CHAPTER THREE:

What The Reaper Never Told Us

You see, in all my life I've never found,

What I couldn't resist, what I couldn't turn down,

I could walk away from anyone I ever knew,

But I can't walk away from you.

- "I'm Shameless" performed by Garth Brooks.

April 10, 2002

Metropolis, Kansas

"Well done." A compliment. An honest to God compliment from a man not known to give compliments. It was more than Lex could bear.

In his heart, Lex knew he didn't deserve a compliment for what he did. He didn't want one either. He didn't want a slap on the back for drugging, binding and gagging another Human being. Glancing down at the watch on his wrist, Lex could clearly see his Mother's face. From the Napoleon Franc, Lex swore he could see her frowning back at him. No, his Mother wouldn't have been proud of this.

Stepping into his Father's limousine, Lex didn't bother to wait for his Father. Instead, he ordered the chauffeur to take him to the Luthor penthouse, said his Father would be driving the other car back to his office.

The chauffeur nodded and said, "As you wish, Mr. Luthor."

As he wished. Lex sat back and let that thought wash over him. Lex could have whatever his mind imagined. He could have anything. Correction, Lex already had everything - expensive cars, fancy clothes and beautiful women. If he preferred, there was more than one young man that Lex could have, as well. Just required a phone call to get any of it - The cars, the clothes, the women, the men.

At that moment, Lex's cell phone vibrated. Pulling the slender, plastic phone out of his inner jacket pocket, Lex flipped it open and brought it up to his ear. "Luthor, here."

"Lex?" asked a timid male voice.

"Clark?" answered Lex.

"Hi! I hope I'm not interrupting anything. Your secretary, Sheila, gave me your cell number. I hope you don't mind," Clark rambled.

"Of course, not. You're on the approved list. What do you need, Clark?" answered Lex as he pushed the button on his armrest that caused a soundproof screen to separate him from the chauffeur.

"Well, it's not about me, exactly. I just came back from the hospital. Whitney's Dad isn't doing too good. They don't know how much longer he has," answered Clark with the slightest crack of emotion in his voice.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Clark, especially since it appears to be hurting you so much, but what does Whitney's Dad have to do with me?" Lex inquired.

"You own the Metropolis Sharks, right?" asked Clark.

"Well, to be really technical, Clark my Father owns them. What about them?" replied Lex.

"I was talking to Whitney, earlier. His Father's greatest wish is see Whitney play for the Metropolis Sharks. I was thinking that maybe you could pull some strings and get the Sharks to agree to play a couple games with Whitney on the team."

Shaking his head in disbelief, Lex asked, "Are you honestly asking me to do something nice for the guy that strung you up and left you out in a cornfield?"

"Well, yeah. The whole cornfield thing. That was a long time ago. It's water under the bridge," replied Clark.

'This kid's too good to be true,' thought Lex. "Okay, Clark. For you, but only for you, not for that piece of small time that thinks he's big time."

"Thanks, Lex. When can you get it arranged because it would be better sooner than later?" asked Clark.

"How's a couple days sound?" answered Lex.

"Great! Thanks a lot, Lex," exclaimed Clark.

"Clark, it's like I said, for you, it's no problem. Let me make some phone calls and I'll get back to you on this, tomorrow," Lex said, with a smile on his face.

"Sure. Okay. I'll talk to you, tomorrow, Lex. And, thanks again," answered Clark, enthusiastically.

With a hesitant click, Lex's phone went silent. Slowly, Lex closed his phone and placed it back in his inner jacket pocket. Bringing his left hand up, Lex glanced at the watch his Mother gave him again. This time, the face that looked back at him was smiling.

--<{()}>--

Later At The Luthor Penthouse

The ice in Lex's Scotch on the rocks barely had time to melt before an unwanted intrusion landed on Lex's doorstep.

