All Fall Down

The door opened with a screech of rusty hinges, and Clark slid back as far as he could against the wall. Pain knifed through him at every movement. "Lex?" he gasped, but the one clear look at the hard unforgiving eyes he managed before the door slammed shut and the light dimmed again let him know nothing had changed...his vision blurred in and out mercifully.

"Please, please, why? Why are you doing this to me?"

"Why? What a stupid question! All the lies, Clark. All the lies and promises and broken words piled up and up and up until it finally snapped---that's why."

The last few words were nearly shrieked and a hand with a glittering ring gracing one of the elegant fingers swung out and smashed against his mouth, his lip broke open and blood spurt over the white knuckles. "Clean it."

The hand was all Clark could see, blood smearing the flawless skin-he licked blood from the knuckles, he cleaned the blood from the palm, licked it from the fingers, chased every bit until no smear of red marred the unblemished surface. He stopped and hung his head, he waited.

"Good boy. I have a treat for you." Clark's stomach clenched in horror. No!-"Nooo..." he shoved back frantically, tried to flatten himself against the clammy stone wall, tried to shrink into invisibility. The glowing green chains crawled and shifted against him, each move brought fresh pain lancing through his gut and bile rose in his throat, trapped there-- he'd learned to keep it down.

"You love the little toy, Clark you know you do..." the green rod glowed a poisonous emerald in the dim light, pulsing slowly, Clark's heart beat sluggishly in time with it, his head swam, and his breath rasped in and out, fear choked him, the anticipation of more pain made him gag "Please. No," he moaned, " please no...." Hot hands flung him to his side, stretched out his legs and all he could do was twist in protest. "You said you loved me-how could you, how could you hurt me like this?"

"Hurt you? Hurt you! What about all the times you hurt me--" hands grabbed him roughly, shoved him flat to his belly. "What about the times you led me to believe you wanted me, only me?"

His legs were yanked apart, his knees scraping across the rough concrete of the basement floor. The pain made him gasp-despite the constant stomach clenching, bone grinding misery of the kryptonite chains burning against his flesh, fresh pain still made him react. How did humans bear this pain without going insane?

"How about it Clark. Isn't this what you really wanted?" Fingers shoved into him, pain flashing hot and sharp through him. They sawed in and out of him, wringing gasp after gasp of agony, blood from his bitten lips flooded his mouth, his muffled cries of pain brought laughter.

"Come on, you know you want it-you always wanted to be fucked...every time you looked at me, every little smile, every word, under it all you were begging to be fucked...did you think I couldn't tell?"

The world moved, became a place where pain was all, breathing was torture, the movement of his lungs was piercing torment. His blood boiled in his veins, Please god, no-no the crystal rod slid in deep, deep, pushing raw agony before it, his bones turned to water and his blood felt like it wanted to burst from every opening. He felt it run from his nose, he felt it run in hot rivulets between his thighs.

"You're beautiful, you're amazing, you're mine forever. As long as I care to have you." The rod was gone, replaced with another, warm-- resilient; the cessation of pain was nearly as torturous as the pain itself.

A warm hand wrapped around his flaccid dick and began coaxing it slowly, slowly to life and this was the part where he wanted to die, this was the part that was always the same...

When he began pushing into the fist, it was with hopeless, horrified desire for release, a wish for death as well.

"That's it, that's the way...you like it...I always saw it, you fucking liar...I'm going to fuck your brains out, you lying bastard monster..."

Harder and harder and his knees were shredding against the concrete and he didn't care, he was groaning and crying, his muscles were tightening and it hit him always by surprise, always against his will, and always a yell of triumph echoing in his ear.

And as always he screamed for Lex, came for Lex.

He could feel the viscous streak of warm come smeared against his back.

"Ew. I hate the feel of that. See what I do for you, darling? I let you come too."

No longer being held up, Clark dropped, face-first against the cool, dank floor. He could see the crystal rod, pulsing greenly, waves of nausea rolled over him. There was blood... "Let me go, please..."

"Why should I? You never let me go. What have you ever done for me-in fact what has anyone in this crappy little town ever done for me?" Clark could make out the slim form whirling about in a fury, arms waving, the ring throwing off glints of emerald in the dim room.

The slim shadow dropped to the floor next to him, and he felt his hair gripped in a fist, his head yanked viciously upward. "You're thinking rescue, aren't you? You're thinking someone's got to come looking for you. But you're a boy who has a history of taking off, running away. Who do you think is looking for you, hm? No one!"

"Lex...."

The hand cracked across his face, the pain shuddering down to his belly.

"Shut the fuck up! Shut up! Fuck!" His head hit the floor with a crack. A foot slammed into his ribs, lifted him up and onto his back, his arms felt like they were pulling out of the sockets.

"They'll never look for you here, they'll figure you're gone--gone to Metropolis-again." An ugly snigger cut through the air. "They'll never look here---right at home, sweetheart. Right here." The footsteps moved away and he heard the door slam shut.

Where was he? It smelled of mildew and wet concrete, old, old wood, it was dark, all the time. He sobbed and the chains clinked. He was going to die in the dark, alone, no mom and dad, no one to help him...Lex...Lex... "Lex," he mumbled, rubbing dirt and dust into his cheeks, smearing it with tears of pain.

Who would rescue him before Lana killed him?

*There he sits, clad in black like a crow...black and purple like a starling, like a vulture, waiting for someone to die, waiting for someone to tell him...He doesn't see me. Or he sees me, but only the me defined by Clark. I hate Clark. Hate. Hate when that naked hairless thing looks at me now, eyes burning in that death's-head. Death. So full of grief. It's delicious. It's laughable, so funny it's a scream...wanting his fucking little boyfriend. Wanting to fuck his little boyfriend. Wishing he'd fucked him I bet. That's all that interests him, all he thinks about, all he wants. Clark, Clark, Clark. Hello. I have what you want...

Look at him, flooding the air with sorrow until you can smell it, taste it, pouring off of him thick as cream, dragging his despair behind him like...like gluey streams of molasses, sickening freak... he grieves so hard, so silently it's creepy...the vulture's ruining business. God, I hate him. I hate him for keeping what should have been mine alone from me. It's his fault the boy's suffering...it's his own fault he's suffering. Grieving. We're all grieving. The whole town's lost its golden boy. It's innocent hero.... ha. Not so innocent anymore. Bet that crow would be insane with anger if he knew-bet he wouldn't want his little boyfriend so much if he knew. His perfect prince is spoiled. Not virginal anymore, you bitch. Maybe you'll be next. I have time, and I'm enthusiastic enough. Um, don't laugh. He's looking*.

There was a tiny sound at his side, the softest hesitant touch at his elbow and Lex looked up into Lana's sad eyes, so full of sympathy it took him a moment to respond-he had to work to swallow around the lump in his throat.

"Lex, she spoke quietly, "I brought some coffee...you look all out."

He gratefully reached for the steaming mug. "Yeah, I'm getting to the point where the caffeine doesn't really help anymore." He chuckled. "It's just the fact it's hot now that's keeping me up."

He tried to keep a brave face for the young girl, but he knew full well what he looked like. The mirror in the bathroom had been unpleasantly clear...his eyes were surrounded by purple shadows; his cheeks looked too sharp, pale, sunken....

"Lex, when was the last time you ate-or slept?" Lana squeezed his shoulder gently. "You need some rest. You aren't going to do Clark any good if you end up in the hospital."

The map in front of him was criss-crossed with lines, notes scattered across it in fierce red. He smoothed his hand over it. "I've put a grid over the map of Metropolis," he said, continuing as though she'd never spoken. "I've got men going over every square inch of the city. Every square inch. If Clark's anywhere in Metropolis, I'll find him."

"Well, most of the kids around here that run away head to the city...he has before...he's there. I'm sure of it."

She sounded so completely positive that Lex managed a smile. "I hope you're right Lana. I don't know how long the Kent's can hold out. They're at the edge of it now...I'm afraid it won't take much to push them over."

Lana watched the play of emotion over Lex's face, hope, sorrow...guilt? He looked exhausted and worn out and it took all her will power not to laugh, not to smack him. Who cares-who gives a damn about them...wait till they find out what been happening to their son. "You're a good person Lex. A good friend. You know...it's a shame that the Kents will never invite you fully into their little circle. Look at how hard you're working for them-even though you know they'll never trust you." She looked at him with all the pity she could muster in her eyes.

Lex jerked his head back a little, he looked wounded but agreed. "I know. I'm not under any illusions so far as the Kents go. Besides, this is for Clark, not out of any hope the Kents might ever come to think favorably of me. I know they're using me, but I'm happy to be there...for Clark's sake." The knowledge of how little the Kents cared for him gleamed in his eyes. It looked as if the pain of that knowledge was physical. It could hardly get more delicious than this-but she was willing to try to make it so.

She smiled and patted his shoulder, rubbed it a little before she moved away. Lex turned back to the map, Lana forgotten almost instantly, until she returned and re-filled his cup.

