint of innuendo?" he asked, turning back.

Lex would have given anything to see what Lionel's expression had looked like the moment before he turned. Now, there was nothing but a deep-set amusement and a hint of triumph. Lex couldn't win this round and Lionel knew it.

"Of course not, Dad." Lex closed the distance between them and stopped inches from Lionel, just barely to his right. "I just wanted to congratulate you on winning that contract," he said, doing his best to make his voice velvet with just a hint of steel beneath.

His father's smile deepened. One hand groped blindly before finding Lex's face.

He permitted the touch.

Lionel felt along Lex's jaw and up his face, as if searching for Lex's expression. "Oh, is that what this is about? Making an excuse for your defeat? Hmm?" He sounded amused. Then, grasping Lex's chin with tight fingers, he said, "Because I don't have time for excuses." He pushed Lex away and turned again. When he reached the door, he looked back at Lex. "As for your bug problem, I suggest you call an exterminator." Then he left.

Lex swallowed hard and fought not to wipe his father's touch from his face.

On his desk, his cell phone rang. Lex picked it up, attached a voice modulator to the mouthpiece, and answered it. "This is Mr. Green."

"I finished the appraisal that you requested, and we're ready to close escrow," the voice from the other end--Kern--said.

His stomach twisted, and Lex pulled the compass from his pocket. He opened it and watched as the needle found north. "How soon can you complete the transaction?"

"Today. We're on site and ready to roll. We can get you full access to the property--audio and video. Do we have a go?"

Lex swallowed against the painful churning in his stomach and set the compass down. Next to it on the desk was one of the bugs Lionel had planted. This one hadn't been in his office; it'd been in the room Lex had given Clark to help offset suspicion about their relationship from the onsite staff. The only time Clark had ever spent in the room was to study, and Lex didn't think he himself had entered it since he'd finished decorating the room. The message, though, was clear: Lionel could listen to anything either one of them did--or what they did together--any time he wanted to. He had the power, he had the control. Lex had been too trusting.

He stared at it a long moment, his fingers trembling. Jonathan had said that Lex didn't have to do this. He didn't have to play his father's game.

But Lex just couldn't see any other way.

"Mr. Green, are you there? Mr. Green?"

Deftly, he palmed the bug and made it disappear seemingly into thin air. "Do it." He couldn't solve his problems with magic, but he'd protect himself and Clark the best he could.

* * *

Lex had chained Clark to the bed. Finally. They'd been experimenting with ropes recently, but Clark had wanted actual chains, the metal kind that would drag a little on his arms and have cuffs that dug into his skin. They couldn't hurt him, of course, or even hold him in place. But the illusion was there, and just pretending that he was helpless was enough to make him so hard that his teeth ached.

And Lex was so good about teasing him, about slowly building that fire inside Clark until every inch of his skin stood at attention, dying for the lightest touch of the tantalizing mouth. Lex's hands were on Clark's arms, and his tongue traced patterns over Clark's neck, painting him with designs. Clark was so hot, it felt as if fire danced along his skin where Lex touched, burning into him, branding him forever.

"Lex." Clark arched his back into Lex, his voice a breathy moan of need. "Lex."

And then, laughter. Dark, amused laughter that twisted Clark's stomach and raked over his body with painful intensity.

Clark's lungs froze.

"Such a lovely picture," came The Voice in that slickly slimy tone that clung to Clark's psyche like black tar. "Such a pretty boy."

"No," Clark managed to choke out. "*Lex*."

But Lex didn't hear. He kept making his way down Clark's body, apparently unaware of the danger.

He started to struggle, to fight the chains. They should have snapped easily, Clark was stronger than anything on earth, but the links wouldn't give. The cuffs tightened around his wrists, holding him in place, and his legs, which had also been chained, spread wider until he was completely open and exposed. Completely vulnerable.

"So perfect." Lionel's head appeared over Lex's, and he wasn't blind, he *wasn't*, he could see and his eyes were on Clark. They touched his skin, and Lionel's smile stuck to him as they looked at Clark's cock and his ass and his skin and it was *everywhere*.

Lex was gone, and Clark was completely alone. Alone with Lionel, who was *looking* at him, who saw everything.

"No."

"Yes," Lionel breathed. His mouth was inches from Clark's and his breath was hot on Clark's face. "Fight me, Clark. Fight me. Tell me that you don't want me. You can get away, you know. So easily, you're such a strong boy. Unless you don't *want* to get away."

And now there were tears, fat hot ones that fell onto Clark's cheeks. He tasted salt and it startled him, like the first breath of air after sitting on the bottom of the pool for over a minute, but before he could breath, Lionel was licking his face and it felt like a fuzzy slug.