Reluctantly, Lex answered the doorman's page on the third ring. The doorman used a practiced, cordial greeting before informing Lex that a man from the Inquisitor was here to see him. Over the line, Lex could here a shuffle and an exchange of vulgarities before a familiar voice said, "Lex. It's me, Roger. Tell this guy to let me up."

Groaning, Lex waited until he heard the doorman regain control of the phone. Once Lex was sure the doorman was listening, he ordered, "Send him up, Sidney."

A few minutes later, the door to the penthouse opened. Sporting a polyester suit and an incredibly severe receding hairline, Roger Nixon entered the penthouse with a spring in his step. Not giving Lex a chance to speak, Nixon started with: "Heard you were in town. Thought I would drop by."

Placing his drink on the full bar, Lex buttoned his jacket as he stated, "Roger, I am a busy man."

"Of course, you are. You're Lex Luthor," answered Roger, appearing to be the cat that ate the canary.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Lex said, "Get on with it, Roger or get out."

"Okay," replied Roger. "I've been doing some research."

Frowning, Lex warned, "This research wouldn't at all be related to the research I told you to stop doing, because if it is; I'm not going to be very happy."

Roger's smile faltered for a second before he clapped his hands together. "I've always fulfilled my end of our bargain. My end and then some. You do remember the lovely set of pictures I gave you during your last trip to Metropolis, don't you? I remember Ms. Hardwick looked particularly striking in them."

Crossing the room, Roger came to stand a couple of feet in front of Lex. "As for that little research project you initially commanded I take on, let us just say that there are too many contradictions, too many explanations that don't fit the science. In short, there are too many loose ends to just leave it alone. Fact is, I still contend that the evidence shows that your Porsche hit the Kent boy at 60 miles an hour."

Through thinly pressed lips, Lex responded, "Too bad the hospital report of Clark's bruised ribs blew your theory out of the water."

Roger allowed time to pass, to stretch the moment into a dramatic pause, "Not necessarily I've found further proof."

Narrowing his eyes, Lex growled, "I told you to stop this investigation, Roger."

Waving his right hand at Lex, Roger commented, "Yeah, but you didn't mean it."

In a rush of anger, Lex turned toward the bar, retrieved his glass. A second later, the crystal tumbler sailed through the air, smashing against the wall. Turning cold eyes on Nixon, Lex commanded, "Don't tell me what I mean, Roger. I was very clear. Stop investigating the crash and leave the Kents alone."

Nodding, Roger replied, "Yeah, but you never mentioned the meteor shower. Funny thing that. As I investigated the meteor shower, my attention was pulled over and over again to the Kents. I tried to avoid them, at first, but it became impossible after a while."

Intrigued, despite himself, Lex cocked his head to the side. "Excuse me?"

Picking up on Lex's interest, Roger became more animated, waving his hands wildly as he explained; "I came upon a story in an old issue of the Inquisitor. Apparently, a crop duster from Smallville was flying his plane on the day the meteors fell."

Impatient, Lex commented, "There is a point to this, I hope."

"Of course. You see, this pilot claimed he saw a U.F.O. fall along with the meteors that day," said Roger, excitedly.

Rolling his eyes and his head along with them, Lex quipped, "A U.F.O. story in the Inquisitor? Now, there's a seldom seen phenomenon."

Bringing up both of his hands palm out, Roger pleaded, "Hear me out."

Shifting his weight to his left leg, Lex leaned back as he motioned with his left hand for Roger to go on. Nodding, Roger said, "I checked out this pilot. He's a real guy who still lives in Smallville. After the article, his life went down the toilet, seems some people thought he'd gone a little crazy. His pilot's license was revoked and his wife left him. After all that, this man still swears that he saw a small, oval pod on the day of the meteor shower. He claims the pod landed in a field that runs along Route 90 - a road leading out of Smallville. The road in question leads to the Kent farm."

