Seven days after Clark's world fell apart, he finally showed up. After what Lex knew must have been seven days of anger and rage, hurt and guilt all combined, Clark finally, after everything, gave in.

Lex had been waiting.

From the moment that he'd read about Lois's death, he'd known Clark would come. It was inevitable.

Clark hadn't been able to find Lois--that much was clear to anyone who read the papers. Lex wasn't surprised--even Clark couldn't find a person who'd vanished without a trace. Truly, it was no one's fault. Lois should have known better than to launch an investigation into a crime ring--to go looking without letting anyone know where she'd be.

In the end, it may not have been anyone's fault, but ultimately, Lex had owned the final say. He'd had sway with the crime boss who was in charge. He'd had enough on him to make his life very, very difficult. For the right price, Lex would have been able to find Lois.

The right price was far too high.

Lois Lane was a Pulitzer Prize winning journalist, the wife of Superman, and one of the most annoyingly determined women Lex had ever known. She'd been vivacious and full of life, nowhere near ready to die, but in the end, that hadn't been enough. She wasn't worth what the man had asked. Clark may have thought so, but he'd always been recklessly sentimental--he'd never been able to weigh the cost of life.

"You let her die."

Looking up into Clark's face, Lex wasn't going to deny that--couldn't lie about something like that in the face of such beauty. Broken beauty, yes, but something so breathtaking that Lex had always been drawn in. Clark's face was still so well-defined, sharp in all the right places, and perfect in a way that made him look as though he was one of Michelangelo's creations come to life. He was too beautiful to be a real boy. Lex could appreciate the irony of that, especially now that Clark was back at the penthouse, standing in a place Lex owned.

"Would you rather I have let you die?" he asked. Immediately, he held up a hand, forestalling any answer. "Don't answer that. I already know your answer. Of course you would have--you'd have much rather that I agreed to his demands and handed him Superman in exchange for the life of Lois Lane. To you, it would seem perfectly reasonable that I'd make that trade."

Just the barest hint of the grief that Lex knew was rocking Clark to the core showed on his face. It was tiny, mostly visible in his eyes and his jawline. It wasn't enough for anyone else but Lex to see, but to Lex, it was so entirely obvious.

"She didn't deserve to die."

"Did I say she did?" Lex asked as he turned away and went to the bar to pour himself a scotch. "She didn't deserve to die, but she was a grown woman, Clark, and she walked into a crime ring and put herself in a very precarious situation. You didn't deserve to pay for that."

When Clark snapped, it was a split-second shift, nearly too quick for Lex to catch. "SHE'S DEAD, LEX!" he raged. "Who the hell even cares anymore who deserved what?! I don't, damn it, I don't, and you let her die--didn't give me the choice--"

"I didn't owe you the choice."

Sighing, Lex moved over to his desk, aware that Clark's gaze was still on him. That broken gaze, half-crazy with grief, and hadn't Lex known that feeling all too well on a few occasions? Sometimes, he and Clark were more alike than either of them cared to admit.

"You told him to go to hell when he would have made a trade--"

"He'd have killed you."

It was that simple, and as Lex removed the lead box from his desk, he found that he was experiencing no guilt over the decision he'd made. Clark would have been dead if he'd made the trade. That prospect was unacceptable, totally and in every way.

Clark watched him move around the front of the desk, his eyes dropping from Lex's face to the box in his hands. He saw it--knew what was in it--but he made no move to get away. If Lex wasn't mistaken, there was even a flash of relief in his eyes as it was opened.

Clark always looked so beautiful when he was in pain. The way his face twisted and his lips pursed--Lex couldn't quite be sure what it was that made it so, but it was something exquisite. Watching him fall to his knees was almost picturesque, and as much as it made Lex want to hold him until it was better, it made him want to control Clark just as much.

"You should have let me die," Clark whispered as Lex moved closer, removing the lead backed collar from its box.

"No, Clark. Don't be stupid. You know me too well to think I would have."

"You let her die," he choked out.

Nodding, Lex knelt down next to him. "Strangely, I think it was one of the very few things Lois and I would ever agree on. If she'd had the choice, she would never have let you make a trade like that. Lois understood the cost of life--understood that, if you'd been traded for her, so many other people would die that could have been saved."

Weakly, Clark glared up at him. "Like you care."

"About the cost of life? Clark, I do care, but I won't lie and say that the prospect of having to bring your body home was something I was willing to do."