"I know your secret," Lionel whispered. "And I know if you don't fight me, that means you want to be exactly where you are."

"*No*." But it was too late. Lionel was on him, hands touching him, mouth biting and...

"Clark! Clark, please, wake up."

Startled, Clark shot up. His forehead connected with something and he heard someone cry out. Lionel was gone, but the tears were on his face. He was cold and shivering and his teeth wouldn't stop chattering as he cried.

"Chloe?" he heard Lana say.

"I'm okay." Chloe rose from the floor and was suddenly sitting next to him. "Clark, it was just a dream, okay? Calm down."

But it wasn't a dream, Clark wanted to say. He and Lex had been watched for months. They'd had sex in the office, and Lionel had to have a tape. Or had to have heard... He'd been watching them, blind or not.

He opened his mouth to talk, but nothing came out.

Uh-oh.

Chloe reached out to wipe a tear away. Frightened, Clark yanked away, his mind dipping into chaos for a moment. He couldn't think, couldn't see. It was too bright in here, too big. There were people, strangers, and the weight of their eyes pressed against him. It was too dangerous.

Clark pressed himself into the corner, legs pulled into his chest.

"Dammit," Chloe breathed. "Okay, Lana, you call his parents and then try to get in contact with Lex. I'm going to see if I can get him into the bathroom."

"Is he okay?" Lana asked, voice quaking.

"He will be. Just go make the calls, okay?"

Clark pressed his forehead into his knees, listening to the soft pat of Lana's shoes as she left.

"Clark?" Chloe said softly. "Let's go into the bathroom, okay? Just you and me. I promise no one else will be in there. You'll be safe."

Safe. Korakat. Shiro-fe tic korakat, he heard Tok's voice echo in his head.

His ship. It would keep him safe.

"Clark?" Chloe looked sad. And scared. But that determined look was in her eyes, and Clark knew she'd keep him safe.

Carefully, he unfolded himself from the couch in the Talon he'd fallen asleep on. Arms still wrapped tightly around him, he let Chloe put her hand around his waist and walk him across the room. It was too crowded, and people were looking at him. They were dangerous and frightening. They could hurt him.

But then they were past everyone and in the bathroom. The girls' bathroom, and why did they get a bed in here?

He allowed Chloe to guide him to the bed or bench or whatever it was. His legs folded underneath him, and he pressed his forehead against his knees. It felt as if he were bleeding, like all his skin had been rubbed off with a rock, exposing his muscles and insides to the stinging air.

Chloe sat down next to him, keeping a healthy distance from him. It made him hurt more, knowing that he was scaring her, and needing to be touched but being too afraid to be. And he'd made *her* too afraid to touch him now, too, and no one was every going to...

The soft, pained cry escaped his throat before he realized it.

"Hey," Chloe said, moving closer. Her hands were suddenly there, on his back, stroking the nape of his neck, running over his skin. "It's okay, Clark. I'm here."

The raw feeling receded somewhat, and Clark could feel his muscles unknotting. He still couldn't talk, and his mind barely formed coherent words, but he knew that Chloe would keep him safe.

"It's going to be okay, Clark," Chloe whispered, her lips brushing against his temple. "No one's going to hurt you. Not here."

Which, of course, scared him again, because it'd never occurred to him that maybe Lionel might have put the bugs *here* too. Oh, God, Lionel could have been watching every movement Clark had made since last fall. He could have...

"Clark?" Chloe said sharply, feeling him tense.

"He... could have been... watching us," Clark managed to force out. There was a painful lump in his throat that was hard to talk around. It made his voice sound gravelly.

"Who?"

"Lionel. Seen us. Having sex."

"He's blind, Clark. He didn't see anything."

He swallowed. "He can hear." Everything. Not just the secret, but... he could hear *Clark*. The way he sounded when he was with Lex, and how sick was that?

Chloe didn't say anything after that. After a awhile, Clark got too tired to sit up, so he stretched out and used her lap as a pillow. The tears came back, silent and hot as they slid down his face. He couldn't have stopped them even if he'd been aware of the fact he was crying, which he wasn't. He was too numb, to wrapped up in his mind, and his thoughts weren't even all words. They were... pictures that flashed over him, images, sounds. But not words. He'd been lucky to get out as much as he did.

After what seemed like forever, the bathroom door opened. "Here's in here, Mr. Kent," he heard Lana saying.

"Chloe," Jonathan said, and then he was kneeling in front of Clark. His hand was gentle on Clark's head, fingers buried in Clark's bangs, holding them back. His thumb moved slowly over forehead, caressing in a familiar motion that made Clark close his eyes and sigh, something tight and painful in his gut relaxing. "Hey, son."