"Thanks," he murmured, and returned all his attention to the map, and the laptop he'd opened. She watched him for a minute, luxuriating in his misery.

"Oh, don't thank me Lex, it's nothing." It's so hard-not to laugh. God this is more fun than I thought it'd be. Clark is going to love the strap-on tonight. She held her hand close to her face. Oh yes, that's Lex's cologne. He'll be able to smell it. We'll see what fun I can make with this....

The door screeched open, the sound bringing him out of his drowsy state to instant attention. She had a tray this time. Clark could smell soup, and fruit punch. He wondered what time it was. He wondered what day it was.

She set the tray down and walked around him, unloosing the chains enough for him to move a little more freely, move his arms enough to grab the cup of soup and gulp it down. She waited to replace them, letting the soup settle in his gut, this time snapping them around his ankles and wrists. The burn was sharp at first, the skin at this new place the chains touched felt as if it were trying to crawl off his bones. When the pain settled to a dull grinding throb, he drank the punch quickly before she took it back, and moved away from her, scooting until his back was flat against the wall.

"Later, I'll let you use the bathroom. You can take a shower tonight. I take care of you Clark. I care about you. Remember, no one else does."

She walked around him, and crouched in front of him, looking into his face. She blurred in and out, and he narrowed his eyes, trying to focus on her face. "They stopped looking for you Clark. He stopped looking for you. In fact, he's looking for something else now, something else entirely." She ran her hands between her legs, and reached out for Clark. He jerked back and she yanked him forward, rubbed her hand over his face. "I don't think he's worrying about you much now."

Clark smelt Lex's cologne. It was unmistakable. It was Lex's alone, a special blend made only for him, and Clark knew it like he knew the scent of himself. Tears filled his eyes. He'd hoped. He'd fantasized. He'd kept himself from screaming out his sanity with the thought that Lex cared, that he was coming...but he wasn't.

"He waited a bit before you...disappeared, but he came after me, he wanted me all this time, like you claimed to. You thought he wanted you? Thought you'd wait until you were sure about what you wanted? Heh-he never wanted you. It was delusion. All of it's delusion Clark, little prince of lies. You imagined it all." Clark felt his head swim; he leaned forward and tucked his head between his knees. Lana was still crouched in front of him. She pulled his head up by a handful of hair. "Wake up you bitch-fuck!"

She leaped up but not quickly enough, Clark vomited up the punch and soup, splattering her, his knees, the floor, he gagged on after his stomach had nothing left to rid itself of.

She struck him-punched him in the face with the hand that wore the stone. The sound of his flesh tearing filled the cell, or so it seemed to Clark. He dropped to his back. She grabbed sections of the chains and dragged him out of the mess, and screamed, "You pig, you bastard, you fucking freak!! My clothes, my clothes..."

She grabbed handfuls of his hair again and yanked his head up to her. "Do you have any fucking idea how hard it is to find pants this shade of pink-any fucking idea?"

She shook him hard, so hard his jaw flew open and he groaned in pain. She slapped him, slapped him again and again, until finally, weak, nauseous and hurting as he was-- Clark snapped. He wanted her dead. He wanted to hurt her, kill her. He let his mouth fill with blood and spat it out, over her shirt, into her face. She jerked back...stunned into silence. She let his head fall out of her grip. She stood.

"All right Clark. All right." She left the room.

Clark was pretty certain that she intended to kill him. He couldn't work up the will to give a damn.

When she returned, it was worse than any other time. This time, she used the chains on his wrists and ankles to pull him wide, expose him and it was worse than being hunched over, arms locked over his chest.

This time was more than horrible...this time she was gentle.

This time, she worked him open by slow degrees, tender as a first time lover, warm gel worked into him, kisses light as feathers rained down on his belly, his dick, over his hole, her tongue ran over and over the ring of muscle until he couldn't help himself, tears ran from his eyes as he got hard. She ran slick fingers slowly in and out of him and spoke.

"This could have been Lex, this could have been him kissing you, tasting you," She licked a stripe around his navel, fucked it briefly with her tongue and he hissed, his hips lifting, the chains shifted and he moaned. "This could have been Lex telling you how much he wanted you, how hot you were inside, how tight..."

Clark jerked his head from side to side. " No, no..."

She whispered harshly, "Oh yes, these could have been Lex's lips around you, tasting, feeling you throb in his mouth." She tapped the head of his dick, licked away pre-come that welled up, and Clark cried out, and begged silently for Lex to forgive him-this seemed the ultimate betrayal-that he could feel desire, in the midst of this pain, that he could still want.

She drew him into her mouth, sucked him deep inside and he cried out as she sucked his dick and fucked him with her fingers and sent thrill after thrill that curdled his soul shivering through him. Not even the constant dull throb of pain as the chains shifted against him could stop the excitement that rose inside of him, that at the same time turned his stomach and made him feel sick, dirty.

When she entered him he tried to blank his mind, tried not to think about Lex but it was impossible. Every thrust she told him that Lex would never do this to him, that Lex would spit on him now, that he was filthy and disgusting-- look at how much he loved it-he wanted to be treated like this.

His dick strained against his belly, dragging wet trails over his skin as she pushed into him, harsher, harder, she grinned at him, gasped and came, moaning and grinding against the vibrator coupled to the strap on, oblivious to the pain she caused him...before he could breathe again, she pulled out and shoved the kryptonite wand home.

Clark screamed. Sweat burst out on his skin and the pain ripped through him like barbed wire being pulled through his body from his ass to his throat--his heart pounded against his ribs- his veins crawled under his skin like burning snakes. He screamed and screamed and screamed. She watched him.

"You're not human. Not any more...you're like Greg and Sean and Tina...and me."

She leaned close to him and opened her mouth, moaned loudly. "Delicious, delicious, your pain...it fills me...your despair, tastes so good. Give it to me Clark, let me eat you up."

She touched his fever hot skin with splayed fingers and leaned back. Her throat worked and she licked her lips. "You have no idea," she groaned. "God, it tastes better than anything I've ever had...I need you." She dropped her head after a moment and shivered.

"Um, that was delicious. Oh, look, you came. Isn't that sweet," she grinned. She stood and left him, drained and weeping on the wet concrete.

Lex spent his time coordinating his teams, combing through the mass of information received in a constant stream from dozens of sources...everything that seemed even mildly promising he shared with the Kents, he chased down any sighting of his friend that had even the barest hint of plausibility himself. His days were spent flying in and out of the city, heading off his dad, Gabe, Clark's friends...he ate only when he absolutely had to, he had Toby keep him up for days on end until finally the man refused to give Lex any more of the cocktail of stimulants he'd been shooting up him with, swore that if Lex didn't take a break he'd knock him out instead.

Still Lex went at it relentlessly, single-mindedly, like a man possessed. He drove himself harder and farther, until it was only matter of time before he burned himself out completely.

Jonathan walked up the stairs to the study where the butler assured him that Lex was. He had a covered dish in his hands, because Martha refused to believe that Lex's cook had any idea how to care for a young boy. He sucked in a shaky breath. Well, if there was anything Martha knew about, it was caring for young boys.

He dashed at his eyes. Damn, he was so tired, it was getting harder and harder for him to control his emotions. He waited outside the study door until his eyes were dry, and he was in control again.

" Lex?" He called softly as he poked his head around the doorframe. "Lex?" No answer. Was he in there, or was he lounging around somewhere in this over decorated pile of stone? Jonathan walked in, looking about at the display of wealth and shook his head. The rich...he glanced towards the far end of the study. There he was, at his desk-Oh my God!Jonathan's heart nearly stopped. He dashed over to the desk, tossing the dish to the coffee table nearby.

Lex was head down on the desk, his cheek pressed against the glass, his arms splayed across scattered piles of folders, a snowdrift of paper around his feet.

Jonathan grabbed his arms, his heart hammering in his chest. He drew in a deep breath, ready to yell for help, until he realized a corpse wouldn't drool-and at the same moment relief that Lex was unharmed made him weak enough that his knees sagged, Lex surged up, wide awake and wild eyed, his hands around Jonathan's throat and his teeth bared in a snarl.

"What the fu-Mr. Kent!" Lex let go as if he held a live coal. "I-I'm sorry, please forgive me--" he staggered back and blinked blearily. He swept a hand over his head and rubbed the back of his neck. "Jesus," he muttered, looking around his desk. "What a mess."

"Lex, when's the last time you slept in your bed?" Jonathan asked gently-suddenly, he didn't see a ruthless businessman, acting concern for a supposed friend in order to look good to the town, to the media. He saw a kid not much older than Clark, almost in over his head, trying his damndest to help out a family that barely acknowledged him...he sighed deeply. Be honest- he was the one that never gave Lex the credit he deserved...he was the one turning him away at every point. Rejecting him because he was Lionel's son.

He looked at him, really looked at him, and his hear t went out to him. This kid was at the end of his rope, he thought. He'd never seen Lex like this--he looked starved, rumpled and wrinkled and... Jonathan wrinkled his nose-in need of a shower.