The collar was firm in Lex's hand as he pulled it out of the lead box. It was leather, backed with lead, sporting one tiny green stone in the front. It was enough to make Clark feel things--to make him human, or as close to it as he could ever conceivably be.

"It wasn't your decision to make," Clark spat out again, every ounce of his body tense with anger and the strain of what he'd been through in the last few days. "It wasn't, but you did--"

Lex silenced him by wrapping the collar around his throat and clicking it shut. It couldn't be opened again unless Lex unlocked it. Strange, how Clark hadn't fought him when he'd put it on. Usually, there was more fight than that, but it had been a long time, he supposed, and things had changed between them.

"Tell me the truth, Lex," Clark said, suddenly weary. "Did you let her die because you wanted this? Because you wanted me?"

An excellent question, and Lex's only sufficient answer was to take Clark's chin gently in his hand and raise it until they were looking each other straight in the eye. "I've always had you, Clark. We both know that."

Clark closed his eyes. "Have you?"

Lex's grip tightened. "Lois doesn't change that, Clark. We both know we're going to live for a very, very long time--you, because of a yellow sun, and me, because of a mutation. Lois--she's not like that. She was aging right before your eyes. I was willing to wait while you engaged in a childish snit to spit me."

Anger, sharp and raw, came flying back more quickly than Lex would have thought possible if he hadn't known Clark. "Lois wasn't about that!" Furiously, Clark reached out to try to push Lex back from him.

Lex easily caught his wrists. "Human, Clark," he reminded him with a gentle, almost indulgent smile. Clark immediately began to struggle, but Lex held him easily. When Clark was like this--weaker than a human--they both knew who had the upper hand.

"Oh, fuck you."

"No, not tonight. Later, maybe. Tonight is all about you, Clark."

Clark fought when Lex hauled him upright. It wasn't a surprise--truthfully, Lex had been surprised he hadn't fought earlier. With that much anger, he needed an outlet. One would have to be provided before they could move on--before Clark could come to terms with what had happened to Lois. Clark had truly believed he'd loved Lois--he probably even had, as much as he could love someone that he had known he was going to lose. He'd been watching her grow old right in front of him, knowing that someday she'd be gone, and he'd still look barely twenty.

It wasn't far to Lex's bedroom, and though it took longer with the way Clark struggled, Lex was able to eventually get them there. From there, Lex maneuvered him into the master bathroom.

"You started dating her because you were angry at me," Lex reminded him as he pushed Clark up against the counter and flicked on the light. It was dim, but he didn't feel the need to turn the level of brightness up. Clark looked good in this light. "Because you'd broken up with me, and you wanted it to hurt. I won't deny that you fell in love. But, truly, Clark, it was absurd. We both knew it couldn't last, and when you stood up there with her on your wedding day, was it more about love--about a fleeting relationship--or about proving me wrong and finding a way to spite me?"

"Shut up!" Clark raged, twisting against him.

Easily, Lex caught his jaw and held him still, forcing him to look straight in front of him, directly into the huge mirror hanging over the counter and sinks. Their reflections stared back at them.

Clark closed his eyes.

"Don't like what you see, Clark?" he asked, looking into the mirror again. "I do."

Garish red, blue, and yellow--a costume that could have been straight out of a comic book, and while it made Lex want to laugh, he saw through it. Underneath it all, he still saw Clark. His beautiful Clark, with his stubborn pride and his desire to save those who couldn't save themselves. He'd kill himself trying if there wasn't someone to stop him--to balance him out. It was the fulfillment of the prophecy of Naman and Segeeth, and typical of Lex's life, it had fulfilled itself in a way so far from what Lex had thought it would that it was very nearly funny.

"I hate you."

"Don't lie to me, Clark. Don't lie to yourself. You hate how much you need me--that's the truth."

"I--damn it!" he shouted, fighting against Lex again. Releasing his jaw, Lex looped an arm around his neck and squeezed until Clark calmed. That was Clark--so easy, so predictable. Lex had long ago learned how to control him, but the pleasure never fled. Clark was his, and as much as Lex loved him, it had been too long since Clark had been reminded of that.

"I would never have traded you, because they would have killed you," Lex replied calmly, trailing one hand down Clark's side. Easily, he found the hidden clasps--it was a simple thing, if you knew where to look, and Lex did. He had for years.

Oddly enough, Clark had never changed their location.

