Clark's having a good time in Metropolis, but something is missing. Like a song that's stuck in his head with a hazy melody playing and a hint of a lyric floating by, he can't quite figure out what it is.

He has a cool set of wheels, he has speed and he's not quite sure if he's sane, but he feels pretty good. Incredibly strong, like if he runs fast enough he just might take off into the air and there's no one to stop him. Not this time.

Lana can't stop him. He feels a twinge at this, the same twinge he feels when he thinks about the windmill and the market back in Smallville. She's all the comforts of home, bound up in a flawless smile with little or nothing behind it.

She's simple, like Smallville. She'll never change.

Clark is so complicated it hurts. He's changing by the minute, the thing living inside of him clawing inch by inch to the surface. It is alien -- foreign and cold and sometimes he sings "getting to know you" in the shower, just for a laugh.

Getting to know you. Getting to know all about you.

His alien half is kind of simple too. Conquer and rule, rule and conquer. Iron fist, blazing with eyes of fire, strike down the mountains of man and make them your own. And on and on and on.

Maybe Clark should have introduced the alien to Lana. They seem like they're made for each other. He could have dressed her in all the pink she ever dreamed of and she would have felt safe at last standing behind the most powerful thing in the universe.

Getting to like you. Getting to hope you like me.

In some ways it sounds like a plan but something is still missing. Like an itch he can't reach, and Clark knows he can't surrender to the dark fire until he figures out what it is.

He rides through the night and reaches into ATMs to take what he wants for cash. It isn't until he knocks over a newspaper box, scattering its contents everywhere does the realization hit him full force.

LUTHOR HEIR AND LEXCORP CEO MISSING AND PRESUMED DEAD

The headline flips in the wind, pages turning over on the asphalt. Clark stares at the words dumbly, the world grinding to a dizzy stop as he reads about Lex's plane dropping off radar a few miles from its destination, never to be heard from again.

Missing. Gone. Presumed dead.

Lex is missing. They are presuming Lex is dead.

Obviously they don't know shit about Lex.

Clark rides off, leaving the papers strewn over the road. He tries humming his favorite tune, but all that comes out are a few labored notes.

Lex is missing. Gone. Presumed dead.

The roar of the engine repeats the mantra. The gravel spitting up against the wheels proclaims it. He's hearing it everywhere.

Gone. Missing. Dead.

He hits the brakes, hard. Turns into the skid and leaps off, letting the bike crash into a storefront not paying any attention to the sickening crunch. He leaves it there and strides down the street, turning up his collar with a casual air.

The stride turns into a brisk walk, which in turn changes to a run. He's running the only way he knows how, the air sparking against his skin, its friction brutally hot. His lips pull back from his teeth and he's turning south, toward the warmer land.

He knows this planet like a farmer knows his fields, its bulges and climates and jet streams programmed into his alien brain like so much mundane data.

His father was nothing if not thorough.

But this isn't about his father or the alien's destiny. This is about something Clark has no control over. The need to save Lex again. Lex is counting on it and Clark knows he'll be pretty angry if Clark slacks off on Lex's expectations any more than he already has.

Because Lex can't be dead. He wouldn't allow himself to be dead, because Lex is a stubborn, nasty bastard when he wants to be and death is the last thing on his agenda. He's waiting for Clark to show up just so he can smirk at him and say "gotcha" when Clark appears impossibly out of nowhere to bring Lex back home.

Clark will make up some bullshit story, Lex will frown and everything will be right again with the world. Clark's world, not the alien's. Because while he can be lured away from his parents and Lana, Clark's connection to Lex is non-negotiable.

Don't bother going there, Dad.

He thinks he's almost on the coast now and it's dawning on him that it will take much too long to swim to the islands Lex went down over. Besides, he's wearing leather and that and sea water isn't going to mix very well.