"Come on, get a bag. You're coming home with me."

Lex looked up from the desk, where he'd been trying to shuffle his files into some kind of order, completely stunned. "What?"

"Get some things. You're coming home where we can keep an eye on you." Jonathan held out his hand, and pulled Lex to his feet when he gripped it. He held on to his hand and asked him if he needed help to get a bag together.

Lex's eyes filled before he could help himself. "No-I mean...I don't..."

"See," Jonathan said. "You need a nap, a bath, some food-and someone to make you do that. Let's go, son."

Lex let out a sob-swung away from Jonathan and covered his face with one arm. "God-sorry, sorry I'm being ridiculous-please-- ignore me. I'm...I'm still half asleep. I guess." He scrubbed his hands viciously over his face.

Jonathan put an arm around the boys shoulder. "When did you sleep last, Lex?"

" Before this afternoon? I--I'm not sure, yesterday? The day before? Sorry..."

"Stop apologizing. I'm sorry! We're sorry. We've just been letting you do it all---I never thought--"

Lex still had his hands over his face, and when he spoke again Jonathan had to lean in close to hear him. "I love Clark-I'd do anything for him, anything. He's my lifeline-I need him...I love him so much..."

Jonathan paled. Shit. Lex was so out of it-he'd just confessed he loved Clark-and he was pretty sure he meant more than as a brother. He became aware that Lex had run down, was silent. He looked into his face and it was white, pale as death, sweat stood out on his skin, and he looked stricken, horror struck. He opened his mouth a few times, but nothing came out.

Jonathan winced. "It's okay, Lex, it's okay. I guess it should have been obvious. You've been so frantic, so deeply concerned...hell, even I can tell you're suffering. It's okay, I swear it. Clark-does-did--does he feel the same?"

Lex shook his head. "No. Maybe...I don't know. I-I wanted to think it was possible..."

Jonathan nodded. "Let me take you home."

Lex gasped and wiped at his red eyes. "Home? Oh. Thank you," he choked, and let Jonathan guide him out of the study with a steady hand on his shoulder.

Lex was in the tub upstairs and Martha and Jonathan sat at the kitchen table. Jonathan stared at the scarred tabletop, traced the nicks and scratches that over the years his son had etched into the surface. "He says he loves Clark."

Martha nodded. "It makes sense. That explains his dedication. Good."

"Good?"

"Lex will never give up until he finds Clark. Lex doesn't let go easily of the things he loves."

"Martha!" Jonathan looked at the woman across from him. He knew she could be determined and headstrong-her father had found that out-but this woman...she looked icy, unrelenting-

"I'll use anything and anyone I have to get my son back. I love Lex, but I need my son back."

"I agree, Mrs. Kent. I need him back, too. I understand." Lex stood in the doorway; skin still flushed pink from his bath, wearing his rumpled dress pants, and one of Clark's flannel shirts. He ran a hand down the front. "I hope you don't mind, it was hanging on a hook on the bathroom door, and...and." He stopped.

"Of course not." She held her arms out and he came into them hesitantly, as if afraid she might change her mind. She hugged him fiercely. "Sleep now-tomorrow is another day. You go upstairs to Clark's room and go to bed, okay?"

Jonathan made a small noise, a half-hearted sound of protest, but Martha ignored him. "Go on dear. Lay down. I'll make something for you to eat later."

He nodded and left the room, going upstairs to Clark's room, to sleep in his bed.

"What do you think?" Jonathan asked, lines furrowing his forehead. "Do you think Clark-I mean, Lana...he talks-well, he did talk about her a lot." Understanding began to dawn. "Oh."

Martha nodded. "I think, I think it's mutual. They may not know it yet. But it is."

Jonathan looked drained. "Yep. I figured that." He stood and held his hand out to Martha. "Come on, sweetheart. You gave Lex some good advice. Let's take it too. The couch has a spot with your name on it. Relax a little until Lex wakes up."

Clark shook, he was cold all the time now, cold and weak and tired. So tired of trying to hold on. He'd stopped caring about what happened to him, what did it matter--the outcome was so obvious. He lay on his side in the dark and wondered when he was going to die, wished he could stop dreaming....

Some times he thought he was waking up in his bed at home, under his warm covers, shuddering at the nightmare he'd had. Sometimes he heard his parents, sometimes they called his name like they were searching for him--sometimes they laughed and told him how weak and pathetic he was. Lex talked to him sometimes, told him how disgusting he was, how perfect Lana was and how much he loved fucking her, how glad he was that Clark was going to die...there were times, though, that he told Clark how much he loved him, cried and told him how much he wanted to be with him. Clark sobbed when he woke from those dreams. They hurt so much worse then the dreams in which Lex told him that he hated him.

Lana was getting more and more angry with him. The things she did to him were having less effect-it was as if a level of pain had been reached that couldn't be surpassed. The kryptonite...he felt the weight of it constantly...the pain-it was becoming all of his world, a part of him. He couldn't remember what it was like not to feel it all the time.

Once she drove shards of it into his hands, his feet...she seemed to think that was terribly funny. That had been...awful. His throat bled from time to time if he shouted too loud, damaged from having the wand pushed down his throat. "Imagine that it's Lex," she'd grinned.

But she was tiring of the game. He felt it, the way she looked at him, she stalked around his body like a tiger, sniffing, considering.... "You don't taste good anymore. You've given up. The flavor...it's flat."

She sat next to him and stroked his back, ignoring the way his skin shivered and twitched at her touch. "You know, there are a lot of delicious people out there, waiting for me...your parents, Lex...Chloe... What do you think she'd do if I screwed her-I could, you know, let her take your place. All you'd have to do is watch. Do you think any of them would volunteer to take your place?"

Clark groaned, fear for his friends making him swim back to the surface, breaking him out of the dark warm place in his mind he was trying to create. "Don't..." It hurt to talk, and that little bit made her smile. "It's sweet that you're trying to make me happy, but I think-I think I'm going to have to find a new playmate. Please don't imagine I haven't enjoyed you, I have. But I think we're growing apart. Oh, it's me, it's not you," she smirked and pinched him, chuckled when he jumped slightly, " No, you've been great."

She stood and pulled the door open, the screech of rusty hinges made his eyes close. "Oh, by the way, Lex has never stopped looking for you." She watched the shudder roll through him. "I know-let's let him find you! With or without your head? Umm...doesn't that smell good! I wouldn't think you had it in you any more, Clark."

Clark closed his eyes, they burned under his eyelids, they felt grainy and raw and they stayed dry. He didn't have any more tears to give. Mom...Dad...Pete...Chloe-they filled his mind; he saw them clearly, calling him, begging him for help. Lex. Find me, please, find me....

Lex lay in Clark's bed and looked around the small room. It was a typical boys room, the only thing missing were posters--girls, cars, bands--the usual boy things...instead there were star charts and pictures from space, photos of his friends stuck to the wall randomly...he noticed there were no pictures of him-he was surprised how much it hurt.

The sound of the television downstairs was barely audible, they were listening to the news, of course. Other sounds kept him slightly on edge; creaking sounds he knew full well were the sounds an old house, but his exhausted mind kept trying to make into words. He heard Clark whispering his name, heard him asking for help. Frustrated, he pulled the pillow over his head to block the sounds and it hit him like a punch to the gut-the scent of Clark, stronger than the shirt he'd worn, stronger than the blanket he'd wrapped himself in. Clark. He lay still, and held the pillow like a lover. He pushed his cheek against the wash-worn cotton and inhaled again and again and tried to see Clark, the Clark that lived in his mind, happy, smiling so wide, eyes sparkling whenever he looked at him...that little grin he got sometimes when he thought about teasing him unmercifully but never did...why didn't Clark ever tease him?

Lex blanked his mind for a moment, wrestled for control-he blinked rapidly and when his eyes were dry and he didn't feel as though he were trying to breathe around a lump in his throat, he let his thoughts turn back to Clark. He rolled to his side, the pillow clutched to him; he thought about Clark, and drifted from sadness to mild arousal-that felt wrong, laying in his bed, holding his pillow and getting hard-but the smell of Clark filled his nose, and scent...did things to him, the smell of cotton and faint scent of sweat, soap and a hint of something spicy, some cologne maybe...his dick shifted and pushed against the cotton sleep pants he wore--Clark's.

He sighed and reached out to the night stand next to the bed, opened the drawer there. There was bound to be-tissues, and lotion, yes, he figured there would be. A smile flitted over his face before he closed his eyes and thought... He imagined Clark's hand, rubbing slow circles over his stomach, winding it's way down, touching him, maybe he'd be a little nervous, hesitant...he'd show him how to touch him, hold his hand over Clark's and guide him, big hand wrapping him nearly from base to head, warm, warm...Lex sucked in a small gasp of surprise and came quietly, quickly, his orgasm flowed out of him and he barely moved, but for a moment he felt safe, safe enough to drift off to sleep.