Clark mouthed the word, "Dad," unable to get a sound out.

Jonathan smiled like he understood, and, really, by now he must. This had been their life, after all, especially in the early days. Ever since Clark could remember, a good nightmare was enough to reduce Clark to images and sounds instead of words. When he got stressed: after breaking the couch, or hurting his father, or finding the cat, dead in the barn, or starting school. After anything that disturbed his quiet life, the nightmares came and the bad ones were enough to force Clark back to some pre-language stage.

"Are you ready to head home, or do you want to stay here for a little longer?" Jonathan was wiping the tears from Clark's face, touching him. His other hand was on Clark's shoulder, rubbing down his back, and even though a part of Clark wanted to push both him and Chloe away and scream until no one but Lex ever touched him again, right now, they were the only things grounding him in reality.

He swallowed and mouthed, "Home."

"All right, then. Let's get you up."

With both Chloe and Jonathan's help, Clark rose from the bench. He stuffed his hands into his pockets when he was standing, and hunched his shoulders. Chloe took the hint and stepped away, her hands falling to her sides, but Jonathan stayed close, one hand on Clark's arm. "Thank you, Chloe."

"Of course," she replied, brushing hair from her face. "Call me when you're feeling better, okay Clark?"

He nodded and offered her a wan smile. Chloe returned it, looking relieved to see that he was functional.

They were halfway home before Jonathan spoke. "Was it a nightmare about Lionel?" he asked, voice gentle.

"Yeah," Clark said, pressing his forehead into the cool glass.

"I was worried that something like this might happen. That's why I was a little testy last night after that psychologist showed up."

He licked his lips. "I can't ... talk. About this with... anyone," he said haltingly. His tongue felt too big for his mouth and his brain was moving so slowly. The words he wanted to say where there, but fuzzy and inarticulate. It was hard to put everything together. "It's dangerous. You know. Lionel. What he'll do if. And she'd make me p..p... go to the police."

"I don't think she can."

"I can talk to Mark." He swallowed. "Lex told him. He knows. And Grant. Knows it happened. Not who."

Jonathan sighed. He reached out and cupped the back of Clark's neck with his hand and squeezed comfortingly. "I wish you could talk to us."

"Me too."

They didn't speak the rest of the ride home. After awhile, Jonathan put the radio on playing softly, his hand always either massaging Clark's neck or rubbing his shoulder comfortingly. It was like being a little kid all over again, and no matter how much Clark sometimes wished he was a child with nothing to worry about again, he'd never wanted it enough to put himself through this.

Gradually, his eyes got heavy and his head dropped to his father's shoulders. He didn't want to sleep; too much risk that the nightmare would come back. But, he was so tired and worn out. He'd been feeling antsy all morning, ever since he'd left Lex. Antsy and tired. He should have known that he'd have a nightmare if he slept; his body and mind felt ripe for one, even now.

/Lex?/ he called tiredly, but he could tell that the call went nowhere. He didn't know if it was because he was too tired and unfocused or if Lex had closed himself off. Whatever it was, Lex didn't hear him.

"We're home," Jonathan said softly, stopping the truck.

Clark opened his eyes, unaware that he'd ever closed them.

"Do you want to maybe come in the house and nap on the couch for awhile? Your mother could look in on you."

"Yeah," Clark whispered, climbing out of the truck. The last thing he needed was to be in his room and have another nightmare; there might not be anyone to wake him up from it.

"Where are you going?" Jonathan asked, stopping short when they were inside the house.

Martha was putting on her watch, dressed in a suit, hair swept up in a neat twist. "Lionel needs me to go to Metropolis on business. It should only take a few hours."

Clark felt numb. He stood there, looking at his mother, wishing he could crawl onto her lap and hide, and she was leaving. She looked like some business goddess, all dressed up and smelling like roses, and she was just going to go.

"What's tomorrow?" Clark asked.

She smiled quickly at him. "We're celebrating our anniversary with a picnic tomorrow. The weather is supposed to hold up, so we thought we should try to squeeze it in now."

His mind turned painfully. "You're leaving?" He was so tired; why wouldn't she just sit down and let him rest with his head in her lap?

She exchanged worried glances with Jonathan, and then put her hand on his cheek. "Just for a little while, baby. Why don't you lie down on the couch for awhile and rest. I find Lex and tell him to come over and sit with you, and then I'll be back before you know it."

That wasn't enough, but obviously, she wasn't going to give him any more. Growing up sucked. He was still stuck with the same nightmare problem, only now his parents didn't want to deal with it, and his boyfriend was MIA. It wasn't fair.

