My subconscious surprised me with this angsty drabble when I was feeling down. A death fic--sort of, with a happy ending; as angst as I get.

Well, Lex mused as he lay, nearly blind, weakened, and helpless; that old chestnut about one's life flashing before one's eyes prior to death appeared to be true. Only it wasn't exactly flashing--maybe because, after nearly 120 years, his death wasn't a sudden, unexpected visit from the scythed one. No, it was more like gentle flickering. As the end grew near, Lex turned inward and contemplated his life.

Flicker. Holding his dead brother. Flicker. His first presidential inauguration. Flicker. Receiving the devastating news of Superman's death. Flicker. Sipping coffee and reading in the newspaper about Clark's first Pulitzer prize. Flicker. Fire in the sky as the meteorites headed toward the Kansas cornfields. Flicker. Looking into the startled green eyes of a young man he was about to hit with his car. Flicker. His father's funeral. Flicker. The press conference announcing the repulsion of the extraterrestrial invaders.

The memories came, in no particular order, some good, some bad. On the whole, he had few regrets over his long, long life. Except, perhaps, for one.

The memories slowed, stopped, and centered on one person. Clark Kent, also known as Kal-El of the planet Krypton; his friend, his nemesis, his sun. Never a lovers, but always close, even when they were fighting. That was, perhaps the greatest regret, that the love they surely shared from the beginning was never stated, never acted upon, and was, if not destroyed, then sacrificed to humanity's greater need for leaders. Why couldn't things be simple between them? Why couldn't they have just been two men who cared for each other instead of Earth's greatest hero and one of the world's greatest leaders? The vague regret Lex felt when he thought of his friend solidified into terrifying sorrow two years ago, when Superman was killed saving the planet from an unimaginable menace from beyond the galaxy. Lex lost all the opportunities and tomorrows they could have had. Forever. Lex was unaware of the tears that leaked from his eyes to wet the pillow beneath his head.

As the medical staff hovered and the news media gathered to wait for the death of one of the richest, most influential men in history, Lex sighed in his hospital bed, shifting his weakened body as well as he could. He supposed it wouldn't be long now before he was paying the price of the meteorites' gift. After all, he had enjoyed tremendous health and seemingly endless vitality up until the very last few months of his unnaturally extended life.

Lex never noticed the tall, dark-haired young man in the nurse's uniform keeping watch among the throng of medical personnel and sycophants. As his heart failed for the last time, and the hospital room became the scene of frantic activity, Lex sank into oblivion with grateful acquiescence.

The angel was supplied a few seconds letter when a portal opened in the wall and Clark Kent walked into the room. Lex knew then he was truly dead. "Clark! Are you in heaven, too?" He knew he sounded inane, but what other explanation was there? Clark looked much as he always had, or even a bit younger. He was dressed in the casual clothes of the day, and bore a sad, but hopeful smile.

"Lex. How are you feeling?" Clark approached the bed and gave Lex a head to toe look with narrowed eyes.

"Pretty wonderful, considering I'm dead." Lex knew he wasn't making sense, but he figured that could be forgiven. It's not every day you wake up dead.

Clark smiled. "You're not dead."

"Of course I'm dead, Clark. I remember dying. And you're dead, too, so--" Lex broke off, confused. "This isn't heaven?"

"No, this isn't heaven, I'm not dead, and neither are you. Anymore." Clark raised his hand, forestalling any more questions, and said, "Wait here a moment. I'll be right back." True to his word, Clark exited the chamber and returned within a breath, holding a steaming mug of something which he offered to Lex. "Here. I thought you might want this."

It was coffee. Lex took the mug and sipped, watching Clark carefully and waiting for the explanation. Clark sat on the edge of the bed and took a deep breath. "I wasn't dead, Lex, only injured. So injured it took me nearly a year to recover. We're in my Fortress under the Antarctic right now."

Lex shook his head fretfully. Clark wasn't dead? The Antarctic? "But-" Lex paused "I remember dying, and--" he gestured toward his body. "This isn't the body I died in."

"I know, I'm trying to explain. I'm sorry I didn't contact you sooner, but I had reason to remain dead for a while. I was waiting for you."

"I'm sorry, Clark, I don't understand." Lex used the voice which had installed fear in countless minions during his public life. Clark had better explain, and fast.

"When I was injured, the Kryptonian Artificial Intelligence here in the Fortress repaired me. When you died, I, um . . . " the sheepish look on Clark's face was the same expression he so often wore as a teenager. "I stole your body and brought it here to be worked on and rejuvenated. You're not dead anymore. In fact, you're young again, just like me. Look!" And gesturing toward one wall, it became reflective.

Putting down his mug of coffee, Lex turned toward the wall and looked; looked, and saw no one he recognized. A pale, rather thin young man with short reddish blond hair and eyes that looked wide and scared looked back at him. Raising his hand, he felt the stubble of hair along his formerly bald pate. "Strawberry blonde, Clark?"

"Lex, the meteors mutated you in many ways, which is why you lived so long in the first place, and why I was able to bring you back. I asked the AI for hair for you to help with your new identity. If you don't like it, you can always shave it or dye it."

"New identity? What are you talking about? And what do you mean you stole my body!" Lex felt like he was scrambling to keep up with events and make sense of everything. Damn it! He was dead. Why did Clark always have to go and make things so complicated?

Clark inched closer to Lex and took his hand carefully. He looked scared. "Lex, when I was injured and near death, all I could think about was you. You are the most important person in my life, and always have been; even when we were fighting, even when we were not speaking to each other. I wished--" Now it was Clark's turn to break off, hesitating. "I always thought that if we had been different people, not burdened by what and who we are that it would have been different between us. I thought maybe, this way, we'd have a chance."

"A chance for what, Clark?" Hearing Clark's thoughts so eerily echo his earlier sentiments made Lex's heart speed up. "You mean . . . "

"Yes, Lex, a chance for us to be together the way we always should have been. Don't you see? Superman is dead, the great Lex Luthor is dead. It's just us, and whoever we want to be." Clark stopped here, and looked earnestly into Lex's eyes. "I love you, Lex. I always have. Do you want to take that chance with me?"

He contemplated the visage of his oldest friend, then turned to look at his new self in the reflection. Slowly, the young man in the mirror smiled. A second chance with Clark! Lex figured he might as well have died and gone to heaven after all.