Three days had passed since Jonathan picked him up and shoved him back into sanity, and in that time, he hadn't left the farm. He was more than willing to get up before the crack of dawn with Jonathan, and help as much as he could. He mucked out the stalls, helped in the milking sheds and did what he could to be productive, to wear himself out. He kept in touch with Gabe, kept track of what was going on at the plant and what needed his help, he spoke with his security chief every few hours, sure that he was driving the man insane and not giving a damn, he needed to keep on top of the investigation and at the same time, suffered blinding guilt for not being involved with every single aspect of the search for Clark. He kept it at bay by working, working...

He decided that Martha would appreciate it if he weeded the small flower garden along the side of the barn, and was searching for tools when he heard noise from the storm cellar. He crept up on the source, hoe at the ready-if it was whoever had taken Clark, he intended to kill them---after he'd found out what they'd done with Clark... It was Jonathan, standing over a metal sculpture...piece of farm equipment...metal-what the hell was it? "Jonathan?"

Jonathan started violently and whirled around, his shadow edged eyes were wild and large, his mouth was open, a myriad expressions flowed over his face and then-like a door being slammed to, he looked cold and hard--dangerous. "I wish you hadn't seen this, Lex," he said, and his lips pressed together in to a thin harsh line.

Lex's first thought was 'God, I think he's going to kill me.' He backed away and Jonathan moved forward, glowering-and in the next instant he seemed to deflate, his shoulders sagged, his mouth softened, and turned down. "Jesus." He sighed. He drew his fingers through his hair. "Lex-sit down."

Lex practically dropped to the ground, hoe in his hand forgotten as he stared at the thing on the ground.

"I'm going to tell you this because there's no point in lying now, and-and I can't ...there's nothing I can do now. Whoever took Clark probably knows about it anyway. I think-if I'd told you this before...well, it may or may not have made a difference. Martha and I, we're afraid it may be the reason they took Clark. we're afraid...."

He looked so lost and scared Lex began to be more afraid. This thing, was it what Clark wouldn't tell him? This was about his secrets, what made him pull away, made him deny Lex what he needed most desperately-- trust, trust from Clark, trust in Clark.

Lex sat on the dust-covered floor, stunned into silence.

Jonathan had spun him a tale that defied belief. He spun him a tale straight out of an old black and white Twilight Zone...that's where they definitely where, the Twilight Zone. Somehow, he'd walked into the storm cellar and into an alternate universe. If he tried to move, would Jonathan wish him into the cornfield?

"I know everything I'm telling you sounds bizarre...all right, insane-but it's true." Jonathan knelt in front of Lex, laid his hands over Lex's ice cold ones, clutched on his knees. "Lex...you hit him with your car. If he were human, he'd be dead. Everything he's done he's been able to do because of what he is." "So...you're telling me your ...son...is an extra-terrestrial? That he came from some distant solar -system?" Lex closed his eyes and laughed weakly, but didn't move his hands from under Jonathan's. "This is his secret? God-he's not a mutant, he's...he's not human?" Lex's mind raced, why would they deny him-everyone--this wonderful, amazing knowledge, what wonderful things could be learned from Clark-what could he tell them about distant worlds, what kind of technological advances would his -his ship give up? What made Clark tick...suddenly he understood why, shame and guilt filled him as his stomach flipped. Shit. He shivered from head to toe, opened his eyes and looked into Jonathan's worry filled face.

"You're wondering if you can trust me, you're wondering if right now I'm thinking of how to use this information to my advantage, aren't you? You might be wondering what you can do with my body...maybe you should be wondering that." His throat felt like it was being squeezed slowly shut, and he fought to breathe calmly.

Jonathan looked sad, and old, and sounded so tired when he spoke again. "No. I'm wondering how much you love him."

"I love him enough to give up anything I need to, including my life. I don't want to see the--the spaceship until Clark is back with us. After he's safe again, I'll do everything I can to make sure nothing like this will ever happen to him again, not as long as I live. You have my word on it."

Jonathan searched the face in front of him, so frightened but determined. He nodded. He'd watched this young man throw himself into the search for Clark as though his life depended on it-he'd seen his eyes burning with the need to have him back. He'd watched him around the farm, and he was finally beginning to get an accurate measure of this man. There was something...dangerous and wild in him, but also there was an old-fashioned sense of what was honorable inside him. Jonathan sighed. He had the feeling he may not always like what Lex did, but when he gave his word, he'd keep it. He could be trusted. Besides, he knew how to deal with young hotheads. He ought to...he grinned briefly, startling Lex. Yeah, he was pretty damn sure how to deal with a hot head.

He stood and held his hand out to Lex. "Come on, son. Let's get cleaned up, and get some lunch." Lex grabbed his hand and pulled himself up. "So...who gets to tell Martha you know?" Lex tripped over the hoe at his feet. He righted himself and looked down his nose at Jonathan. "I'm going to assume you enjoyed seeing me flail?"

Jonathan snickered. Sure he liked Lex, but still...it was too much fun to ruffle his feathers. Lex glanced at him quickly and smiled. Jonathan knew-it was the briefest break in a world of sorrow. Lex didn't mind providing it.

Martha held the basket of muffins tightly; she kept her eyes straight ahead as she moved through the Talon. She was tired of well-wishers, tired of the pity in everyone's eyes, sick of the vultures that waited to hear the worst. The rumors about her son flew fast and furious now, sympathy being replaced by gossip and malicious lies...typical small town...crap! she thought fiercely and tightened her grip on the basket. By the time she reached the counter and Lana, her knuckles were white.

"Hello, Martha, I felt so guilty asking you to bake when you're certainly not up to it-I know that every day, it's a hardship for me to go about my normal life while Clark's missing, poor thing-I can just imagine how horrible it must be for you." Lana's eyes shimmered with unshed tears. Martha stiffened slightly. "Yes, I'm sorry for you," she said and tried not to sound as cold as she felt. Could the girl possibly be that self-involved?

"Oh, how sweet of you to worry about me-that sweetness just runs in your family, doesn't it. Clark's just as dear as you are.". Martha bristled-she seemed determined to speak Clark's name as often as she could and damn it-every time Lana said his name, her heart beat faster, her throat hurt. She wished the child would stop.

Lana leaned toward her, a sad smile curving her lips, her eyes swimming with sympathy. Her hand curved around Martha's and squeezed and for a moment it seemed uncomfortably intimate, the girl's hand slid up her wrist, and pulled away.

She peeked under the towel covering the basket and cooed, "So, what wonderful things have you made for us, oooh, banana nut, love that, and pumpkin, oh how nice for the season---don't you love it when the leaves start to turn, and all the children get so excited about new school clothes, I remember all of us so excited to get the latest fashion, except for Clark-strictly a flannel boy, that one-oh! I'm sorry, how thoughtless of me!" But she seemed to glow, her eyes seem to sparkle and Martha felt a stab of...anger towards the girl.

Lana looked at her, mouth turned down and sighed. "Mrs. Kent, it hurts me to see you so full of pain. I'm sure Clark's fine, I'm sure he'll come home when he realizes how much he's hurting everyone. Clark's always been a little self-centered. You know what I mean. He's a boy full of secrets, isn't he?" she took the basket from Martha and set it on the counter, turned back to her with a big smile and her sparkling eyes. "He's so capable of taking care of himself. I just know he's fine and probably thinking of us right now, I can just feel it!"

I just feel like smacking that grin off your face. Martha felt more and more angry-it felt like the child was baiting her, but why...she glanced down at the counter, where Lana was brushing crumbs away. Her ring flashed in the light and Martha managed to swallow a gasp.

"Oh, you like my ring?" she said when she noticed Martha's gaze "Isn't it darling?" She held it up so Martha could see it better, and it flashed a poisonous green in the light from the windows. "I had it made from a stone I found in a field-- not far from the fire Clark saved me from, remember? It's amazing how he's always right where when I need him. You can imagine how awful I feel that I can't be there for him, where ever he is."

Martha watched the girl and was furious. Something...something was off, twisted... "Clark thinks of you all the time, I'm sure. He cares a lot about you," she managed to say.

Lana laughed. "Oh, he does, I'm sure he does. I imagine he sees my face everyday...in his dreams." She looked at Martha serenely. "We're connected in a special way, you know. Why, we're practically soul mates, I feel. Don't you?"

Martha nodded slowly and thought, witch. You. You've done something to my baby. God help you if I find out... "Thank you Lana, I'll be on my way now. Lex has a lead...not a likely one but still..."

"Of course, I'll send one of the girls over with a check for you? I'd come myself but after school activities and this place just eat up my time, you understand."

She stroked Martha's hand again, licked her lips and Martha managed to restrain herself from shuddering and yanking her hand away. "That would be just fine, thanks."

