Summary: Martha Kent hires Private Investigator Lex Luthor to find her missing son. Rating: NC-17

The buzzer interrupted my first whiskey. Never a good sign.

"There's a lady here to see you," Effie intoned.

I drank the rest down in one shot. I needed the fuel.

"Send her in, Effie."

In a moment, the door opened and she walked in. She wasn't the prettiest broad on the planet. Older than I usually liked them. But there was something about her.

"Mr. Luthor?" She waved a hand in my direction. I took it, hoping that would induce her to sit. But she paced the room, the staccatto of her heels pounding in my brain.

"My name is Martha Kent, and I need you to find my son."

My eyes dropped to her left hand. Sure enough, there was a ring on her finger. I was losing my touch.

"What's your son's name, Ma'am?"

"Please. Call me Martha."

All right, then, I thought, and wondered how a woman with a name like Martha ever got in enough trouble to warrant my services.

"His name is Clark," she continued. The pacing was stirring the whiskey in my belly. Life was starting to crumble at the corners and I needed to get a grip before something as simple as a dame's yammering could bring back my dead and buried. But, like I said, there was something about her.

"How long has he been missing?"

"Three months. Since the end of May."

"And you last saw him where?"

"At home, in Smallville. He took his father's motorcycle and..." She trailed off, emotional.

"And the police?"

"The police can't find him. I really need your help." She stopped traipsing all over my tiles and gave me a look that would make a priest offer her God on a plate.

"All right," I said. "Did he have any money with him? Or any friends he might stay with?"

"Neither." She handed me a photograph.

I thought I heard angels singing when I looked at the kid. This was going to be an easy case. Not many places a teen-aged boy could go when he had nothing but the shirt on his back. And not many people who'd forget one like this if he crossed their paths.

"What makes you think he came to Metropolis?"

"I don't know where else he might go..."

"Edge City?"

"Please. Start here. I hate to think of him in that Sodom."

I didn't tell her Metropolis was just as much a Sodom. With a white-washed fence around it.

"He's only sixteen. He was supposed to start his junior year this week."

"Any idea why he left?"

"I--" She fiddled with her ring. "I don't know. Smallville is--kids like to leave there more than they like to come home."

She was lying to me, but as long as I knew it, I didn't mind. She'd be paying me to figure out what she was hiding.

"I'll find him," I assured her. "Five hundred a day, plus expenses."

They could hear her gasp back home in Smallville.

"Is that all right?"

"It's--more than I expected. How long do you think it will take to find him?"

"Depends on how well he's hidden himself. I usually bring them home in a week."

She nodded nervously, composure shattered. I felt a twinge, but then it was gone. Business was business. Most likely her son was now charging more than I was. Maybe he could pay me when all was said and done.

I started down on Delacey Street. I knew a guy from my Met U days. As with me, higher education hadn't done him an ounce of good. But he made a decent living selling rock, a designer drug made from some sort of red and green meteorites. When I found him, he was sipping a latte, looking more like a lawyer than a dealer.

"Hayden." I leaned on the wrought-iron railing next to his stoop.

"Lex. Need a fix?"

"Don't I always?" I handed him the mug shot. "Seen this kid?"

He whistled long and low. "If I had, he wouldn't look like this anymore. I'd check with Ashton. You know he's always got his eye out."

I nodded and put the precious image back in my breast pocket. Call me crazy, but I wanted it out of Hayden's hands.

"Will do," I said.

"I'll call you if he turns up." He handed me a tab.

"No, thanks. That's not enough to fix what I've got."

"Takes the pain away." He was pleading now. But I knew how addictive the stuff was.

"I'll pay you what that's worth if you give me a tip on the kid."

My phone rang as I climbed into the car. I checked the display.

"What is it, Effie?"

"I researched Mrs. Kent. She's the daughter of William Clark. But she left Metropolis twenty years ago to marry Jonathan Kent, a farmer. She's lived in Smallville ever since."

I'd been to Smallville once when I was a kid. Didn't like the place. Cursed, if you asked me. My father owned the town, which was reason enough not to like it.

"A lapsed society girl."

"Mm. That's not all."

I liked Effie. She knew how to string me along.

"Tell me."

"She works for your father. She's his...assistant."

"You're a doll."

"Brains and beauty, Boss."

I hung up. I never liked to visit my father. I only did it as a last resort. And today was no exception. In my father's dictionary, "assistant" meant "whore." Though she didn't strike me as the type. But my judgment had gone down the chute with last week's trash. If I didn't get it back, I'd be hard pressed to earn a living.

I had an insider at Luthorcorp. I'd have him do the dirty work for me.

By the end of the night, I was starting to believe I was in the wrong line of work. I'd talked to all the pimps and dealers in town. So many, I was starting to feel like a whore. And I wasn't even getting laid. But I did have a little cash from the Kent woman. It was burning a hole in my pocket. And there's only so much you can spend on liquor.

The case was consuming me. I hadn't even met the kid, but I wanted to. His face looked at me like I was his last hope. And I hated to be anybody's last hope.

I wondered if a trip to Edge City might be on the task list. I knew someone there who'd do me more good than seven tabs of rock. But first, I needed to pay Damien a visit.

We met by an old Warehouse in the Industry district. Damien hated my father almost as much as I did but, unlike me, he liked to fight from the inside.

"She's been working for him for about a year. He's... I see the way he looks at her."

"Something's going on?"

"I'd wager. He bought her a five grand watch about nine months ago. Around the same time she got pregnant." There was no disguising his real meaning.

"Where's the baby?" I asked sharply.

"There was an accident at the beginning of the summer. She lost it."

"How do you know it's his?"

"The Kents adopted a son twelve years ago. Because she couldn't conceive."

"Mr. Kent couldn't, you mean."

Damien laughed. "Guess your father's still good for something."

"He needs to learn to keep his dick in his pants." I needed a drink. Hell, I needed several.

"Was the son involved in the accident?" I asked.

"I'm good, but not that good. But I can tell you who arranged his adoption."

"Don't tell me. I already know. I'm surprised my father hasn't tried to find her son."

"I'm not. Nothing breaks up a marriage faster than a missing kid."

"Then I'd better find him, PDQ."

But Edge City would have to wait until tomorrow. My head was pounding. I needed a stiff drink and some time to think.

The apartment greeted me like the lid of a coffin. I kicked the door closed and went for the scotch. Its burn comforted me. I stood at the window and stared out into the night. Sirens wailed through the streets. They were my song, sweet and seductive, telling stories of blood and disaster. I had to listen. It was my business.

Morning hit me in the face and I rolled over in bed hoping the hangover would get up before I did. But, as usual, I had to fight it every step of the way.