"Go lay down, son," Jonathan said, giving Clark a gentle push. "I'll bring you some warm milk in a moment."

He nodded woodenly and wandered into the living room. Everything felt distant and fuzzy, like he was wrapped in wool. It was pretty much SOP for a bad nightmare, especially one about Lionel. He just so desperately didn't want to *feel*.

"Martha, what are you doing? You waited all night for this to happen, and now that it has, you're leaving?" he heard his dad ask in the kitchen.

"I have to go to work, Jonathan. It's important."

"And your son isn't?"

"Clark will be fine. It was just a nightmare, and...."

He felt rather than hear his father's reaction, and in self-defense, pulled the quilt that was resting on the back of the couch around him tightly.

"Have you met your son?" Jonathan asked harshly. "A nightmare is never 'just' a nightmare. You know how he gets. He needs his mother right now."

"No, what he needs is his boyfriend," she snapped. "You're the one who made that clear last night. He doesn't need me anymore. He doesn't need us, Jonathan. While I'm at the mansion, I'll unearth Lex from wherever he is and send him over. Because that's who Clark really wants right now. If you'll excuse me." Clark heard her pick up her briefcase from the table, and then the door slammed shut.

Pain lanced through him, and he wanted to call out to her and tell her that, no, what he wanted right now was her. He needed to feel her heart beat and have her hands comb through his hair. Clark wanted his mother to drive away the icky, exposed feeling that made his skin crawl.

But she'd left. And all he could do was close his eyes and disappear deep inside himself where no one could touch him.

* * *

"Hey," Chloe said, sticking her head into the office above the Talon.

Lana had just pulled a gorgeous pink dress over her head. She turned, eyes wide, but relaxed minutely when she saw it was only Chloe. "Hey," she replied. "Can you zip me up?"

Chloe nodded and closed the door before crossing the room. She zipped the dress up, eyes lingering on the creamy flesh as it disappeared slowly. In deference to what had recently happened to Lana, Chloe did her best not to actually touch any of the bared skin, but it was hard. Lana looked and smelled so good, it was all Chloe could do not to lick her neck. "You okay?"

"I'm fine. Nervous." Lana didn't move from where she was. In fact, she sort of leaned back so that Chloe's face was right next to hers, their cheeks almost touching.

"It'll be fine." Chloe combed her fingers though Lana's hair. "Henry already adores you, and his wife will follow suit. I promise."

"I hope you're right." Lana licked her lips and closed her eyes. "Is Clark okay?"

"Yeah, Clark's fine. He will be fine. It was just a nightmare."

"No, it wasn't. He couldn't even talk, and he looked so scared." Tears choked her voice.

Chloe put her arms around Lana and kissed her cheek. "It was just a nightmare. You know how he gets them. When he gets stressed, he has them, and they're pretty devastating. I think ... I think he's had a lot of pain in his life, and he transfers a lot of himself into his dreams."

Lana laughed unexpectedly, tears sliding down her eyes. "I have nightmares. I still always know how to talk."

Chloe bit her tongue, afraid that if she talked, she might say something she shouldn't. Mention something that she wasn't supposed to know and couldn't tell anyone. So, she pressed her head into Lana's neck, held her breath, and counted slowly until the urge to say something was gone.

When she felt as if she could trust herself, she said, "Everyone's experience is different."

"I know."

"He's going to be okay. I mean, this was nothing. Lex fainted in front of you before, and you were fine."

"Yeah, but that's Lex. I can handle Lex. I can take care of him. But if Clark starts falling apart--really falling apart, I mean--it's just too hard for me to take."

"Really? I'm kind of the other way. Lex is so strong that it disturbs me when I see him start to fall apart. With Clark, though, I can keep it together and then help keep him together."

Lana's eyes opened and she turned her head. "I think I like to see the chink in Lex's armor sometimes. It reminds me that he's human. Clark's already too human for me. Always so... so hurt and vulnerable. I don't like to see him get even more vulnerable."

"I understand that." And then, without thinking, she leaned forward and kissed Lana.

Lana's mouth opened under hers and one hand snaked around Chloe's head to hold her in place. The kiss deepened and grew more passionate.

The Lana pulled away. "You have Chad," she said softly. "And neither one of us wants to hurt him."

A waved of desperation crashed over her, and she stepped away. Tears rose to his eyes. "I care so much about him," she said hoarsely. "I really do."

"I know." Lana smiled sympathetically. "We'll figure this out, Chloe. Somehow. But, until then, we can't."

"Yeah," Chloe whispered. "I know."