Chuckling softly under his breath, Lex countered, "What's your point, Roger? Of course, this man still holds to his story. It's all he has to hold onto, now. Besides, I know the road of which you're speaking. Sure, it leads to the Kent farm, but it also leads to five other farms, two stand alone houses and several roadside vegetable stands."

Pointing with his index finger, Roger made his point, "But the roadside vegetable stand owner didn't adopt a young boy shortly after the meteor shower."

Intently, Roger watched Lex connect the dots. As he watched the light dawn in Lex's eyes, Roger continued, "I investigated the Kent boy's adoption. The charity the Kent's used was only open for six months and it only produced one adoption."

Once Roger was silent, Lex turned away and walked across the room. Standing at the door, Lex paused. Turning around, Lex stated in a cool, steady voice, "I'm only going to tell you this one more time. The Kents are off-limits. You are not to investigate them, speak to them or go anywhere near them."

Reaching to his right toward the penthouse doors, Lex grabbed the doorknob. Opening the door wide, Lex ordered, "Now, get out."

Roger Nixon chewed on his lower lip. His face flushed with anger and his eyes narrowed. With heavy footfalls, Roger marched from the room. At the doorway, Lex stopped him. "Roger. Don't ever forget I own you. Your association with me is for my benefit and my associations follow the same rules as baseball - three strikes and you're out. Consider this strike one."

Roger didn't nod. He just returned Lex's stony gaze. After a moment, Roger shifted his eyes down and away from Lex's penetrating stare. His head bowed down, Roger walked away and boarded the waiting elevator without saying a word.

Returning to the solitude of his penthouse apartment, Lex found his way to the phone. Dialing the number from memory, Lex spoke as soon as the phone picked up on the other end. "Simon, this is Lex Luthor. I need you to follow someone. His name is Roger Nixon and he works as a reporter for the Inquisitor."

From the other end, Simon asked, "Does your Father know about this?"

"No, and he is never to know," answered Lex.

"Fair enough. Where is this guy now?"

"Right now, he's in an elevator going down the eighty-nine floors that exist between the penthouse and the ground floor of this fine hotel," replied Lex.

"Short notice, huh? Okay, I've got some boys near there. What's he look like?"

"He's wearing polyester," replied Lex, in a completely serious tone.

"Well, that should make him easy enough to spot in that part of town," said Simon, with a slight chuckle.

"I'll call you tomorrow for the results."

"Sure thing, Mr. Luthor."

--<{()}>--

Later That Night

Determined. With a mission, Lex entered his suite of rooms. There, he found the clothes he had no use for in Smallville. His suit jacket found itself piled on the floor, Lex's business shirt and ironed pants soon followed. Walking into his closet, Lex pulled a pair of shiny, black, leather slacks off one of the rods. Reaching into a nearby set of drawers, Lex pulled out a pouch of fine, white powder. Liberally, Lex rubbed the powder onto his legs, buttocks and back, coating his skin completely in a thick layer of the powder.

Gently, Lex pulled the slightly stiff apparel up his long legs, feeling it slide effortlessly over the silky powder. Leaving the pants undone, Lex reached out and pulled down a sparkling, blood red shirt. Fluidly, Lex pulled the shirt over his head, thrusting his arms through long, form fitting sleeves. Off a set of hooks, Lex grabbed a three quarter length, black leather coat, before exiting the walk-in closet.

In anticipation of the night's activities, Lex was mindful of his appearance. In front of his full-length mirror, Lex was meticulous in his presentation. Carefully, he tucked his shirt into his pants, watchful to not create any creases in the thin leather as he buttoned them and pulled up the zipper. Tugging at his shoulder seams, Lex centered the pointed neckline that exposed narrow slits of pale white shoulder, but still hugged the neck in front and back. Taking a step back, Lex inspected himself for clean lines, wiping creases and wrinkles out of the spongy, double-knit sateen.