I brushed my teeth and spat blood in the sink. Only twenty-three and my body was falling apart. I felt old, like life was over. And it was, wasn't it? I'd seen it all, done it all... It was time to quit. Most men my age looked for a wife. I'd had two and that was enough for one lifetime. I should've let them kill me.

I put on a purple shirt and black slacks. The feel of the fabric calmed me down. If you don't feel good, you can at least look good. I straightened my tie, used all my will to ignore the bottle of scotch, and headed out the door.

Two hours later, I crossed into the city limits. Martha Kent was right: Edge City was a Sodom. I didn't like to think of the kind of trouble her son might find there. He'd have to be tough to last a week without protection. I'd already checked with the morgue--he wasn't dead yet. But he could be close.

I spent the day hitting up all the contacts I had. By the end of the day, I knew a fair amount about the kid, but I hadn't managed to find him in the flesh. Seems he kept to himself. But it was just a matter of time before I caught up with him.

A rock dealer, Joe, had sold the kid a whole slew of tabs. Whatever Clark's situation, he didn't seem to be short of money. Which could only mean one thing.

Shorty, a balding scumbag in a mustard-stained blazer, gave me the scoop.

"He's a freelancer."

"In this town? That takes guts."

"Yeah," Shorty sighed, then pulled a bent cigarette from his pocket. He patted around for a lighter with no success. "Gotta light?"

I lit his cig for him. He puffed away, sweating.

"I could make a lotta money off that kid." He glanced up at me. "I hear he's good."

"How come no one's taken him down?"

"They've tried, believe me. They've tried. He's..."

"What?"

Shorty shook his head. "I don't know. I'm just a crazy old pimp, right? Time for me to retire."

"Tell me."

"I sent some guys out after him, right? Gotta protect my turf, you know. Three guys... Came back a bloody mess."

"So he's got friends."

"No. He was alone. He took them on alone."

I rubbed the back of my neck. A whiskey would help me think. It was time to visit the pumping station.

"What else do you know?"

"He lives on the street. I see him all hours."

"Where's his strip?"

"Don't got one. He wanders."

"All right. Call me if you see him."

He puffed some more, looking thoughtful, as I backed away. Something about the kid, he got to people. Pimps were like sharks. They only noticed you when they could make money off you. Otherwise, they didn't give you a second thought. This kid had nothing to do with money. He had a power all his own.

After a couple whiskeys, I was starting to feel more like myself. It had been a long day and it was time for my reward. I headed for Washington Boulevard.

Within a few minutes, I found what I was looking for. No one had picked Danny up yet. He greeted me like an old friend. Besides Damien, he was really the closest thing I had to one.

"It's my lucky day! How are you, Sugar?" He climbed into the car.

I ran my hand along his arm. "Better now."

He smiled and kissed my cheek. "I'm going to fix you up so good."

Once we were in the hotel room, he got right down to business. My world tilted with liquor, I let him have his way with me. Before you could even dial 9-1-1, my shirt was on the floor and my pants were headed in the same direction. Danny knelt in front of me and ran his hands up my thighs.

"On the bed," I said, nodding in that general direction.

"Feeling domestic, tonight, are you?"

"Mm. Just tired."

I lay on the scratchy sheets and rested my bones. Danny pulled his shirt over his head. He was older than me, maybe 27, but he looked good. Solid. Clean. How he managed it in this business, I didn't know. He straddled me, still in his jeans. I tugged the buttons free from their buttonholes. Ran my thumb over the short hairs leading down his stomach.

"You're beautiful, you know." He stroked my bare skin.

I wasn't one for sentiment. "Get undressed," I said.

He obeyed. "What do you want tonight?" He teased my nipple with his finger, then sucked it into his mouth. He was hard against my thigh.

I didn't feel much like talking. I guided his head down to my waiting cock. He didn't need any more instruction than that. He rolled on the condom and got to work. I stared at the ceiling until it blurred and stars appeared there. I was definitely beginning to relax. A hundred fifty bucks might buy a lot of liquor, but no liquor was as good as this.

After I came, Danny jacked his own cock and regarded me through half-closed eyes.

"Fuck me," I said.

He stopped in surprise. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure."

"But we've never--"

"Who's paying who here?"

"Sh." He hovered and kissed me. Reached for another condom. It had been years since I'd done this. I didn't know why I wanted it tonight. I felt like a part of me was missing. And I wanted it back. Sure, I was lonely. But I was used to it. It was something else. Danny could fix it, if only for tonight.

"Let me," I said, and pushed him back on the bed. He lay there, waiting, looking at me like I was the end of the world. I had to be in control or I'd break, or something would break, inside me, something about to shatter.

I lubed both of us and then, letting gravity do its job, I sank down on his cock. Pretty soon we had a rhythm going. I started to get hard again and I grabbed hold, like it would save me. Danny clung to me, wrapped his fingers around my thighs. It was like we were both trying to keep me from disappearing, from fading away. Because I didn't feel alive anymore, just sort of still and watchful, like I was waiting--for what I didn't know. I squeezed my muscles around Danny and he came. A few seconds later, I did too. When I rolled off, the feeling of being anchored was gone.

We lay there listening to each other breathe. It was idyllic for about a minute. But then my brain started circling around. I couldn't think straight. I needed to sleep.

"Double for the whole night?"

Danny ran his hand over my chest. "You don't have to pay double. I'll stay with you." He scooted over and curled up in my arms. I felt like I should be on the wall of a church. A church of the fallen.

Through the open window, I could hear the sounds of sirens and drunks screeching, glass shattering. It was comforting, and I fell asleep.

I woke in the middle of the night. Danny was stroking my hard cock, watching my face like it mattered. The glow from the neon and the streetlights illuminated the room.

"What time is it?"

"Three," he said.

"Did you sleep?"

"A little."

I pulled him on top of me and kissed him. He was hard again and we ground against each other.

"Do you want to fuck me?"

"Mm." I didn't seem to have much of a vocabulary.

He clambered onto his hands and knees. I moved in behind him. At this rate, we were going to use up the supply of condoms. I put one on. Slid a lubed finger into his ass. He rocked back against me. I slid another finger in.

"Just do it. Just fuck me."

I wasn't anyone's lackey, but I could follow orders when it suited me. I pushed inside him. He was warm and enveloping. I started to thrust, reaching around to squeeze his cock.

"Yeah," he whispered. For a few minutes, we didn't say anything, just moved with each other. Danny came first. I could feel him spasming around me as I sped up my pace. Finally, I let go, breathing like a freight train. Then I withdrew and we collapsed onto the bed.

I added another condom to the pile in the trash. I was going to be tired in the morning.