* * *

It'd been weeks since Lex had opened his eyes to find himself in Kiptin, so when he did so, he was immediately nervous. Yes, he was under a lot of stress right now, but he knew he'd remember making the effort. Unless he was back to being subject to the whims of his subconscious and forced in when he wasn't expecting it. While Lex was finally convinced that going to Kiptin didn't mean he was insane, Lex still liked to be able to control or know when he was being pulled in.

This time, he hadn't. And it hadn't felt like he'd slipped in for himself. Which meant something was wrong with Clark.

Taking a deep breath, Lex opened his eyes and looked around him. He'd appeared in front of the fireplace, sitting in lotus position, which confirmed to him that he had been meditating in his relaxation room before he'd drifted off and been called. The room was cold, despite the fire dancing merrily. The lights were low and the entire room dim.

He turned, looking for Clark.

Oh. Not good. Not good at all.

As quickly as he could, Lex tamped down on his panic. He didn't want Clark to sense it; it would only make things worse. For the first time since Lex had found the bug in his office, he had to be the calm one. He had to be grown up and be prepared to take care of his lover.

He only hoped he was strong enough.

"Hey Clark," he said softly. He rose from the hearthrug and crossed the room softly.

Clark was stretched across the bed width-wide, facing the fireplace. His feet were socked and he was wearing a long sleeved shirt and jeans. The shirt was pulled up at his stomach, although his back was still covered, and Lex could just barely see the tanned flesh pressed against the thick blue satin coverlet on the bed.

Clark glanced over at Lex at the greeting, but then turned indifferently back to the toys he was playing with. His Barbie was sitting on top of a tractor and he pushed it slowly back and forth, seemingly mesmerized by the movement. "Hey."

"You okay?" Lex asked. He kicked off his shoes and climbed on the bed, stretching out besides Clark.

"Sure."

"Sure," Lex echoed softly. Tentatively, he reached out and touched Clark's back, unsure if it was appropriate to touch him right now, but not knowing what else to do.

Clark sighed and rested his forehead on the comforter. A small whimper escaped his throat, and he scooted closer to Lex, hand still wrapped around his Barbie.

Lex wondered how long Clark had played with that Barbie when he'd been a child. It was obviously important to him; Lex could still remember the day Kal had brought it to Kiptin, so happy and proud to have something so beautiful. Kal had spent hours dressing and undressing the doll, making her dance or ride the various cars and tractors he'd brought in to play with. Lex knew that Clark had taken the Barbie to school when he was ten, knew that Clark had, at one point, called the Barbie "Lexine", and knew that he still had it somewhere in the barn, even though Lex had never seen it in the flesh.

Still, he wondered if Clark had been this attached to the doll when he'd really been eleven years old. It seemed a little strange; most girls no longer played with Barbies by the time they were eleven, and all of this was really besides the point because *Clark was eleven years old*.

"Do you want to talk?" he asked, wrapping one of Clark's curls around his fingers. Clark's hair was longer here than it was in real life, and Lex loved it; he wished he could convince Clark to grow it out, just a little bit. Just enough to get rid of that bowl look and to emphasize the beautiful waves.

"No," Clark whispered, sounding very young.

So young. God. Tall for his age, but shorter than the six four he was now. He was maybe about five eight, maybe five ten. Thin. Very thin. He was all arms and legs, too; it was as if his limbs chose to grow before the rest of his body, and he looked very coltish. Lex had a feeling that had Clark grown his hair out longer, he might have been able to pass for a girl. Or, maybe not; there was something definitely masculine lurking in Clark's features, despite the unearthly beauty.

"Do you want to listen to my heart beat?" Lex asked, unsure of what tack to take.

Clark didn't reply. He simply sat up and turned to Lex.

Lex scooted up to the head of the bed and rested back against the pillows. Clark tugged Lex's shirt off, and laid down, head resting over Lex's heart.

He was so adorable. His face was so serious and deep and his features.... Teeth and ears both too big for his mouth and head. The cleft in his chin seemed deeper, and his eyes were about the size of his entire face. Beautiful.

For a long time, they lay in silence, Clark breathing slowly and deeply and Lex stroking his back. He knew what Clark had meant now, last time, about how strange it was to come to Kiptin to find his lover was a child. Maybe Clark wasn't quite as dramatic as Lex's change into a six year old, but, for Clark, it was just as telling. Lex never could never forget about how Clark's body had changed so quickly, or how traumatic it had been for him. Because that was what it was: traumatic, whether or not Clark or the Kents ever described it in those terms. From the day they'd found him, Martha and Jonathan had drilled into him that he had to hide and couldn't draw attention to himself. And, looking at the gangly, pretty-yet-mostly unremarkable kid Clark had been, it must have been fairly easy. He'd taught himself to blend in and he did it beautifully. Noticed only when he spoke, he faded into the background and

And then he'd grown up. Quickly, before most of the kids in his class, and spectacularly. Screw blossoming, Clark had fucking exploded into godhood, and, for the first time, he couldn't stop people from noticing. He'd finally managed to, but the damage had been done. Torn between his attraction and longing for Lana and his need to hide, Clark had perfected the art of fading into the background, and only now was starting to willingly break out of the shadows.