Grabbing his jacket, Lex exited the penthouse. Blissfully, Lex reveled in the feel of the cool sateen material caressing his chest while the snug heat of the leather pants hugged him below the waist. Gracefully, he swung his leather coat on, tugging at the collar to mold the hide to his neck and shoulders. Alight with energy, Lex pushed the elevator button several times as he waited for the doors to open.

Once inside the elevator, Lex went over his goal again. Lex planned to find a substitute for his Clark Kent obsession. Something tall, dark and willing to be put up in an apartment was exactly what the doctor prescribed. Lex was sure of it.

The elevator doors chose that moment to open onto the ground floor. Lex left the elevator behind and exited the hotel quickly. Outside, he waved off a limo and let the doorman hail him a cab. In the taxi, Lex told the driver the name of his favorite combat zone nightspot since Club Zero closed its doors then sat back. To Lex's chagrin, the taxicab driver wasn't a chatterbox. Silence filled the cab and left Lex with his repeating stream of thought.

Since the day Clark pulled Lex from the river, Lex had obsessed over the teen. Only the unwillingness on Lex's part to do jail time made Lex resist the urge to throw the boy up against the nearest wall. Lex needed to walk away from Clark. He knew that, now. This wasn't about Lex Luthor, anymore. He needed to leave Clark behind for Clark's own good.

Especially, if what Roger said was true. A forged adoption certificate was something that could come back to haunt Clark. Especially, if Clark belonged to Lex.

Possessing Clark was something Lex very much desired, but the vestiges of a soul within him screamed it could only end badly. It would end badly and Clark would be left much worse off than Lex, but still Lex fantasized about Clark.

Fact was, Lex cared. He cared about Clark like he hadn't cared about anything or anyone since his Mother died. Therefore, Lex didn't want to be the corrupting influence that entered Clark's life. Lex liked Clark. He liked Clark as he was - Blushing innocence. Still, Lex wondered what would replace the blush once experience stepped onto the stage. Whatever it was, Lex just knew it would be delicious. In his mind, Lex saw himself doing kinky, freaky things to Clark's young flesh, things he knew would always be a little beyond anything Clark could ever accept.

Smacking himself mentally, Lex reminded his raging testosterone that Clark was untouchable. Clark was a miracle from which Lex needed to walk away.

'Maybe, I just need to get him out of my system,' mused Lex. Maybe, but he could never use Clark like that. No, but some unknown slut would do.

Up until tonight, Lex's being in Smallville eliminated this possibility. Now, Lex was in Metropolis with some time to spare. Now, Lex could partake of the anonymity the city offered. As the taxi came to a stop, Lex paid his fare then stepped out onto the curb with the bearings of a hunter searching for the perfect prey.

Flashing a wad of green at the doorman, Lex gained easy access to the flock. For the next half hour, Lex patrolled the masses of squirming male bodies looking for the perfect catch - Something lean and muscular in a brunette package would be perfect. Alas, Lex couldn't find anyone tall enough, fit enough, youthful enough.

Almost ready to call it quits, Lex spied his salvation by the bar. Standing amongst a small group of friends, he seemed out of place. Sure, like everybody else, the stranger resembled an extra from that WB show, Angel, but something about his face just didn't seem hard enough for this place. His hair was black, but spiked up in a fashion reminiscent of the aforementioned vampire. He was almost as tall as Clark and his build was perfect. Lex couldn't have asked for a better stand-in.

Turning on the charm, Lex moved in for the kill. Confidently, Lex introduced himself and wasn't surprised to see the man's eyes grow large at the name "Luthor." Within minutes, Lex separated the dark stranger from his buddies and pulled him onto the dance floor.

Seductively, Lex danced. Slowly, he drew the stranger closer. Placing his hands on wool-covered hips, Lex pulled him closer. Leaning forward, Lex ground their groins together as he delicately kissed the man's soft lips. With featherlike touches, Lex drew his hands up the man's sides, shoulders and neck. Threading his fingers into the man's short hair, Lex opened his mouth, taking the stranger's bottom lip between his teeth. Clenching the bit of flesh firmly, Lex slid his teeth back and forth as he flicked his tongue across the swollen, quivering lip.