Danny wrapped his arms around me and his breathing grew quiet. I couldn't sleep. Martha Kent had lied to me because she felt responsible for her son's disappearance. Which meant that her son might know about her relationship with my father. It made sense in a way. But why hadn't he gone after Lionel? If he wanted revenge. If he was angry about Martha's infidelity. I couldn't imagine her cheating on her husband. I hadn't met Mr. Kent. But I knew my father better than I liked to admit. I knew he could talk a nun into sleeping with him. Maybe blackmail would be a better word. He must have something on Martha. What could she have to hide that would be dangerous for my father to know?

Danny broke the vicious cycle of my thoughts.

"What are you thinking about?"

"A case."

He stroked my side. It was soothing, and my mind slowed.

"Is that why you're here?"

"I'm looking for a kid. He wasn't in Metropolis. He's here. Somewhere."

"A runaway?"

"Yeah."

Danny was silent for a minute. "That's how I came here."

I lifted my head. "You ran away?"

"My folks were driving me crazy. Thought I'd be better off without them."

"Were you?"

"No."

I let my head fall back to the pillow. Tenderness had no place in this world. I reached for the lamp and turned on the light. Naked, I crossed the room and fumbled in my jacket for the photo.

"Have you seen him?"

Danny took the picture. "Business hasn't been the same since he got to town."

"How's that?"

"Let's just say, this picture doesn't do him justice. Compared to him, I'm an old crone. He's the reason I wasn't already busy when you found me."

"He's sixteen. He doesn't belong on the streets."

"Get him off the street for me, and my services are free as long as you want them."

"A good deal all around. How do I find him?"

"You asked the right person. I know something no one else does."

"Tell me." I kissed his neck. It never hurt to be persuasive.

"He likes to watch the sunrise. He goes up to the top of the hill in MacArthur Park."

"How do you know?"

"I go there too, sometimes."

"I didn't know you were a romantic."

"Part of me is."

"What's the other part?"

"Tired."

At dawn, we parted amicably after coffee and danishes. I insisted on double pay and Danny didn't protest too much. I knew he could use it. And he'd given me a lead, which meant it counted as an expense. I made my way to the hill in the park. I don't know what I expected to find. The kid might not even be there. My legs ached. My lungs ached. But for once, my head didn't. I climbed up a worn dirt trail. The light was golden and the leaves were still on the trees. It was cool, though. Fall was approaching. Winter would come, desolate and monotonous. It made a guy feel downright poetic.

He was there. Sitting on the grass, leaning against a tree. I knew him right away. He heard my footsteps and turned to see who I was. The light made a halo around his head. I felt like a medieval crusader who finally finds the grail.

"Hi," he said, like he was expecting me.

I sat down beside him. Danny was right. The kid was beautiful. I could see how he'd be tough competition. Even for Danny. But his eyes were rimmed with red, like he was strung out. Or like he'd been crying.

"I'm not working again until tonight."

"That's okay. I just want to talk."

"Go ahead."

I didn't have anything to say. So we sat and watched the sun rise. About twenty minutes later, I said, "Are you hungry?"

"Kind of. Are you buying?"

"Anything you want."

"I like...pancakes. And apple pie."

"We can get that."

He smiled the sweetest, saddest smile. Then he stood. Dug in his pocket and popped a tab in his mouth.

"It's addictive," I said and got up.

"I know. I'm addicted. Want one?"

"I don't do it anymore."

"How'd you break the habit?"

"My wife tried to kill me and they wouldn't give it to me in the hospital."

"That works." He glanced at my hand. I held it up for him to see.

"Annulment."

He nodded.

We scuffed down the path toward the sleepy city, and didn't speak again until we were seated in a booth at Mabel's diner. He ordered a double stack of buttermilks, a slice of apple pie, 2 glasses of milk, and 2 eggs, scrambled. I ordered a coffee straight up.

I liked to watch the kid eat. He was like a machine.

"What's your name?" I interrupted his second egg.

"Oh. Sorry. Clark." He wiped his mouth with his napkin.

"Clark." He was using his real name. The story just got more convoluted the more I investigated.

"What's yours?"

"Lex."

"Hi, Lex." He smiled like he was trying to seduce me. It was working. I tried to figure out how to make him trust me. Food was a good first step.

"I like watching you eat. Can I take you out to lunch, too?"

He laughed. "I need to sleep, you know."

"Mm. Dinner, then?"

"Okay."

"And then the whole night."

"The whole night?" He stopped chewing.

"Yes."

"It'll cost you."

"I know that." I didn't tell him his mother was footing the bill.

He shrugged. "Fine with me." He polished off the last of the pancakes and waved at the waitress. "Could I get some toast?"

I lay in bed most of the day. It looked like I was just watching TV, but I was working. Thinking. The pieces were starting to fit. My father had something on Mrs. Kent. That I knew. She wouldn't have slept with him otherwise. Therefore, she had something to hide and he knew about it. I had a feeling that something was her son. My father had facilitated the adoption--why had he done that? Not out of the goodness of his heart. And the Kents could hardly afford to pay him what he would require for such a service.

The kid was the key. He was special. I sensed it. There was something to Shorty's story. He wasn't the only one who had tried to enact his street justice. They'd all failed because the kid could take them on. He wasn't afraid of anyone.

If I could find out his secrets, the mystery would be solved. I wondered why Mrs. Kent had come to me. Of all the detectives in the city. I was good, but not legendary. And she must have known I was my father's son. That had to be the reason she hired me. She wanted me to find out who she worked for. She was smart, I could see that. She knew I'd been disowned. Knew I wasn't on speaking terms with my father, but that I would know a lot about him. She wasn't as naive as she looked.

We met at the Bisque, a little cafe on the north edge of town.

"Before we go in, I need my money."

The kid had street smarts. No wonder he was still alive.

"What's your fee?"

"Seven hundred."

He was sure of himself. No hesitation. That must have taken practice.

"Five hundred. I'm a nice client. No crazy shit."

He shook his head.

"You know it's a good deal."

"Okay, five. Plus dinner and breakfast."

"Deal." I pulled a roll of hundreds out of my pocket and gave it to him. "Let's eat."

Once we were seated, he swallowed another tab. He probably had to spend a couple hundred a day to support the habit.

"Why do you like it so much?" I asked.

"It makes me feel... I don't know. It makes the world hurt less. Makes me feel like other people. More normal."

"How do you know how other people feel?"

"I just do."

"Hm. Do you know how I feel?"

He studied me like there was going to be a test on the subject.

"You feel like you're dying."

I sat back in my seat. My head hurt. The waitress decided to give us the time of day.

"Scotch. Double," I said.

"I'm sorry, sir, we only have wine."

"Bring me a bottle, then. Merlot."

She nodded and disappeared.

"I'm right, aren't I?"

I remained silent on the subject. He got the hint after a minute.

"What's it like to go cold turkey?" he said, finally.

"Ever been socked in the gut?"

"Once or twice."

"It's like that, but over and over. For days. You'd lie, cheat, steal, kill... anything to get more."

"Why did you take it in the first place?"