"That's unacceptable in every way, Clark," he whispered, nuzzling into Clark's hair as he continued undoing clasps. "She wasn't your destiny and you knew that. I was willing to wait until she died of natural causes, but this situation--I wasn't going to save her at your expense."

"I loved her."

"And it hurts, I know," Lex agreed, pausing to stroke a curl back off Clark's forehead. He hadn't gelled his hair for this visit. Interesting. "It's why you shouldn't do things to spite me."

Instantly, Clark was fighting again. "You let her die for revenge?!" he shouted, desperately trying to free himself from Lex's hold. "You deserve to die--"

Flipping the last clasp, Lex pushed Clark forward and forced his head down against the counter top as he pulled the clothing away. Clark continued struggling, but with his free hand, Lex held Clark's wrists. It made things a little awkward, but he made do, and Clark was quickly naked from the waist up.

"I didn't let her die for revenge," Lex answered calmly as he let Clark straighten back up. Looking into the mirror, Lex could see the fire in Clark's eyes--the absolute rage. "But I didn't stop her death, either. We both know that, as angry as you get at me, we're meant to be together. I was willing to wait. Fate wasn't. We can't avoid that, Clark."

"I don't believe in fate."

"Yes, you do. I know you do. It's why you're here right now."

Silence. Nothing but Clark's harsh breathing, and looking into the mirror, Lex could see the raw pain and realization on Clark's face. Maybe Clark hadn't realized why he'd come--Lex didn't know, but the reasons didn't truly matter.

"You know that I'm always going to take you back, Clark," Lex said quietly, releasing both of Clark's wrists. He knew Clark's moods--knew the shifts that occurred when he was grieving--and as he'd guessed, Clark stood quietly as Lex pulled his pants down. "I always will, but this is so foolish. Come home. You're not a child, anymore--you're thirty-two, and I'm tired of waiting for you to grow up and stop fighting the inevitable like a stubborn toddler. Accepting fate is always easier than working against it."

"I--you do not own me," Clark murmured venomously, glowering into the mirror. His eyes locked with Lex's in the reflection. Though Lex had known theoretically about its existence, it was still astounding to see the pride and strength that was there in Clark. Clark would never be a pushover. Part of his appeal was that he'd always fight--that as much as Lex was Clark's balance, Clark was Lex's.

"We own each other, Clark," he replied patiently, tapping the back of Clark's leg. Clark took the cue and stepped out of his uniform, leaving him entirely naked. "I'm willing to embrace that--you're not. That's the difference. I have power over you because I'm willing to accept it."

"You don't deserve that kind of power! All I want is a normal life, and you won't let me have that!"

It was almost amusing how he sounded so like a child who hadn't gotten what he wanted. It should have been aggravating, but Lex was annoyed. Clark was hurting--he had been for years. All that petulance was coming because he'd tried so hard for so long and all he'd gotten was a life where he hurt.

"I didn't take that from you, Clark," he murmured gently, brushing a kiss against the back of Clark's neck. "You never had that life at all."

"I could have!" he yelled, slamming his body back against Lex.

"In another life, maybe, and only if you weren't you. Even then, it's only a possibility."

"Go to hell!"

Clark's elbow caught Lex in the ribs, and weakened as he was, Clark was still a strong man. Grunting, Lex took the blow and shoved Clark forward until he hit the counter. The thud his knee made against the cabinets under the counter was a little sickening, but while Clark hissed at the pain, he said nothing.

"Time's up, Clark. No more pretending. The life you want doesn't exist. Come home, and we'll find ways to make this better."

The idea of having Clark home again, in his bed every night, was overwhelming. Lex had missed him more than he cared to admit--had begrudged Lois every moment that she'd had with Clark. He'd allowed it, because Clark would have resented him if he'd forced them apart. He would have used it as a venomous argument for years to come, and Lex hadn't been willing to let him have that.

With Lois dead, it didn't matter anymore. Clark needed to come home, for his own good, and for Lex's. Some things just couldn't be avoided.

"You don't have the right to tell me that!" he protested, trying to free himself from Lex's grip.

It was five years after Clark left, and Lex still knew his body. He still kept the lube in the left side of the cabinet, and he still knew just how to touch Clark once he'd secured his wrists behind his back with one hand and had spread the lube onto him with the other. After all this time, it felt so good to hear the noises of pleasure that Clark just couldn't quite keep back.

It was needed. They both needed it.

