Note: This is the sequel to "Away". You should probably read that first, although it's not necessary.

Feedback: Of course.

Thanks to my wonderful beta Myownspecialself. Sei forte! You know that, don't you?

Lex shifted in his seat. He could barely sit down. His father was becoming less and less careful. Before, he would punish him at the beginning of his holidays or at least try not to leave marks that could rouse suspicions. But not this time. Lex bit his lip hard, thinking that he had nearly escaped him.

He had spent a quiet vacation by himself in Metropolis, while his father was abroad on business. He had already packed his travel bag in view of his imminent departure, happy to go back to school unscathed.

And then there he was, bursting into the apartment like a storm, like Thor himself, long hair blowing about his neck and shoulders.

"Well, you're still here. I feared I was going to miss the opportunity to see you," Lionel had burst out in a thundering voice.

Lex had frozen. But still hoped his father would leave him alone.

Lionel wasn't of the same opinion.

His father had accused him of embarrassing him and staining the family name by selling drugs at school.

It wasn't exactly true. Lex organized parties and gave out drugs in order to buy his schoolmates' friendship. Or rather, to buy their indifference. In order to avoid the bullying, which had caused one of Lionel's worst outbursts the previous year. But Lex was sure that he hadn't been exposed at the boarding school. His father had to have an informer there. A teacher, or another kid. Lex hadn't had the time to think over it.

Lionel had backhanded him. And hit him with a riding-whip produced from who knows where. Hit him again and again until he had made him almost retch in the effort to choke back his tears and cries. And dragged him to the floor, where he had abused him with that same whip for what seemed an eternity.

Lex healed fast. But non that fast. He had gone back to school sore and bruised. His father probably relied on Lex's talent for lying. Then, he could be proud of him. He had made up a good story. Perhaps, the riding-whip had caught his imagination. For whoever asked, he had fallen off his horse. Luckily, he had a private room, and that inspired lie had allowed him to steer clear of the gym classes and the locker room. Thus, he was able to avoid having to justify the most suspicious bruise.

The sound of a shifted chair made him raise his head. The boy had sat down just in front of him, opposite the long library table. He knew him. Everybody knew him. The Wayne boy. Tall, dark and gloomy. Aloof, like him. They called him Spooky behind his back. Nobody dared to bully him, though. He could scare the hell out of them with a simple glare. He was seventeen, but looked like an undergraduate. And he was said to be an expert in martial arts.

Bruce stared at him, pointedly. Lex looked back at his book, embarrassed. What might he want? Lex had never had anything to do with him. Except... well, once, last year, Bruce had interposed his loomy figure between Lex and his tormentors. But he wasn't his regular protector. He just happened to be there. And he probably wasn't one to simply look on while someone was in trouble. Or perhaps they had disturbed his brooding meditations.

Lex started when the boy leaned forward. And drew back slightly when Bruce made as if to reach for his face. The boy stopped for a few moments, looking directly into his eyes. Lex kept still, and Bruce moved again, gently taking Lex's chin between his fingers. He turned it slightly, narrowing his dark eyes while inspecting the bad bruises on his face.

Lex didn't offer resistance. For a second, against his own will, he warmed himself on that simple contact, leaned into it. It was the first time someone touched him so kindly, since his mother's death.

"Those boys again?" Bruce inquired, in a hollow voice.

It was an accident, Lex was about to say. It was an accident, he should have said. He should have stuck to his story.

The words came out of his mouth in a near whisper, before he could stop them. "It was my father." He wondered why he had opened up with this boy. He didn't know him, really. He could even be his father's informer. Well, if he was, then let him know who he's working for. Lex stared at him, putting on a defiant look.

Bruce let go of his chin and kept silent for a while. "If you want, I can teach you some self-defense moves," he finally proposed.

Taken aback, Lex managed to give him a weak smile. Then he averted his eyes, ashamed. He wondered if Bruce had seen him squirm on his chair. If he had guessed the real nature of the abuse. He hoped not. He wouldn't have been able to stand it if Bruce knew. Nobody should know what his father did to him. What Lex let him do.

"I don't think I could use them," he confessed, in a small voice. He was sixteen. He had grown up. He was quite tall. He wasn't bulky, but the fencing lessons toned up his muscles. He could probably defend himself, if he tried. He didn't do it, though. Not enough. He just couldn't resolve raising his hand against his father.

Another pause, and Lex felt a lump grow in his throat. He fiercely fought back the tears that threatened to spill. The tears his father loathed so much. He looked back at Bruce, searching desperately for a hint of understanding, in those dark eyes. He found nothing. Bruce's face was expressionless. But his next words were spoken in a soft tone.

"My family house is in Gotham City. I live there alone, along with my butler. If you wish to spend the next holidays there... You'll be my guest, whenever you want."

Lex found himself at a loss. Why should Bruce do a thing like that? They weren't friends. And no one did anything for nothing, as his father would say. He realized in that very moment that it didn't matter. He didn't care about what Bruce wanted or expected. Lex had just seen a way out. At last.

"I... I'll have to ask my father," he stammered.

He was pretty sure Lionel would grant him his permission. After all, this boy was a Wayne. His father would certainly see their friendship as a potential, profitable business alliance. He wouldn't let the opportunity slip. He might even reward Lex for his far-sightedness. "I think it isn't going to be a problem," he assured the older boy.

Bruce nodded and stood. "If those boys bother you, let me know," he said, in a low voice.

"Do I look that helpless?" Lex asked, forcing a small ironic smile.

Bruce nodded again. "You look like someone who needs help. And deserves something more."

A brief, embarrassed silence. Then, he slid his hands in his pockets and went away.

Lex felt that lump in his throat again, his eyes eventually filling with tears. He bit his lip and looked about, to make sure nobody was staring at him. Reassured, he blinked, sickly relishing the unusual sensation of tears running down his cheeks, wetting his lips, leaving a salty taste. He licked them. Then he turned his attention back to the book and, through the blurry veil of tears, tried to resume where he'd left off.