She left the Talon and headed for the truck, and tried to understand what had happened. What was going through that girl's head? She passed Lana's car and glanced inside. Something in the back seat made her jerk to a stop. A rag-a wadded up piece of blue flannel. She glanced towards the Talon and leaned against the car window to take a closer look. Flannel shirts were a dime a dozen in Smallville but she'd bet her life that was Clark's, stained and torn and...her son's. Her eyes filled with tears and she fought her first instinct to run back into the Talon and choke that heifer until she told her the truth. She looked over her shoulder again, fury warring with a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. This was Smallville, where anything can and did happen. Lana could have been affected by the meteor stone, in such a way as to make her do something to Clark, and really, she didn't give a flying goddamn what it was-she just wanted her baby back and that-that witch knew something. A chill ran down her spine and she tried not to think of the meteor mutants this town had been afflicted with....

She hurried to the truck and climbed in...she looked back to the coffee shop and Lana stood in the doorway, waving, smiling.

Martha clenched the steering wheel and ground her teeth, furious tears spilling over her cheeks. She was afraid to move, if she moved just the slightest bit, she was going to leap out of the truck and beat the living hell out of that crazy little...bitch. She threw the truck into drive and roared out of the parking lot. She thought about what her next step was-Lex had to know. Jonathan...might not understand. But Lex would. He'd know--Lana had been playing with her, batting her around like a cat playing with a mouse.

There was a clue in what she said somewhere, something that would tell them where he was and Lana had dangled it in front of her and enjoyed doing it. Martha caught herself, she was flying way over the speed limit, her heart was pounding, and she was on fire with anger. She slowed down-she needed to get home safe, stay safe to save Clark.

Lex and Martha sat together in the loft. Jonathan was asleep finally and she asked Lex to sit with her she explained what had happened at the Talon that afternoon. Lex looked furious.
"I believe you're right Martha, she definitely knows something. Her behavior is...very familiar to me. I've dealt with that sort of thing my whole life. She's playing with you, yes."

"Then lets take the bitch out."

Lex sat back on the couch, he had to say, he was more than a little surprised. His father played at being cold and ruthless but he had nothing on Martha. There was steel in her look as she outlined what she'd like to do to the girl.

Lex gently guided Martha away from homicide and back to practicality. "We'll plan our next move tomorrow-tonight I'm going to see what I can do to find out where she could be holding Clark. Martha, I'm pretty sure he's still in Smallville."

"I agree. She hasn't left town-he's here."

"May I--may I ask...how can she be holding him? Ever since Jonathan told me about Clark's...abilities, I've been convinced Clark left on his own... now I have to ask---how could anyone hold him against his will?"

Martha looked at him in surprise. "Jonathan didn't tell you about the meteor rock, the effect it has on Clark?"

Lex shook his head, not really surprised that Jonathan didn't confide all in him, even though it did sting a bit...

"That's partially what made me suspect her-she has a ring made from the stone. The stone causes Clark to lose all his super-human strengths---and in fact, it's poisonous to Clark. We're nearly certain that enough of it and prolonged exposure could...could kill him."

Lex felt his heart sink. Something could hurt Clark. It made him cold-he wasn't invincible, he could be hurt, maybe killed-Lex shivered. They had to find him right away. Whatever it was that Lana was doing, it definitely not a good sign that she had the one substance that could seriously harm Clark on her person.

Lex spent the rest of the evening searching the newspaper archives, searching for instances where Clark had anything to do in the rescue of people in trouble-instances involving Lana.

There were surprisingly few mentions of Clark in the paper. In such a small community it hardly seemed possible. The few articles he did find were mostly fluff pieces-community interest stories that centered around the high school. Of course, there were no mention of the times he'd helped Lex, except the very first one-and a spin doctored account of the hostage incident at the plant. He snorted. It had all the hallmarks of an article prepared by his dad's people.

He continued scrolling through the archives, looking for something, anything-and there it was...local high school students rescued from fire... Yes. This had to be it.

Fire at Wandering Hills...house completely destroyed in the fire...Kent, son of Jonathan Kent....Lana Lang. He saved Lana Lang....

"Not far from the fire Clark saved me from, remember? It's amazing how he's always right there when I need him."

Bitch...he was going to kill her....

All of his advice to Martha vanished in a red haze. Lex raced out to his car and leaped in, spraying gravel as he tore down the drive. Wandering Hills, he knew where the house had been.

He drove like a maniac down the unlit country road, speeding into the dark. His mind raced-what could he do to stop her, what if he was too late-no. He wasn't, he refused to believe it was too late--would Lana have played with Martha like that if Clark were...dead?

Why, why would she kidnap Clark? Was she that much in love? Could the mutation have made her think she had to do that?

He tore onto the shoulder of the road and left his car, he raced through the over growth blocking what had been the driveway of the house. Branches whipped at him, slapping him painfully, he snagged his clothes on sharp spurs and tripped over vines -it seemed as if the woods wanted to keep him away. It was dark as a dungeon and like an idiot he'd forgotten to take a flashlight...and left his gun under the front seat, goddamn it. He stopped and briefly considered turning back, calling for help, but he ran on. He didn't need a gun to deal with Lana for god's sake and if there were more people than her involved-well, Ray taught him pretty good. He was sure that he could handle a few teens with a grudge or whatever this was.

The shrubs finally gave way and in the light of the moon, he could make out the burnt out hulk of the house. His stomach dropped. There was nothing left-it was burnt to the ground, nothing but a few blackened beams reaching up to the sky-nothing, damn it. He'd been wrong...unless there were outbuildings still left. He ran to the rear of the property, plunged into the scrub brush again, his heart pounding as he searched. Finally he had to admit, there was nothing. No buildings, no house. Nothing.

He staggered back to the burnt shell, his chest squeezing as he drew in panicked breaths. He dropped to the ground heedless of the filth, scared, frustrated, hurting-he felt like screaming, tearing at the ground-he threw his head back and let it go-he let the scream rip out of his throat, a wordless howl of rage and frustration, and pain...

Clark jerked out of a doze, his head was spinning and his mouth was open, dry-so dry it hurt to swallow, felt like his lungs were flat, like he wasn't getting air...

He thought he'd heard Lex. Another nightmare. Lex had been screaming, and screaming-no, he was calling his name. He was still calling his name. Clark shook. He was having hallucinations again. Not as horrible as the one with his mother explaining to him that they hated him and he should let go and die...

"Clark!"

He jerked, a spasm ran through his body--it really was Lex-this time it was real. Lex was close, calling for him-"Lex!" He gasped and gagged. The pain, it felt like his throat was being torn open again. He steeled himself, and yelled. "LEX! Lex! Lex!" He coughed and tears of pain streamed from his eyes. God. He groaned and tried to get to his feet. He was probably tearing his throat apart for a dream.

Lex slowly fell to his side, dirt and leaves clinging to his coat, his trousers. He smashed his fist into the loose dirt and struggled to control the urge to roll into a ball and just-- lie there, but he didn't have time for the comfort of insanity, he had to find Clark.

After so many failures why this one seemed more crushing than the others he couldn't explain-he'd been so damn sure, so damn sure. He sat up and swept dirt from his knees, brushed it viciously from his palms. He looked at his feet; his ruined shoes, and an odd shape in the debris caught his eyes. He reached out for it, and the shadows melted away and became a box.

A fucking juice box. He sighed and got to his feet, and a little niggling sensation made him prod the box with his foot. It was full. He stood, staring down at it, and then at the edge of his hearing...a little noise. A cry. An animal? He looked around the clearing, searching the burnt area. Something sparkled and drew him to it.

Against the burnt and cracked bricks of the house foundation, he could see a set of metal door handles. Storm doors--a set of doors that obviously didn't lead to the exposed basement. He came closer and he could hear the weak cry again. Something was under the basement.

He yanked on the doors and as he'd half expected, they opened easily onto pitch-blackness. After a moment he could make out a set of stairs under the weak light of the moon. Stairs that led down to another door, and he could hear the noise again. He took a step forward and the sound of a car engine floated across the field-someone was coming. He quickly shut the doors and stepped back into the shadows of the underbrush. More than likely it was that crazy bitch. He was besides himself-he knew Clark was there, calling for him, begging him for help-but he had to catch this insane creature in the act of-whatever it was she was doing. And then-punish her.

Swallowing his rage and his impatience, he blended into the blackness around him. He could see a shape coming over the field, a feminine figure...Lana.

The dead girl.

His fingers clawed against his thighs and he worked to slow his breathing. He needed to be cool-headed, clear...he concentrated on schooling his emotions, damping down his anger, like a session of play with his dad-taking himself away from what was happening and into a place of safety.

His breathing slowed and evened and he closed his eyes and reached carefully for that place.

Lana set down the bag she was holding, and pulled open the cellar doors. She hesitated a moment...something stroked her skin for a moment, a soft little shiver ran through her, and she turned her head-it was gone. She must have imagined it. Anticipation maybe. She looked down the flight of stairs and smiled. Her true love was waiting for her. It would be cruel to draw it out-not when he needed her so much.

She ran lightly down the stairs and set her bag on the tiny table next to the heavy door. She poured a little soup from the thermos, and slid a straw into the fruit punch box--dinner for her sweetheart.