"You know I'm right," Lex whispered as he pushed a finger into Clark. Here, at least, he needed to be careful, because pain wasn't the point of this.

The point was to reclaim what was his.

"I may not have a right, but I'm tired of waiting for you to finally give up your battle against fate. You don't want to be with me because you know that, eventually, it will come to that whether you want it or not. You don't want any part of your life planned out--you want control, and giving it up, even if it makes you happy, is so detestable to you that you'd keep making yourself miserable just to avoid it. Lois is dead, Clark, do you understand? Do you want to go through that again? Marry some other girl and watch her die? Accept the inevitable, or you're going to hurt until everyone else on this planet dies and you don't have another option--nothing other than the one you should have taken to begin with."

Clark groaned when Lex shoved in another finger. He wasn't overly gentle--he didn't want to be. Clark needed to feel this.

"Please stop..." he whispered. He'd stopped struggling against Lex's hold on his wrists, and Lex knew that it wasn't the touches Clark was protesting--it was the words he didn't want to hear. Just like Clark had always done, he didn't want to face things he didn't like.

"No. You need to hear it."

"You don't have a right to tell me that."

"You're awfully hung up on what I've got the right to do, aren't you?" Lex asked, sighing. "I thought we'd gotten by that a long time ago. I don't need a right when it comes to you."

Clark barely struggled when Lex grabbed his jaw and, holding it tightly, forced Clark's head up so that he was looking into the mirror. "Look at us, Clark." When Clark didn't, Lex shook him lightly until Clark turned his gaze towards the mirror. Those eyes... Lex felt himself getting hard just from the sight of them--the look in them. "This is what your future is, and if you'd let yourself, you'd like it."

"I won't--I won't ever like it," Clark spat, glaring into the mirror.

"Stop denying, Clark," Lex corrected, squeezing his jaw a little tighter. The pulse of blood, just under his thumb--that was Clark's life, and right now, if he just squeezed a little tighter...

He never would.

As much as Clark infuriated him at times, he loved him too much to ever do that.

"I hate y--"

"The truth, Clark."

Silence, again, followed by a look so full of anger that it bordered on hate, but still somehow fell short. Good. Clark was getting things out, slowly, but it was happening, and that was what he needed. Lex always had given him what he needed, even if Clark hadn't wanted it.

"I hate that I want you."

Lex's lips curled into a thin smile as he added a third finger. "Better. It's a starting point."

Clark's eyes narrowed in the mirror's reflection. "It's all you're going to get."

"Because you're too proud to say it?"

Immediately, Clark's lips thinned, going tight and immovable. Oddly, Lex had the desire to kiss him when he was like that.

"That's what I thought. Come on now, bend over."

Three fingers were enough. Clark would feel a burn, but he wouldn't hurt too badly. He'd feel enough to know exactly what Lex was doing, and that was what Lex wanted. Clark needed to feel again--needed to know that Lex still owned him, both in mind and body.

Shooting him one last glare, Clark did so, willingly, because as much as he fought, he knew. Clark knew whom he belonged to; who, eventually, would be the only one left; and who loved him to the point where it surpassed just about everything else. Sometimes he resented it, sometimes--rarely, as of late--he enjoyed it, but he always gave in to it.

"That vision that Cassandra Carver gave you--someday, it's going to come true, Clark. What will you do then?"

Clark didn't reply. His face was flat against the marble of the countertop, and his hands were clutching the finished stone with a grip that, had he not been weakened, would have destroyed it. Continuing to watch him, Lex undid his belt and pants, trying to ignore the ache in his cock as he pulled himself free of the restraining cloth.

"Lois is dead, Clark--you've got no reason to keep delaying the inevitable."

Driving into Clark always felt like coming home, but after years of not having it, Lex found himself nearly coming as soon as he pushed into him. That warm, tight heat, so unbelievably good--Clark could make him lose control like no one else.

Lex liked that, as much as he hated to admit it.

"You should have given me the choice!" Clark raged at him, even as he pushed back into Lex, begging with his body where he wouldn't with words.

"You would... have made the wrong one," Lex muttered, forcing himself not to come.

"By whose standards? Yours?"

"She's dead, Clark."

"STOP SAYING THAT!"

Even with his cock up Clark's ass, it was possible for them to fight. Lex didn't regret that. There would be time for gentle words and soothing touches later--right now, it wasn't what Clark needed. Right now, Clark needed to be reminded of who he was and what he had. He needed to be allowed to grieve for what he'd lost and to be pushed on to face what he could no longer keep ignoring.