"I didn't know what I was getting into."

"I guess I didn't either."

Unlike him, I knew when to shut up and quit asking questions. Both of us had so much to hide that there wasn't much to say. But I told him I'd been named after Alexander the Great. College finally came in handy as I recounted all the major events of Alexander's life. It passed the time. And it was safe. And the kid didn't seem to mind listening at all.

Back at my motel, I suddenly felt tired. I hadn't slept much. And the wine was making me sleepy.

Clark took the room in. Then got right to business. "What do you want me to do first?"

"Let's just go to sleep, if you don't mind."

"You're paying me five hundred dollars to lie here with you all night?"

"That's all I want."

"You're crazy."

"So I'm told." I loosened my tie and sat on the edge of the bed. The shoes came off. I tossed them in the corner.

"Why did you even hire me, then?"

"Maybe I need companionship. Maybe I'm an insomniac." I unbuttoned my shirt and then unzipped my pants. In just my shorts, I climbed into bed. The kid stared like he couldn't believe this was happening.

"Don't you like me?" He sounded like he was about to cry.

"Take off your clothes and get in bed. You can watch TV if you want."

He hesitated, then started to undress. I'd be a liar if I said I wasn't looking forward to seeing him naked. He popped another tab in his mouth before taking off the rest of his clothes. He looked good in clothes. But he looked better out of them. He left his briefs on and slid into bed beside me. I noticed he folded his clothes neatly and put them in a pile right next to his side of the bed.

I leaned over and kissed him. His mouth tasted bitter from the pill. He grabbed me and kissed me harder. I pulled away and turned off the light on my side.

"Sleep," I said. I kissed his cheek. He was just a kid. He looked exhausted. His wide eyes pleaded with me--for what, I didn't know. I reached over and turned the lamp off on his side too. Then I nestled up to him and he put his arm around me. I fell asleep thinking about how badly I wanted him.

I woke sometime in the night, afraid I'd find the bed empty. But he was there, warm and solid beside me. I knew what had woken me. His soft sobs and hitching breaths could've broken a warden's heart. I stroked his arm. "Hey," I said. He curled away from me. I climbed on top of him and pushed him onto his back. He turned his head, sniffling, and wouldn't look at me.

He was hard. I could feel it under me. And sometime in the night, he'd taken off his underwear. The kid was trying to break me.

"What's going on?"

He didn't answer. I leaned in and kissed his throat. He relaxed and I moved to his mouth.

"I want to know what it's like." His voice was hoarse.

"What what's like?"

He shook his head. "Do you want me?"

I pressed into him so he could feel how much.

"You can have me. You paid for me."

"You're too young to be living this life. I want you to have a night off."

"But I want you." He thrust against me, lifting his hips. He was strong. I was resting all 160 pounds of my weight on him.

"You didn't answer my question. What do you want to know?"

"What it's like--to be normal."

"I thought that's why you took the pills."

"It's not enough." He thrust again. I was so hard it hurt.

"I think you should stop taking them."

"I can't."

"I'll help you."

"Nobody can help me."

"I can. I will."

The kid was still crying, for God's sake. But I was lying--to myself and to him. How could I help him when I couldn't get my own life together? I understood why he wanted me to fuck him. It would make him feel something else. Something besides pain and loneliness.

I was weak. I wanted to fuck him. It would be so easy. But that's what my father would do. And I'm not my father.

I backed away. "Listen," I said, "I'm not going to fuck you. But I'll stay here with you while you detox."

"You can't keep me here."

"I'll tie you to the bed."

"I'll break free. I'm strong."

"I'll chain you."

"You don't understand." He started to hyperventilate. Christ. I was in way over my head.

"No. I don't. But I'm trying." I rubbed his arms, kissed his forehead. He calmed down and took a deep breath. I could feel his cock pressing against my ass. I was going to need Danny's services after tonight. My dick didn't seem to get my instructions that the kid was off limits.

"What helps you?"

"Sex. Sex helps me."

I sighed. We were talking in circles. "Anything else?"

"Running."

"Okay. We'll go running in the morning."

"You can't keep up with me. I need to go alone."

"That defeats the whole purpose, doesn't it?"

I pinned his arms down and squeezed his waist between my thighs.

"Just fuck me. Please."

"No. When was your last pill?"

"Right before bed. I need one now."

I leaned in and kissed him. I concentrated on our mouths, tried not to think about my cock, or his cock. Or his ass. I held his hand and rubbed his palm. Then I kissed his fingers one by one.

He whimpered. "I need a pill."

"The first twenty-four hours are the worst. I'll be here with you." I was determined to bring the kid home clean and sober.

Five hours later, I was beginning to question my own sanity. Since when did my duties as private investigator extend to babysitting a teenager with the DTs. The kid was trembling, staining the sheets with drug-poisoned sweat. It wasn't pretty. But it was clear to me the kid wanted to quit. Deep down inside himself, he was determined. Because I knew he could throw me if he wanted to. He didn't need to be chained or tied, he just needed me to believe in him, to stay with him. It was a crazy feeling being somebody's savior. If that's what I was.

His breathing was fast and panicked. "I need it, Lex, I need it. Just one." His eyes rolled around, directionless.

"Get up."

He clung to me like I was a piece of driftwood and he was a shipwrecked sailor. I dragged him to the bathtub and ran the water. It was cold, but I pushed him in. He was still naked. And then he was wet too. Life was difficult when you got right down to it.

He wouldn't let go of me. The water didn't seem to chill him, but it shocked me to the bone. I started to shiver. That made two of us, huddled together. The cold seemed to still him, and his breathing normalized. I rubbed his shoulders and said soothing things in his ear. Then his legs couldn't hold him anymore--I couldn't hold him. He collapsed in a heap on the cheap plastic liner of the tub. I went down with him, cold to the core.

"Clark." My teeth chattered. "I have to get out. It's too cold."

"Don't go."

"I'll be right here. Right outside the tub." I climbed out and dried my skin. My wet shorts clung to me. I peeled them off and wrapped the towel around myself. I wished the motel had a wet bar because I needed a drink. Not as bad as he needed his drug. But bad. It would warm me at least.

We held hands over the ledge of the tub. After an hour, his skin wasn't wrinkled, but mine was. And I was still cold. I got up and turned the water off.

"How do you feel?"

"Like shit. My stomach feels weird."

"Are you going to throw up?"

He looked confused. "I've never thrown up. What does it feel--" He put his hand up to his mouth. I was quick with the trash can and I didn't have to add clean-up to my list of responsibilities. He heaved again. He'd never thrown up? Hard to believe. But there was a lot that was unbelievable about this kid.

"Come on. Get out of the tub. Rinse your mouth out."

In a daze, he followed my orders. I rubbed him dry with a towel and led him to the bed. I put another trash can by him.