She moved easily about in the darkness, setting down the tray. "Hello, Clark. Look, I remembered dinner tonight. No need to thank me," she said brightly. She came closer and noticed blood on his mouth. "You know, you really shouldn't try to shout, especially when I'm not here."

She smiled, and crouched next to him. He froze when she reached out her hand, but she ran her fingers over the chains, and frowned when bits of faintly florescent green flecked her fingers. "These need to be re-coated, I think. How do you feel," she asked, her forehead creased with concern. "Do you feel less nauseous, less pain? Does it hurt when I do this," she asked and wrapped a section of the chain around his neck and pulled it tight. She watched the veins in his neck swell and blacken, watched his fingers scrabble weakly at the chains and shook her head. "They definitely need to be recoated. You're not in nearly enough pain."

She stood and went to her bag, humming as she removed several small rocks, and placed them around Clark. "It's wonderful that there are so many of these here, isn't it? Have you ever wondered why they have the affect they do?" She grimaced at the sound of Clark retching and kicked him, rolling him to his side. "Let me get these chains off, and don't you fucking dare throw up on my shoes..." She rolled him roughly from side to side as she unlatched the cuffs.

"I'll bet that's a nice change, hmmm? You can stretch out a little...oh. Well. I suppose not."

The stones seemed to make the pain worse. Clark was keening, a high-pitched noise that went on and on, and Lana shivered. "Goodness. That's...that's...good," she gasped. She picked up a small stone and rolled it over Clark's ribs, smiling at the trail of black and writhing skin it left behind. "Why didn't I think of doing this before?"

Clark's breath hitched and stuttered as she rolled and dragged the stone over his skin, lower, and lower until it sat on his groin and he could only open his mouth, and nothing came out-the agony was too intense.

Lana stopped and suddenly dove across his body. He opened his eyes and looked up-into Lex's snarling face.

Lex took a silent breath in and slowly released it. He felt somewhat in control again. He opened his eyes in time to see Lana hesitate at the open doors, look behind her. For a moment he thought she saw him, before logic told him there was no way she could see him, black on black, tucked back in the underbrush.

She dropped from sight, down into the stairwell.

He waited a beat or two-he wanted to be sure she was off the stairs. He stepped into the darkness, reaching into his jacket as he did, and silently cursed. Right, he'd left the gun under the seat. Fuck that-he could take her out no problem. She was just a girl-albeit an insane one...he felt the weight of his cell phone shift in his shirt pocket, and ignored it. His only priority now was Clark-- he had to see. He knew Clark was there, he just--needed to see him.

He stopped at the foot of the stair, and his knees almost buckled.

He was there, he was on the dirt floor, bruised and so, so skinny, naked and making a noise-a sound that flipped his stomach and made him reach out for the door frame to hold himself up. All his hard won control exploded and he launched himself at the witch-he was going to rip her into bits-

Lana dove over Clark, and rolled upright, half crouching over Clark. "I'll kill you, you freak-" Lex kicked her in the chest; she flew backward and landed in a heap against the wall.

Lex quickly scooped up some of the stones and threw them hard as he could up the stairs, away from Clark.

Clark lay perfectly still, pale and greenish, his eyes looked sunken...Lex reached a shaking hand down to his throat-was he alive?

An earsplitting shriek ripped the air, and Lana was swarming up his back, tearing at him like a cougar, shrieking and snarling as she tore furrows across his scalp, her teeth caught in his throat and he yelled-he could feel blood run hot into his collar. He threw himself against the wall, again and again, trying to knock her off, but she clung like she was a part of him, and above the pain he felt a sensation-a feeling like- like individual fingers were squeezing, slowly pressing against his heart, his lungs, stirring around in his chest and suddenly he couldn't yell anymore, her teeth were out of his neck, her hot tongue was licking at his throat, quick and rough as a cat's.

She was laughing breathlessly and humming and black stars were filling the edges of his vision.

The bitch was going to kill him.

He could hear Clark calling his name from a great distance, crying and calling for him, and he tried, he tried so hard to get to him, but the weight in his chest was deeper now, the fingers were plucking at his ribs one at a time, sliding around in his lungs and trying to pull things out, things that slithered and hurt as they tried to slip out through his skin, thin and needle like, trying to come out of his pores like wires pulled from flame...

"Fuck you, you freak-I'm going to kill you and then I'm going to kill him, or maybe-make you watch me kill him."

Lex could see Clark crying, sobbing like a child, horrible hoarse sobs that filled the air the way the stars filled his vision. Lying bitch, she was making Clark watch him die...laughter escalated, swooping higher and higher-

"I'm sorry!" he groaned and then white light blinded him and he heard the crack of a handgun, thunderously loud in the small space.

He jerked backward and fell over as Lana was torn away; hot fluid splashed the back of his head, his neck and shoulders. The next thing he was aware of was the cobweb coated ceiling---he could see the room, the rough wet stone walls, the black beams running across the low ceiling, studded with huge bolts rust coated from the constant damp...a harsh beam of light swept away and bobbled before pinpointing Clark.

"Clark! Clark!"

Lex rolled unsteadily to his feet. Martha and Jonathan were crouching over Clark, pulling him up, by the light of the flashlight; he could see Lana just beyond them, lying on her back, arms wide and a rapidly growing black stain painting her side. He watched the terribly slow rise and fall emotionlessly. He was cold, very cold. His teeth chattered and he gripped his jaw to stop it... He glanced back and saw Jonathan scrambling to remove the rocks left. He moved over to Lana and yanked the ring off her finger, he heard a snap. He tried to call out to Jonathan, and tossed him the ring.

It was all gone in minutes, all the poisonous green was gone and Lana was still alive, and Clark was still....

Lex stood over the perverse nightmare version of a pieta, Martha's racking sobs made him want to move away, but he couldn't. His hand was slick with blood from his lacerated neck, his shirt heavy with it, and all he could hear was Martha's sobs and Jonathan cursing over and over and over-and he could hear the rattle of breath in Lana's chest and he didn't care.

He thought about taking the gun, and blowing her brains out, blowing his own out. Instead he searched his shirt pocket; the phone was still there. He called in quick succession: Toby, his security chief, and certain individuals that owed him a favor or two.

Flashing lights broke the darkness; a gentle rain was falling, turning the soft ground into a sticky mud. Lex considered his shoes-a total loss. He watched rain wash some of the mud from the tips; he watched the scene around him unfold with as much interest.

The chief of police stood by the open cellar doors, glaring at Lex-Tom Benton, Lex's security chief, was supervising Lana's transportation, she was tightly wrapped in a blanket and strapped to a gurney. Lex could nearly hear the grinding of teeth as the chief watched Lana being rolled into the back of an ambulance, an ambulance that had the name of a company from Metropolis stenciled on it's side.

Clark's parents meanwhile were in a limo, headed with their son back to the castle. Jonathan had refused to let the chief call an ambulance for Clark, had refused all offers--and demands-- that Clark be treated at the Smallville clinic. Lex's private doctor had quickly assumed control and whisked Clark and his parents off. Lex could hear the chief yelping in consternation-"You're letting that-that-fucking hippie take the boy? What the hell is wrong with you Kent?" But the chief knew it was a lost cause, knew it as soon as he'd seen a Luthor was involved.

Finally all the activity wound down. Lex stood on the edge of the clearing, hands in his pockets and held tilted back, staring into the slowly graying sky, listening to the sound of the cars leaving the scene. His security chief, Benton, was arguing intensely with the police chief. Lex didn't move. He knew Benton would win-he always won. That's why he worked for Lex.

Sure enough, the police car tore away from the scene, lights dead, no siren-in the opposite direction the other vehicles had taken.

No one was left except Lex, Benton and a few people of his still in the cellar.

Lex spoke quietly. "The gun?"

"Taken care of," the big man at his side said. "They know it's yours, they won't take it much further than that-"you" shot in self defense."

Lex nodded...Martha...

As if reading his mind Benton spoke. "She'll be fine. She's pretty tough. I wouldn't mind having her on my team--" He turned to face Lex. "That lady's seen a hell of a lot-both her and the man. I don't know what's been going on in their lives but man-practical as hell. They both are. Might take a while but they'll be okay."

He looked down and then glanced at Lex. "Kind of helps that the...girl...isn't dead." How the fuck not, I don't know.

Lex's hands curled into fists but he just nodded "Papers?"

"Taken care of, as usual." He glanced back over his shoulder. "We'll take care of this site-I've got my men looking for the rocks and...other articles you described. Cleaners will be here in," he glanced at his watch, "ten minutes." He looked at Lex and the expression screamed what the fuck happened here?' but his chief knew better than to ask. "You going to head in now, sir? Get some sleep? You look like hell."

Lex snorted-he looked like he'd been put through a shredder from the neck up, and then been rolled in dirt and...fuck yeah, he was headed in. Time to rest. He did what he was supposed to and now it was over and he felt nothing. Nothing but a bone deep exhaustion, a full body ache that was turning into a blinding headache.

"I've got this, sir-we'll report in the morning?" Deep brown eyes met his, and Lex knew the man wasn't asking so much as ordering him-get some rest-there was nothing else happening this night.