It was time to bring Clark home, and Lex was doing it in the only way he knew how. He was pushing Clark, harder than he probably should have, but after all the rage and anger was gone, only Clark would be left.

And when that happened, there was a better chance that Clark would understand.

"She is dead, Clark," he growled out, wrapping an arm around Clark's chest as he thrust into him, hard and fast. His thrusts were enough to force Clark forward into the sink, over and over, and Lex knew there'd be bruises, both on him and on Clark. He didn't mind. He wanted to see them, to trace the patterns over Clark's skin and relearn that body that never should have left his bed.

"Because of... you," Clark gasped, right before he came.

For someone who seemed to hate him so much, Lex thought it remarkable that Clark came without a single touch to his cock. Watching Clark's face in the mirror as he came, everything else didn't matter all of a sudden. All that mattered was that he could still do this to Clark.

His Clark.

He could damn well turn Clark inside out until Clark didn't know up from down, and he was still capable of making Clark enjoy every second it. Clark could lie about that, but his body could not. His body could never lie to Lex, just as much as his lies were always so visible in his eyes.

Lex loved his eyes.

"Clark," he gasped out, looking straight up into the mirror as he felt his climax building.

Right before he let himself go, he took in all the fine detail: Clark's sweaty, damp curls sticking to his forehead, bouncing slightly as Lex thrust into him once more; all that skin, gorgeous with a sheen of sweat. Clark's face just looked so wild. So beautiful. It made Lex want him as much as he had that day he'd first seen him on the riverbank.

"Clark," he whispered, this time softer as he finally reached his climax.

For a short moment, everything was still. Neither of them said anything and, in that one moment, it was possible to believe that things weren't as they actually were--that things were simpler.

Clark's back was sweaty as Lex leaned on him. The shivers that were running up and down his spine were barely perceptible, but Lex caught them. He always caught things like that. He noticed them, and he cherished them, because they were what made Clark the person that he was.

"You knew it would happen," Lex said finally, his voice barely audible as he whispered his words into Clark's ear. "And damn it, I know it hurts, but you set yourself up for it. It's not right and it's not fair, but our lives seldom include those two things, and I wasn't going to sacrifice you for her."

Clark was everything to him, and Lex wouldn't ever give that up.

"You should have. I don't want to live forever," Clark choked out, his voice breaking. Lex could feel him beginning to shatter, but he refused to let up. Clark needed to shatter before he could be put back together again--before he could become whole.

"You won't live forever. The sun will fade eventually, and when it becomes red, you'll start aging. It won't last forever, Clark."

It was almost painful to pull away from Clark and stand up. Only through pure force of will did Lex do so, and even then, he couldn't bring himself to move completely away.

"Look up at the mirror, Clark."

Surprisingly, and so slowly that it was almost exaggerated, Clark did. His green eyes flickered up and back down, as though he were ashamed to look--as though he didn't like the person looking back at him. More than likely, Lex thought that was probably the case. Clark, for all of his apparent confidence, had always disliked himself on some level--had always thought himself less than the humans he was surrounded by.

Lex hated anyone who had ever done anything to make him feel that way.

"How can you look at yourself and not see what you really are?" Lex murmured, reaching up and threading a hand in Clark's hair. "So many people would die if you weren't here, and for you to sacrifice that for one life would be selfish."

"You don't care about that," Clark whispered, looking away.

Lex gave a sharp jerk on his hair, a clear command for him to continue looking. Slowly, Clark turned his gaze back. "I care about you, and I know you need a way to keep living with yourself. This isn't fabricated. Those people you've saved in the last week? They'd all be dead if I'd made the trade you wanted. Look in the mirror and tell me that you don't realize that. Lie to me, and I'll let it go. But know that you'll be lying to yourself, too, and that's worse, Clark--so much worse."

Clark met Lex's gaze in the mirror, and for the first time, his expression was unreadable. "It hurts."

Not a lie. Not a denial. Just a statement of the pain Lex knew had to be tearing Clark apart from the inside out.

"I know it does. But it's time for you to come home."

When Clark's face finally fell, the rest of him crumpled along with it. The look of utter heartbreak was horrible, shattering in a way that Lex would never forget. That things had gotten this far--Lex didn't know how it had happened. Worse, he didn't know how he could have avoided it. Clark had made his own decisions--had gone off with Lois to spite Lex, and he was reaping the benefits of that decision to try to deny a destiny and a prophecy that was completely out of his control.