"If you feel that way again, you know what it means." He nodded. "I'm going to get dressed and get this mess out of here."

I pulled on a shirt and a clean pair of shorts. He didn't take his eyes off me.

"What happened?"

"What do you mean?"

"Your hair."

"None of your business."

"It is my business."

"How do you figure?"

"I trusted you. Now you trust me."

I laughed. "It doesn't work that way, kid." I pulled on a pair of pants and took the trash out to the dumpster. When I got back, the kid was sitting on the bed with my wallet in his hands. Shit. Careless. I was tired and careless.

"Lex Luthor. You didn't tell me your last name."

"No. I didn't."

"You're Lionel Luthor's son."

"I like to forget that."

"Did he send you to get me? Did he?" The kid sounded like he was about to break.

"No. He disowned me years ago. We never speak."

"You knew who I was the whole time." Now he was crying. For a boy, he sure cried a lot. He threw my wallet and it hit the wall with a dangerous thud. Before I knew what was happening, he had me pinned to the bed. The kid moved fast.

"You lied to me."

"You never asked who I was."

"I thought--" he broke off.

"Clark, listen to me. I'm here to help you. This has nothing to do with my father. I'd never do his dirty work for him."

"Who sent you?"

I hesitated. "Your mother."

He let go of my arms and sat back on his heels. Suddenly, he was leaning over the edge of the bed, retching into the garbage can. I lay on my back and waited. When he came back up again, his eyes were red and watery. Whether from crying or vomitting, it was hard to tell. He was shaking.

"I want my drugs. Tell me where you put them."

"No."

"I'll just go out and get more," he threatened.

"No you won't."

He looked down at the floor next to the bed. But his clothes were gone.

"Where are my clothes?"

"I like you naked." It was the last thing I said. I'd been beat up before. And I'd had hangovers that felt like being trampled by bulls. But when my skull hit the wall, I really thought it was over. I'd been a fool. Luthors couldn't be saviors. I could try to do good in this world, but I'd always fail. I had the Luthor touch. Everything turned to shit, not gold.

I was on my merry way to the afterlife. And since it couldn't be worse than real life, I looked forward to it.

I didn't know what time it was. I didn't know where I was. I wasn't even sure who I was. It wasn't a good feeling.

I did know that my head hurt. Which was nothing new except that this pain was like all the hangovers I'd ever had twisted up into one nasty monster. It all started to come back to me. And that was a worse feeling than not knowing anything at all.

"Lex?"

I didn't want to hear that voice.

"Answer me, please."

"Fuck you," I growled.

"Thank you."

I felt fingers brushing my skull. I winced.

"Sorry. God, I'm so sorry. I don't know what happened, I--I lost control."

"Did you go out and get more drugs?"

"No. I've been here with you."

"At least there's that." I licked my lips. "Am I dead?"

"No. You're okay. Your skull isn't cracked, but I guess I knocked you around pretty good."

"It feels cracked."

"It's not."

"How do you know?"

"I just know."

I could feel him shifting on the bed. I still hadn't opened my eyes. It was too much effort for me.

A cold cloth pressed in on me.

"Ow."

"I'm sorry."

"Fuck you."

There was no response. I struggled to open my eyes. The kid was just sitting there, crying.

"What are you crying for? I'm the one with the cracked-open head."

He sniffled, wiped his nose with the back of his hand. "I feel like everything I do hurts people. I can't--everything turns out badly. I try to make things right and..."

"Hey," I said, "I know how you feel."

"No. You don't."

"I do, all right?"

He kept up his sniffling.

"Go blow your nose."

He got up and went to the bathroom. I closed my eyes. A minute later, I felt his weight on the bed again. I just wished the kid would go away. I'd about had it.

"Lex?"

"What?" I was grouchy. And who could blame me?

"I want you to be honest with me. I want you to tell me why you're here?"

"What time is it?"

"What?"

"How long have I been out?"

"Most of the day. I was worried, you know?"

"I bet you were. It's a sordid story for someone who's trying to lay low."

"That's not why I was worried. I just--"

"How long has it been since your last pill?"

"It's eight o'clock."

My weary brain tried to calculate. "So you made it through the first 24 hours."

"Just about, yeah."

"Good. I survived the worst."

"Thanks. For staying with me."

"I didn't have much choice, did I?" I opened my eyes again and studied him. He looked like hell. "I was telling the truth. Your mother hired me. She just wants her kid back. I think she chose me because I would know to protect you from my father."

"Is he looking for me?"

"I don't know. Is there a reason why he should be?"

He rested his chin on his knees, hugging his legs to himself. He looked even more like a kid than usual.

"I hope you aren't charging me five hundred bucks for today."

That got me a smile. "I should give your money back."

"It's your mother's money. Give it to her." My head throbbed. I just wanted to sleep. But I was hungry too. My stomach growled.

"Want me to get you something to eat?"

"Get me some whiskey while you're at it."

He shook his head. "I gave up my drug. You have to give up yours."

"Fuck you."

"You're saying that a lot today."

"You deserve it. What are you so chipper about? You're supposed to be in withdrawal."

He stared at the blankets. "I don't get sick like other people. I guess I detox faster too."

I waited, but he didn't tell me more. "I have to get your clothes," I said.

"Where are they?"

"Threw them out the window."

"You threw them out the window?"

"I was afraid you'd make a run for it. I didn't have time for a more intricate plan."

He got up and wrapped a towel around his waist. "I'll be right back."

After some water and wonton soup, I thought I might be able to face another day. My head felt like it was only twice its normal size. An improvement.

I staggered out of bed and to the bathroom. Leaning on the counter, I stared at myself in the mirror. I looked worse than I'd ever looked in my life. I felt worse too. It was a great day all around. I took a piss and then navigated back to the bed.

He was just sitting there, watching me. Like a goddam dog. "Help me get these clothes off." I sat on the edge of the bed, unable to stand for another minute.

He knelt in front of me and began undoing the buttons of my shirt. His eyes were bright and beautiful now that he was off the rock. No matter what happened, no matter how many people I slept with, I'd never forget him.

His fingers ghosted across my chest, then down my stomach to my zipper.

"Lie back." His hand supported me as I came to rest on the blanket. He pulled my pants down over my hips. I closed my eyes. There was something lulling about being taken care of. I wasn't used to it.

I startled awake when I felt my shorts being pulled off too. "What are you doing?"

"I like you naked." Irony. I didn't think the kid had it in him. He pulled the blankets aside and helped me into bed. I watched him undress and climb in next to me. He turned off the light.

In the dark, he pulled me close to him. I rested my head on his chest, and before I knew it, I was asleep.

"I'm taking you home today." I tried to sound authoritative. It was difficult when I was sitting in bed naked and my head was pounding like a drum.

"Shouldn't we wait until you're feeling better?" He, on the other hand, was very persuasive naked.