Grabbing fistfuls of hair, Lex pulled away. Looking up at the stranger's eyes, Lex swore he saw a shadow of Clark in the stranger's blush. Forcefully, Lex pulled the stranger into a brutal, open-mouthed kiss.

Wrestling on the dance floor, Lex felt the man's hands. First, on his arms, braced from the shock of that powerful kiss. Next, Lex felt the hands slide up his arms only to clutch his shoulders and go no further. Freeing his left hand, Lex pulled the man's right hand off his shoulder and placed it on his hip. Though it took a few seconds, Lex felt the man grow bold and reach around to squeeze Lex's ass.

Then, Lex pulled away. Rocking his pelvis forward, Lex rubbed against the stranger's erection. Smiling, Lex was pleased at the color that rose up the man's neck and filled his face. Reaching behind his back, Lex grabbed the hand kneading his ass. Turning, Lex didn't look back as he led the stranger out the back of the club.

Outside, in the alley behind the club, dim streetlights illuminated the evidence of previous encounters in this lonely passageway. Long since dried patterns of ejaculate painted the brick. Used condoms and empty bottles of lube littered the ground. The only good thing about the dirty thoroughfare was its seclusion and ear shattering silence.

As Lex closed the back door, the sound of the music faded almost to nothing. All one could hear was the bass. Really, you felt it more than heard it. The pounding rhythm seeped up from the ground and shook Lex at the knees. Curiously, he watched as the man looked around. Walking over, Lex maneuvered himself so he pressed against the man's back. Molding his body to meet the other man's curves and lines, Lex wrapped his hands around the stranger.

Easily, Lex grabbed the man's shirt and spun him around. Reaching into his pocket, Lex pulled out a tube of oil. Lex seized the man's right hand and pressed the tube into the palm of that hand. Turning around, Lex walked over to the nearest wall and braced himself against it.

Lex expected a quick, hard fuck. Lex wanted something totally unlike Clark with someone who could sort of be Clark. What Lex got was a nervous hand that reached around and fumbled with the button on Lex's pants. Lex felt the trembling fingers as they pulled his zipper down. Lex heard a sigh as his ass was exposed after gentle hands pushed Lex's pants down off his hips. Lex started to wonder what he got himself into when he felt the man roll up his leather jacket, leaving it to rest on Lex's back, well out of the way. In disbelief, Lex felt a single, slick finger probe gingerly around his asshole before pushing inside.

Incredulously, Lex shook his head. 'Why me?' he asked, without speaking. Lex thought this is exactly what sex with Clark would feel like - soft, slow and gentle. The large hand rubbing his back could be Clark's hand. The second finger pushing slowly into his ass could easily be Clark's finger.

Finally, the man withdrew his fingers. Lex heard the sound of ripped plastic and paper as the man took out a condom. Slick and hard, the stranger entered Lex slowly from behind. After he was fully sheathed within Lex, the stranger paused to ease the tension out of Lex's lower back, rubbing the muscles with his thumbs. Soon, the stranger's strong fingers found their way to Lex's hips. Setting an easy rhythm, the man drove into Lex as he kissed the back of Lex's head. After a few minutes, Lex could feel urgency in the man's movements. Grateful to be done with this failed attempt to forget about Clark, Lex pushed back against the man's rocking hips.

'I guess the guy really isn't a dick,' thought Lex as he felt the man's hand slide forward. Wrapping his oiled hand around Lex's erection, the stranger pumped Lex with the same rhythm he used to fuck him. His head resting on his arms, Lex felt the man's chest press against his back as they slammed against each other. Absently, Lex felt the man wrap his other arm around Lex's waist, pulling Lex even closer.