"Are you sucking your thumb?" Lex asked after awhile. He pulled Clark's thumb from his mouth and curled his hand around it.

"I was biting my nail."

"Don't do that either." He kissed Clark's thumb and tried not to feel like a pervert. Truth be told, he wasn't sexually attracted to Clark at this moment; he was more concern for Clark's state of being. But he still felt just a little bit uncomfortable. "Where are you?"

"Home. Couch."

"Not your room?"

He sniffed. "I had a nightmare at the Talon, and I don't like being alone after I've had a nightmare. Dad told me to lie down on the couch and then I was here."

Clark's hair was in tangles, and Lex combed them out with his free hand. "You were sleeping at the Talon?"

"*Someone* kept me up all last night. I was tired," a voice that was too young to say something like that told him. "I just closed my eyes for a minute, and then..." He cut off abruptly.

Lex sighed and finished Clark's sentence for him. "And then you had a dream about Dad."

"Yeah," Clark whispered. Then, "It was bad."

"I'd imagine so." He sighed and ran his knuckles down Clark's cheek. "The exterminators went through your room this morning. They were there just as I got home, around nine-thirty. It was full of bugs. They were everywhere, even the toilet. I can't figure out if Dad intentionally bugged a room we weren't using, just to let us know he had the power to invade our lives like that, or if whomever he hired messed up. But it freaked me out, and you must have felt it."

Clark licked his lips. "I would have dreamed it anyway. It's been there, the thought, since you found out about your office. I mean, he could have been listening to us having sex." And he was definitely too young to be saying that.

"Dad wouldn't..."

"Yeah, he would. Even though he's not gay, he wants to touch me. Wants to do stuff to me, because it'll hurt you, and it'll hurt Dad, and because I'm pretty."

Lex bit back a sigh and continue to comb Clark's hair. He was right and he knew he was right; if Lex protested any more, not only would he look willfully stupid, it'd hurt Clark more. He needed his feelings and fears validated right now. Especially since he was only too right.

"Would you still love me if I weren't pretty?" Clark asked, sitting up. He pulled away from Lex and plucked at the corner of a pillow.

Oh, good. Now Lex was going to have to have *this* conversation again, this time with an emotionally unstable eleven-year old with a face that should be in movies. Fantastic.

"Of course," Lex replied, trying to pace the answer correctly. Too quickly, it would sound if he were lying; too slowly, and he was obviously choosing his answer too carefully. "Of course I would still love you."

He didn't get it right. Clark's face crumpled immediately and when he said, "I didn't think so," it sounded as if his chest was painfully tight.

Dammit. "Clark," Lex sighed, placing his hand on Clark's bony knee. "There's no question of whether or not I'd love you. Of course I would. Even if you were deformed. Even if you had three heads or tentacles or had no penis or no teeth. Or all of those. I would love you even if you had blond hair and brown eyes. I would even still love you if you were a girl. You and I were destined for one another; we're meant to be. I think the fact that we have Kiptin is proof enough of that. All right, so, maybe it would have taken me awhile to finally really see you if you didn't look the way you did, but Clark? It wasn't your looks that drew me. Not just your looks. I could feel the pull right here." He pressed the palm of his hand into the space just above his stomach. "When I woke up on that riverbank and saw you, I felt the pull. Even if I pretended later I hadn't, it was there, every time we met." He took Clark by the chin and raised his head. "Remember the first time you spent the night? Those few times that our hearts and bodies tried to sync up?"

Clark nodded, doing his best not to look at Lex.

"That's one reason I love you. Because of that connection. But that's just part of it. I love the way you laugh, and the way you think. I love how brilliant you are, and how clever and introspective. And I love the way you care, not just for the people most important to you, but for everyone." He kissed Clark's forehead. "I love you because of who you are, not how you look. And if, for some reason, I hadn't gotten that at first, it would have been my loss, because when I finally realized what a treasure you were, I would have felt each and every moment we hadn't been together."

Clark sniffed and scrubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand. "Do you, like, have all these speeches about destiny and us written down somewhere?"

Lex smiled crookedly and released Clark's chin. "All arranged alphabetically by theme. You're better than a muse."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

Clark sighed and lay back on the bed, eye shut. "I don't ever want to leave," he said, jerking a little as Jonathan's voice penetrated the walls of Kiptin, calling for Clark a little frantically.