I stood up slowly. My teeth felt like they were coated with fuzz. I needed a shower and a glass of water. A drink wouldn't have been a bad idea either. I stumbled to the bathroom and got to work with the toothbrush. He was watching me again, I could feel it.

I spit and drank some water from the tap. "Stop looking at me."

"I can't help it. You're beautiful."

He came and stood beside me, ran his hand down my back. He kissed my ear and then my neck. I could feel my breath coming faster. What was it about this kid, anyway? Irresistible. Then his mouth was on mine. Soft brushes of his lips, barely there.

"I need to shower," I said, and pulled away. If I kept this up, the Pope might consider me for sainthood.

"I'll help you." He turned on the water and pulled the shower curtain aside. He guided me under the spray. It hurt on my bruises but the heat felt good. He pressed up behind me. He was hard. Sainthood had to be over-rated. It just had to be.

He kissed my shoulders. Ran his hands down my arms.

"Clark." I turned to face him. "What you've been doing these last few months--you're too young for that. That part of your life is over now. Do you understand?"

"I know. But this is different. You're not paying me. I want you, that's all. You're so beautiful. Sexy."

His words were like a magnet. Exerting their pull on me. I found myself glued to him, skin to skin. "We won't be doing anything I haven't done before," he whispered.

"Let's just take a shower."

"Whatever you say." He picked up the soap and rubbed it along my back. Then lower. His hands kneaded my ass and he slid a sudsy finger into the hole. I tried my best to move away, but something kept me there. I clutched his shoulders and arched back against his hand. My mouth found his collarbone and began licking and sucking. He was gorgeous. And I had no willpower left.

"Lex?"

I raised my head and he latched onto my mouth, his tongue finding places that only the dentist knew about. The roof of my mouth was a nerve center and I could hardly stand when he stroked it with his tongue. My knees buckled, but he held me up against his strong body. I bit his bottom lip. Sucked it into my mouth. He tasted clean. No longer bitter.

"Why do you like me?"

"What do you mean? Why wouldn't I?"

"I'm just a P.I. who's fucked up more times than the President."

"You believed in me. You stayed with me..."

"I was just doing my job."

"I'm sure that's not what my mother had in mind when she hired you."

"I'm sure she didn't have this in mind either." I thrust against him.

"She paid you to find me, not save me."

"She wanted her son back. The boy she knew and loved. I couldn't bring her a strung-out hustler."

"I'll never be the same."

"No. I guess you won't."

"How will she forgive me?"

"She already has." I turned off the water. "All you need to do is go home."

"Tomorrow. In the morning, okay? Can we just have today? I want to be with you. Please."

I wasn't competing for sainthood anymore. It was futile. I'd never cared much for the church.

"Is this what you really want?"

"I want it. No money. Just--I just want you." His eyes were huge and sincere. They melted my insides.

"You can have me."

He grabbed a towel and rubbed us dry. His skin was flawless and smooth. I'd always thought Danny was beautiful, but Clark was...perfect. I felt a momentary twinge of guilt. What was I turning into? Feeling guilty for forsaking a hooker... I was getting sentimental.

"You're perfect," I said.

"So perfect I gave you a concussion."

"It was the drugs." Now I was making excuses for the kid.

"I'm going to make it up to you." I liked promises like that. He walked backwards into the room and lay on the bed. The sheets were rumpled. Some part of me wished for clean ones.

"Let's go somewhere else," I said.

"It's okay. I don't care where we are. I don't want to wait."

Frankly, I didn't want to wait either. Not when the most beautiful boy in the world was lying on a bed five feet away and his cock was hard and he wanted to fuck me. Some choices in life were difficult and others were easy. I climbed onto the bed and straddled him. The sensation of his cock against mine, skin against skin--it was like losing consciousness. In a good way.

I propped myself on my elbows and kissed him. Explored his mouth with my tongue. Learned the texture of his teeth. He moaned and thrust against me. Gently, he pushed me over onto my back. Kissed his way down my chest, my stomach.

"I want you to tell me about this." He stroked my bare skin with the pads of his fingers.

"It happened when I was a kid."

"What happened?"

I looked away. I'd never talked about it with anyone. Not even my wives. The first one hadn't even asked. The second one probably just pulled my medical records. Lack of curiousity was a red-light warning. It meant the person had access to your information some other way. Or they didn't give a damn.

"You can tell me." His voice was just a whisper, pleading, earnest.

"I was caught in a meteor shower."

"A meteor shower?"

"In Smallville. The only time I've been there." The look on his face was more mysterious than the Mona Lisa. And less happy.

"I've hurt a lot of people in my life." He said it like a revelation.

I tried to figure out what he meant. But I was no mind-reader.

"So have I," I said.

"I can't change it. But I--I think I need to help people now. To make up for all the people I've hurt."

"You will. I know you will." I took his hand and kissed it.

"I love you." His voice broke.

"No you don't."

"I do."

"You hardly know me."

"I know you." He bent down and took the head of my cock into his mouth. His tongue moved like hummingbirds at flowers. It didn't take long for me to forget about our conversation. To forget how to talk. Who needed language? We were communicating telepathically. I'd think of something good and he'd do it. His finger was up my ass, moving with skill and purpose. I was incoherent, all thought flooding to my dick, which was having the best time of its life.

The kid was a multi-tasker. His tongue swirled and fluttered. His lips moved up and down my shaft at an amazing speed, and on every downstroke, the head of my cock would slide into his throat. I felt like I was dying. But not like before. Not a sad, slow death, but a spectacular death after a full life. That life flashed before my eyes and then everything exploded.

I tried to catch my breath, but my lungs weren't really working. I was making pitiful little noises. Then his hands on my shoulders steadied me. His mouth on my mouth. I was grounded. Saved.

"Oh," I said, feeling chatty.

He laughed. "Did you like that?"

"Mm." My thoughts slowly began to coalesce. It seemed, though, that only one of us had come. With great effort, I did a spot check. He was still hard. I wasn't feeling up to much. Head injury plus mind-blowing orgasm. I was knocked out.

"Rest."

"Don't want to." I rolled onto my side and eyed his cock.

"Don't worry about it."

"I'm not worried," I said, and wrapped my hand around his erection. There was some fluid at the tip and I smeared it around with my thumb. I wanted to taste him.

Something occurred to me. "You didn't use a condom."

"I usually do, but... I don't really get sick." Then quickly, "I've always used them before. It was business. Always. You don't have to worry."

"I'm not worried," I said again. I brought my thumb up to my mouth and licked it. Salty and smooth.

"Oh God. You're so hot." He kissed me suddenly, roughly, his tongue trying to rewrite the laws of physics. He began to thrust against me, urgent, maybe even desperate. I traced the bones of his back and slid a finger between his ass cheeks. There were little hairs there, and I caressed them, liking how foreign they felt. Pretty soon he was coming, my legs wrapped around him, holding on. He was breathless and so beautiful I never wanted to look at anything else for the rest of my life.