"Come home, Clark," Lex murmured, tightening his grip.

"Lex, I can't," he sobbed, his voice broken and on the verge of tears. He was shaking badly, so hard that Lex thought he might shatter.

Carefully, Lex sank down to the floor, pulling Clark with him. "You can," he corrected, bringing a hand up to stroke Clark's hair. "You can, Clark. Please, make this easier and give in now before things get worse. You've seen what fighting destiny does--how much it hurts. Come home, and let yourself be happy."

"I don't believe in fate," Clark whispered, his voice muffled by Lex's shirt.

"You're afraid of fate," Lex corrected him for what felt like the thousandth time. "You're afraid to come home to me, because you know I'm part of that fate, and you think that if you let your future play out without trying to change it, everything you saw will come to pass." Sighing, he shifted Clark so that his head was tucked neatly into Lex's shoulder. Clark fit there so well. "It will anyway, Clark. Someday, everyone you love is going to be gone, and I'll be the only one left. All those gravestones you saw in Cassandra's vision? That's going to happen no matter how much you fight. Giving in and being happy isn't going to cause it to happen--it's going to happen anyway, even if you go down fighting. Letting yourself have what you want isn't going to cause anything to happen that wouldn't happen anyway. That's what fate is, Clark--something that's meant to happen regardless of what you do."

"I don't want everyone I love to die!"

Clark's tears had finally started falling--Lex could feel them soaking through his shirt. Truthfully, this hurt him, probably in some ways as much as Clark, because Clark was a part of him. Watching that part crumble only to somehow--impossibly so--be left standing, was heartbreaking and confusing.

"It's going to happen, Clark. You know it will. Please don't make it hurt even more than it has to. Let me be there to help you when it does start happening. Let me help you now."

Clark shivered in his arms. "I did love her, Lex. I--it only started because I wanted to show you that I could have a life outside of you, but she was--was---I can't even explain it. She was a lot like you, actually, but it never felt quite right. I did love her, even if it never felt as right as you, but this still hurts so much. That makes it hurt more, because even after she died, I kept thinking that if I hadn't forced things--been so desperate to have a relationship with someone who wasn't you--she'd probably still be alive."

"Lois was a big girl, Clark--she knew what she was getting into."

"But she didn't. She didn't know about the prophecy--about how she wasn't the one I'd ultimately be with."

Lex's shirt was becoming damp, but he wouldn't have moved Clark away from him for anything. There was nothing that he coveted more than Clark.

"I--could have saved her," Clark mumbled into Lex's shirt, his words skewed by fabric and tears. "Could have..."

"No, Clark, I could have saved her. If I'd wanted to trade you, she'd be alive today. That decision lies with me, and me alone." Closing his mouth, Lex paused. "And I wouldn't change it for anything."

Lex felt it when Clark finally gave in. It was the barest hint of relaxation in his muscles, just enough to let him move into Lex, like he'd always been meant to be there--like he was accepting the fact that he was meant to be there.

"I wouldn't trade you for anything, and I'm tired of waiting for you to give in and accept that. You know I love you--it scares you that I do, but it only hurts yourself and others if you won't give in and accept that. Accept the way you feel, Clark."

"I do love you, Lex," he choked out, his sobs soft and muffled. He sounded so weary--as though he'd seen too much. "You know I do."

"Then stop fighting and come home. I'll make you happy, more than Lois or any other girl ever will, and I won't leave you--I won't die like she did. You know that--let yourself have that."

Slowly, so much that it was barely visible, Clark raised a hand to brush at the collar on his neck. "Take it off," he said quietly, his voice deepened by tears. "Please."

"No. You've been killing yourself for the past week. Tonight, you're going to sleep without any interruption."

"I didn't say I was coming home," Clark snapped, turning away when Lex raised a hand to brush his cheek. Clark had such a fickle personality, at least at times, and Lex truly had to laugh when he realized he found even that strangely endearing under the right circumstances. "Stop acting like you can run my life."

Ignoring Clark's attempts to move away from his touch, Lex reached up and began to stroke a hand through his hair. Clark, though it probably killed his pride, leaned into it. "I'm trying to help you, Clark," Lex reminded him gently. "That's not control."

"You're forcing me to let you help."

"You don't take my help any other way."