By that point, nothing mattered really. In his mind, Lex felt Clark. In front of his closed eyes, Lex saw Clark. Those moans Lex heard just a second ago were Clark's - not some stranger's - Clark's.

They just had to be. Lex, wanted it so badly. They just had to be, but they weren't. As Lex came, splattering the wall and ground in front of him, he was overcome with an ache. It filled every muscle of his body. It was like a physical pain that couldn't be shrugged off. Pushing away from the wall, Lex felt the man fall away from him and stagger backwards. Without looking back, Lex pulled up his pants, tucked in his shirt and reentered the club.

--<{()}>--

Thirty Minutes Later

Luthor Penthouse

Slamming the door hard, Lex stomped into the Luthor penthouse. Without pause, he marched directly over to the full bar and poured himself three fingers of scotch - no ice this time. Kicking it back, Lex swallowed the whole glassful in one long gulp, swishing it around before letting it burn its way down his throat. Banging the tumbler down, Lex wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Leaning forward, Lex reached down and placed his hands on the smooth bar. Soon, both of Lex's hands gripped the edge of the bar, holding him in place until he found the strength to turn around.

"I see you've gone clubbing. How precious. And, home by two - How considerate," sneered Lionel Luthor from the hallway, dressed in a black robe.

Rocking a kink out of his neck, Lex pushed away from the bar. "This has never been a home, Dad."

Lex walked up to his Father. Attempting to find solace in sleep, Lex moved to go around Lionel's condescending form, but a hand on his arm stopped Lex in his tracks. The hand on Lex's arm shook him roughly when Lex didn't look at Lionel immediately. Glancing reluctantly in his Father's direction, Lex watched as his Father leaned in and hissed, "To think, I thought you had changed."

Letting go of Lex's arm, Lionel walked away from Lex. As he got to the door to his suite at the end of the hall, Lionel called back, "Do try and avoid any messy little diseases, Lex. My money can't buy everything, you know."

'Can this night get any worse?' thought Lex as he walked slowly down the hallway and opened the door next to his Father's that led to his own suite of rooms.

Inside his bedroom, Lex strolled over to the dresser opposite his bed and opened his valet. Inside, he found his cell phone and his Mother's watch. Picking up the cell phone, Lex couldn't bear to look at the watch, choosing instead to leave it there. Closing the lid, Lex turned on the cell phone and punched in a phone number from memory. On the other end, a sleepy voice sounded, "Simon, here."

"Where did Roger Nixon go after he left the penthouse?" asked Lex.

"I thought you were going to call in the morning," replied Simon, grunting and hacking as he forced himself awake.

"I decided I want to know now," said Lex with a calm, cool voice.

Simon grunted a bit more as he stood. Lex listened as Simon shuffled some papers and turned on a computer. Finally, Simon cleared his voice and said, "Alright, you're the boss. Okay. Let's see. Your pal, Roger, was followed from the penthouse to a bar called "The Purple Shamrock" where he made a phone call on his cell. Easy enough to patch into. He spoke to a woman named "Bev" who apparently works for Social Services. They discussed "Bev" giving Roger the original file of some adoption records in exchange for $10,000 dollars. They agreed to meet Tuesday at a restaurant Downtown called "Chilango's" where they will make the exchange. From there,"

"That's enough," stated Lex. Pushing the mute button on the phone, Lex let forth a string of obscenities while he punched at the wall. Bringing the phone back to his ear, Lex composed himself and pushed the mute button again.

"Simon, where is Mr. Nixon, now?" asked Lex.

"His home at 610 Reynard Way." Answered Simon.

Gripping the phone tightly, Lex ordered, "Simon, I want you to swing by the penthouse in half an hour with a couple of your boys. I want you to pay Roger a visit, tonight and I'll be tagging along for the ride."

"Mr. Luthor, it would be better if you didn't involve yourself in this. Go to a club. Go anywhere, just so long as you're seen," replied Simon.

