Moment of Impact

Lex's steady gaze took in the pale face of the youth that had just saved his life.

"Hey, kid. You okay?"

"Yeah, fine," his rescuer said weakly, still looking at the river that had threatened to claim them both.

Lex just managed to get his arm under the dark-haired teen's chest as he fell forward in an apparent faint. Lex let him down carefully, slipping his arm out from underneath the teen's chest. He leaned forward and gently shook the teenager's shoulder.

"Hey, kid," Lex said softly. "Don't give out on me now."

He put his hand on the young man's neck, felt a strong pulse beating under his fingertips. Figured that the kid passed out from the shock of the near-death experience. Lex put a hand lightly on the boy's wet hair, whispering: "You saved my life. I won't forget that. Ever."

From the direction of the bridge, Lex heard the shock of rubber braking on asphalt, the sound of metal clanging against metal as a car door opened and closed. Lex could see the brown peaked hat of the sheriff as a man looked over the railing.

"Jesus Christ!" the sheriff yelled as he took in the space where the bridge railing used to be, the mangled metal that edged the gaping hole. Leaning over, he caught sight of Lex and Clark on the river bank.

"Is that you, Mr. Luthor?"

Lex gave a small wave in response.

"You boys okay?"

Lex glanced at Clark who was beginning to stir. Lex patted him on the shoulder.

"Fine," Lex yelled with as much force as he could muster from his aching lungs. His mouth tasted like river water.

"We'll be right down to get you, Mr. Luthor." The sheriff's head disappeared, heading back towards the patrol car. Clark rolled over and opened his eyes, caught the intense gaze of the man with the bald head. Images of what had happened came rushing back to him.

Standing at the bridge, watching the water shimmer in the sun. The bale of wire falling from the truck. The speeding Porsche hurtling out of control, careening towards him. That endless moment when he and the driver locked eyes before the moment of impact, before they were both driven off the bridge and into the river. The shock of cold water. The realization that he didn't feel anything no pain, not even the cold. Diving down for the man in the car. Knowing he wasn't breathing. Ripping the hood off the car, unbuckling the man from his seat belt, lifting his body up and out through the small blue space, pulling him through the cold water effortlessly, carrying him up on to the river bank. Giving him mouth to mouth resuscitation, begging for him to breathe, this stranger with the cool clear eyes and bald head who held his gaze for so long in a moment shattered by speed and steel. Clark had blown what life he could into the man, sealing his lips in a kiss of life, secretly praying that he could give the man some of his strength. Clark had pressed firmly on the man's chest til he felt his body shudder in response, the stranger coughing up a mouthful of river water, small cut on his cheek quivering like a red snake. The man's grey t-shirt clung snugly to his chest, grainy with sand from the river.

Back in the present, Clark's eyes met the stranger's intense stare, noticed that a firm hand was still on his shoulder. Pale grey-blue eyes studied him with a mix of curiosity and concern.

"You okay, kid?" Lex said, helping Clark sit up.

"Yeah."

"I thought I lost you there for a second. You passed out on me."

"Great rescuer I turned out to be," Clark said shaking his head, cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

He ran a hand through his damp hair. He glanced over to see that the other man was grinning, but there was nothing malicious in the blaze of white teeth. The man was younger than Clark had first thought - probably not more than 21 or 22 - and suddenly he knew whose life he'd saved. Bald young men who drove fast cars were not all that common in Kansas - this could only be one person: Lex Luthor, son of ruthless business magnate, Lionel Luthor, who was no friend to Smallville.

"Well, I'm not complaining," Lex continued. "You saved my life, although I'm still not sure how I avoided hitting you," he said with a sideways glance that in itself was a question. He didn't really expect a response, nor did Clark offer one.

Lex put out his hand. "I'm Lex, by the way. Lex Luthor."

"Clark Kent."

Clark shook Lex's hand firmly, somewhat uncomfortable with the formality of the gesture, but reassured by the man's strong and steady grasp. Like that of an old friend. There was something in Lex's look, his casual air of confidence, that made Clark feel like he already knew him and knew him well. The look they had shared - mingled horror, fear, surprise - in the moment of impact had bound them together in some way. Clark wondered if he'd ever be able to look into those eyes again without seeing that surprise, the question mark that danced in eyes the colour of the river.