Lex didn't lie to himself--he knew he and Clark were opposing forces but, sometimes, when opposing forces collided, there were sparks. He and Clark--they could have had their own light show. Lois had... interrupted that, but ultimately, Clark was his, he was Clark's, and that wasn't ever going to change.

Eventually they'd be the only ones left, and Clark needed to accept that before it happened.

"We're going to get up now," Lex began slowly. "You're going to go into the bedroom, and you're going to go to sleep--you need it. When you wake up, we're going to talk about things--about you coming home. Because it's time, Clark." It seemed so easy to slip his hand under Clark's chin--to turn him so that they were meeting each other's eyes. It wasn't so easy to hold a glare that managed to mix relief and anger. Clark, as much as he hated it, was relieved when Lex took charge, even if he resented taking orders.

"It won't be a discussion. You'll just tell me."

"Some of it," Lex agreed, pulling Clark to his feet. Clark certainly was solid, and Lex's muscles protested at the strain. "But we'll talk about how you want it done."

Clark didn't fight when Lex pulled him out of the bathroom and over to the bed, and as much as he'd protested earlier, he almost seemed to welcome being tucked in under the covers. He was clearly tired, exhausted in a way that numbed the edges of his usually sharp mind--that left him open to a war of words that would otherwise be impossible.

"We'll talk, and you'll come home, and things will get better," Lex told him firmly, leaning down to press a kiss to Clark's lips. It was so good to feel an answering press, even if it was slight. It was a start, at least. Just a start, maybe, but Clark was still giving something, and that meant more than Lex cared to admit.

Turning away, Lex headed towards the door. Clark would sleep, and Lex--Lex would work, because it was unbelievable how much he had to do. The lease on Clark's apartment needed to be canceled, and Clark's things had to be moved. He needed to track down the man responsible for Lois's death, because no matter what Lex thought of her, he owed Clark that closure. Lois's funeral needed to be planned, and he had to think of a way to hold Clark together afterwards. So much to do, and how tempting it would be to fall into bed with Clark and never get up again.

Lex had reached the doorway when Clark's soft voice called out after him.

"You can't make everything better, Lex."

He couldn't, truthfully. Truth. What was that? There were times when Lex couldn't quite keep the story straight himself. Still, there were some things Lex couldn't lie to himself about. Chief among those--one that kept him awake at night--was that he couldn't make everything better. There were times when he just had to watch Clark suffer and know there was nothing he could do.

"Destiny will hurt regardless of what we decide," he replied, turning around to look Clark in the face. It was almost absurd how angelic he looked, lying there against a stark white pillow with his dark hair fanning out across it. And those eyes--Clark had the most beautiful eyes. "You're going to lose people, and this--what happened with Lois--is only the beginning. You'll hurt like this again. But, Clark? You don't have to make it harder for yourself. Just because what we have is fate doesn't mean it can't be enjoyable. I promise you that if you come home, I'll make you like it."

With Clark's eyes boring into his, it was impossible to tell anything less than the truth. Thankfully, in this matter, he didn't have anything to hide.

Clark regarded him stubbornly. "I want to choose my own future."

"Then do. Forget fate. Forget the prophecy. Forget it all. Choose what you know is right--choose the thing that, even when it's confusing and hurtful, makes you whole."

"And if I don't know what that is?"

"Then you're lying to yourself."

Lex could see the expression in Clark's eyes--could see the thoughts hanging there. Clark had always been one to think about things, even if he didn't necessarily do that before he acted.

Clark had loved Lois--Lex wasn't going to deny that. He had, but Clark himself had admitted it wasn't quite right. They didn't need a prophecy--didn't need Naman and Segeeth--to tell them why, not when it was right in front of them. Clark couldn't fall in love if he was in love already, and as much as he fought that--as much as he didn't want it to be Lex--it was. Lex wasn't entirely sure when it had happened, but somewhere along the line, he'd become so entwined with another being--Clark had become so entwined with him--that it had become impossible for either of them to ever completely separate again. Enemies, friends, or lovers, neither of them would ever be able to truly walk away.

All that was left to decide was which of those they'd be.

Slowly, Clark swallowed, giving the barest hint of a nod. "When will you have my things moved in?" he asked quietly. As he looked at Lex, something in his gaze relaxed, and while it was barely noticeable, Lex saw it. Lex saw it, and he knew.

Clark had made his decision.

Resting his hand on the doorframe, Lex smiled.

Clark was coming home.