Afterwards, we just lay on our sides and stared at each other. It was a peculiar feeling, whatever I was feeling now. I couldn't identify it. My head still hurt, but I'd never felt better in my life.

I promised him he could have the day. But I called Mrs. Kent and told her I'd found her son. That I'd be bringing him home the next day. She sounded so grateful, like I was Mother Theresa. I didn't tell her that her son had had my cock down his throat just two hours earlier. That was information provided on a need-to-know basis and she didn't need to know.

After I hung up, I said, "You aren't in any danger in Smallville, are you?"

"Because of your father, you mean?"

"He handled your adoption, and now your mother works for him. Don't you find it strange?"

"My parents hate him. But my mother needed money and he needed an assistant."

"My father is a liar and a blackmailer. And he doesn't give a damn about anyone but himself. I want you to watch out for him. Don't tell him anything."

"I won't."

"Promise me."

"I promise."

"I'll keep tabs on him for you. If he finds out about your abilities, he'll cage you like a lab rat."

"Why would he care?"

"You're strong, you're fast, you don't get sick... He'll want to exploit that. Study you."

"He won't find out." The kid looked like he was about to bust.

"What is it?" I said.

"I x-rayed your skull." He blushed and looked away.

"I wondered about that."

"My parents told me not to tell anyone. But it's horrible lying to all my friends. To the people I love." He gazed into my eyes. My stomach tightened. I really was becoming a sentimental slob.

"Did my mother tell you why I ran away?"

"No."

"She was going to have a baby. And..." There were the tears again. The kid didn't seem to mind letting the faucets flow. "Because of me, she miscarried." It didn't seem like the time to mention my father's possible involvement. I'd find out in time.

"Sh." I gathered him in my arms and kissed his tears.

"I came down in the meteor shower. That was me. I caused all kinds of things." He touched my scalp lightly.

It took a lot to shock me. So the news was only as surprising as a surprise party. Which was not at all. If I knew one thing it was how to listen to what people didn't say. "That's what you meant when you said you needed to do good in the world..."

He nodded, sniffling.

"You will do great things. You may be good in bed, but I'd say you have a higher calling. Right now, though, you need to go home and grow up and be with your family. Don't blame yourself, kid."

"Don't call me a kid."

I kissed him. Just to shut him up.

We had a stop to make before leaving town.

The apartment was about as cheery as a death notice. One room and a tiny bathroom. Not even a bed. The kid had been sleeping on the floor for three months. On the floor or in cheap hotel beds. What a life. We gathered his clothes and got out of there before the rats could catch up.

"Your mother mentioned a motorcycle," I said as we sat in a booth at a local greasy spoon. The kid was decimating two hamburgers, an order of fries, and a milkshake.

"I had to sell it when I got here. I didn't know how I was going to get money."

I didn't like to think of how he got where he was when I found him. But I had to ask. "How did you..."

He stared out the window. "I was just at this club. Dancing--it made me feel better, you know--and this guy just offered me money to..."

I watched his face. That was my full-time job lately.

"He paid me and gave me some rock. After that, I was hooked." He shrugged, and finally looked my way.

I wiped a spot of ketchup from his chin with my thumb. "I'm glad I found you," I said.

We had some plans for the afternoon, but by the time we got back to the motel, we'd forgotten them. There were clean sheets and it seemed like a crime to let them go to waste.

He pushed me down on the bed and my head hit the pillows. Even that hurt. But I was beyond caring about my dumb skull. His lips were on mine and it was the best pain-killer in the world. The kid had a lot of oral talent and I intended to take advantage of it. His teeth nipped at my jaw and my ear. My hips had a mind of their own and they shoved up against him.

Before I knew it, my shirt was unbuttoned and he was kissing his way down my belly, flicking his tongue against my skin. I moaned like a porn star. I'd never made much noise during sex, but I'd never slept with anyone as talented as Clark. He got to work on getting me naked. His hands were everywhere: hips, thighs, the backs of my knees. Then his mouth. Places I never knew I liked being touched.

"Hey," I said. I was getting pretty articulate.

"Hm..." He sucked at the inside of my ankle.

"You're still dressed."

His mouth disappeared and the spot felt cold. He exiled his clothes to the corner and flopped down beside me. I wanted to touch him. I wanted to get every inch of him memorized, mapped out, recorded. So I'd never forget. He understood somehow, and gazed up at me, laid open.

I spent a good long time on my task. Touching, tasting. His skin felt different under my tongue than it did under my fingers. More texture. I could feel the tiny hairs that I could barely see. I saved his cock for last. The skin was smooth and taut. His breath quickened when I wrapped my hand around it. I pushed his legs up and spread them. Traced a finger along his balls, then gently sucked one into my mouth, rolled it around on my tongue.

"Lex!"

"Mm."

He was panting now. I liked that. I tongued a little lower. A part I hadn't explored yet. He started writhing around.

"How am I supposed to do this if you can't keep still?"

"It feels too good. I can't take it."

"I'll stop, then."

"Don't stop."

I lowered my head again. Pressed my tongue to the puckered skin. He kept still this time and I pressed farther. Traced a path back to his balls, and then his cock. I wanted to taste him. There was no way in hell I was as good at giving head as he was, but I enjoyed it. And I didn't hear any complaints. I'd had some practice at the sport. I grabbed the lube from the nightstand and squirted some into my palm. My tongue paid plenty of attention to the smooth skin of his cock and I jerked myself off with my right hand. Pretty soon, he was shooting spurts of come into my mouth and I tasted, like I was a connoisseur, before swallowing. He lay there dazed while I finished myself off. Then I collapsed next to him. All this sex was making my brain foggy.

His arms wrapped around me and his lips found mine. I was starting to like this kid.

"No one ever did that to me before."

"What do you mean?"

"Just what I mean." His voice was soft. I kissed his cheekbones. Because they were there. And beautiful like every other part of him.

"I thought you'd done everything."

"Everything but that. No one ever wanted to do it to me." He was like a puppy with those eyes. How come I kept thinking how glad I was that Martha Kent had walked into my office?

"Lucky me," I said.

We both must have dozed off for a while. When I came to, I was lying with my head on his chest and he was stroking my back. I kissed the bit of skin right beneath my mouth. It tasted good. I wondered if he was still sweating drugs out of his system. Because I was becoming addicted to him.

"How's your head?"

"Recovering."

"I'm really sorry. I don't know--"

"Sh." I held a hand to his mouth. He kissed it.

"My parents always warned me about hurting people. I'm usually able to control it."

"It's okay. I'm going to be fine."

He hugged me closer. I never wanted to leave the bed.