"Nice to meet you, Clark Kent. The sheriff called for help. Someone should be along any minute."

The sound of footsteps scuttling down the embankment towards them could he heard.

"Mr. Luthor, Clark. I called your dad, Clark - he's on his way."

Clark hung his head slightly and sighed.

"I really wish you hadn't done that," he said so softly that the sheriff didn't hear, but Lex did. They both took the red wool blankets that the sheriff offered to them.

"Now perhaps one of you boys would like to tell me what happened here?" the sheriff said incredulously, his eyes darting back to the gaping hole in the edge of the bridge railing.

Lex sat in the darkened study sipping a snifter of brandy. Even though it was early September, he had lit the fireplace in the room, dragged the leather armchair as close as he could get. Despite a hot shower and a warm change of clothes, he still felt the dampness of the river clinging to him like an anchor. For a moment he wondered if he would ever be warm again. Unbidden the images from the afternoon came again to his mind. He let them wash over him for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

The ringing cell phone, his eyes pulled from the road for just a second. The roll of wire, pop of tires. His hands clutching the wheel as he tried to control the car.

Above all else, his mind kept focusing on the remarkable young man with the dark hair and green eyes, who held his gaze as if he were looking into a mirror. Not that there was anything similar about the two of them - Clark was younger and taller, lean and muscled to Lex's smaller, although equally well-muscled, frame.

Dark hair, no hair. Down-on-the-farm blue jeans and plaid shirts, silk suits and leather driving gloves. Hazel eyes drifting towards green, blue eyes that held grey shadows and ripples of darkness.

The soft fullness of lips.

Lex felt a glimmer of warmth as he thought of those lips. He didn't know why, but when Clark had pressed those lips to his, pulled him from his ethereal flight above the fields of Smallville, the breath that entered him had given him new life, healed him in ways he didn't know he needed healing.

Unconsciously, Lex put a finger to his lips, felt they were cool and soft, could almost feel the ghost of Clark's lips lingering there like an echo.

Mouth to mouth. More powerful than a kiss.

One breath exchanged for another. One life for another.

A kind of intimacy he couldn't remember sharing with another man.

Maybe not with anyone.

Ever.

The thought sent a small shiver of fear spiralling down his spine. He wasn't used to feeling vulnerable or intimate or beholding to anyone. With Clark, it seemed like he felt all three.

Instantly. Automatically. As if they'd known each other for years.

Forever.

As if forever could be contained in an infinitesimal moment suspended on the brink of a bridge.

As if their meeting were meant to be from the moment of impact.

But still, Lex didn't understand why the young man seemed unscathed. Didn't care.

(Well, that was a lie, but he would deal with that later.)

Right now he was simply grateful that Clark Kent had been there, had decided to save him.

Grateful that it hadn't been any of the hundreds (perhaps thousands) of citizens who hated his father with a passion only equalled by Lex himself, citizens who would have had to decide whether Lionel Luthor's son was worth saving.

(Monetarily, for sure, there would be a reward, but the fact remains that the only good Luthor is a. . . .)

Lex took a drink and tried to turn his mind to more positive thoughts.

He was most grateful that Clark appeared to have no preconceived notions of who he was or what he was supposed to be. A large thing for which to be grateful in a small town.

Clark's father was another story, of course. Mr. Kent had made it more than clear that he wanted Lex to keep as far away from his son as humanly possible. Lex allowed himself a small smile as he sipped his brandy, letting its amber glow warm him from the inside out. He would find a way to deal with Clark's dad and anyone else who wanted to keep them apart.

They were destined to be friends. Lex was sure of it.

And that thought warmed him, more than the fire or the brandy or even the memory of Clark's breath pulling him back from the dead. He would spend the rest of his life (if it took that long) making sure that Clark Kent never regretted saving him. He would prove Jonathon Kent and the rest of the world wrong about the Luthors.

Well, at least about Lex.

He reached for the silver cell phone that rested on the squat table beside him. His slim fingers tapped out a number.

"Yeah, it's Lex. I want to buy a truck."

THE END