"You should. Your parents are worried."

"Parent," Clark corrected sourly. "My *parent* is worried. Mom took off."

"For good?" Lex asked wryly, not concerned. Martha would never leave her son, even if someday she were pushed hard enough to leave her husband.

"No." The thumb went back into Clark's mouth and he bit it hard.

Lex pulled it out again and stretched across the bed next to Clark. The hair was so soft and so enticing, even in here. He couldn't control his need to run his fingers through it. "Where'd she go? Market?"

"No," Clark said petulantly. "She went to work and left me. I needed her so much, and she just pushed me away saying that I didn't need her anymore and I only wanted you." He sniffed. "But I did want her. I wanted my mom, and she left to work with Lionel."

Ouch.

Lex laid down and pet Clark's stomach. "She'll be home soon, and I'm sure she didn't mean it."

"She *left*," Clark insisted stubbornly with the bewildered hurt of a child. "I needed her, and she just left."

"But, Clark, you do rely on me for your comfort," Lex said awkwardly. "I know you still need your parents, and still go to them, but you know that you're my first priority. And I can comfort you better than they can." Not that Clark was really going to understand that right now, Lex conceded to himself. After all, emotionally, he was eleven years old, and Lex was pretty sure that, although he got the concept of his boyfriend, all Clark really wanted was his Mommy.

"But I wanted her. It's what... makes me feel normal again. I just wanted to sit there with her for awhile, but, instead, she had to go to Metropolis with Lionel." He practically spat Lionel's name.

Lex bolted up. "They went to Metropolis?"

Clark blinked in confusion. "Yeah."

"Shit. The men I sent to bug the office today. I figured it'd be safe."

Clark grew five years in the time it took him to sit up. "Where are you?" he asked, and it jarred Lex, to hear his voice go from preadolescent to young man in the space of a breath.

He blinked and replied haltingly, "I was meditating. I must have fallen asleep in the relaxation room."

"Wake up and call them off. *Now*," Clark ordered.

Lex slid off the bed, stomach twisted in an agony of guilt. "I'm sorry. God, I'm sorry, Clark."

Clark just shrugged and rose as well. "I knew you were going to do it. It wasn't the decision I would have made, but it wasn't my decision." He kissed Lex swiftly. "Come over when you're done. We'll spring the anniversary surprise on them, since Mom's already in the city. And I think he was angry at her for choosing Lionel over me."

"She didn't, Clark."

"Wake up," Clark said in lieu of an answer. Then he disappeared.

Lex sighed and shook his head, wishing it was that easy for him. Then, closing his eyes, he concentrated on the task of forcing himself awake. He had a huge mistake to fix.

* * *

"Clark?" Jonathan called, walking into the house from the barn.

Clark had woken up from his frighteningly deep sleep about forty minutes ago. Jonathan had left him in the house so he could get the chores he'd neglected in the hour he'd spent trying to wake Clark up. Lex had arrived soon after, and now... now there was a helicopter parked on the front yard.

"Clark!" he called again when there was no answer, afraid that Lex had let Clark slip back into that coma-like sleep.

They both appeared suddenly from behind the couch. Clark's hair was tussled and Lex's face was flushed. There was a dark bruise on his neck and his lips were swollen. Clark's shirt was completely unbuttoned, and Lex's looked torn.

"Hey, Dad," Clark said, cheeks turning dark red. He combed his fingers through his hair shamefacedly.

He sighed and rubbed his eyes. The boys simply could not keep their hands off one another; Jonathan was going to have them *both* neutered at his point. Either that, or hide meteors in the room to kill Clark's libido; it was sad that Jonathan trusted Lex more to keep his hands to himself than his own son.

"Clark," he started, then decided to let it drop. It wasn't as if he and Nell hadn't been caught in similar situations. The only thing his father's lectures and outbursts had done was convinced Jonathan to rebel more and more. And Clark wasn't rebelling; he was just young and in love.

So, instead of chastising them, he simply said, "Is the helicopter on our lawn for any particular reason?"

"Yeah." Clark glanced at Lex, and then grinned, a happy light in his eyes. "Lex and I talked it over, and we decided that since you and Mom put off your anniversary for us, it was only fair for us to treat you for your anniversary. Lex got you reservations at La Petite Fleur for tonight, and then you'll take a horse drawn carriage to the observatory in the park, where you and Mom can look at the stars until, well, whenever." He beamed happily.

Jonathan narrowed his eyes, suddenly suspicious. "All right. So Lex, I assume, is paying for this evening, so what is your contribution?"

Clark rolled his eyes. "I came up with carriage and observatory."