So he does the only thing left. The thing he's been waiting to do and will only now admit he can do. Because once this is accomplished, there'll be no more denying exactly who and what he is. There will be no more lying to Lex, ever again.

Clark reaches the shore's end and with one final burst of speed

He flies.

Control comes with patience. Clark isn't very patient at the moment, so he zigzags gracelessly over the churning water, scanning the horizon for land masses. He's got an atlas in his head, one a cartographer would give his balls for and it's not long before Clark reaches the string of islands Lex was supposed to be honeymooning on.

Honeymooning. Clark blinks in the cloud mist, just realizing he didn't think about Helen being there with Lex. Not once.

But that's okay. If she's there, he'll rescue her too, but she gets knocked out first. Lex is let in on the secret because it's time and Lex won't tell her. Because Lex understands that this thing, that's just between them and Clark knows this as he heads down closer to the earth.

He can smell the palm trees. Hot sand and something sweet in the air, flowers and fruit. He skims over the island's surface, searching. His vision's gotten painfully sharper over the past few days, as has his hearing. The birds squawk and scatter as he flies past, terrified out of their tiny dinosaur-descended minds.

Searching, searching and nothing. Not on this island and there are only a few hundred more to go. He looks down at the ocean too, and suddenly, there it is.

A telltale slick of jet fuel snaking west, a poisoned lake in the middle of a clear blue sea. Clark dips down, examining its flow. It's spread out and there are bits of the plane itself mixed in, bobbing up and down in the water, floating toward oblivion.

There's a LuthorCorp styrofoam coffee cup among the wreckage. Clark gets the idea that Lionel may have had something to do with the crash and hopes he didn't because killing Lionel Luthor with his bare hands will cause certain complications. In everyone's life, and that's not what Clark -- and the alien within him -- are there for.

He's there to simplify things. Absolutely.

Clark backtracks behind the slick to where the crash site must have been, further east. There's land very close, and Clark hums a little as he flies, thinking about Lex and how royally pissed off he's going to be when he sees Clark zip down from the sky.

There'll be fist-shaking and sand-kicking and "I fucking knew it!" screamed in Clark's face.

That's pretty much the point where Clark is going to kiss him and tell him to shut up, before scooping him into his arms and flying him back home, wherever that would end up being.

And then oh, wait. Helen. Yeah, Helen might be there and something in Clark's chest tightens. Why the hell does he keep forgetting about Helen, besides the fact that's she's infinitely forgettable as far as he's concerned, kind of like Lana, and that complicates things a little. Okay, a lot but it'll work out in the end. It has to.

Besides, he vaguely remembers the papers saying something about "the widow," but he'll deal with that later.

He has to save Lex first.

More wreckage, bigger chunks of it and Clark knows he's getting close. Closer to the place where Lex hit the water and floated to safety, cursing the damage to his thousand-dollar shoes. Clark feels bad for any inhabitants of the island Lex washed up on -- they were in for an earful.

More scanning, from the treetops to the molecules of sand at their base. He's going at a good clip, and almost misses the dark mass sprawled out on the wet shore of the island furthest to the west. It looks like a pile of clothing but as Clark flies closer, he can see it's Lex. And Lex is

Sleeping. Probably exhausted from his swim, poor guy.

Clark feels giddy as he lands, running along the crunchy sand toward Lex. His alien brain is processing, processing and there's a voice inside that's warning him in deep ominous tones about something, but he ignores it and yells out "Lex! Lex, it's me! Lex!"

No movement, but that's all right. The waves are hitting the bottom of Lex's pants legs, swelling them up from beneath and Clark puffs to a stop over where Lex lies at his feet, motionless.

Motionless and twisted at odd angles too, one arm reaching impossibly over his back to touch the other elbow and that voice in Clark's head is screaming now, begging for mercy.

He kneels down besides Lex, confused.