"Thanks for the words of wisdom, but this piece of trash will never talk. Just be here in thirty minutes," said Lex.

"Whatever you say, Mr. Luthor."

The line went dead. Upon hearing the click, Lex threw the phone as hard as he could against the far wall, shattering it. Quickly, Lex ran to his bathroom and showered.

Wrapped in a towel, Lex came out of the bathroom ten minutes later. Dripping wet, Lex pulled a suit out of his closet and threw it on the bed. Scrubbing, almost scratching at his skin, Lex dried himself off. With just minutes to spare, Lex pulled on his black suit and plum shirt. Glancing at the valet, Lex debated for half a second before lifting the lid and grabbing his Mother's watch.

As he entered the elevator, Lex put on his watch, covering it quickly with his sleeve.

On the ground floor, Lex recognized Simon's obese form and bad tailoring. Flanked on both sides by one of his boys, Simon stepped forward and shook Lex's hand. Gesturing toward the hotel's entrance, Simon led Lex outside. As they waited for the valet to arrive, Simon leaned over to Lex and asked, "Are you sure about this, Mr. Luthor?"

Lex nodded, in response.

--<{()}>--

About An Hour Later

With a blunt thud, the crowbar landed squarely across the small of his back. Lurching forward, Roger Nixon felt his kidneys burn. For the second time that night, Roger soiled himself as he begged for mercy. The three men had beaten him for over a half hour with no explanation.

Already, Roger couldn't feel the left side of his face. His shoulders ached from him being held up by his arms. Two men held him while a portly man punched, kicked and occasionally used foreign objects, like the crow bar on him. His legs buckling beneath him, Roger Nixon was far beyond any desire to preserve dignity as he cried like a baby, pleading for help.

"Take a break for a while," said a shadowed figure from the back of the warehouse.

Trying to see his enemy, Roger focused his one good eye on the figure in the darkness. Slowly, the person stepped forward. The shadows fell away and Roger Nixon almost swallowed his own tongue at the sight of Lex Luthor.

"Hello, Roger. I guess you're hard of hearing, aren't you?" Lex taunted. Walking over to Roger, Lex bent down a bit to see into Roger's one good eye. "Did you really think that I wouldn't find out? It seems you haven't figured out yet, Roger that I know everything. I know about the little rendezvous you have scheduled with Bev on Tuesday. I know about the $10,000 dollar deal. I know everything, Roger."

Standing back up, Lex questioned, "Remember my rules, Roger? Like baseball, remember? Consider this, strike two. I'm going to be watching you very closely, Roger and if I even suspect that you're investigating the Kents in any way - I'll have you killed."

Stepping away, Lex walked toward the warehouse's main doors. As he pulled the door open, Lex called back, "Leave the Kents alone. This is your final warning. Remember - Three strikes and you're out."

Stepping through the doorway, Lex heard Simon resume Roger's punishment. Putting one foot in front of the other, Lex heard Roger's pitiful moans recommence as he left the warehouse behind. Walking away, Lex kept his eyes dead ahead. He didn't look back. He didn't dare look down. He couldn't. He wouldn't take the chance of glimpsing at the watch that weighed so heavily on his arm.

In his mind, Lex thought of the Kents. He thought of Clark. He thought of the trouble he was saving them. He thought about how it was he who was saving Clark, this time.

Shaking his wrist, Lex tried to stop the irritating way the band pinched at his skin. He wrapped his hand over the clock face and slid the watch over his wrist, first one way and then back the other way. For good measure, he shook his wrist once more before letting his wrist fall to his side. Again, the platinum tickled his wrist and still, Lex refused to look at it, afraid he wouldn't see a smiling face.

Author's Note:

With the next chapter, I start to seriously depart from verse. As you've probably already noticed, I've pushed up the Roger Nixon storyline. From here on out, more than ever, my "If I mention it, then it changed. If I don't mention it, it didn't change" rule applies.