Lex finally nodded and let one of Benton's men drive him home. Benton had already sent his car back to the castle...the only thing he had left to do tonight was shower. His breath hitched-god, he wanted a shower like his sanity depended on it.

He walked towards the room he told Toby to set up for Clark and the Kents. He walked past the open door, hesitated and turned around, went inside.

Jonathan looked up at him from Clark's bedside. So much on his face, so much...sorrow and worry and relief and guilt...Martha didn't move, her head was on her son's chest, her arms around him, soundless and unmoving, she held him.

Jonathan motioned him closer, but Lex shook his head. "Tomorrow," he whispered. "We'll talk tomorrow."

Jonathan looked even more torn but nodded. "Tomorrow, he whispered back, so hoarse and quiet that Lex barely heard the word.

He left the room, and Toby stopped him, pushed his reading glasses up to tangle in his long gray hair as he frowned at Lex. He opened his mouth once or twice before asking. "Do you want to know?" Pulled a wrinkled and creased cigarette from his pocket and played with it as he waited for Lex to answer.

Lex leaned a hip against the wall and closed his eyes. "Right now all I want to know is, is he going to be all right?"

"First off-that motherfu-that cat should be in a hospital."

"Well that's not possible-and that's why you can vacation twelve months a year."

Toby nodded, and tucked the joint behind his ear, a brief grin flashed across his face before he looked all business again.

"Okay--check it out--I think he's going to be okay. By okay I mean he's not going to die tonight."

Lex winced but said nothing.

"Aw fuck, man, I mean he's not going to die. Shit, he looks better than he did when we put him up here-dig," he said at Lex's hiss of shock. "If you'd asked me then if he was going to make it, I'd have told you no. He had bookoo shit wrong with 'im when we dragged his ass up here. But hey-- it's a fucking miracle-you know the kind of miracle you used to have fucking constantly? So I figure his condition and yours are related? Anyway, he's going to live, probably recover in full." Toby glanced at the furrows raked over Lex's scalp-they looked to be several days old, instead of hours old.

"Now, I can only tell you about the physical. The soul-up to you guys." He started to amble away, stopped and turned to Lex. "-hey, you know I can't get a needle in his skin?"

Lex looked at him steadily. "No I don't know that and neither do you."

Toby stared back a second shrugged and grinned. "Whatever you say, Top."

Lex walked on to his room, locked the door behind him. He wanted privacy-no interruptions. He wanted to sleep, maybe a drink first...He turned on music, loud enough to be heard over the sound of the shower.

He dropped his clothes in a pile on the closet floor--they were a loss. He'd have them tossed. He walked to the shower, adjusted the water to the perfect temperature and stepped inside. The water stung the few unclosed slashes on his head, and neck, he tilted his head back and let it fill his mouth, he rinsed and spit and hung his head under the top jet and let it hit the back of his neck-the side jets pounded into his ribs, his legs, working out some of the tension. His shoulders dropped and his stomach relaxed a fraction and the loss of tension kind of hurt. He rubbed his eyes-they felt gritty and dry. Clark's safe. Clark's home. We did it.

He opened his eyes and he was on the floor of the shower, rubbing snot off his lip and his eyes felt hot and swollen-he was gagging and gasping.

Fuck! He didn't remember crying at all, he didn't remember anything. His throat hurt and he was kneeling in watery vomit. He jumped to his feet and was shaking as he adjusted the water spray to clean everything away.

He pressed his palms hard against the tiles and forced deep breaths...god, he was going to make Lana suffer for an eternity. A quick flash of Clark lying in dirt on the cellar floor, the harsh light outlining...devastation... filled his mind. For what she'd done, she was going to pay, and keep on paying until-

Lex was on his way to Clark's room, nerves making his heart beat a little faster. He turned the corner at the top of the stairs and nearly ran into Toby.

"Oh, hey Top...what's the word?" He grinned and shouldered the backpack that he'd dropped.

Lex sighed. "I think that should be my question for you. Why aren't you with Clark and his parents?"

"Everything's copasetic," he shrugged. "The parents are up there."

"And again, why aren't you with him?" Lex asked and was actually glad that he had Toby to be angry with.

Toby just shrugged. "He doesn't need me-and cool as it is to hang out and piss out your hooch into your pool, I gotta go. There's not shit I can do for your partner anymore-it's up to his folks and you."

Lex wanted to protest, but he knew if Toby said it was so, it was so. He nodded and called his driver, and made arrangement for Toby to head back to Metropolis. "Right. You're ready to go."

Toby rubbed Lex's shoulder sympathetically. "Now, I could leave you something good to get through this--" he peered at Lex, and shook his head "but I don't think you're gonna need it. That cat needs somebody at his back-- straight up. I can tell his folks aren't gonna flake and that's cool. Gotta say, I'm a little worried about you though."

Lex drew back and looked down his nose at Toby. "Oh?"

Toby laughed. "Knew that'd piss ya off. I mean, don't take on too much. You got a shit load of people who'll help. All you gotta do is let them, dig?"

They went out to the garage, a little breeze trying to lift the ponytail that hung down Toby's back. He turned down Lex's offer of help with his bags, he carried the small backpack and doctor's bag was the only other luggage he had, he made a point of traveling light.

At the garage, where Lex's driver waited to take Toby back to Metropolis, Toby stopped and pulled a thin wrinkled joint out from behind his ear. "A little buddah is always good for what ails the human spirit." He grinned and lit up. "Don't fuck around, Top," he said through a cloud of smoke. "Reach out-those people around you? They're what we call friends-fuck, I think they're family."

Lex watched the car pull away and thought about what Toby said. Maybe he was right. Maybe.

Martha was waiting for him when he came back to the house.

"Clark is awake." Lex felt fear crawl up his throat-she had tears in her eyes. Under her tan, she looked grayish, worn out from fear and worry and not nearly enough sleep. Her eyes looked haunted, and Lex feared for the worst.

Lex took a quick breath and struggled to speak normally. "What-what is it?" don't tell me He took her hand and she collapsed against him. "He won't speak to me!" she wailed into his chest. "He acts like we're not there!"

Hot tears soaked his shirt, her hands were twisted in the fabric, and he did the only thing he could think of to do-he held her and promised her over and over until it took on the soothing tone of a lullaby, promised her that Lana would suffer, that Clark would recover, and he would devote his life to him.

When Martha's sobs quieted, Lex slowly, gently unclasped her hands and tilted her face up to his. "Toby wouldn't have left if he wasn't healing properly. He may be scary but he is a competent doctor."

Martha looked lost. "I don't think it has anything to do with his body-it's..." She shuddered and misery poured off of her in waves, filling him with doubt and a growing whisper of despair. He shoved it down and pat Martha's hand. "Go down to the kitchen, tell Cook to get some coffee or something for you, okay? I'm going up now. I'll send Jonathan down to sit with you...it's probably pointless to ask you this, but please try to relax?"

Martha snorted briefly and a shadow of a smile graced on her lips. "All right Lex-I'll try." He smiled at her and watched her walk away, the smile dying as soon as she turned.

He was standing in the doorway, looking at Clark. It was miraculous how much he'd changed. He was too thin, still horribly pale, but the greenish cast to his skin had vanished, the open sores around his wrists and ankles, the abrasions and lacerations were gone-there was barely a bruise left. But he looked-empty. Closed and shuttered-gone.

Jonathan rose from his seat at Clark's side when he saw him and motioned Lex to come close. "I've been talking to him non-stop. He doesn't answer. I'm not even sure if he hears me."

Lex shuddered. God-did they save him just to lose him?

"I-I think if you sit with him, it may help, maybe if he hears your voice, it'll make him...I don't know-wake up, respond...."

Lex shook his head violently. "No, not me. He loves you. You're his parents, I'm just-maybe Pete, or Chloe-his friends..."

Jonathan looked furious. He took a step towards Lex and Lex flinched when he grabbed his shoulders in a stronger grip then he would have expected from the man.

"Screw that Lex- *you're * the one who moved heaven and earth to find him-to save him. You're protecting him now-he wants you near. I feel it." He walked away, over his shoulder he said, "I'm going to sit with Martha, tell her I love her, let her know she's got me to depend on no matter what. You understand?" He went through the door and closed it behind him.

Lex couldn't speak. He could barely think. He felt like he was trapped in a whirlpool and sinking deeper and deeper below the surface.

He walked stiffly to the side of the bed and looked down at the pale pinched face. "Clark," he whispered. "Hi. I'm here. Right here by the side of your bed okay? Your mom and dad are close by if you need them." He sat, and laid his hand on Clark's arm. It was frightening how cold he was compared to the heat that he remembered. His hair was tumbled across his forehead and hanging over his eyes, and Lex brushed it back. Clark's eyes shot open and he stared at Lex-no recognition in his eyes, just fear-terror.