Duh, Jonathan thought wryly. He turned to Lex and studied him closely. "Why didn't you say anything about this before?"

Lex averted his eyes momentarily. His shoulders straightened, chin jerked up defiantly, and he looked back at Jonathan. "We wanted it to be a surprise."

Jonathan gazed at him for a moment, wondering at the guilt and the defiance. And then, he got it.

A wave of disappointment washed over Jonathan. Oh, Lex, he thought despairingly. "Lex," he started, but he stopped and ran a hand over his face. "Boys, thank you. It's a kind gesture, and I appreciate it. But your mother... We'd already decided how we wanted to celebrate our anniversary this year."

"But, Dad," Clark started, but Jonathan cut him off.

"Clark, no. And Lex." He turned to Lex, ready to let him have it for doing whatever he'd done to make him look that guilty. And Jonathan had a pretty good idea.

Lex tightened his jaw and met Jonathan's gaze with a bit of a glare "Yes?" he asked, voice icy cold.

The phone rang, throwing off Jonathan's train of thought. He grabbed it without thinking and asked, "Yes?"

"Mr. Kent, it's Chloe," she said, sounding breathless. "There's a hostage situation going on at LuthorCorp. I just wanted to make sure that Mrs. Kent was okay."

Crap. "Chloe, we'll have to call you back."

"But Mr. Kent!" she shouted as he hung up.

"Clark. Turn on the TV."

Clark blinked, but obeyed.

"We are live at the LuthorCorp Tower," a reporter said. She was standing in front of the building, police behind her, yellow tape and weapons everywhere. "Sometime earlier this afternoon, armed gunmen apparently entered the building and are now holding LuthorCorp chairman and CEO Lionel Luthor hostage."

"Mr. Kent," Lex immediately started in the smooth, even, public relations voice Jonathan hated so much.

"Lex," Jonathan said harshly, "I don't want to hear it. Clark, go to Metropolis, see what you can find out. Lex and I will follow."

"Okay." And then Clark was gone.

Jonathan grabbed his jacket, keys, and wallet. He slipped the wallet into his jacket and tried to ignore the furious anger that was built inside of him. Now was not the time to explode, and it definitely wasn't the time to heap more abuse on Lex.

Jonathan wasn't the only person who was worried.

Taking a deep breath, he turned.

Lex was pale-white and lost in his thoughts. His eyes were distant and blank, as if he'd checked out of reality.

"Lex," Jonathan said sharply.

He blinked and swayed on his feet. His eyes came back into focus. "Jonathan," he said hollowly. He licked his lips. "I'm so sorry. This wasn't supposed to happen. I told them to get out of there when I knew she was there. No one was supposed to be in the building, I'd planned for every contingency."

"No, you didn't! If you had, we wouldn't be in this situation right now. And that's *not* the point. What you did was unethical and immoral. It was unworthy of you. I expected better."

"You shouldn't have," Lex said bitterly. "I'm nothing more than a Luthor."

"Don't give me that," Jonathan snapped. "I don't want to listen to your self-pity. You're a Luthor, who cares? That's not an excuse for bad behavior, Lex, it's a crutch. And one you need to stop using." He went to Lex and grabbed him by the nape of the neck. "I know how much you love Martha. I know that you would never do anything to hurt her. But you have, intentionally or not, you have. *This* is why I didn't want you to do it. You never think through the consequence of your actions, that's why you're always having to clean up your messes."

"I just want to be better than my father."

"Then *be* better," he said, shaking Lex lightly. "Be a better man, Lex. I know you're capable of it. I know you're better than this."

Lex's eyes were bright as he looked up at Jonathan. He shook underneath Jonathan's hand, and he was so white, Jonathan wasn't sure if the boy was going to faint or not. "I don't deserve your family."

"Shut up, Lex," he said in exasperation. "And spare me your dramatics."

"I'm sorry."

He just shook his head and guided Lex from the house, out to the helicopter. "I know. You are sorry. I believe you. The fact that you are sorry is the very fact that makes it so hard to give up on you." He let Lex climb into the helicopter before following him inside. Before they took off, he leaned into Lex and said, "The fact is, son, despite Lionel's efforts, you're a very good man."

Lex's smile was ghostly and hopeless. It made Jonathan's heart wrench, but there was nothing he could do about it now. The fact was, until Martha was safe, Lex wouldn't listen to Jonathan and Jonathan wouldn't be able to sound sincere. He did know Lex was a good man, and he did know that Lex had never meant for something like this to happen. That didn't change the results, though, and now they were both too worried to think clearly. Until Martha was safe, Jonathan had to keep his temper and try to keep hope. And he knew neither one would be easy.

It was going to be a very long flight.



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