"Hey," Clark says softly, shaking the shoulder that doesn't look too broken. His red ring is glinting in the sun, bright against the dark cloth of Lex's coat. "Hey, wake up. Come on, I'm here to take you home." He smiles, but for some reason, his cheeks are twitching. "Come on, Lex. I know you're mad at me, but I'm going to tell you everything. I'm going to show you everything."

Another shake, this one much harder and the twisted arm flops lifelessly onto the sand, fingers pointing stiffly skyward. "So, wake up. Or else you're not going to get to see me fly. That's right, Lex. I can fly, just like you said you did when I pulled you out of the river. Remember?" He laughs. "You were the one who taught me about forever, Lex."

No response. Clark sits back on his haunches, tilting his head to see if there's any sound at all.

It's eerily silent. He must have scared the birds away.

Lex's overcoat is crumpled and shoved halfway up his back, a bloody dress shirt showing. Clark smooths it down with his hand, knowing how Lex hates to be unkempt.

His beautiful face is buried in the sand. Clark wonders how Lex can stand to be so uncomfortable, and inside Clark's head the dam breaks apart, all the poisons bursting forth, and he lets it happen, doesn't fight it at all.

"Okay, fine. Be that way," Clark says, rising with a slight stumble. His legs aren't working very well, but that doesn't matter. Not when he can fly. And he can fly. "But once I leave, I'm not coming back. You'll have to wait for your father to come to get you and you'll be waiting a long time, I bet."

No answer, except for the noisy swell of the waves, reaching up to wash over Lex's body, claiming it as the ocean's own, inch by inch.

Obviously, Lex doesn't belong to Clark anymore.

"I'm not coming back!" Clark screams, arms windmilling as he backs away. He falls down, still scrabbling away through the gritty sand, frantically crawling as the tide rises.

A huge wave crashes against the shore and the body flips over, showing death, but Clark screams again and blindly reaches for the clouds, up and away before the sight of Lex's face is seared there forever.

He shuts his eyes and flies, hoping he'll crash into something. But there's nothing there but cold air and the burning of his lungs his eyes. Hurts, can't breathe, but when did he ever really need to breathe?

A voice murmurs soothingly in his ear. There, there, dear boy. I told you they were weak. Fragile creatures, you really don't need them. See how they've held you back?

There, there, dear son.

The solution to all your problems is very simple. It's what I've been telling you all along. Just follow my lead, and all will fall into place.

Just follow.

Yes, follow. Rule. Suddenly, Clark can breathe again. It is very simple, he thinks, sucking in lungfuls of thin air, all foolish notions such as pain and love leeching away from his soul. It's what I was born to be. A mighty vessel of change, with a heart that's made of steel, like my body and while empty

It beats.

See how it beats.

It's night when he returns to Metropolis. The neon lights of the city streets annoy him, so he destroys them with a few well-placed glances.

They explode into a dazzling cascade of sparks, which makes him smile. Fireworks for Clark's party, he thinks, flying toward Luthor Towers.

The penthouse balcony and he lands on it easily. Such a quick learner, his father admires somewhere inside his head. Such a proud man, his father.

Clark's going to have to figure out a way to destroy him, and soon.

But first things first. The balcony doors open easily and Clark steps inside, his boots still covered with tropical sand.

Lionel Luthor doesn't seem the least bit surprised to see him, but Helen does. Looks positively horrified as a matter of fact, her face twisting painfully in all different directions and Clark wonders what Lex ever saw in her.

Lionel toasts Clark silently, his glass raised. He nods toward Helen. "She did it."

Clark lunges forward and hurls Helen through the French doors as hard as he can. Glass shatters into tiny bits as she brokenly flails in mid-air before dropping out of sight to the sidewalk below.

"We have things to discuss," Clark says bluntly, wiping his hands on his pants in disgust.

Somewhere in the distance, sirens sound.

"We do indeed," Lionel replies. He bows, just slightly. "I am at your service."

Clark smiles. Thinks he might actually be happy at last, himself and the alien both. "You certainly are."