"I don't know if I'm ready to go home." His voice shook a little as he said it.

"Your parents miss you. They were worried."

He let out a breath. "I know. I can handle them. It's everyone else I'm not sure about."

"Your friends?"

It took so long for him to respond, I started to wonder if maybe he didn't have any friends.

"I--There's this girl..."

My head lifted of its own accord. I waited for him to say more.

"I was kind of going out with her when I left town."

"You have a girlfriend?" I pulled out of his arms. Some girl-next-door was in Smallville pining away for this kid.

"No. I mean, we didn't break up, but I'm going to have to do it when I get back. She's--she'll never understand what I went through, what I've done."

"Probably not..." I said slowly. "Do you love her?"

"Of course. She's my friend. I've known her forever." He hesitated. "I just don't know what to say to her."

"You'll figure something out. I believe in you." We were both quiet for a minute.

"I wish my first time had been with you and not..." A tear rolled from the corner of his eye. I rubbed it away.

"I've never met anyone who cries as much as you do."

"I didn't used to. Just lately."

"That part of your life is over. You don't ever have to go back to it."

"But that won't make it go away."

"No." I kissed him and pushed the hair out of his face. "I should take you for a haircut."

"Yeah. I want one. And I want to throw away my clothes. They aren't what I normally wear."

"You need a shave too." I fingered his stubble. It felt unfamiliar. He hadn't shaved since the night we'd first had dinner.

"Which one is the real me?"

I understood what he meant. "They both are. They're parts of you."

We spent the next morning making love. The experience was burned in my memory. I was ruined for anyone else. My whole body felt the loss when we finally got dressed.

It was time to return the kid to his mother. I didn't want to let him go. I didn't know how I was going to live without him. He was quiet on the ride to Smallville. We'd said a lot of things to each other in the last few days, but we didn't want to say goodbye.

As we neared the farm, he turned to me. "Don't tell my mother what I was doing while I was gone. Please."

"Clark, she'll know."

"I'll tell her I stole the money. That I ate out of garbage cans. Or that I did odd jobs for cash."

"That last sounds most plausible. I'll back you up."

"Thanks."

I pulled into the driveway of the farm, and Mrs. Kent came running out of the house. The man I took to be Mr. Kent followed behind. He let his wife have the first hug. Clark gathered them in his arms. It was a happy reunion. I leaned on the car and watched them. It was something I'd never really had--family. I felt funny, like a piece of me was missing.

Mrs. Kent glanced over at me. "Mr. Luthor, thank you."

"Luthor?" Mr. Kent's brows knitted.

"I'll explain later," she told him.

"It was my pleasure, Mrs. Kent."

She gave me a funny look. "What happened to you? You've been hurt."

"It's nothing. I'm on the mend."

I opened the car door and folded inside. Mrs. Kent came around to the window.

"Would you like to stay for dinner?"

"Thank you, but I can't." I needed to get away.

"Goodbye, then," she said.

I couldn't look at Clark. I didn't want to see him. I backed out of the driveway and sped down the road. I didn't get very far before I had to pull over. My vision was blurred and my nose tingled. My breathing was irregular. I didn't know what was happening. And then the tears came. I stayed there, at the side of the road, until they stopped. Then I drove home to Metropolis.

My coffee was cold. I stared at it and debated whether to go out and get another cup. It was Friday and it was getting late. I could hear the sounds of taxis, horns honking, busses whining to a stop. Other people were going home.

A soft knock on the door to my office.

"Yeah?"

Effie poked her head in. "I'm going home, Boss... You should too."

"I don't pay you to tell me what to do."

"Yes, you do." She smirked. "I'm calling here in half an hour and you'd better be gone." She disappeared.

I sighed and rubbed my eyes and vowed not to answer the phone when she called. The kid's photo stood propped against my rolodex. It was creased and worn. Nothing like the real thing.

It was going to be a long night.

Out in the street, some kids were playing stickball in the fading light. Waiting until the last minute to get out of the way when a car came. Their shouts sounded echoey, like they weren't really there. I stopped and watched them for a minute before opening the door to my building.

My apartment hadn't changed since the morning. It hadn't changed for as long as I could remember. Except I'd given the whiskey and scotch to a homeless drunk at the park. He needed it more than I did.

I threw my keys on the table in the hall. It was dinnertime, but I didn't feel like eating. I'd lost weight in the two weeks since I'd made my trip to Edge City. Maybe later I'd go out and get a salad at the deli down the street.

I tugged at my tie and started to unbutton my shirt. Maybe I needed to sleep. But sleep didn't really help. It was like trying to satisfy a craving I couldn't name. I headed for the bedroom anyway. It was getting dark earlier now and the room was in shadows.

"Lex?"

Maybe I was dreaming. Already asleep. I stumbled to the bed. His dark form rose and gathered me in.

"Clark." I could feel his breath on my ear. It was really him. I recognized his scent. And the feel of his arms around me. There was no one like him. He was imprinted on me. I held on, like he was a part of me I didn't want to lose.

Our mouths found each other and then I was relearning the bumps and grooves of his teeth, the warm slipperiness of his tongue.

"I had to come see you," he said. "I missed you."

"You did?"

"Of course. Did you think I could forget you?"

"I guess I thought you'd go back to your old life."

"I never could. Not completely. It just took me a while to work things out."

I guided him onto the bed and he didn't resist me. "Do your parents know you're here?" I lay down beside him.

"Yes," he breathed, so close to me.

He was here. With me.

"They do?"

"I told them that you and I--that we were friends."

I smiled. "We are."

"They said I could spend the night."

"I think your mother knows. She's smarter than you think."

"Hm. Maybe." He pulled me closer. "Did you miss me?"

"No."

"Liar."

"Okay, I did miss you," I confessed. "I didn't know if I'd ever see you again. I didn't know--"

He shut me up with a kiss. I didn't mind. Words weren't important for what we had to say to each other. I relaxed, opening myself up to him. It had never been like this with anyone else. He was inside me, in a place no one had ever been.

His hands snaked under my shirt, smoothing along my skin. "You've lost weight. Haven't you been eating?"

"Haven't felt like it."

"Want to take me out to dinner?"

"You know I like to watch you eat."

"I think I'm going to have to come see you every weekend. You don't do well without me."

"No, I don't," I said.

"I'm the same way. I need you." He pressed his forehead to mine.

"I love you." It sounded strange coming out of my mouth. I hadn't said it in a long time. And I'd never said it and meant it.

For once, he was speechless.

"What's the matter?" I cupped his jaw in my hand.

"I never thought you'd say it." He took my hand and laced our fingers together.

"Are you going to cry again?"

"No. I don't cry when I'm happy." He kissed my hand. "I love you too. And my mom says if you love someone, you make sure they're eating properly." He got up, pulling me with him. "Let's go."