It tore Lex's heart to see naked fear in those green eyes where there'd always been warmth and cheerfulness-sometimes a little sadness but never this dark horror. "Clark, oh Clark. I'm so sorry, god-I'm so fucking sorry."

Lex started when Clark's lips parted and he spoke in a halting rusty whisper, "You can't fool me. You're not real." He closed his eyes again.

"Clark-it's me-I swear."

Clark kept his eyes closed and shook his head a little from side to side. "No. Lying."

Lex grabbed his arms and shook him a little. "Fuck-- Clark-it's me! Look!"

Clark squeezed his eyes shut and muttered to himself. "Not fooling me-no more-not coming back...."

Lex wrapped his hands around Clark's face and kissed him, a soft hesitant press of lip to lip; he kissed him and told him how much he loved him and begged him to please come back, he needed him, he couldn't live if he went away, told him that even before he met him, he'd loved him-it had to be true because he loved him so very, very damn much. He begged him not to make him cry, he'd done enough of that for a fucking lifetime and kissed him again...

And Clark smiled.

Clark heard the hallucination tell him he was done fucking crying and laughed. That was a new one. The damn things were developing a sense of humor. He was about to let go, and get some real sleep, down in the warm dark soft place, a place where he could sleep all he wanted but something tugged at him, some nagging sense of something he needed to do...he felt a warm press against his lips and it didn't scare him. It was...nice. It was really nice. He worked up the courage to open his eyes, if it was Her...god-he was going to make Her kill him, he didn't have the strength to hang on any more....

He opened his eyes and saw Lex over him. But that couldn't be right-Lana had killed Lex in the cellar-she'd torn his throat open, he'd seen the blood all over Lex, felt it spraying his skin. It couldn't be Lex. Lex was dead.

"Clark-Clark, please, it's okay to keep your eyes open, she can't hurt you anymore. She can't ever hurt anyone again-I promise you that."

Clark's hand shot out and seized Lex's wrist in an iron grip-he gasped slightly and winced but didn't try to pull free. Clark shifted his grip, ran his hand over Lex's and pushed his fingers between his, "Lex-is it really you? Please be real--"

Lex nodded and climbed onto the bed next to Clark. "Yes, it's really me, feel." He stroked Clark's fingers over his cheek, and pressed a quick dry kiss against them.

Clark scooted upright against the headboard, staring open-mouthed. "But you died."

Lex grinned, the lop-sided grin that Lex flashed sometimes, the one that could mean, 'I love you' or 'I hate you'-you had to watch his eyes, not his mouth. Clark could see it in his eyes. Love.

He whined, high-pitched and desperate and scrambled into Lex's lap, heedless of elbows and knees ramming into Lex's body, wrapped his arms around him and began to wail. It frightened Lex, even knowing what had happened to him-the depth of Clark's anguish frightened him.

He held Clark--he rocked back and forth on the bed, listening to him howl, feeling his tears soaking his still damp shirt, knowing he'd be painfully bruised from head to toe in the morning as Clark shifted his grip, dug his fingers in and wouldn't let go.

Lex didn't give a damn.

He'd have killed anyone that tried to separate them.

His voice went hoarse from soothing Clark, his arms were numb from being trapped under Clark's and his nose bled a little from making hard contact with Clark's head, and he was content to sit there.

Martha came in and out of the room, smoothing Clark's hair, talking to him, rubbing his back. He wouldn't let go of Lex but he stopped crying and eventually Martha was able to get him to let go of Lex's arms and finally he fell asleep, but this time, he wasn't frowning in his sleep, and his fingers were loosely wrapped around Lex's.

The only sound at this level of the facility was that of his boot heels hitting the steel plates of the floor. Sconces every few feet on the wall lit the way. At each intersection of the corridors, a ceiling panel lit up, and died as he walked on. He began to pick up the soft whir of security cameras tracking his movements, and nodded. Good. He walked on, came to a desk manned by two uniformed guards. They looked up with a well trained lack of curiosity, and made Lex go through the same security procedures that any one else would have gone through and silently handed him a key, and directed him through a set of glass doors.

Through the double set of door, the atmosphere changed, became somewhat that of...a dormitory. Down this hall, there were many doors-some were open on pleasantly homey rooms, music played, he could hear conversation, people moved about, watched him as he went by-he recognized a few faces...one or two he'd brought here personally...the guards in this part of the facility dressed in street cloths and smiled a lot.

The amount of security cameras doubled.

One of the guards seemed to wander idly in his direction, smiled at him in a polite, professional way. "Good afternoon, Mr. Luthor." He walked with Lex down the corridor, exchanging inconsequential small talk until they were again at a section that was quiet and empty.

The guard inserted a key into a slot next to a set of elevator doors and stepped aside.

"Thank you, Stan." Lex inserted his own key after and walked into the car as the doors opened, turned to face the guard and smiled as the doors slid shut.

He experienced a strange moment of disorientation as the car moved sideways and after a few moments came to a stop. He pressed his fingertips against the wall below a set of buttons and a panel popped open, revealing a single button that he pressed. The car descended.

The doors opened on an empty dim level. No guards, no personnel were in sight, but the walls fairly bristled with cameras.

There was a quiet hiss behind him, but he didn't react. The sound was familiar. A cart rolled forward from behind him, the motion similar to a mars rover. A set of cameras weaved back and forth at each corner of the cart, and it rolled silently along towards a thick steel door set in a metal cube squatting in the center of the dark floor. He could hear screams coming from the metal cube from where he stood. He smiled-a half-smile that wasn't reflected in his eyes.

A slot in door rolled open as the remotely controlled cart made contact with it, just wide enough for an arm to slip in. A tray holding food slid forward and into the slot. Lex pressed a button that activated the intercom. "How are we today, Miss Lang?"

"Let me out you cocksucker and I'll show you. Give me some food!"

"Everything you need to maintain health is in that stew."

"You know that's not what I mean-feed me you freak! Feed me damn it--I can't live like this." On one of the several screens positioned around the level the cell inhabited, he watched her throw herself frantically against the walls, the door, howling and spitting... her head was shaved and she was shoeless, wearing a gray jumpsuit.

"Let me out!"

"Oh come now, let's not be ridiculous-I'm not ever going to let you out. But if you behave, maybe I'll allow you a pet-a rat, perhaps? A rat and...a set of pliers?"

"Please!" she screamed, "I need it! I need food! I'll do anything-anything you want! Pleeeease...."

He watched her throw the stew across the narrow cell; tear at herself for a few moments...he turned to leave when she began licking spilled stew off the wall... At the elevator doors, he let his feeling of hatred flood him, destroying the iron calm he'd maintained while he talked to her. She screamed, a blood-curdling shriek of frustration and naked desire that cut off sharply as the insulated steel doors of the elevator whisked shut.

Bitch. He was going to make sure she lived forever down there in the dark, healthy and cared for, and everyday suffering a mind shattering hunger and a need that she was never going to be able to satisfy again.

On Clark's birthday, Lex came to the loft with a half dozen white roses poking their heads out of a book bag.

Clark laughed. "You're giving me flowers for my birthday?"

"Not just flowers," Lex smiled. " Met U too."

Clark paled. "-you bought Met U?"

Lex choked and laughed. "No-no Clark. I think buying a university for a-a friend is a little over the top, even for me. I just paid your tuition, that's all."

Clark's face dropped, his expression closed. "Lex. I-you know I'm not-I can't..." His voice got weaker and weaker until it stuttered to a stop, and he stared down at the floor, misery flowing out of him.

"I'm not letting you go alone, Clark. I already talked to your parents. We're not pushing you, okay? When you think you can do it-it's ready for you. It will be waiting." just like I am, he thought sadly, but smiled brightly at Clark.

Clark looked at him with a forlorn expression. "God, I hate that...it...it...has to wait. Lex. I'm so sorry, I know how much more you want-for me, and I--"

Lex crossed the floor quickly, pressed his fingers lightly against Clark's mouth. Clark touched them, held them against his cheek and closed his eyes. Lex stroked the tips of his fingers over the soft, soft skin there, and made a wish. Someday...some day, it would be different. Some day, Clark would be able to have all of him. He could wait.

Clark opened his eyes, he looked miserable, mouthed soundlessly, I'm sorry.

"It's okay. Tomorrow is another day. We'll just take them as they come, one by one by one. You're working so hard, Clark, trying so hard." He took Clark's hand in his and they headed down the stairs, back to the farmhouse. "You know we're so proud of you, Mom and Dad, and me."

Clark looked at him from the corner of his eye and smiled. "Yeah?"

Lex snorted. "Yeah, and you're just fishing for compliments now."

Clark nodded and laughed. "Yeah, pretty much-wow! Look!" He pointed up to the sky and they watched a spectacular sunset, watched the huge orange ball of the sun drop, throw out golden rays to pierce the purple and navy clouds.

Lex watched the clear green eyes sparkle with wonder at the beauty of the sunset, and knew that underneath it all, it was still wonder at freedom, and reclaiming himself.

Lex thought death blood torture pain screaming and screaming and.

He touched Clark's hand and said, "I love you."